Post by privateers on Mar 31, 2013 9:26:07 GMT -5
Alestorm hits the speakers and the crowd stands in expectation of the Privateers.
The following contest is a tag team match. Introducing first, John Blake & Bill Davidson, The Privateers!
Contrary to normal, the reaction tonight is mixed. The fans not knowing what to make of the attack on Big Jim last week. The GHW fans were beginning to like the man from Black Rapids, and his being laid low is not pleasing.
Blake & Davidson are not concerned; rather set on their course. They enter the ring and call for silence.
Last week we put a hurting on Big Jim. And what to you people do? You chanted for him. You chanted for him and you called us the Seafaring Bastards.
John they’d understand if they knew, but they don’t know. To them, the Loggers are heroes; tough guys.
We were heroes once, and if we can’t be now, then we will be the Seafaring Bastards; fans be damned.
The crowd doesn't like the ultimatum, and voices their disapproval.
You can boo us if you want, but the very least we owe is an explanation. And tonight we’ll give it to you. You see, it was two years ago and had we just broke in, and at our side was the English Rose, Charlotte Taylor. Long and lean, and every young man’s dream, she took us to the top. At the top we met the Logging Crew. They’d been running roughshod over everybody for the better part of the year, just like they are here in GHW. And then, just like now, we have the answer for them. For three months we chased them, from Halifax to Montreal, from Ottawa to Toronto, and all points in between. We finally caught them and we took their tag team titles. That was the night it happened.
That was the night… That was the night… The night that I… I… I can’t…
John tries, but it's clearly a wound to deep to reopen. Bill waves toward the back.
Roll the film…just roll the film
[glow=red,2,300]The video rolls, beginning in a moderate-sized arena somewhere in the Great White North. Scores of fans are hanging from the rafters as the Logging Crew do battle with Davidson and Blake. Outside the ring bounds Charlotte Taylor, decked in a Union Jack inspired leotard that compliments her slender figure. Big Jim and John Blake duke it out in the ring, while Bill Davidson and Cletus battle on the floor. As the referee turns to break up the brawl outside, urging both men to return to their corners, Jim hits a low blow and Russian leg sweep. Fearing the end is near for her men, Charlotte climbs the apron. Jim takes a wild swing at her, but she ducks and manages a low blow of her own. Jim staggers into a superkick from Blake. He climbs the ropes, motions that this is indeed the end, jumps, flips forward and lands his leg on Big Jim lying beneath him. The cover and count follow, with a rabid Cletus being restrained by Davidson. The building erupts in celebration and the new champions are announced. The belts are presented and the streamers envelop the ring. Davidson mounts the top strand, belt waving in the air, while Charlotte jumps into John’s arms in elation and shares a tender kiss; the spoils of victory. Meanwhile on the outside, the Logging Crew is brooding and licking their wounds, shouting curses rendered inaudible by the roar of the crowd. [/glow]
That should have been the greatest night in our careers. The Logging Crew was good, maybe even great, but that night we proved what we always knew, that we were just that much better.
Now all you apple-polishing fans out there might well say that we got our manager to help. Well, we’re not too proud to admit it. We had twelve weeks of sneak attacks in the back, and disqualifications, and cheap shots from those assholes, they were lucky they only got a shot in the pills. Like the man said, war is hell; you do whatever you have to win.
But they couldn’t leave it at that, your heroes couldn’t accept defeat and try again another day. I’ll take what’s coming to me in the ring, even what isn’t, but this…
[glow=red,2,300]The Honour-tron kicks over again and we see the Privateers having the big party, champagne and all. Fighty fighty persons old and young, and a bevy of fans, shower the new champs with well wishes and alcohol. There’s not a frown in the place and pirate metal blares from the four corners. Charlotte mimes a yawn and hugs Davidson amiably, before accompanying the same gesture to Blake with a passionate kiss and a drag of her finger across her man’s chest; a promise of things to come. Wide-eyed stares and wolf whistles usher the English Rose on her way.
Sometime later, we catch up with the Privateers, as they come back to their hotel room. Bill jokes that the tag titles won’t be the only thing wrapping around John’s waist tonight, mimicking the grasp of Charlotte’s creamy thighs as though they held his own body. John laughs a bats the comment away, slightly abashed. Yet, the revelry ends all too quickly at the sight of John & Charlotte’s hotel room door, now seen to be chopped down and ragged. The two men rush inside, but find no Charlotte to greet them, only a pulp hook embedded in the in the wall and an axe having taken her place in the bed. Bill rushes out for help, screaming at the top of his voice, and poor John collapses on the ground, holding his head and looking about, as though this were all some elaborate rouse. [/glow]
Back to live action and John is red, caught between screaming and weeping, gazing at the events recounted.
We never saw her again. We’ve heard stories… They sent the Logging Crew away, and no matter how much we demanded to know where, no one would say. We tried to keep going, but it was no use. Nothing mattered anymore. So we decided to do the only thing we could, to cripple the Loggers for what they've done. If you don’t like that…
If you don’t like it, you’ve got no damn heart! No, there is to be no salvation for us, we’re not the good guys anymore. The only consolation I’ll ever know was in her arms. The only thing that mattered was her. Folks tell me to get over it, that it’s just a cross I have to bear. I’ve borne enough crosses. We’ve felt the scourging pain of loss and scorn and been crowned with regret for too many godforsaken weeks and months. The only way we’ll ever rise again, is baptized in their blood.
Leadbelly is suddenly heard, signalling the arrival of the Logging Crew…
TBCB-Cletus & Big Jim
The following contest is a tag team match. Introducing first, John Blake & Bill Davidson, The Privateers!
Contrary to normal, the reaction tonight is mixed. The fans not knowing what to make of the attack on Big Jim last week. The GHW fans were beginning to like the man from Black Rapids, and his being laid low is not pleasing.
Blake & Davidson are not concerned; rather set on their course. They enter the ring and call for silence.
Last week we put a hurting on Big Jim. And what to you people do? You chanted for him. You chanted for him and you called us the Seafaring Bastards.
John they’d understand if they knew, but they don’t know. To them, the Loggers are heroes; tough guys.
We were heroes once, and if we can’t be now, then we will be the Seafaring Bastards; fans be damned.
The crowd doesn't like the ultimatum, and voices their disapproval.
You can boo us if you want, but the very least we owe is an explanation. And tonight we’ll give it to you. You see, it was two years ago and had we just broke in, and at our side was the English Rose, Charlotte Taylor. Long and lean, and every young man’s dream, she took us to the top. At the top we met the Logging Crew. They’d been running roughshod over everybody for the better part of the year, just like they are here in GHW. And then, just like now, we have the answer for them. For three months we chased them, from Halifax to Montreal, from Ottawa to Toronto, and all points in between. We finally caught them and we took their tag team titles. That was the night it happened.
That was the night… That was the night… The night that I… I… I can’t…
John tries, but it's clearly a wound to deep to reopen. Bill waves toward the back.
Roll the film…just roll the film
[glow=red,2,300]The video rolls, beginning in a moderate-sized arena somewhere in the Great White North. Scores of fans are hanging from the rafters as the Logging Crew do battle with Davidson and Blake. Outside the ring bounds Charlotte Taylor, decked in a Union Jack inspired leotard that compliments her slender figure. Big Jim and John Blake duke it out in the ring, while Bill Davidson and Cletus battle on the floor. As the referee turns to break up the brawl outside, urging both men to return to their corners, Jim hits a low blow and Russian leg sweep. Fearing the end is near for her men, Charlotte climbs the apron. Jim takes a wild swing at her, but she ducks and manages a low blow of her own. Jim staggers into a superkick from Blake. He climbs the ropes, motions that this is indeed the end, jumps, flips forward and lands his leg on Big Jim lying beneath him. The cover and count follow, with a rabid Cletus being restrained by Davidson. The building erupts in celebration and the new champions are announced. The belts are presented and the streamers envelop the ring. Davidson mounts the top strand, belt waving in the air, while Charlotte jumps into John’s arms in elation and shares a tender kiss; the spoils of victory. Meanwhile on the outside, the Logging Crew is brooding and licking their wounds, shouting curses rendered inaudible by the roar of the crowd. [/glow]
That should have been the greatest night in our careers. The Logging Crew was good, maybe even great, but that night we proved what we always knew, that we were just that much better.
Now all you apple-polishing fans out there might well say that we got our manager to help. Well, we’re not too proud to admit it. We had twelve weeks of sneak attacks in the back, and disqualifications, and cheap shots from those assholes, they were lucky they only got a shot in the pills. Like the man said, war is hell; you do whatever you have to win.
But they couldn’t leave it at that, your heroes couldn’t accept defeat and try again another day. I’ll take what’s coming to me in the ring, even what isn’t, but this…
[glow=red,2,300]The Honour-tron kicks over again and we see the Privateers having the big party, champagne and all. Fighty fighty persons old and young, and a bevy of fans, shower the new champs with well wishes and alcohol. There’s not a frown in the place and pirate metal blares from the four corners. Charlotte mimes a yawn and hugs Davidson amiably, before accompanying the same gesture to Blake with a passionate kiss and a drag of her finger across her man’s chest; a promise of things to come. Wide-eyed stares and wolf whistles usher the English Rose on her way.
Sometime later, we catch up with the Privateers, as they come back to their hotel room. Bill jokes that the tag titles won’t be the only thing wrapping around John’s waist tonight, mimicking the grasp of Charlotte’s creamy thighs as though they held his own body. John laughs a bats the comment away, slightly abashed. Yet, the revelry ends all too quickly at the sight of John & Charlotte’s hotel room door, now seen to be chopped down and ragged. The two men rush inside, but find no Charlotte to greet them, only a pulp hook embedded in the in the wall and an axe having taken her place in the bed. Bill rushes out for help, screaming at the top of his voice, and poor John collapses on the ground, holding his head and looking about, as though this were all some elaborate rouse. [/glow]
Back to live action and John is red, caught between screaming and weeping, gazing at the events recounted.
We never saw her again. We’ve heard stories… They sent the Logging Crew away, and no matter how much we demanded to know where, no one would say. We tried to keep going, but it was no use. Nothing mattered anymore. So we decided to do the only thing we could, to cripple the Loggers for what they've done. If you don’t like that…
If you don’t like it, you’ve got no damn heart! No, there is to be no salvation for us, we’re not the good guys anymore. The only consolation I’ll ever know was in her arms. The only thing that mattered was her. Folks tell me to get over it, that it’s just a cross I have to bear. I’ve borne enough crosses. We’ve felt the scourging pain of loss and scorn and been crowned with regret for too many godforsaken weeks and months. The only way we’ll ever rise again, is baptized in their blood.
Leadbelly is suddenly heard, signalling the arrival of the Logging Crew…
TBCB-Cletus & Big Jim