Pride- Roleplay #1 for December 19th's Insurrection -- GWA Insurrection Role-play board

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Date Posted: 19:28:25 12/14/01 Fri
Author: Drake Maxwell
Subject: Pride- Roleplay #1 for December 19th's Insurrection

-=-�pride�-=-

PRIDE: "�a sense of one�s own proper value or dignity: SELF RESPECT, pleasure or satisfaction taken in one�s work, achievements, or possessions, an overly high opinion of one-self�"

-=-�Defining pride is one thing, becoming and using pride for a person�s self worth is another. Define pride, wait, how can it be even done? Even the very definition is competed for. A man�s mind couldn�t grasp the concept that without the existence of that word, we truly would live in a peaceful society. But as the lone man lunges and strikes out, thy pride is wounded, so is the chances of an unscathed battle for the man. For man is most deadly when another challenges him over a simple piece of tin, for that defines the man. The common, those so simple, even as their pride is wounded, they gather an unbelievable strength and can achieve accolades none would believe. A young boy walking through the halls of his school, verbally castigated by his peers classmates, soon he strikes back and the classmates are taken as they realize blood is trickling from their jaw, they had pushed the pride of the schoolboy over the edge and retaliation was inevitable. A young lover accompanied beneath satin sheets by his mistress, physical encounters, and then as the encounter ends and he asks if she was satisfied, she neglects his very attempts to please her and wounds his pride. He swears that the knife found not a sheath in her chest as a result of a madman's mental state. In fact she was stricken because she had struck first upon him, not drawing forth the fact that it was his wounded ego and wounded pride that she struck and not him. So how does one fare when their pride is wounded as they come to the realization that they have toppled from the pillar they have placed themselves upon, soon enough the answer shall come� -=-

-=- �Man gives up a lot of things for pride, whether it is at a job for a local software company. Or on the gridiron of a grassy plain, divided by lines of 10 yards, the field stretches 120 feet from end zone to end zone. Warriors step onto this field in different conglomerates across the United States. Pride judged on this field is decided by how many big plays a person can come up with to define you as a hero. This occurs every Sunday from September to February. Moving away we come towards the alternate battlefield. One decided inside a squared circle with 3 ropes upon all four sides with post on each edge connecting the ropes. The lights luminate, the crowd roars to a deafening sound, cheering for the guy you acts more like them and doesn�t have a cocky attitude to back it up, or cheer for the bloodshed. Moving away from the wrestling ring, we move to a swamp marsh, a desolate city, for which buildings and areas, which show significant importance, are scattered by pieces, some on the brink of total collapse. Men with weapons and tin hats with mesh coverings of their body walk through this area. Some frightened some that have seen everything possible. And some that openly would want to shoot the first thing they actually see. Bullets are heard flying, men screaming out in pain. The blood, the destruction, the apathy for man�s soul, the crescendo of death is beautiful for it plays like an angelic symphony. Simply, this matter this global cause to stop another from gaining power is called in simple term effects, war. Plaguing each and every one of us. These battlefields shed the simple fact that pride is decided on these fields. But, pride could be taken a little bit too seriously. For one single mistake could change the way we see ourselves as a humanity. We�ve killed on the football field, on the battlefield of war, and inside of the squared circle. Death creeps around us at every walking moment. Defining death is just as complicated as defining pride. Its consent envy�s the noblest man to a furious passion. Most of us think that we have everything figured out. That we are the center of attention towards everyone else, becoming a big shot, teaching others what you have learned. An entity of one�s self being. Actually seeing them as something they are not. Everybody wants to prove something, that they are the cream of the crop. That one man is standing over all others victorious on the battlefield. Some of us however can�t even grasp the concept of what to actually do in a wrestling ring. What a person shall do with words, may not do in action. Thy self is complicated thy pride is questionable. Thy self is afraid of what he can and cannot do, showing others that he is not a person who loses and doesn�t learn from these losses. Pride, one man�s goal, which is another man�s problem�-=-

-=-�As the narration draws to a close, the scene opens up towards a dank wooden home which is surrounded by project housing painted black and made of sturdy brick. Lights are on and luminate the housing shrouded by windows and drapes. The wooden house however stands out above the rest. The wood is dark and stubble not causing a creak or a sound. The wood seems and looks old, but never showing its true identity. Dimmed lights light the windows up showing that a soul does reside here. Standing across from the house, we see a silhouette of a man, who stands six feet, five inches. His dark black hair is short not growing in length. Covered by a dark trenchcoat with black leather pant, Drake stands cigarette lit, not giving a care towards the world. Whether he feels its pain or not, he shows no sympathy towards it. Giving the sunrise around him, Drake�s shadow shines upon him like a dark eclipse. A breath of emptiness, void engulfs him as he conjures his thoughts on any subject affecting him right now. He parts is lips giving you a sound from him for the day�-=-

Drake: Oddly, enough sorrow hits us in an impactful way. Never expecting it to actually occur but it does, painfully affecting us all. Although this may not be one of those days where everything you come to terms with is actually true, still understand that this is a day which will live in infamy. Alas, coming away from tragedy, reoccurrence forms. While everything else slows up the Primetime Wrestling Academy does not rest, the wrestling world does not rest. Hope may be lost, tears may flow on rivers of blood washing nothing, but adding more pain. Its sickening how some people could cope with grief, never retaliating for what has happened towards them. Chaos plagues not only plagues the soul of a victim, but engulfs the entire embodiment. A center for trading comes crumbling down. And shows a picture; something intertwined with the suffocating, death, and indulging pain. A trade center turned into the pearly gates. The gates showing which were the way to go. Towards heaven, the way which we seek, the way of the light, the passion of becoming saved or not. Defining whether or not you go towards the fiery tips. The burning, the confiscation of demons consuming you, making the soul dishonest claiming faith, for there is nothing to help you, no one to actually save you. Hell, where you are sent for sin plagued upon this Earth for what you�ve done. Confrontations between our enemies and us are coming ahead. They want to affect our soil, they want this to occur to prove a message of falsehood, thinking that this is the path that they were taught to uphold. They will pay dearly for their act of committing the ultimate sin, they will know that our buttons are pushed, they wanted to prove that they are real. We prove to make a point. Showing just why the hell they call us the damndest nation for payback. They will know a day of reckoning is coming upon them.

-=-� Silencing himself for the time being, Drake shifts his body towards the right looking straight ahead at the white street of what used to be parts of New York. With the breeze swaying and the gust picking up, Drake quickly places a mask over the respiratory area of his face. He looks upon the wreckage and gives a complex look towards it. Some mumbling is heard around him breaking his concentration. He turns and happens to see a man in shambles laughing at the entire thing. Drake gives him a puzzled look as he just finds that what the man is disgusting. He gently walks over towards the man and eclipses the sunlight from him. A low mutter is heard from the man. Drake bears down on him looking to release him new anger upon him�-=-

Drake: And your lips find this funny, this act of treachery and you laugh at being covered completely in dust, and ash. Sir, you right now are the most despicable person to be in this moment.

Man: You can find this funny, the American government caused all of this. You want retribution for what has occurred, I didn�t get retribution when those bastards fired me. Made me lose my job, my wife, and my daughter. It seems that I don�t get one thing out of this. So you want to call me ignorant towards this action become sorry. When you�re not going to actually get it out of me.

Drake: That still doesn�t contemporary makes even the least bit of sense. Why, are ye heart so cold, stepping like the coils of serpents, yet asking problems about your life. I think it is not there. That lusting part of your body that makes you wants things. It�s not that they treated you wrong. It�s that you treated yourself wrong.

Man: You know nothing about me, think that Mr. Poetry. You think you own this world that the fashions treat you with respect that I am looked down upon. Just because I drive a Mazda? Just because I happen to actually work on a ninth floor making sums of money which isn�t really compatible to your monthly salary. So must I care towards any of these people? Should I happen to care about the fact that you are one superficial, hypocrite who doesn�t give care towards any of the people here? So I say this towards you. I am not the one who is being treated wrong. This fascist belief that you happen to have is overindulging your conscience. So look in yourself before you start going at my problems and me.

-=-�Listening towards his words, Drake doesn�t even bother to open his mouth rather smirk at the man. From behind before Drake can actually see his face stands another man. With a long, black trenchcoat and Oakley� shads covering his face, he walks up towards the man sitting on the ground who is gasping for air right now. Drake looking confused tries to gain leverage over the man by grabbing his left shoulder, but the man backs him off and Drake trips backwards stumbling back. The man sitting looks directly at the man and gasp once more before the shrouded figure places his hand over the sitting man�s face. In an instant the man�s eyes turn black. Drake becomes distraught and grabbing the man once again shaking him and asking questions. The man turns around and looks at Drake with cold grey eyes. He then opens his lips letting air come into his lungs. Drake hesitates and with a non thought out plan strikes the man with a fist to the face�-=-

Drake: Tell me what has occurred! Tell me!

Man#2: You have a strong will towards finding a truth. This man, although you didn�t care for him. Hell, you just met him. So you actually have no reason to ask me these questions. Ye are not worthy of these answers for which I have.

Drake: I don�t deserve an answer? What prophecy are you thinking of man? This man had a family and he had a life. Although he may have screwed up doesn�t give you the actual right to make him dead! You, I- I

Man#2: You what, Drake. Fuel fires to the brink. You want the man re-brought back into the infernal prison, which you live in, and which you happen to want change to come forth?

Drake: How do you actually know my name? Huh, who are you anyway? A spirit like you doesn�t come out in daylight much. I can tell that by how you did our friend over there.

Man#2: Just call me Romulus and that is all you need to know for coiled serpents are headed this way and are on a fever pitched pace trying to stop you.

Drake: What does this have to do with me of all people? The only things I know about myself is that this occurred in my life. I had an aspiring career coming up in Detroit. Had an IQ of 147 and ended up being one of the high five of my graduating class. Or do you forget to mention that fact that my dad beat my mother to death with a piece of wood? Or that he jammed a .45 millimeter handgun into his lobe and blew his brains out. He couldn�t handle the pressure of drugs or living. That is becoming the American story now these days. Beating people, shooting, death, and suicide. Nothing�s special about me. The pain engulfs me it fuels a dark passion of hate and rage for which I cannot conquer.

Romulus: Which is why I have come. You see Drake, which gave you those circumstances is that you were needed to be given those. So you could adapt and persevere over that. We gave you a wrestling career to make sure you actually can teach these people a true way of actually getting the truth into their skulls. A poet always picks his spot to make waves.

Drake: You are asking me to change persona here? Teach the people about the false prophets emulating what they think is right and wrong. To listen to their ode, their cries for help when they need it. Romulus, Although this could be a thing in which I could take you up upon, I cannot take this offer.

Romulus: Heh, Drake you think that by deciding to choose against this that you�ve done a greater good for this place. What people have served a purpose on this? Name one person who has done such a thing. But, you cannot seem to answer my question can you? I didn�t think so, for you actually need to let fate open your mind to you destiny. It lies, that gut wrenching feeling that you�ve said towards yourself so many times before. When your parents died, when you got your Anterior Cruciate Ligament destroyed on the cold harsh ice. The questions circled you, although you were never man enough to answer them. Thinking that a change was ever present before your eyes. Taking it with a grasp of light and using it to change your destiny. For your actual destiny was to lie inside of that institution to be there on the padded white floors. Feeling cold, searching, wanting for someone to take you away. It would never cope, never hold within your mind. So you began a false sense of thinking yourself. Becoming what you have always feared.
-=-�The words are getting to Drake as he stands holding his ears thinking to himself. All of the lies, the thoughtless dribble the pressure. It was getting to him and he couldn�t control it. He was once again lost into a web of lies and probable deceit. Although he could open and let loose his hands letting himself actually listen to Romulus and take him up on his offer. Or he could stay this way thinking exactly where to go and what to do with his life. Giving questions for which he does not have answers. He lets the hands drop back down to his side and shakes it off. He then stands back to a normal position listening towards everything that Romulus has to say�-=-

Romulus: - so it is not dwelling upon you that you have a match?

Drake: Match? No I was never told about this �match� that I am supposed to have. Knowing my time here in the Primetime Wrestling Academy has not been a long one, I know for one fact that patience is a virtue. And that principle holds very true to this enlightened situation. Pride will be on the line in such a contest no?

Romulus: Aha, he wants to listen towards what I have to say. Well Drake, your opponent is a man named Bedlam. The man has along to bring forth to this match. At stake are not only pride, but a place into the upper echelon of the golden spire. He has tried to make an image for himself, but finds it a quite difficult task to maintain it. I think your newfound training is going to have to take effect against this young fellow.

Drake: So I am a student now, I am a student in college, at wrestling and now this. I don�t think Romulus that I actually agreed upon this term of yours and frankly I really am leaning towards saying yes. Otherwise, we get back to the subject at hand okay Romulus? Thank you for now that is. You see Bedlam is in a long list of other people inside of the GWA looking to gain something and with a list full of hopefuls comes a never ending journey trying to get there. Maybe they would actually think about stopping but they won�t they want the glory. They want the chance to become stars in the squared circle whether using backstage politics or winning and gracing Ring Magazine. Or a 40 pound piece of tin to carry around thinking that it actually shows something. I always thought that talent never equals intelligence. That seems to not be the case now as this tournament has been but into place. Bedlam thinks no wait knows that if he doesn�t win this tournament, his life is going downward into a spiral for which he can never actually escape. Although he may deny it that he lost or better yet call it a fluke. He knows and I know that he isn�t invincible. He has his weaknesses and I will exploit them. Bedlam has a chance of winning or losing. He will decide with a cause. For his pride his strong, but strong enough for him to go the distance, to do what ever it takes to move onto the second round. I am not going to let him waltz over me and call it victory no. This is a chance for change in my life and will I let him decide the outcome of the proceedings? No, fate has kicked my ass too many times for him to change my destiny. He might have the brains or the brawn in order for a victory. Pride has its victory also, especially when it comes to an event for significant importance. Bedlam may have done all he can to ensure himself a victory but that isn�t going to happen.

Romulus: So he has fire in him. It dwells upon me that the fact of the matter is, you haven�t even begun training for this and you�re already confidant that fate will let you win once. Well good luck to you on that journey but now our journey begins.

Drake: What?

-=-�Before Drake can finish his sentence, the winds begin to pick up and start swirling around them. The onlookers who are taking out more rubble from the World Trade Center don�t even pay it attention. Drake�s emotions are going off either scared or excited. Romulus chants something, which is probably ancient druid and places his hands onto a wall. The black wall creaks a little and a giant ring appears in the wall. Light and gas are coming out of this wall and Drake is starting to back away from Romulus. The heavy wind instead of blowing Drake backwards ends up blowing him forward and into the portal! Romulus chuckles to himself seeing that his plan is one step closer to completion. He simply takes his time and walks into the portal. As soon as his unwavering body finishes coming into the portal, it closes never letting any resemblance of it stay in our existence. Questions are now arising over this entire situation. Will Drake come back into our world and actually compete in the GWA? Will he even come back into our world completely? Time will show if that statement can be proven true. For now that is the scene fades to black�-=-

�Existence comes with a price, or is it that I am lost�

�Whatever limits us we call it fate�

�Thoughts have consumed us wondering what exactly happens day in and day out�

�Losing never comes easy after realization of a false doing�

�Breaking the photographic mirror ending the present and ever growing future�

�.Ask yourself this one simple question�

�If the present and future are destroyed, what becomes of the past�

�Nothing but fragments of society ending every second, every day. Top it and become consumed by it�

-=-�Thinking about Drake right now? Don�t worry he�s safe, but its time for my input on this little tournament formulated by the Hardcore Isosceles Trapezoid. In the entire thing we have one Bedlam who just happens to be the first opponent of Drake�s. Beautifully set up you might say. Although this may be a little be overzealous, but maybe Drake is unmatched against Bedlam. Bah, whom the hell am I kidding? He may not be tested inside of a GWA wrestling ring, but where there is difficulty lies opportunity. The difficulty about this is that Drake has not done any sense of the word training. Bedlam has not done any training of his own. Let that be a factor in next Wednesday�s match. Thinking what ability is he able to accomplish the only real fact I know about him is that he is aspiring to become a impactful superstar. Shall he does this, he leaves everything else behind and not looking back. Drake has these same goals and dreams. Is he willing to accomplish them? Will he wallow in his own pity about his troubled and dark past? Questions will haunt him for the rest of these days on Earth. Unless he has the courage to answer them�-=-

-=-�As the short pause for the narrator draws to a closed, the scene opens up to a bustling section of a large metropolitan complex. Workers in white move towards their destination staying in packs and not noticing anything else. Like drones in the beehive working for the greater cause of the colony. Leaving them able to be lifeless dedicated oneself to working the same job every day every hour. For a price of assimilation into felling emotionless and not knowing what self worth is actually about. Next to them are druids dressed in black with velvet hoods covering their faces. Keeping someone to oblige the virtues of the following. Darkened souls never letting their emotions become even shown to the outside world. The druids walk into their little pack, but one-steps out of the line and heads to a small corridor. Down this hallway leads two doors. One is painted surreal white and has a marble black plate on it. The letters on this plate state: Commonwealth�s quarters. The druid then turns to the door across from Commonwealth�s and it reads Drake Maxwell: Student. The druid faces the second door and leans forward towards a panel of numbers. Looking and the punching in 045967, the door lets out a hiss before raising. The room is nothing more than a bunk covered in green and white sheets. A toilet is a few feet away from it on the east-side wall. The druid looks over towards the bed and sees Drake lying there unconscious. A few breaths are heard from him but, nothing more or less. His black hair is resting comfortably, unwavering, unmoving, and not weary of thought. The druid then faces the desk right next to him and sees a notepad. Picking up the manila folder he flips towards the first page reading. A significant calm is over him before he starts actually reading. Scenes of what Drake has been through in the past few hours fly by. The writing is now heard from Drake�s voice�-=-

Drake: December 14, 2001. Although it seems I�ve been here for a year, I�ve actually spent the entire day here instead. I think their time is a little bit more confusing that ours. The druids are like what they seem. Teaching me new things for which I can put to use in the latter part of my time. Heaving bodies have begun confiscating my things. My communication has been cut down several times. From being able to talk to the people around me the others that Romulus has found. Other pupils of his like we�re a cause just waiting for the exact moment to strike. This is strikingly way too much like The Matrix. Morpheus, Romulus do you see a connection there? This entire thing wasn�t exactly one of the better thoughts of judgement on my behalf, but I chose this. As if I were a monk sworn towards secrecy and had to define myself as someone who had to actually give a damn towards this entire situation. Romulus, although he is rarely present here, has quite a hold over the others. Ordering them and also showing them the actually version of life. We are through the looking glass. I feel like escaping from this. From the hallow breath. From the dripping droplets and sickening aroma which I am being clouded with every minute of this day. Seize the day, become the machine which you were designed. Grabbing your crotch, holding the rifle. Saying that the rifle is for business and the crotch is for fun. War is what I am at trying to even contemplate the sayings going on around here. I don�t even think some of it is English. All of these people are a group of poets relating the faults of this society and the problems they face with words or simplistic quotes. The main thing they have been saying around here is; teaching the unfruitful, for the unfruitful needs thee. A pretty odd saying nonetheless, people are following it. I know I have a match with Bedlam on Insurrection next Wednesday night. I think, Bedlam isn�t actually a person rather a spirit. This guy whether he is real or not probably doesn�t have a clue that he has to face me. He stays in the ruins, waiting to find a spot so he can do what he needs to do. Fail to beat me in that ring by way of submission or pinfall. Whatever the case is, I seriously doubt that he would say some words about me. Free tickets towards the second round, facing another person just like Bedlam. Systematic destruction could be a main goal to accomplish that night. IF I get out of here first and make it to Insurrection. The guards are emotionless, always obeying orders given by the higher power. Whoever that is probably has a monkey for a sidekick and has long white hair and gold eyes. It comes with such a thought that makes me want to break loose from this place. The word of mouth is as dangerous as being stabbed in the face. Anyway gotta get some sleep, I�ll still be here learning what the druids impose. My pride is on the line here, and it is so in the wrestling world.

Yours truly,
Drake Maxwell

-=-�The druid places this notepad down and back onto the table. To him, Drake seems to be a man with a lot of ambitions. Whether it is beating Bedlam or breaking out of here, there is always something on his mind. A dangerous thought the druids think. The druid places his hands near his head and removes the garment covering his face. The man has the short black haircut similar to Drake�s. A little beard coming around his entire jaw and it is the color of black also. He has those cold, unfeeling grey eyes. He glances down at Drake who is sleeping like a baby. The man chuckles towards himself not disturbing Drake one bit.
He then lets the cold mucus filled air come into his lungs. The smell of perspiration, the fat aroma, which clouds he and us, breathes it if he were in a field of roses. His lips quiver as if he were about to say something�-=-

Romulus: The pupil has learned a lot in just one day, it could be a fact to see him persevere over the others and actually succeed. Become the crown prince for which the plant known as Earth has needed for so long. He has a sharp mind, and a new focus.

-=-�Quietly, Romulus steps out of the room and shrouds his face once more. Before doing so he walks to the end of the door and finishes his sentence.-=-

Romulus: This game has just picked up.

-=-�And with a chuckle, Romulus walks back to his quarters preparing for another day and another teaching of the fellow minds of the druid academy. Can Drake actually overcome this, make it to Fear Factor and makes a name for himself there? Or once again will fate limit him to a shallow loss? If this is up to Drake, rather than the higher power, then Drake would have biological parents, a hockey career, and a love of his life. For now as the scene fades out we are left with questions. Which no one can answer, except the man who is plagued by those questions�-=-

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