Post by macros on Feb 13, 2007 2:33:58 GMT -6
The long dry grass flows like waves as the chilling wind whips through the battlefield, the slight clanging of steel can be heard as several soldiers shuffle on their feet. Standing on the highest point of the hill looking out on the field is Macros. The wind flows through his hair scattering it across his face as his ever watchful towarddrddrd the horizon where the barbarian army have assembled.
Now and again the men around him turn there head glatowarddrd there commander, he was always a symbol of hope on the battlefield and a legend by all that lived in the time. It seemed that in the thick of battle when flame and steel fly through the air every arrow seemed to miss Macros by the slightest of margins, every blow from a sword would miraculously miss or be blocked. To the men in his legion it was a honor and relief to be placed on the battlefield with Macros, the chance of you ever seeing your children or wives again increased in his company.
The wind started to turn cold as a loud thump of steel colliding with steel echoes through the battlefield as the barbarian army are trying to provoke the opposition. Macros closes his eyes listening to the yells and thuds coming from the battlefield.
Voice: It is always a pathetic show when people believe they can win in battle, especially when it comes to defeating you.
The ever present voice in his head spoke as he listened to it; the strange voice seemed to always have the right ideas…the ideas that seemed to give him victory. Over the many years in company of this inner voice Macros had learned to silently reply and question it as much as he could.
Voice: Have your archers aim at the left and right flanks, when they cluster together unleash hell!!!
Macros: But what if they don’t cluster?
Voice: Oh but they will…they will.
The voice fades away as the sound of battle cries return, Macros opens his eyes to see a light sprinkle of snow starting to fall from the heavens. He lowers his hand to his sword and pulls it out of its scabbard slightly, to eliminate the chance of the frost freezing it in place, a mistake that has cost many a man their lives in battle. His regular officer moves up to Macros with a tough and hard face implanted and unmoved.
Officer: Your plan commander.
Macros: Have the first three rows of soldiers lock shield to create a wall, I want anyone who has a bow and are able to lock in a arrow get ready. At my first signal have the archers aimtowards the left and right flaks to make them cluster. As I stated if there is a man of age who can fire an arrow then make them do so, it does not matter for accuracy, there are plenty of men to be killed today…it is better to put them out of their misery early.
I want the catapults and trebuchets aimed toward the center, wait for them to cluster and then on my signal start to continuously fire.
On my final command we march toward battle with the Calvary in reserve…if all shall go as plan, by the time our first man arrives in the mist of our enemy, death would of already arrived to many barbarian.
Prepare the men for battle!!!
Officer: PREPARE FOR BATTLE!!!
The officer walks down the field towards the sub command post where he turns his back to Macros and faces the enemy. The shouts of the Officer towards the captains across the ranks echo through the atmosphere, the feeling of battle starts to creep upon every man as like ants to dead flesh the mere pawns in the game which were average soldiers undertake their orders.
I young stable boy faces Macros to watch for the signals and report them towards the officer, with a slight smile Macros nods and the boy passes the signal on and like perfect clockwork the officer shouts…
Officer: FRONT THREE ROWS…SHIELD LOCKED!!!
With a tremendous thud of steel the shields are locked together and a hard cold wall has now been created. The first wave of barbarians start to move towards the army as the men under the command of Macros quickly and defiantly issue and undertake his orders.
Macros nods towards the small stable boy once again
Officer: ARCHERS IGNITE!!!
A single torch is dropped to the ground, on contact a flame roars to life burning a small line through the soil and separating the three rows of shielded soldiers and the mass of archers. Working in a frenzy against the marching barbarians slowly creeping forward the archers ignite their arrows, slowly small balls of flames are glowing and ignited on the end of each arrow as the owners of the bows raise their aim to the skys
Officer: ARCHERS…FIRE!!!
With a stretch of the bow and the release of fingers the fiery hoard of arrows take flight into the air, Macros follows the lines of arrows into the air listening as the arrows produce that deathly sound to any soldier as the air twinkles through the feathers of the arrow. Macros closes his eyes at the knowledge of the sight which was soon to come, the screams of dieing men and smell of burnt flesh start to flow through the air of the cold afternoon.
Voice: And so it begins….
Macros comes back to reality to see the now familiar surroundings of the backstage areas of a POW house show. Macros leans against an empty crate as he adjusts his red tunic and lorica, his self proclaimed “manager of champions” Riley paces inches from the black curtain waiting for their entrance. Over the time in waiting Macros had witnessed many of wrestlers come to the curtain for their promo time, stars of the likes of Reck Maverick and others whom have no chance to capture the starlight. Oh how long it had been since the feeling of a house show had come to his senses, ever since the closer of the Universal Wrestling League it had seemed that both Macros and his manager had been out of action for over three weeks. Of course Macros was quick to acquire a contract with the Power On Wrestling promotion but it was lost in transaction hence the lack of matches, but of course it had made no large effect on the overall ability of the man…time and time again over the last three weeks it had been witnessed that Macros had been the subject of extra extensive workouts, Riley has obviously wanted the man to stay in the best possible condition for his debut match.
Finally a low chilling note fills the arena blowing from the speakers before a drum beat can be heard in the distance building in volume on every pulse. Suddenly a series of horns start to blow a tune that would provoke fear even in the hearts of the most bravest of men, as the camera shift towards the entrance curtains we see that a haze of smoke has started to build up covering the curtain from view.
Shadows start to move behind the smoke and suddenly emerging from the smoke is Riley he takes a couple of paces down the ramp before pointing back towards the entrance as the theme song reaches the highest point of musical volume.
The horns start to play that tune once more as out of the smoke steps the man everyone was looking for...Macros. He stands at the top of the entrance ramp dressed in a red tunic and Lorica mainly made up of Plate armor. He closes his eyes listening to the beat of the drums letting the feeling of the battle wash over him before making his way down the ramp toward his battlefield for the night. As the team walk down the ramp they are welcomed with a loud variety of cheers, the news of their signings and the acts and accomplishments in their past had obviously reached the wrestling fans of Power On Wrestling.
Macros steps up into the ring while his manager Riley rolls in gently across the canvas. Almost like clockwork the music lowers in volume once again just that chilling notes from the horns float through the arena as Riley fetches a microphone from the ring announcer standing at the ropes.
Riley: Now usually I wouldn’t take the time to introduce myself and my client to ya cause its obvious that everyone should know our names, but due to the debut circumstances I am willing to change my attitude on such a thing. So now I am going to introduce to you my client and the man whom come First Rights each fan shall know his name or wear his t-shirts. Standing at 6 ft 4 and weighing in at 240lbs…he is managed by myself, the manager of champions, Riley…POW and myself are proud to bring to you, Appius Macros Vitruvious.
So now we have our introduction out of the way let us move on for as they say in the movies time is money. Three weeks, a total of three weeks my client has been out of action after the closer of possibly one of the best federations to come and pass, the Universal Wrestling League. So where should I take my client now
after his loss of his Southeastern Championship and opportunity for the Heritage Championship on the closer of UWL? What federation will open its doors to the skills my client has to offer and give him even more opportunities for greatness? Why not follow the path of many UWL wrestlers have walked I said to myself, after all the owner of the rising federation is a former colleague of my clients, Tito Capaci...that has got to get us a nice push up the roster. But no such a thing would not come to hand, instead I find myself looking at the weekly information card given to the wrestlers and looking at my clients name disregarded and placed in a match with a variety of new faces all of whom wouldn't even have the talent to wrap the tape around the feet of my client. Every man, women and child sitting in this arena here tonight can see that my client Macros Vitruvious is in a class much higher than the likes of Dave Hunter or even my client tag team partner Lance Erickson.
Hunter himself stated that it took him thirteen months to get a championship belt around his waist, thirteen months...thriteen months in which "The Predator" Dave Hunter must of suffered a loss every month to the true UWC Television Champion before he was able to get lucky one night. That is nothing to impress your mind about nor the people of Power On Wrestling, in fact my client was able to destroy that achievement within one week of the Universal Wrestling League as he captured the UWL Southeastern Championship...then to add to that within seven weeks my client was scheduled to capture the UWL Heritage Championship.
So how about ya save the POW fans from another boring thirteen month try at a championship, in fact why don't you save the sport of wrestling the disgrace of such another thirteen month reign of jobbing to the real champions in this business and go on home and sit ya ass back down on ya armchair.
The crowd start to boo the manager, nearly all the fans not wanting such a thing to happen at all. Riley just puts his free hand in his coat pocket as he leans against the turnbuckle.
Riley: But of course if the supposed predator does not want to retire gracefully. My client shall be glad to assist it the matter, after all as far as I have witnessed ya are a fan of extreme. So tonight myself and my client Macros am willing to give you a lesson in a form of extreme...extreme pain. Ya see I want to see how much extreme pain ya can take Dave, how about I instruct my client to lock you in the Vitruvious Claw and we will see how long ya shall last...oh its real, its dan real.
Yeah thats right, just like every tag team match their is always another opponent with even less talent than the first, but of course do not put aside his lack of moves or accomplishments...this guy can pull out one hell of a "Cocky Smile". Oh my god I'm quivering in my boots.
Riley gives a small shiver to the fans mockingly, like a wave his emotion turns to a serious and famous snarled stare. Riley stares into the camera as he moves to the side of his client, he grabs Macros' tunic and Lorica and rips it to the ground revealing Macros to wear his wrestling attire.
Riley: Here in front of you today you see a real wrestler, lacking three weeks of in-ring competition he is still in perfect physical condition. This is a man born of destiny, a man born to raise his career to heights never before seen. Three weeks ago after pouring his soul out in a match on a canvas similar to this, he found himself stripped of a championship and booted out onto the street. Battered, bruised and defeated in confidence. But did this man, my client Macros Vitruvious, go to a hotel or home and sit of the couch grieving his losses...NO...my client improved his game, my client added to his schedule of training to balance his lack of in-ring competition. That is why you do not see a shell of a has been standing here wanting to reclaim some glory he may of had, unlike others in this tag team match my client has a future to look for in this business.
With a larger physical appearance and cardiovascular my client is the future, how can you fight that. Hunter, predator, what ever you call yourself it shall never match up against the might and force in the heart of a soldier. For all whom come before the Legion Soldier are cursed with the same fate, to fall at his feet in mercy...weather it be tonight or days to come you shall all suffer the same outcome of events. But their shall be a way to survive the path of defeat, follow the steps of Lance Erikson and come to the side of Macros and you shall be shown mercy, other than that their is no hope.
Riley drops the microphone and grabs the arm of Macros, slowly he raises the Legion Soldiers hand into the air to a tremendous amount of applause from the packed POW crowd. Is this a preview for tonight? All shall be revealed at Road to First Rights. The theme by Hans Zimmer begins to restart over the sound system as Riley continues to yell praise about his client and shake the mans hand victoriously through the air.
-:END PROMO:-
Now and again the men around him turn there head glatowarddrd there commander, he was always a symbol of hope on the battlefield and a legend by all that lived in the time. It seemed that in the thick of battle when flame and steel fly through the air every arrow seemed to miss Macros by the slightest of margins, every blow from a sword would miraculously miss or be blocked. To the men in his legion it was a honor and relief to be placed on the battlefield with Macros, the chance of you ever seeing your children or wives again increased in his company.
The wind started to turn cold as a loud thump of steel colliding with steel echoes through the battlefield as the barbarian army are trying to provoke the opposition. Macros closes his eyes listening to the yells and thuds coming from the battlefield.
Voice: It is always a pathetic show when people believe they can win in battle, especially when it comes to defeating you.
The ever present voice in his head spoke as he listened to it; the strange voice seemed to always have the right ideas…the ideas that seemed to give him victory. Over the many years in company of this inner voice Macros had learned to silently reply and question it as much as he could.
Voice: Have your archers aim at the left and right flanks, when they cluster together unleash hell!!!
Macros: But what if they don’t cluster?
Voice: Oh but they will…they will.
The voice fades away as the sound of battle cries return, Macros opens his eyes to see a light sprinkle of snow starting to fall from the heavens. He lowers his hand to his sword and pulls it out of its scabbard slightly, to eliminate the chance of the frost freezing it in place, a mistake that has cost many a man their lives in battle. His regular officer moves up to Macros with a tough and hard face implanted and unmoved.
Officer: Your plan commander.
Macros: Have the first three rows of soldiers lock shield to create a wall, I want anyone who has a bow and are able to lock in a arrow get ready. At my first signal have the archers aimtowards the left and right flaks to make them cluster. As I stated if there is a man of age who can fire an arrow then make them do so, it does not matter for accuracy, there are plenty of men to be killed today…it is better to put them out of their misery early.
I want the catapults and trebuchets aimed toward the center, wait for them to cluster and then on my signal start to continuously fire.
On my final command we march toward battle with the Calvary in reserve…if all shall go as plan, by the time our first man arrives in the mist of our enemy, death would of already arrived to many barbarian.
Prepare the men for battle!!!
Officer: PREPARE FOR BATTLE!!!
The officer walks down the field towards the sub command post where he turns his back to Macros and faces the enemy. The shouts of the Officer towards the captains across the ranks echo through the atmosphere, the feeling of battle starts to creep upon every man as like ants to dead flesh the mere pawns in the game which were average soldiers undertake their orders.
I young stable boy faces Macros to watch for the signals and report them towards the officer, with a slight smile Macros nods and the boy passes the signal on and like perfect clockwork the officer shouts…
Officer: FRONT THREE ROWS…SHIELD LOCKED!!!
With a tremendous thud of steel the shields are locked together and a hard cold wall has now been created. The first wave of barbarians start to move towards the army as the men under the command of Macros quickly and defiantly issue and undertake his orders.
Macros nods towards the small stable boy once again
Officer: ARCHERS IGNITE!!!
A single torch is dropped to the ground, on contact a flame roars to life burning a small line through the soil and separating the three rows of shielded soldiers and the mass of archers. Working in a frenzy against the marching barbarians slowly creeping forward the archers ignite their arrows, slowly small balls of flames are glowing and ignited on the end of each arrow as the owners of the bows raise their aim to the skys
Officer: ARCHERS…FIRE!!!
With a stretch of the bow and the release of fingers the fiery hoard of arrows take flight into the air, Macros follows the lines of arrows into the air listening as the arrows produce that deathly sound to any soldier as the air twinkles through the feathers of the arrow. Macros closes his eyes at the knowledge of the sight which was soon to come, the screams of dieing men and smell of burnt flesh start to flow through the air of the cold afternoon.
Voice: And so it begins….
Macros comes back to reality to see the now familiar surroundings of the backstage areas of a POW house show. Macros leans against an empty crate as he adjusts his red tunic and lorica, his self proclaimed “manager of champions” Riley paces inches from the black curtain waiting for their entrance. Over the time in waiting Macros had witnessed many of wrestlers come to the curtain for their promo time, stars of the likes of Reck Maverick and others whom have no chance to capture the starlight. Oh how long it had been since the feeling of a house show had come to his senses, ever since the closer of the Universal Wrestling League it had seemed that both Macros and his manager had been out of action for over three weeks. Of course Macros was quick to acquire a contract with the Power On Wrestling promotion but it was lost in transaction hence the lack of matches, but of course it had made no large effect on the overall ability of the man…time and time again over the last three weeks it had been witnessed that Macros had been the subject of extra extensive workouts, Riley has obviously wanted the man to stay in the best possible condition for his debut match.
Finally a low chilling note fills the arena blowing from the speakers before a drum beat can be heard in the distance building in volume on every pulse. Suddenly a series of horns start to blow a tune that would provoke fear even in the hearts of the most bravest of men, as the camera shift towards the entrance curtains we see that a haze of smoke has started to build up covering the curtain from view.
Shadows start to move behind the smoke and suddenly emerging from the smoke is Riley he takes a couple of paces down the ramp before pointing back towards the entrance as the theme song reaches the highest point of musical volume.
The horns start to play that tune once more as out of the smoke steps the man everyone was looking for...Macros. He stands at the top of the entrance ramp dressed in a red tunic and Lorica mainly made up of Plate armor. He closes his eyes listening to the beat of the drums letting the feeling of the battle wash over him before making his way down the ramp toward his battlefield for the night. As the team walk down the ramp they are welcomed with a loud variety of cheers, the news of their signings and the acts and accomplishments in their past had obviously reached the wrestling fans of Power On Wrestling.
Macros steps up into the ring while his manager Riley rolls in gently across the canvas. Almost like clockwork the music lowers in volume once again just that chilling notes from the horns float through the arena as Riley fetches a microphone from the ring announcer standing at the ropes.
Riley: Now usually I wouldn’t take the time to introduce myself and my client to ya cause its obvious that everyone should know our names, but due to the debut circumstances I am willing to change my attitude on such a thing. So now I am going to introduce to you my client and the man whom come First Rights each fan shall know his name or wear his t-shirts. Standing at 6 ft 4 and weighing in at 240lbs…he is managed by myself, the manager of champions, Riley…POW and myself are proud to bring to you, Appius Macros Vitruvious.
So now we have our introduction out of the way let us move on for as they say in the movies time is money. Three weeks, a total of three weeks my client has been out of action after the closer of possibly one of the best federations to come and pass, the Universal Wrestling League. So where should I take my client now
after his loss of his Southeastern Championship and opportunity for the Heritage Championship on the closer of UWL? What federation will open its doors to the skills my client has to offer and give him even more opportunities for greatness? Why not follow the path of many UWL wrestlers have walked I said to myself, after all the owner of the rising federation is a former colleague of my clients, Tito Capaci...that has got to get us a nice push up the roster. But no such a thing would not come to hand, instead I find myself looking at the weekly information card given to the wrestlers and looking at my clients name disregarded and placed in a match with a variety of new faces all of whom wouldn't even have the talent to wrap the tape around the feet of my client. Every man, women and child sitting in this arena here tonight can see that my client Macros Vitruvious is in a class much higher than the likes of Dave Hunter or even my client tag team partner Lance Erickson.
Hunter himself stated that it took him thirteen months to get a championship belt around his waist, thirteen months...thriteen months in which "The Predator" Dave Hunter must of suffered a loss every month to the true UWC Television Champion before he was able to get lucky one night. That is nothing to impress your mind about nor the people of Power On Wrestling, in fact my client was able to destroy that achievement within one week of the Universal Wrestling League as he captured the UWL Southeastern Championship...then to add to that within seven weeks my client was scheduled to capture the UWL Heritage Championship.
So how about ya save the POW fans from another boring thirteen month try at a championship, in fact why don't you save the sport of wrestling the disgrace of such another thirteen month reign of jobbing to the real champions in this business and go on home and sit ya ass back down on ya armchair.
The crowd start to boo the manager, nearly all the fans not wanting such a thing to happen at all. Riley just puts his free hand in his coat pocket as he leans against the turnbuckle.
Riley: But of course if the supposed predator does not want to retire gracefully. My client shall be glad to assist it the matter, after all as far as I have witnessed ya are a fan of extreme. So tonight myself and my client Macros am willing to give you a lesson in a form of extreme...extreme pain. Ya see I want to see how much extreme pain ya can take Dave, how about I instruct my client to lock you in the Vitruvious Claw and we will see how long ya shall last...oh its real, its dan real.
Yeah thats right, just like every tag team match their is always another opponent with even less talent than the first, but of course do not put aside his lack of moves or accomplishments...this guy can pull out one hell of a "Cocky Smile". Oh my god I'm quivering in my boots.
Riley gives a small shiver to the fans mockingly, like a wave his emotion turns to a serious and famous snarled stare. Riley stares into the camera as he moves to the side of his client, he grabs Macros' tunic and Lorica and rips it to the ground revealing Macros to wear his wrestling attire.
Riley: Here in front of you today you see a real wrestler, lacking three weeks of in-ring competition he is still in perfect physical condition. This is a man born of destiny, a man born to raise his career to heights never before seen. Three weeks ago after pouring his soul out in a match on a canvas similar to this, he found himself stripped of a championship and booted out onto the street. Battered, bruised and defeated in confidence. But did this man, my client Macros Vitruvious, go to a hotel or home and sit of the couch grieving his losses...NO...my client improved his game, my client added to his schedule of training to balance his lack of in-ring competition. That is why you do not see a shell of a has been standing here wanting to reclaim some glory he may of had, unlike others in this tag team match my client has a future to look for in this business.
With a larger physical appearance and cardiovascular my client is the future, how can you fight that. Hunter, predator, what ever you call yourself it shall never match up against the might and force in the heart of a soldier. For all whom come before the Legion Soldier are cursed with the same fate, to fall at his feet in mercy...weather it be tonight or days to come you shall all suffer the same outcome of events. But their shall be a way to survive the path of defeat, follow the steps of Lance Erikson and come to the side of Macros and you shall be shown mercy, other than that their is no hope.
Riley drops the microphone and grabs the arm of Macros, slowly he raises the Legion Soldiers hand into the air to a tremendous amount of applause from the packed POW crowd. Is this a preview for tonight? All shall be revealed at Road to First Rights. The theme by Hans Zimmer begins to restart over the sound system as Riley continues to yell praise about his client and shake the mans hand victoriously through the air.
-:END PROMO:-