Seraphiel vs Mystery Opponent

[~Seraphiel~]

Contract: Click Here
Entrance Theme: Click Here

A live recording of Starvinskys "Firebird" as performed by the Sanfrancisco Symphony (conducted by Michael Tilson Thomas) appears on the big screen and the sound of the breathtaking performance blares throughout the arena.

Charlie Coors and the striped official silently but anticipativelywait for the long awaited arrival of Seraphiel as pre-cursed by the dramatic entrance them he debuted last week. Their appreciation for GHW is replaced by anger, hatred and (more than anything) disgust at the sight of the maniacal one-time leader of the Necro Armata trudging onto the stage. Their boos fall on deaf ears, with the 6ft 5in Fighty fighty person heading straight and purposefully down the ramp towards the ring, stopping just infront of the steel steps and staring up at the people in the ring.

"Making his way to the ring, hailing from Last Chance, Colorado...Seraphiel!!"

While the commentators debate the result of last weeks match between Highway Robbery and the makeshift team of Seraphiel & Skull, rage seems to be slowly boiling over in the self proclaimed "sultan of suffering" as he mentally psyches himself up until finally he slams his fists down on the steps and trudges up them to the apron and on through between the ropes towards the centre of the ring, stopping merely inches from Coors who hastily departs from the ring. The referee checks the Coloradans waist line, armbands and boots for any illegal weapons as the music fades out before stopping entirely.

Recieving a Microphone from a stage hand, Seraph raises it to his mouth and starts:

"Vortigern! As your flattering note requested, I'm here, now if you'll do me the same honour..."

TBC by Vortigern (OOC: Modified)

[Reverend Vortigern]

"The Profit of Doom" by Type O Negative strikes up on the PA, and Reverend Vortigern wastes little time stepping out onto the ramp. Microphone in one hand and walking cane in the other, the GM bears an evil grin as he now stands at the top of the entryway.

Al: "Well, this better be good."

Fuzz: "The Reverend isn't one to disappoint, Al. Let's listen to his sermon."

Vortigern lifts the microphone to his mouth.

Vorty: "Seraphiel, holy man, your words are like floods of poisoned water, a language spoken with spit from different tongues. You will never corrupt GHW again! Aligning yourself with the Circus, merely socializing with those ingrates that represent chaotic stupidity... That is enough of a reason for me to pull out all the stops when it comes to acquiring a harbinger of your destruction."

"Just get to your point! Who am I facing tonight?"

"Looks like patience is one virtue that you lack. I can't fault you; I have little left after the antics of Jaggeroth and friends lately. You can just say that it's my time to step out of the spotlight and let the man of the moment play his music and enter the fray to do battle with you. Allow me to introduce your opponent, Seraphiel. Allow me to introduce him... The Reverend Vortigern way."

Seraphiel raises an eyebrow as some of the fans begin to cheer, having been tipped off by the clue provided.

"Wait, what?"

"The Reverend Vortigern way? What's he on about now?"

TBC Seraphiel's opponent

[Martin Prince//Winthorp D.]

The dear Reverend grins as the lights slowly dim to nothingness, leaving the fans and Seraphiel in complete darkness. The words "Coffin Nails" are spoken through the Arena PA System to be heard around the entire complex. The fans are driven into a frenzy as the sound of a heartbeat echoes creepily, the intro of "Coffin Nails" by Atreyu slowly follows after.

"Coffin nails
So hard to pull
I cannot break free

From the ties that hold you down
From the grips of loneliness
There's something missing in my life
That I'm running after
Never meant to be held down
All I need is home right now
Cause there's something missing in my life
That I'm running after"

The fans are driven into a frenzy while Seraphiel is left in subtle shock as the lights brighten up and a single figure stands next to Vortigern. Dressed in an attire consisting of all black in the form of his tights, boots, kneepads and his own traditional trench coat is The Italian Goth himself, Winthorp Darkrites. The former GHW Champion raises his head and looks up at his opponent, a slight grin seen on his painted visage. The Reverend applaudes his choice of opponent as he walks down to the ring, failing to break eye contact with his opponent. Charlie Coors raises his microphone to make his announcement.

~ Charlie Coors
"Making his way to the ring, from Milan, Italy. He weighs in tonight's bout at 235 pounds. He is the Italian Goth, Winthorp Darkrites!!"

Another cheer is given for Winthorp's name as he slides into the ring, jumping up to his feet almost instantly. The two opponents exchange another quick glance as The Goth takes residency in the opposite corner.

~ Big Al
"And I thought that sum'bitch died in a horrific plane crash. But he just happens to be standing here AND as as Seraphiel's opponent."

~ Colin Jennings
"But god damn Al, you gotta admit that even after taking a small hiatus, he still looks fit enough to contend in the ring."

The Goth removes his trench coat, placing it at the feet of the turnbuckle. He turns to face his opponent as well as the referee as Charlie Coors exits the ring to allow the bout to take place. As "Coffin Nails" slowly ends, the arena is left in a stunning silence as the two carefully watch each other.

*DING, DING, DING*

The bell rings thrice in succession to make the call for the start, both men exiting their corners and immediately rushing to initiate the tie-up.

TBC; Seraphiel.

Contract; gahwo.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=fired&action=display&thread=10687

[~Seraphiel~]

Each man hooks the other at the elbow and on the side of the neck, wrangling back and forth for control. Tightening their grip, they both bow forth and try to push the other off balance but neither has any success until finally Seraph slides his left hand from Winthorps elbow to bicep before releasing the grip of his other hand and throwing his weight to Darkrites right side--using both arms to lock the Italian goths limb to his chest. Shooting Winthorp off into the ropes, he waits for him to return to the center of the ring where the Coloradan sultan is waiting with his left arm outstretched. Slamming it into his adversarys throat the force of impact temporarily raises the Milanese Fighty fighty person eight or nine inches from the mat before clattering back first into the wooden flooring. Arching up from the mat in pain the goth whinces a little but quickly rolls onto his knees and starts rising but his ascent is cut prematurely short by the circus member dropping to a knelt position behind him and wrapping an arm round the smaller mans throat, using this base to pull the Italian down to the mat again.

"Seraphiel has started strong, that's a good sign."
"Seraphiel always starts strong, how has that worked out for him in the past?"
"..."
"Exactly, plus he's fighting Winthorp Darkrites!"

First locking his fingers and wrenching back, Sera opts to instead to link his hand to his wrist for better leverage as his bicep cuts off the oxygen intake of his opponent. The referee goes through the motions of checking the goths responses but even he knows its far too early for something to finish the Italian but nonetheless Seraphiel keeps heaping the pressure on his hold until finally Winthorp manages to connect with a flurry of back elbows to his jaw. A few more and Sera eventually releases his grip and rolls back to create some space between him and the returning legend, the time consumed doing which resets the advantage to zero with both men getting up at almost exactly the same time. Not giving the Coloradan a second more to get back ontop, Darkrites darts the length of the ring, narrowly dodging another clothesline he rebounds off the ropes behind Seraph and jumps at him from behind--throwing his legs to the older mans side and wrapping one arm around his massive tattooed neck. Plummeting to the mat, he drags the necro armata leader face first into the padded wood with a lightning quick bulldog but he's not done yet and is immediately back to his feet and atop the turnpost nearest the action. Launching himself from this pad he carreens through the air and plants both feet into the center of the now rising Sultans back, firing him forwards a few feet before falling to his knees and further to his side. Brushing off the collision he himself took, Winthorp seems to be savouring every moment back in the ring, casually sontering forth and dropping his left knee across Seraphiels cheek, winning an anguished squeal from Janiel but he relentlessly drops two more before the deacon is able to roll out the ring and gain his breath. Trying to shake off the effects, Seraph stares up at his opponents smug face under the striped officials count.

Letting it reach five Seraph slowly climbs to the apron with the aid of the ropes, keeping his eyes fixed on Winthorp expecting to get jumped on the second he's in range but with no attack coming he simply steps through the ropes. Further trying to shake off his wounds, Seraph and Darkrites circle the ring in opposite directions. The goth is the first to take a stab at restarting the match and lunges into Sera's sector with an erratic attempt at a superkick but the sultan easily manages to avoid contact and simply lets the younger mans foot brush over his shoulder before hooking one arm up under said leg.Throwing his weight into the other mans chest, Seraph hoists 'rites from the ground and drives him onto his back with himself strategically placed ontop.

"That was foolish!"
"No, good idea, the execution was simply mistimed."
"Say what you want fuzz, who's ontop again?"

TBC by Winnie (It'll get better)

[Martin Prince//Winthorp D.]

The Goth struggles slightly, having Seraphiel's forearm digging into his throat and cutting off vital oxygen. The referee takes note of this and rushes up to Seraphiel with a warning of disqualification. The Coloradian removes himself from atop of Winthorp, but not before driving an elbow into a cheek. A disapproving jeer comes from the crowd as Seraph is on his feet, hands on hips and catching his breath. Winthorp slowly stirs and gets up slowly, Sera turns his head and takes a look over his shoulder. The Goth is given no chance to get up as his attempt is quelled immediately by a punt to the head. The crowd is left silenced as the older and wiser Seraphiel towers over the Italian with a smirk on his face.

~ Big Al
"Seraphiel has complete control over the entire match, I'm surprised Winthorp was even bothered getting back into the ring. Not with his mediocre skill and all."

~ Colin Jennings
"But Al, remember that even if backed into a corner and left with no alternative, Winthorp will keep going until he can't take anymore. It's happened when he faced Gnarfflinger and it's happened when he took on Rob Wilkins for the KOTDM title."

Seraphiel takes advantage of the entire situation and bends forward, grabbing Winthorp by the hair and dragging him up to a vertical base. Seraph grabs the still-groggy Goth and brings him up onto his shoulders, intending to drop him back down onto his back. The Goth recuperates from this state quickly however, driving an elbow right into the side of Seraphiel's face. Winthorp finds himself released and back on his feet, which allows The Goth to deliver a kick to his opponent's midsection. Taking further swift actions, The Goth makes a run for the ropes and rebounds strongly off of them. Now behind his opponent and with his shoulder ready, Winthorp takes a dive at the knee and drops Seraph onto his back with a well aimed chop block.

The crowd erupts in cheers as The Goth is seemingly back in the game. He chooses to capitalize on the moment by taking a hold of Seraph's right leg, crossing his own leg over it. The Goth keeps Seraphiel's foot under the pit of his arm and drops back onto the mat. Seraph frantically tries to escape from the maneuver as Winthorp pulls back on the ankle, putting pressure on the tendon as he does so. The referee approaches Seraph, asking him curiously "Do you wanna give up?" with Seraphiel shaking his head furiously in reply. The Goth screams as he continues to apply pressure.

~ Colin Jennings
"With a great man comes a great submission maneuver, the Achilles Tendon Hold has been but a favorite in Winthorp's arsenal since he started competing in the ring."

~ Big Al
"But a boring move at best, you gotta admit that Colin."

In a desperate attempt to free himself from both the hold and the pain, Seraphiel frees his other leg and drives it right into Darkrites' jaw. The hold is broken instantly and both men lay on the canvas in pain. Tension arises within the crowd as both sides begin chanting for their favorite competitor. The referee forces to intervene between the two who remain sprawled on the mat.

"One!"
...
"Two!"
...
"Three!"

"WINTHORP!"
"SERAPHIEL!"

TBC; Seraph