Post by God King Dune on Dec 30, 2014 0:49:21 GMT -5
::Darkness gives way to a bright desert landscape, completely barren aside from the outline of a man in the distance. The slow beat of a drum becomes louder as the silhouette makes its way toward the camera. His walk becomes a slow jog, and it soon becomes clear he is running full speed. The volume of the drum continues to increase and is joined by several others. Their beat is frantic as the mystery man draws near. The camera spins as he runs passed it, managing to capture only a glimpse of his hulking frame and strangely masked face. The drums are silent as the camera follows him toward what appears to be the edge of a cliff atop a great canyon. A different angle shows him approaching the brink at an astonishing clip for a man his size. At the last instant he leaps and plants his feet ahead of his body as he comes to a sliding halt at the cliff’s edge. A billow of sand shoots over and into the abyss. A closer angle shows the man bowed in the sand, breathing heavily. He looks up, revealing his half-masked face and icy blue eyes::
Dune: At night the desert whispers with the wind. Some say it’s the sands of time calling out to those unfortunate enough to be trapped in their hellish hourglass.
::Dune rises and begins walking in the direction he came from::
Dune: Many years it’s been since I was left out here to die alone. I should have succumbed to the wrath of the desert and its tribes a decade or more ago, as was the fate of my brother, the man who taught me all I know. Were it not for the skills I learned from him, I am certain I would have died by his side.
Mine is a path long traveled and strewn with the blood of those foolish enough to stand in the way. Near my home is a mass grave brimming with the broken corpses of men who tried. They were once the personal protectors of the man who murdered my brother. I ran through them, careful to ruin each thoroughly. They died to protect their master, and they did so in vain. Now they sleep beneath the dunes.
I had assumed the death of his killer by my hand would bring me peace. It was anger, you see. I was angry, very angry. Something inside me was baying - haunting me in the day and keeping me up at night, like a beast from the recesses of hell. And so, in my endless naivety, I sought revenge for the sake of closure. I plotted for months before striking. One by one they fell, until finally I seized the last forsaken bit of life from inside their chief - the bastard that killed my brother. I expected a wave of calm to wash over me, for silence to prevail…neither of which occurred. In fact I was more enraged than ever and, deep within, the beast still bayed for blood.
So now I issue a warning – something to flesh out the wise from those foolish enough to step into the ring with me: nothing and no one can hinder my ascent; they can only assist it. Do not stand in my way. Once-strong men shiver broken at my feet, made into mere stepping stones along my path. Beware, for I am the Beast that bays. I am the sandstorm in the darkest hour of night. I am Dune, and the sands of time will decide your fate.
It’s been too long since I battled someone who proved to be a challenge. I’m here to find one. Hopefully one in the trio of Caleb Collins, Wolverina, and Warpath will rise to my level, though I have my doubts. Collins' tiny frame can strike and lash out at me all he wants. I can take a beating, especially one from a boy. I've heard he's a risk-taker. It must be true, because on Sunday he risks it all. I don't fear his partner Wolverina. She is meak, small-framed - like I was once as a child. She has a woman's heart, which is her only advantage. And this Warpath...a military man. I respect that. I would expect his training to take him further than the rest. So be it. Military training can only take you so far. What separates us, other than our size differential, is the difference in one another's will - his, inconsistent, easily shakeable...mine, firm and unyielding. When the job's done he quits and goes home. I never quit.
As for the two men in my corner, Jackson White and Demetrius Jones. From what I can tell they are scum, but of their wrestling ability we'll just have to see. One thing is certain: if they cost me the match, in one form or another, there's going to be hell to pay.
::Dune comes to a halt near a small enclosure. A long, silent moment passes before he speaks again::
Dune: The hourglass has been set. The sand is spilling and the time draws near. I am Dune, and the rest are but the grains of sand, ever slipping toward their final descent. And each grain falls…always.
::Dune walks away, entering the enclosure. Screen fades to black as "Heat Miser" by Massive Attack plays::
Dune: At night the desert whispers with the wind. Some say it’s the sands of time calling out to those unfortunate enough to be trapped in their hellish hourglass.
::Dune rises and begins walking in the direction he came from::
Dune: Many years it’s been since I was left out here to die alone. I should have succumbed to the wrath of the desert and its tribes a decade or more ago, as was the fate of my brother, the man who taught me all I know. Were it not for the skills I learned from him, I am certain I would have died by his side.
Mine is a path long traveled and strewn with the blood of those foolish enough to stand in the way. Near my home is a mass grave brimming with the broken corpses of men who tried. They were once the personal protectors of the man who murdered my brother. I ran through them, careful to ruin each thoroughly. They died to protect their master, and they did so in vain. Now they sleep beneath the dunes.
I had assumed the death of his killer by my hand would bring me peace. It was anger, you see. I was angry, very angry. Something inside me was baying - haunting me in the day and keeping me up at night, like a beast from the recesses of hell. And so, in my endless naivety, I sought revenge for the sake of closure. I plotted for months before striking. One by one they fell, until finally I seized the last forsaken bit of life from inside their chief - the bastard that killed my brother. I expected a wave of calm to wash over me, for silence to prevail…neither of which occurred. In fact I was more enraged than ever and, deep within, the beast still bayed for blood.
So now I issue a warning – something to flesh out the wise from those foolish enough to step into the ring with me: nothing and no one can hinder my ascent; they can only assist it. Do not stand in my way. Once-strong men shiver broken at my feet, made into mere stepping stones along my path. Beware, for I am the Beast that bays. I am the sandstorm in the darkest hour of night. I am Dune, and the sands of time will decide your fate.
It’s been too long since I battled someone who proved to be a challenge. I’m here to find one. Hopefully one in the trio of Caleb Collins, Wolverina, and Warpath will rise to my level, though I have my doubts. Collins' tiny frame can strike and lash out at me all he wants. I can take a beating, especially one from a boy. I've heard he's a risk-taker. It must be true, because on Sunday he risks it all. I don't fear his partner Wolverina. She is meak, small-framed - like I was once as a child. She has a woman's heart, which is her only advantage. And this Warpath...a military man. I respect that. I would expect his training to take him further than the rest. So be it. Military training can only take you so far. What separates us, other than our size differential, is the difference in one another's will - his, inconsistent, easily shakeable...mine, firm and unyielding. When the job's done he quits and goes home. I never quit.
As for the two men in my corner, Jackson White and Demetrius Jones. From what I can tell they are scum, but of their wrestling ability we'll just have to see. One thing is certain: if they cost me the match, in one form or another, there's going to be hell to pay.
::Dune comes to a halt near a small enclosure. A long, silent moment passes before he speaks again::
Dune: The hourglass has been set. The sand is spilling and the time draws near. I am Dune, and the rest are but the grains of sand, ever slipping toward their final descent. And each grain falls…always.
::Dune walks away, entering the enclosure. Screen fades to black as "Heat Miser" by Massive Attack plays::
