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Post by Eʟʏsɪᴜᴍ Pʀᴏ on Sept 25, 2017 16:36:54 GMT -8
World Championship
[Single Match]
Sarah Lacklan vs. Erik Holland [c]
Deadline: Friday October 6th, 2017 at 11:59pm EST
Limits: 2 Promos of 1000 Words Each [Maximum]
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Post by Deleted on Sept 26, 2017 19:34:55 GMT -8
“Hello Holland.”
Sarah Selena Grey-Lacklan is a picture of terrible beauty as she sits on a throne. Her platinum hair is pulled up into a beehive, the silken strands littered with small emeralds and rubies to seem like a crown. Pale skin kissed by moonlight is highlighted by a light base, the effect making her high cheekbones pop even stronger. Her odd red eyes, the unmistakable sign of the most rare of albinos, blaze out like twin holes in a furnace, the flames within begging to be released, her signature black eyeliner wings stretching out like thin knives. Her lips, plump with a natural pout which seems to demand to be kissed, are painted a red specifically designed to match her eyes, and outlined by the same black which surrounds her eyes.
“Interesting situation we are in, yes? The two people who entered Elysium and clashed at the final, pushing themselves until what felt like the end of time, only able to keep one down for a few seconds even into oblivion. I was the one down for three seconds then...but not this time.”
Sarah shakes her head slowly, her eyes closing for a moment, long lashes seeming like perfectly spaced needles against her skin. The points of her high collar, the top of a long gown of black velvet which glitters with diamond dust, brush against her chin.
“Sir, everything I am is pointed at that championship. Everything I hope to be. When I became pro in January, I had a mental list of things I wished to accomplish within my first year. I wished to fight the world, across the world, as a freelancer, just as my father. I have. I wished to gain my first tag team championship in that first year, just as my father. I have, at the side of my beloved wife Mackenzie. And now...the other thing...what you possess…”Sarah opens her eyes, the red blazing.
“This is not about vlogging, Sir. It is not about the Fang Gang, or those who wish to wear my clothes. This is not about subtweeters or angsty beef online. Hell, this is not even about the War of Receding Hairlines going on between Corbin and Cage, Archer’s battle against relevance, or some mad scramble for a third tier belt at the bottom of the card. This isn’t about people with dumb names who fight in companies with two matches on a show having a marital spat or underwhelming tag team members both losing their Elysium debuts on the same card. No, Sir, this is about ascendency. This is about my birthright. This is about the who and why of what I am.”Sarah stands slowly, hands tipped in perfectly manicured nails, lacquered black with small red flames, pushing against the armrests of the chair. Her dress falls straight as she stands, the material flaring out widely, every inch catching and reflecting the light with the diamond dust. Her body is completely clothed in the black, the top fitting her form to show not just the curve of her thin waist to moderate bust, but the roundness of the surprising amount of muscle underneath. “My name is Lacklan, Sir, and I am God’s reckoning here on earth. It is not joke nor jest, no razz or shot of bravado. I was born to rebuild this business. I was born to burn the whole damned thing to the ground, to raze it, so that God’s grace could blow away the ashes with even a gentle wind, so that it may be born again in my image. In an image of strength and stamina. In an image of power, both physical and spiritual.
“Your followers...your Breed...does not scare nor concern me. As odd as it may sound, I am accustomed to entire feds being against how I am and what I bring, from fellow warriors both to my face and behind my back, to management itself conspiring against me. But through losses and defeats, though pain of body and mind, I have persevered and succeeded beyond the measure of any of my detractors.
“Thus I implore of you: Bring in Seth...bring in Tiami for all it matters...but I will not be stopped, I will not be contained. The last time we fought, I was distracted by the host before us. I readily admit that my gaze was as much on the likes of Starling and Thunder as it was you. But no longer. I said two weeks ago that while, yes, I came up short in the finals of that initial tournament, I would NEVER do so again. I will NOT be defeated by you, I will NOT be held down by you.”Sarah’s eyes blaze as her chin lifts slightly, the incarnation of rage the measure of haughty superiority. “I will not be held down by the likes of a man who loses in a Seattle high school gymnasium to the likes of ‘Crybaby’ James Edwards or is supported by ‘I make shit up to be edgy’ Sam Tolson. I will not be held down by someone who is supported I will not be held down by someone who has chosen to click on ‘All of the Above’ when asked what his psychological issues are. And that is what is going to separate the two of us, Sir. While YOUR rage and ‘crazy’ are all over the place and are as endless and expansive as the sea, MY rage is focused. My rage, the rage which wishes to see my detractors not only defeated but utterly destroyed, will not be leveled at anyone BUT you. There will be no distractions due to my fight across the world, there will be no cheeky need for my Tardis. Just you and my wholly focused rage. Just you and the revolution. And as everyone knows, when it comes to the colors of red and black:
"Gotta burn in my revolution."
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Post by Erik Holland on Sept 27, 2017 14:30:20 GMT -8
Static fills our vision, and then.. www.youtube.com/watch?v=fRamB30E9mU
There's a marked difference between what we just saw and what we're about to see. Where Lacklan was all dignity, royalty and grace; here is our World Heavyweight Champion, glaring at what appears to be a cellphone recording mostly because he enjoys the aesthetic. Shaky shot, almost grainy, with the lights causing a harsh glare behind him. The even harsher glare belongs to the Champion, clad in a Badd Breed t-shirt and cargos with the belt sitting near him displayed proudly in the camera shot. "I was hopin' it'd be you, Lacklan..."Erik growls, the hulking beast tilting his head left and right. "That chip on your shoulder has brought you a long way, hasn't it? All the championships you've won, I could spend all day which I do not have listing them off. Brought you to the finals of the Wideawake Tournament but...juuuust short. Just short, Lacklan, not because you were distracted or any other reason. Matter of fact it's precisely because of what you, feathers fully fluffed, just declared would never happen. No other reason than Erik Holland BEAT YOU."A snarl-smile from the Horrorcore Beast as he readjusts his grip, making the view shake again. "65 minutes, Lacklan, and you couldn't figure out how to keep me down. You came close, there can't be any doubt about that, but close only counts when you're throwin' horseshoes or hand grenades. I knew, Sarah, in the back of my fragile little mind...as long as I could hang on long enough to hit you with one big move, I knew I would have it. And lo and behold, the opportunity came where I could not only hit you with Project GABRIEL, but take it ONE STEP FURTHER and hit Project SUNSHINE, the first and only time I've ever used that move in my career...and how about that, it made me the Elysium World Heavyweight CHAMPION. So now we come to the TD Garden, Lacklan/Holland II."Erik nods slowly, liking the idea of how it all sounds. "If you're expecting me to bring the Breed to ringside I'm afraid I have to disappoint you, as predictable as your griping about my Breed was. I've had a discussion with my people--including the new recruit, Seth Giles--and I made it clear that the Breed's way is not to win the numbers game. It's not to cheap shot and take double and triple team efforts. This is one on one and it will stay one on one, I never needed them to defeat you at Wideawake and I won't need them at any point during this reign now."Erik's eyes widen as he keeps going, enjoying where this is heading, getting intense. "Last week on Frontline I made it very clear that I would be doing this the way a world champion should. No loopholes, interference or other bullshit. I get the absolute best the company has to offer in the ring, I face 'em myself, I kick their asses myself, I defend my title myself. That's the plan. Sure, harder than it sounds, way harder when it comes to you, but the Badd Breed and Erik Holland neither ask for, need or want a hand out--we know when the bell rings, there is business to be conducted and glory to be won. And the Breed seems to be pretty goddamn good at both!"Erik BARKS at the camera, apparently feeling like Lacklan crossed a line suggesting the Breed would help him defend the championship. Erik looks and sounds pretty proud of the Breed and about the belt in his right hand given that he just showed it to the camera again. He's moving sort of erratically around the room now, the phone shaking the shot as he does so, still. Comparatively this feels raw and un-processed--just like our champion. "And anyway, ya wanna' know what I think, Lacklan? Wanna know what I think about why you're talking about the Breed and the entirety of Elysium being against you, and trying to tear down the fact that the wrestling world wants Erik Holland, not you? I think you know what's coming at Frontline and the TD Garden. I think you realize how dire your situation is in terms of your physical and mental well being. I think--no, I know--you understand that as hard as I fought and as often as I put my own body and well being at risk to defeat you in the tournament, I'm gonna' go ten times harder than that to keep this championship. It wasn't my 'birthright' to be the champion, it wasn't my 'destiny', I simply wanted it more than anyone else--more than you, Lacklan--and worked my ass off to get it! You know this. You know the violence and the pain and depravity that's comin'. And you know I'm gonna' be one hundred percent focused on YOU, too."Erik now slings the championship across his chest as if it were a bandolier of bullets, slapping the faceplate. It may as well be. "At Frontline I'm gonna' beat you, Lacklan. I'm still gonna' be the World Champion. And when it's over, I hope you can live with it."Erik disappears now, about as abruptly as he appeared; the shot now nothing but static and then fading to black.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 28, 2017 19:39:27 GMT -8
“Come gather around children. I wish to read you a story.”
Sarah Lacklan, again dressed in a gown of a brilliant black and red and sparkling with the dust of finely ground diamonds, is surrounded by children. All are pale with dark hair, Mainites born in the religious compound nestled against the Penebscot River affectionately known as Lacklanland, and all have eyes for nothing but their queen. Sarah was not overly fond of children, and even a year ago was known to be vocal about how she would rather throw them into a fire, but the passing of her father had brought the stark reality of the need of an heir to the forefront. Her wife was terrified of being a parent, but Sarah had faith; indeed, they had many years before they must face such a tremendous reality. “Sit with me, children.”
A servant, garbed in black livery with silver accents, placed a chair behind Sarah, and the girl gracefully sat down. The children scampered to her side and sat upon the ground before her, their eyes full of devotion. A second servant handed her a book, a large picture book with a purple winged unicorn on the cover. “This is the story of the most beautiful princess in all of Equestria participating in the most prestigious race of all time, the Elysium Invitational. Along with being the most beautiful, wise, fair, intelligent, and creative princess there had ever been, she was also the most athletic princess pony, and she wished to prove to the world that she was also the fastest.
“Thus it was with great fanfare and celebration that she burst from the gate at the start of the race, leaping ahead of all but one of the other ponies. To her right was a handsome stallion who seemed to be from the capital, a pony whose mane was shiny and smooth. But she pushed past him, proving her own genetic superiority, which was flawless. On her right was a cocky gelding with possibly the dumbest mane she had ever seen, running down the sides of his face. She didn’t bother paying attention to that one at all; indeed she simply passed him by and into the lead.
“The other side of the track included a large red pony who didn’t seem to be aware that he was in the race, as well as one which stumbled about as if drunk. Each were passed quickly by two other stallions, one who was somewhat cute (for a boy), an old pony who looked like he was off to see a NIN concert and pretend that he was still cool, and one with a crazed look in his eye. And just as the princess pony leaped into the lead of her side of the race, the crazy pony pushed past the cute (for a boy) pony and the one with unnecessary eyeliner and matched her pace. On and on they ran, but the princess was just too tired from a weekend of outracing what felt like twelve other ponies and she faltered, allowing the crazy pony to win the race that day.
“The princess was sad...but only for a moment. The Equestria Racing Commissioner announced a run-off to race the crazy pony! And race she did! She raced passed the entire field, including making the dumb goat/pony hybrid look incredibly stupid in the process, and slipped by the cute (for a boy) pony to win the race and the chance to race against the crazy pony.”
Sarah smiles at the children, each enthralled, the collective look in their eyes that of manic worship. “The day of the race, the crazy pony came prepared with an entourage. A filly was at his arm, their hooves touching, and she seemed to have less relevance, depth, substance, and character than she did clothing...and that was saying something! He also had a new henchman, a pony with a shiny head that he totes obvs shaved to hide his colt-pattern baldness. But while these Badd (because it’s cool to add an extra letter?) Ponies tried to intimidate the princess, she was not. No, she was far above them and their earthly silliness. Indeed, this princess pony was of the sky and clouds, of the heavens. She could fly on wings of faith, fly with His grace, whenever she wished. But today...today...was about the crazy pony.
“They both flew off at a sprint as the gun sounded, each wishing to finish the race quickly. It was not about being flashy or entertaining, not about drawing out for the applause of the crowd. But lo! What a crowd which had gathered to watch the race! Peasants of Equestria of all shapes, sizes, and colors, vendors looking to hawk their wares. All of the other ponies were there, of course, including a host of new ponies, from two fillies who were a team to one with an odd covering over his face, to a VERY pretty filly with a cool name who the princess would TOTES have the hots for if it were not for her perfect marriage to her wife, the darkest pony with the sweetest booty in all of Equestria.
“On and on they raced, one having the lead for a moment, only to be eclipsed by the other. Their race was in their mind, the race that made the crazy pony champion. And that cost the crazy pony, because his confidence allowed him to overlook how hungry the princess pony was, and she, with His grace pushing her like a wind, blew her over the finish line and into the winner’s circle, where all of the other ponies, peasants, and vendors bowed down and worshiped her awesomeness.”Sarah closes the book and smiles broadly at the children. "And that is the story of how the beautiful princess defeated the ugly dude who is crazy for no reason and thinks its hip. Light be with us."
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Post by Erik Holland on Sept 29, 2017 7:31:00 GMT -8
God. That laughter filling our ears is something Erik Holland probably enjoys, as the camera quickly cuts to a REAL close, almost uncomfortably close shot of the World Champion, his hair wet from what we hope is a shower, his eyes wide, the entrance mask snapped over his face and the World Championship hanging on the wall behind him. Curiously, he's not wearing a Badd Breed shirt this time. Or any shirt at all. Hiiii..... The shot pulls back, and Erik's in a fairly nondescript room. Looks like he found a back broom closet somewhere to record this. Maybe it's not about where you are, but what you say? People, I'm not gonna' regale you with silly little stories because frankly, all you nice, good Elysium Pro people are smarter than all'a that.
Something is speakin' to me with how Lacklan's carryin' herself. I thought because she was a great fighter, because she took me to the limit in the Wideawake finals that maybe she was someone worth respecting. Maybe she and I would focus on just having a classic for the Elysium World Championship. But the more and more I listen to her; The more and more I get the sense that she's just a little bit salty, just a little bit high with her sodium intake because this match, the spotlight, ain't on her.
Erik gestures to some nondescript 'her' that's apparently in the room with him, to his right. He's very animated with his hands and often does this stuff. She don't get to call the shots, she don't get to be the one that everyone's talking about. All she is is the challenger. The contender. One of many, interchangeable. And Lacklan don't like that, no sir. To the degree where she starts calling ME out, calling me out PERSONALLY, calling my illnesses out and making the supremely foolish and short sighted MISTAKE of thinking I ain't taking her seriously..
Erik now snaps his fingers, telling the camera to slowly pan all over all the scars and marks that decorate and twist up the vast expanse of the World Champion's body. The raw, muffled shouting from behind the mask continues as Erik occasionally grabs hold of the camera to jab it towards certain parts and scars. Take a good LOOK, Lacklan. These scars here? Fucked up and busted nerve endings, discolorations? Not all of it came from wrestling. I used to self harm. Used to burn myself with my smokes and cut. I'd do it to keep suicidal ideations at bay, I'd do it to keep just BAD SHIT out of my head even if it was temporary. Haven't done it in eight years now. I got more to live for now. I was in a deep, dark hole and not only did I find my way out, I clawed out snorting and spitting and daring anybody who had a problem with me living as I am to come fuckin' try me!Present company included probably, right? Now Erik lets go of the camera and allows it and the cameraman to focus on him as a whole again. So these ain't for decoration, numb-nuts. It ain't done to get over with the boys in the back. These scars? These ugly pieces of my body? All this is Erik Holland. The t-shirts, the crazy hairstyles, the loud-as-fuck music and the scary costumes? That's Erik Holland. And you bet your ass the Elysium Heavyweight Championship IS ERIK HOLLAND too..
And if you ain't got the stones to handle it or to handle ME? You're gonna' get cut to pieces by this bowling ball covered in butcher knives just like everybody else. Hell; just like you already have once.Erik's eyes crinkle at the corners--he's probably smiling. Great teeth, too, on that mask. Seems to really stick in Lacklan's craw to remind her she's already tried this and failed. Understand that I take you very serious, Sarah. dead serious, Sarah. The Badd Breed has been gameplanning and targeting you since Holland/Lacklan II was signed for Frontline in Boston. We know you are a threat to my championship and the way that the Breed approaches threats...is to TERMINATE, with prejudice, every present threat at all costs until the all-clear is given. Till then? We never, ever stop fighting. Spill blood, break bones, lose pieces of flesh and skin..None of it has ever been too high of a price to pay!Erik jabs a finger threateningly at the camera once, twice. Then he points backwards at the Heavyweight title, sitting resplendently on the wall. Neither will it be to remain the World Champion, Lacklan, so I'm telling you now. Prepare for the worst beating you have ever had inflicted on you in your storied career. This used to be about mutual respect and now? NOW? It's about teaching you a lesson in respect. That although you so clearly are the center of the universe, you are not the center of Elysium's universe, because you are not the World Champion; And while I have it?Erik now snatches the belt off the wall, sticking the faceplate right in the camera lens, shoving it in our faces--Lacklan's face, specifically--forcing her to deal with it. Deal with him. Deal with World Champion, Erik Holland. You never will be.Erik now turns to his left, throwing open the door and stomping off down the hallway, as the picture wobbles a bit. Quickly it shifts to static again, and then black.
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