The titantron would flicker to life with a haze of static - quickly focusing into a dimly lit frame of what appeared to be a thicket. Only the moonlight and stars above shed any clue on the cameraman's whereabouts, streaks of pale blue painting the dense patch of woods before him. Hesitantly stepping forward, the lens caught a glimpse of yellow, a flicker of orange, deeper in the grove of decaying trees.
The cameraman shuffled forward towards it, watching it blink in and out like a mischievous spirit. But as the view became closer, it was obviously not a will-o-whisp, but a campfire, burning and crackling in a stone-circled pit.
It seemed that through the wooded area that there was a campsite that contained not one, but three men. As the camera panned ever closer to see the men, it would show the whole site itself which did not contain any tents, and had a recently dulled axe to the side of the camp, which would probably have supplied the logs that would be the seats for the men. However, it does look a bit eerie, the scene itself is a bit off for just a gathering. The flames illuminating their faces, or where the face would be if there was no masks over them, and small bits of their clothing which all seemed to be of some sort of leather.
All three men's eyes would meet with the flame, watching it dance across the wood with bits of crackles being able to be heard. Just when it did't seem this scene that was almost horror movie inspired couldn't get any more creepy, two of the men would begin to whistle a slow tune to one another, leaving the biggest man of the group beginning to lift his head. This man was the Eyes of the group, the Eyes of the World; Omen. A man who hasn't been seen since his loss to Jarel at Wrestlemania.
"The darkness that I once dwelled in, the darkness that I once depended on, and that very same darkness that sculpted me into the being that you see before you; an atrocity to mankind or maybe you would prefer the term: Monster."
The quiet, monotone voice would echo throughout the woods, marking that this was his territory and this is where he belonged. Meanwhile, the men barely even seemed to listen, they were all drifting off in their own worlds.
"Darkness has completely cleansed me of any trace of humanity left and now, it has come here for the innocence and life of every other man and woman that occupies this building. The Voice it calls out for each and every one of you, because only can you be the change, the Revival. Whether it be by giving yourself up to the almighty, or whether it be by force, his force will be known."
The men who had once seemed in their own worlds began to approach the sitting Omen who would be continuing to look directly at the campfire. The whistle would continue.
"The influence has begun, and just like the fire that sits before us all, it will grow with each addition until it becomes a roaring fire that burns down anything in it's path. A fire that cannot be extinguished, but will blaze forever. For those who stand against the cause of the Revival is just a mere disease that will have to be cut off, disposed of, thrown away so our society can continue to grow with prosperity.
The whispering would stop after the final sentence, leaving the woods to be quiet, once the forest filled with life, has been shrouded in the darkness that consisted of the three men.
"We will clear the disease from this industry, purge the sickness of stagnancy that's ruined the glory of what this place once was, and when the land has been scoured clean, charred by the fire of our faith, we will offer it to Her."
Omen would begin to sit up, turning his back away from the fire, and actually approaching an object that was once in view of the camera; the axe that had cut the wood on which Omen sat upon. Leaving only two men in the vision of the camera at this point.
The cameraman shuffled forward towards it, watching it blink in and out like a mischievous spirit. But as the view became closer, it was obviously not a will-o-whisp, but a campfire, burning and crackling in a stone-circled pit.
It seemed that through the wooded area that there was a campsite that contained not one, but three men. As the camera panned ever closer to see the men, it would show the whole site itself which did not contain any tents, and had a recently dulled axe to the side of the camp, which would probably have supplied the logs that would be the seats for the men. However, it does look a bit eerie, the scene itself is a bit off for just a gathering. The flames illuminating their faces, or where the face would be if there was no masks over them, and small bits of their clothing which all seemed to be of some sort of leather.
All three men's eyes would meet with the flame, watching it dance across the wood with bits of crackles being able to be heard. Just when it did't seem this scene that was almost horror movie inspired couldn't get any more creepy, two of the men would begin to whistle a slow tune to one another, leaving the biggest man of the group beginning to lift his head. This man was the Eyes of the group, the Eyes of the World; Omen. A man who hasn't been seen since his loss to Jarel at Wrestlemania.
"The darkness that I once dwelled in, the darkness that I once depended on, and that very same darkness that sculpted me into the being that you see before you; an atrocity to mankind or maybe you would prefer the term: Monster."
The quiet, monotone voice would echo throughout the woods, marking that this was his territory and this is where he belonged. Meanwhile, the men barely even seemed to listen, they were all drifting off in their own worlds.
"Darkness has completely cleansed me of any trace of humanity left and now, it has come here for the innocence and life of every other man and woman that occupies this building. The Voice it calls out for each and every one of you, because only can you be the change, the Revival. Whether it be by giving yourself up to the almighty, or whether it be by force, his force will be known."
The men who had once seemed in their own worlds began to approach the sitting Omen who would be continuing to look directly at the campfire. The whistle would continue.
"The influence has begun, and just like the fire that sits before us all, it will grow with each addition until it becomes a roaring fire that burns down anything in it's path. A fire that cannot be extinguished, but will blaze forever. For those who stand against the cause of the Revival is just a mere disease that will have to be cut off, disposed of, thrown away so our society can continue to grow with prosperity.
The whispering would stop after the final sentence, leaving the woods to be quiet, once the forest filled with life, has been shrouded in the darkness that consisted of the three men.
"We will clear the disease from this industry, purge the sickness of stagnancy that's ruined the glory of what this place once was, and when the land has been scoured clean, charred by the fire of our faith, we will offer it to Her."
Omen would begin to sit up, turning his back away from the fire, and actually approaching an object that was once in view of the camera; the axe that had cut the wood on which Omen sat upon. Leaving only two men in the vision of the camera at this point.
