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Date Posted: 14:14:25 07/23/01 Mon
Author: Shannon Young
Author Host/IP: AC88789A.ipt.aol.com / 172.136.120.154
Subject: sample rp

[ The scene opens up amongst the rockfaced cliffs of the Dawna Mountain Range overlooking the Bay of Bengal on the western coast of Thailand. A sanctuary or temple can be seen amongst the cliffs of one of the larger mountains in the range. The scene is serene, the temple dimly lit by the burning torches and candelabra's from inside it's walls. The winter winds have begun to subside, the whistling of the wind as it careens through the many caverns, crevasses and canyon's has dulled to a low hum. The once thick layer of snow covering has begun to melt away leaving in it's wake small streams and waterfalls that add to the beauty of the whole scene. The sun setting at the horizon of the bay fills the sky with a brilliance of purples and oranges. Within the walls of the temple several monks can be seen in the conclusion of their days chores. Another group of them can be seen in some form of martial arts training, while still another group can be seen paying homage to their "God". The scene swiftly swoops in to one part of the temple. A large shrine dedicated to the God of these people. The walls are adorned with an asundry of ornaments and idolic scened tapestry. A few golden candelabra's illuminate the room. Two men are seen in what appears to be deep conversation. One of the men, a monk of the temple, discerned by the robes he is wearing matching those of the other monks seen out about the rest of the temple. The other man seems a little out of place. Not of the asian decent as the monks, and wearing more dark, yet modern attire including a beaten leather trench coat that dangles about his feet on the dusty floor. His long brown hair hides his face from the camera. The scene zooms in and we can see that the man is "The Drifter" Darrien Dread. He seems to have much respect for the elder monk who is counseling him.... ]

The Monk: It is you Darrien, that must search out your own path. Enlightenment is not something that is handed the way of those who remain inactive in their life journey. It is not merely enough to just simply live. One must continue to strive towards the journey and the knowledge that is to be attained. You Darrien have many questions still. Unanswered through your previous journeys. I feel it time that you once again venture from your solitude here amongst us and regain the path you were once on. Your road to enlightenment lies elswhere.

The Drifter Darrien Dread: There is much pain in my heart Sensai. The questions I've had for so many years, the answers that have evaded me for so long. I fear that I will never have true peace of mind, true enlightenment such as you have attained. I have travelled so far and wide across this Earth and found little, next to nothing about my past and my heritage. I know only from where I was born and the orphanage that raised me. Only once I found you, and this place have I ever found anything worthwhile in my pitiful existence. I know not if I can ever find that which I need.

The Monk: You'll know not if you stay and do nothing. Venture back to the america's. Return to the journey. Do whatever you must there to find some form of peace. Even if it includes returning to the vile wrestling leagues you once endured. The anger that lies within you must be vented. Your questions must be answered. Both are synonomous. They form your inner circle. Like the serpent that eats it's own tail. They are who you are. And the thirsts can never be quenched here amongst the mountains of Thailand. Fight who you must. This is the only way for you.

The Drifter Darrien Dread: I have thought long and hard on this subject. Indeed it has been a long time up here in this sanctuary away from the rest of the world. The need to vent my frustrations at the world has been bottled long enough. I've recently been contacted by an organization in the americas. They seek my services, and though I wish not to indulge in that lifestyle any longer, there is a part of me that longs for the blood and glory of competition. When I left my mind was not as sound a weapon as my body was. Now both are in sync. Both are tuned harmoniously. And it is in America where I lost the trail of my past. So indeed, I had decided to return there. Though, I had to seek your counsel before making this decision. I was full of evil and deciet when I came to you so long ago. Being here has given me insight as to why and how to combat that anger that dwells so deeply in my soul. But the questions, those damned doubts of myself, they eat at me, tear my heart, and drive me to the brink of insanity.

The Monk: You have learned much Darrien. There is nothing more I can teach you. Now, I can only be a set of ears to listen to your sorrow. No direction can I give you, you already posses that which you need to find your way in the world. Think not of this as the end of your time here. But the beginning of the greater purpose of your life. Turn to the meditation when the anger and evil grips you, and your mind will ease. The pain will never go away Darrien, you must remember this. Venture safe my son, be wary of the road, take to the shadows for there you will find comfort from the dangers that would slay you in the streets. Now....go.....


[ With these last words of advise the monk arose from his seated position and walked out of the room. Darrien sat there a moment pondering that which he was about to undertake. The return of the Drifter to the "civilized" world. Civilized, funny, how the temple had seemed the more civilized to Darrien. The peacefulness he needed after so many years of darkness and oppression. The battles won and lost. The death and destruction that had followed him for so long. Now, he will be returning to that. In a place known as the LWF. In order for his quest for answers to begin again, the funds needed to complete such a journey must first be obtained. Darrien pulls out a piece of paper from his coat and unfolds it. The camera zooms in and reads the letters LWF at the top of the paper. A contract for his return to the world of wrestling. A title shot in his first appearance. And already had one of his opponents crossed him. D-Money, with his arrogance, sparked Darrien to sign with this organization. A chuckle eminates from his lips. He rises to his feet and begins to slowly swagger towards the door, folding the contract and returning it to it's place in his pocket. The journey would be a long one, especially the beginning for there were no cars or boats or helicopters or planes here. To reach the Temple of Light, one must make the treacherous climb up the face of the mountain by foot and pick. This bothered Darrien not, for he had made the climb over and over, not only for personal enlightenment but to keep his physical powers in tune. And now once again, he ventured down that rock face. After an arduous journey down from the mountain top Darrien found himself at the local marina where a friend would be waiting with a ship ready to set sail for San Fransisco Bay, California. As he walks along the pier, and the numerous merchants selling everything from fruits and vegetables to gold and silver jewelry to imported (probably pirated or stolen) goods from all over the world. Darrien stops by a fruit stand, one that looks to be struggling somewhat with sales, and looks over the small amount of fruit for sale. The old woman behind the stand seems sad and withdrawn, the what seem to be painfilled years having taken a severe toll on her. While on the pier no one aside of Darrien had approached her stand today. Darrien reaches into his coat and pulls out a wad of Thai Lyre, the form of paper money used in this country. He points towards a bunch of banana's and the woman, slightly startled that he was serious about purchasing some of her fruit, rises to her feet and bags the banana's. She makes a sign with her fingers signalling that they'll cost 5 lyre, Darrien hands her the entire wad saying, "I'm not gonna be needing this where I'm going!" The woman counts the wad and almost passes out as tears stream down the side of her face. She thanks him graciously over and over even as Darrien begins walking towards the end of the pier where his boat will be waiting. A small smile gleams his face as he continues to walk. The boat doesn't appear to be that much of one. An older fishing vessel manned by a few Thai fisherman who have come to befriend Darrien over the time of his exile here. Darrien says something to one of them in the native tongue and they begin unrigging the ropes keeping the boat tied to the pier. Darrien takes his gear and stows it in a cabin that would appear to have been the captains, or atleast the ships second in command. He sits on the bed, and opens one of his bags. He puts his hand in and pulls out a pair of black wrestling boots with red drips of blood painted on them. ]

The Drifter Darrien Dread: It's been a long time since I dawned these boots. A life I had hoped I would not have to return to. Yet here I am, about to embark on a voyage back to the place where I dealt so much distruction, so much vengeance, and so much evil. A part of me I had hoped toi bury deep within my subconscious. And though I have more clarity of thought now, then I have ever had, it seems that the evil must now return. All those unanswered questions about myself. All the doubts and the lies and deciet that has shaped my life's history. Always leading back to this. The evil. The darkness. That which lies deep in the hearts of most men dormant, is in me, that which is most prevelant. Time once again to embrace the darkness. For the conquest of my journey demands it. Time for the bloodshed to begin yet again. In a way I pity those that must fall in my wake as I continue on the path.

[ Darrien pulls out the contract again and reads the names on the piece of paper. Just below the header and basic agreement, the names of Darrien, and then D-Money and David Hardy. With the LWF European Title on the line. At this last part Darrien mocks. ]

The Drifter Darrien Dread: European Title eh? What a waste of my talents. But money's money. And these two pathetic souls should be a nice tune up for me. A good way to test my skills, to see if I still have the ability I had when I last stepped into that arena of combat. So many different forms I've learned. So many different techniques I've mastered. A Three Way Dance. Whom shall I concentrate on first? D-Money has already tipped my curiousity. At my conference call and signing, I heard his doubts of my ability. The arrogance and the defiance in his voice. The way he spoke of titles and glories in other organizations. Something I care little about. I have held many titles. More then I can count. More then I care to recall just to put myself over. D-Money, what you don't realize is that titles no longer mean anything to me. All that I care about now is winning. And inflicting as much pain and anguish on anyone that dares to set foot in my way. D-Money will learn this lesson shortly. And then the lack of respect in his tone of voice will be vanquished and replaced by the quivering of fear. The darkness will consume him. As for poor David Hardy, I know as little of this man as I know of D-Money, but I'm sure his story will be quite similar. These American wrestler's, there arrogance preceeds them. It is the same all over the United States. The constant seeking of glory and self gratification. The constant putting of one's self on a pedastal above all others. These things I care not about. You will not hear the words such as "greatest", "people's champ", etcetera etcetera. These words mean little to me. Instead what you will hear is pain, anguish, death, destruction, evil, anger, vengeance, and most of all the Darkness. This is the key to my soul. What keeps me ticking, if you will. The darkness that lies in the hearts of men. I feed on it. The fear that swells within them when I approach. While David Hardy and D-Money will be preaching of the self-glorifications, I'll be showing the world my pain. Only then, will they understand. At the end. I've searched long and hard to find my roots. To find some inkling as to who I am. Where I'm from. Who my parents were, and why they abandoned me. These questions I may never know the answers to. But one thing I've learned, is that FATE is non-existent. There is no pre-destined greatness. We are what we make for ourselves. And as for Hardy and D-Money, they will feel exactly why at Monday Night Voltage, they too, HAVE NO FATE!!!!!!!!


[ Darrien leans back and lies down on the bed, dropping the contract on the floor next to his wrestling boots. He stares up at the ceiling of the cabin. The boat swaying back and forth as it traverses the Pacific Ocean and swells of waves. He closes his eyes and begins visuallizing his oponents in the ring and how he'll be punishing their vanity. He drifts off into a dream of his parents. Though he doesn't know if it's really them for he's never seen them. But they're there. As discernable as his old Monk friend in the mountains of Thailand. Vivid images of his father and mother. But are they still alive? Do they know he's even alive? Do they know the pain and anger that exists in his heart because of they're actions? The dream gets erie as the father figure snaps the mother figures neck leaving her lifeless as she drops to a heap on the floor. The father figure stares towards Darrien and smiles a maniacal grin. Darrien startles awake, sweat dripping from his forehead. Only a dream. But it seemed so real. Then a knock came on the door. A voice telling that the boat was nearing port. How long had Darrien been asleep? The dream seemed to only have lasted a few minutes. Darrien, wiped the grogginess from his eyes, and shook his head to wake up. He went topside to see where they were. As he got to the bow, the site of the Golden Gate Bridge shocked him. He must have been asleep for over 10 hours. He shook his head and went down to the cabin to gather his things. Within a few short hours he'd be passing through customs, showing his work visa and be in the streets of San Francisco, searching for a motel, and probably a whore.
It's a brisk evening in San Fransisco, California. The wind blowing in off the Bay rustles the leaves on the trees and tosses power and phone lines too and fro. Deep in the heart of the city, where the vagrants sleep, the rats swarm, and the general public shy's away from, a lone figure is seen walking in the shadows. His dark clothing blending in almost chameleon-like with the walls of the buildings and the alleyways. His dark long hair masks his face, and though the moon is high in the sky, and the sun has long since set, the pair of dark sunglasses hides the brightness of his eyes. He walks with a swager, a confidence, especially for the area in which he is where anything, or anyone, could strike without provocation. What he seeks in this part of town is unknown. He keeps his stare in front of him, never looking to the buildings, never surveying his surroundings. Just straight ahead, onward he walks. A few of the vagrants take notice of him. Their puzzled looks show just how amazing this event is. Few brave these streets at this time at night, even with friend in tow, but alone is ludicrus. However, there he is...walking...alone. One of the transients, an elder man, or at least life on the streets has made him appear to be, covered in the soot and stench of tens of years of unshowered life, decides to approach him. The vagrant limps towards the man, without caution. The dark man stops in his tracks, as if he felt the pressence of the approaching man. The vagrant stops, eyeing the stranger. ]


The Drifter Darrien Dread: It would be wise of you old man to return to your cardboard box. There is nothing here you wish to see. Nothing which you truly would like to learn about. Because you are in your own darkness I will show you mercy. Pursue this action further, follow me any longer, and you will not live to be able to regret it. So go back to the dregs.


[ The vagrant smirks at the stranger, throws his hand in defiance, then slumbers back to where the rest of the dregs of society are mulling around. The dark figure continues on his walk through the darkness. Finally, after a few hours of wandering the streets, Darrien turns into an alleyway. He stops at a doorway. The sign above it, hanging from only one support, and the writing rusted and weathered away, swings in the breeze making an erie creaking noize. Darrien stares at it, as if he can still read the words. A slight smile reaches the corners of his mouth. The building is run down, long abandoned, and condemned. The windows all boarded up, the door, locked with a Master lock. Darrien kicks the door in, and it crashes to the floor as the hinges and lock give way easilly under the thunderous pressure of his kick. A scattering of pigeons can be heard as he enters without fear. The inside of the building is dark and dusty. The only light provided from cracks in the window boarding as the light from a few streetlamps outside slides in. It can be seen that this was once a gym of some kind. Boxing, martial arts dojo, wrestling, or some other, but it was definately a gym. Light from one of the cracks is illuminating an old poster on one of the walls, a man is seen advertising a championship fight. Darrien walks by it, reads the deteriorating poster, then tears it down, crumpling it up and throwing it to the ground. An old ring is seen in the middle of the room. Just the posts and the mat are left. Darrien hops up on it and takes a seat. ]


The Drifter Darrien Dread: Here's where it all began. My training in this vile sport. Where I learned "the ropes" so to speak. The wrestling industry. Hmph. Well, it is indeed a means to an end. A way of making money by doing what has come so naturally to me for so long, the demise of others. So many faces have I changed, so many lives have I vanquished, so many souls sent on their way to the netherworld. All those that have gotten in my way towards the actuallization of my goal. The discovery of who I am.


[ Darrien puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out a picture. It's of two young boys, just barely older then toddlers. A time of Darrien's past that he remembers little if any of. The picture seems familiar to him though. As if he was one of the boys in it, and the other, perhaps, a long lost brother. Darrien's mind drifts back to the San Fransisco Bay Marina earlier in the day. When a rather large biker looking man approached him. He spoke as if he knew who Darrien was. Darrien blew the man off and nearly ripped his esophagus straight through his throat. But the man shoved a picture into Darrien's chest with some force that nearly threw Darrien back a few feet. The man told him that this was a clue. A picture into his past. Then the man disappeared into the mass of people wandering about the marina. Darrien had simply put the picture in his pocket for later viewing. That time had come. ]


The Drifter Darrien Dread: Is it possible? Could I have a brother? It would not surprise me to learn such a thing. Heh, maybe this would be better pursued at another time. There are other things which currently require my attention. Such as David Hardy and D-Money. Both of whom have kept there mouths quite zipped up so far. Aside of the initial interaction with D-Money when I signed on. So it appears that my reputation has made it's way back to them, it shocks me not the fear they must be enduring. While their fear will betray them, it will only increase my power. The darkness truly is upon us. And I am bringing it forth. Evil once again, will walk the Earth, and I am it's embodiment.

It is a wonder why there are those in this world that speak false truths. The whole's they dig for themselves are usually to deep for them to crawl out of. This is something D-Money has done. D, I have a burning in my soul. Something aching to be released. It is not love or friendship or compassion, the likes of which had been, in the past, associated with such internal feelings. No, indeed, it is a burning to destroy. A lust for blood. A desire for terror. All of which I shall unleash upon thee. As the saying goes, you talked the talk, but you aren't walking the walk. And for this I shall make you suffer. With a numerous armament of holds and techniques that I have learned over the years. I'm not going to just beat you D, I'm going to torture you. Your screams of agony will be my humor for the night. Your cries for mercy will only urge me to infict more punishment, more of my untamed agression. You will know no pain like that which I will inflict upon you. Your life as you know it will cease to exist. If death does not claim you, the riggings and metal rods of a body cast certainly will. The more you resist the inevitable, the more damage will be done. So far since your intitial folly you have kept quiet. Remain that way and I may spare your life, but continue in the arrogance, continue with your defiant tones and I shall destroy you.

As for you David Hardy, I have no quarell with you aside of the fact that the executives in this organization have chosen you as the third opponent in the match. An unfortunate choice on their part, unfortunate for you. For though I hold no grudge against thee, you are in my way. Being as it may by default, you are still in my way. And thus you will suffer the same fate as D-Money, and that is....that you and he....have....NO...FATE!!!!!!!


[ Darrien rises from his seated position and begins to walk towards the door. He stops suddenly, turns back to the ring. He gathers up a bundle of loose papers and piles them on the ring. He pulls out a gold zippo lighter, with the initials LD on them, possibly his fathers, and lights the pile of trash on fire. He watches with sadistic eyes as the flames build and leap towards the ceiling. He slowly backs away as the fire begins to rage uncontrollably, Darrien smiles and turns towards the doorway. He exits out onto the street as the building erupts into a full blown fire. It is an erie sight as the flames light his background and he continues on his journey and the nearness of his first match in the LWF. ]

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