Losing Matches

[Guest Coffin Surfer]

I feel this is the best match I have ever written. And I want some feedback dammit. I'am I paying my dues or something? O.K. I've read over Thoth's match three times, and I don't get it. I had details, psychology, arena atmosphere, and all that stuff.

 

 

 

 

 

The camera spins around the sold out arena. The fans are noticeably tired and sweaty from a night of drinking and cheering on their heroes. The camera reveals several empty seats as well.

 

Stevens: It appears the fans are taking their last opportunity to buy some more beer and take a bathroom break before the Main Event. It seems nobody is a afraid to miss a second of our next match.

 

Riley: Why don't they want to see Thoth squash some unknown jobber? It's Thoth for crying out loud. These ignorant fans need to show some respect.

 

The heavy grinding grooves of Dillinger Escape Plans "Calculating Infinity" blasts over the loud speakers. The smarktron simply says Deathwish in white letters and follows that with clips of a blood soaked Danny making Frost tap to the Deathlock. Danny comes out on to the platform. He simply looks around, and shakes his head to a zero reaction from the crowd. He slowly walks to the ring with a focused, no nonsense look on his face. He gets in the ring and just warms up.

 

Stevens: Riley calls him a unknown jobber, but he is in fact a former SJL World Champion.

 

Riley: That belt is like the town bicycle, everybody has had a ride. And you know it!

 

Quarantined" by At-The Drive In kicks up as the normal arena lighting is replaced by a very dark blue ambience. The music continues to play, showing images of Thoth and his matches on the smarktron. The beat, suddenly explodes, and the blue lights turn crimson red! Thoth appears from the entryway, and slowly walks down to the ring, clad in the robes of the Clan. He climbs the near turnbuckle, and, standing atop it, removes his Clan robe and tosses it uncaringly to the outside. The lights come back on, and the music fades.

 

Funyon: The following match is scheduled for one fall. Standing to my right, weighing in at 238 pounds, haling from Louisville, Kentucky......"DEATHWISH" DANNY WILLIAMSsssssssss!

 

A few hands clap as Williams paces around like a caged animal.

 

Funyon: And his opponent, weighing in at 236 pounds, from parts unknown.....THOTH!

 

The crowd "boos" while a bored looking Thoth just stares down Williams.

 

Stevens: Thoth really doesn't seem that with it tonight. He hasn't even broke a sweat.

 

Riley: He doesn't need to be with it. This is just a tune up match, to get him ready for Chris Wilson.

 

DING! DING! DING! Williams and Thoth step out of their corners and meet in the center of the ring. A vocal member of the crowd can be heard shouting in the distance "Kick his ass, Danny!" The two waste no time in locking up with a collar elbow tie up. Williams breaks the grapple, and chops Thoth across the chest. SMACK! "Woooooo!" Thoth sucks up the pain, and replies with a chop of his own. SMACK! "Wooooo!" Williams unleashes a growling battle cry, and smacks Thoth's chest with an even harder chop than before. THUMP! "Woooooooo!" This one backs Thoth up, but he still steps up and fires back with another chop. SMACK! "Woooooo!" Williams cries "EEEEYA" and pops Thoth's jaw with an unexpected elbow! CRACK! "Ohhhhhhh!". Thoth's arms drop to his sides, as he collapses lifelessly to the mat with a loud thump. Thoth is completely motionless, and appears to be dead. The shocked crowd goes absolutely crazy.

 

Stevens: Thoth should have warmed up before the match. It's so easy to get knocked out, when your cold and dry.

 

Riley: Bah, Why should he warm up? Deathwish is fresh out of a farm league, and Thoth is the leader of the Clan. Danny just got one lucky shot in, that's all.

 

Williams just shrugs his shoulders as the crowd roots him on. Williams grabs a handful of Thoth's multi colored hair, and jerks him up to his feet. Williams traps Thoth in a standing headscissors, and locks his arms around his waist for the Deathbomb! Sensing the end is already near, the crowd arises to their feet to get a better view. Williams bends his knees, and with a "GAHHH!" attempts the lift. But Thoth keeps his boots planted on the mat, and Williams is forced to abort the lift.

 

Stevens: Williams going for the Deathbomb already! I guess he doesn't get paid by the hour.

 

Riley: Steroid freak are not, Williams is not gonna lift Thoth up this early in the match.

 

Williams takes several deep breaths,.and bends his knees so low that they are almost touching the mat. Williams screams "IIIEEEE!" and attempts another lift. Large veins bulge out of Williams' neck, and his eyes nearly pop out of his head from strain. Williams pulls Thoth's boots off the mat, and lifts him into the air! But Thoth starts kicking his legs violently, and somehow fights his way back to the mat. Thoth digs his hands into his hips, lets out a primal scream, and pushes his upper body up. An exhausted Williams pushes all his body weight down on Thoth, but its no use. Thoth manages to flip Williams off, with a Back Bodydrop!

 

Worn out from the battle of wills, Thoth collapses to his knees. However, Williams pops right back up, and sneaks up behind him. Thoth hears the crowd pop, but he's too late. Williams quickly snaps on a backwaistlock, and hoists Thoth into the air. Williams drops back and tosses Thoth overhead with the release German Suplex! Thoth lands on his neck and shoulders, and flips over on to his belly. The crowd cheers in disbelief, at how easy Williams is man handling one of SWF's elite. Thoth rolls over on his back and strains to get up, but he can't seem to move anything below his shoulders. With sweat running down his body like water in a shower, Williams rises to his feet, and approaches the paralyzed Thoth. Thoth sees him coming, and uses what little control over his body he has left to roll out of the ring.

 

Stevens: Thoth in big trouble, as he has to roll out of the ring to avoid being pinned.

 

Riley: Nah, he just wants to lure Deathwish to the outside for some of Clan's trademark hardcore violence.

 

Instead of climbing out after him, Williams walks to the other side of the ring. The silent crowd breaks into cheers, as Williams takes position by the ropes. Williams squints his eyes, and carefully waits for Thoth to pop his head up. Kivell counts all the way to "10" before Thoth starts to show signs of life. Unsure of his footing, Thoth slowly stands up, and starts shaking his head to wake himself up. Williams bounces off the ropes, and charges across the ring as fast as his short bulky legs will carry him. Williams dives through the ropes, and blasts Thoth with the Elbow Suicida! The impact knocks Thoth into the guardrail. Thoth slides down the railing, and flops face first on the floor.

 

Williams partially rolls back into the ring, forcing Kivell to restart the count. With more time on his hands, Williams bends down and locks a front face lock on the semi-conscious Thoth. Williams pulls Thoth to his feet, and tosses his limp arm over his shoulder. Williams looks to the front roll fans, and shouts "BRAINBUSTER!". The excited fans get their cameras ready, while Williams grabs a handful of Thoth's tights. Williams face wrinkles with strain, as he hoists Thoth up into the air. But Thoth escapes Williams' grasp, and lands behind him. Realizing his mistake Williams spins around, only to be scooped up in the waiting hands of Thoth. The crowd "Ahhhs", as Thoth turns Williams upside down, and traps his head in between his knees. Thoth casually drops to his knees, and drives the top of Williams head into the floor with the Riot of the Blood! An upset doesn't look possible now, and the energized crowd goes dead silent. Still dazed from his beating, Thoth staggers to the apron and tries to climb into the ring. The drowsy Thoth slips and falls back to the floor, forcing Kivell to restart the count.

 

Riley: I told you, it was a clever trick to lure Deathwish to the outside so he could give him the Riot of the Blood on the concrete floor. This match is over.

 

Stevens: Well, more like an act of desperation. Still the end result is the same, I can honestly say Williams has little chance of pulling off an upset now.

 

Thoth climbs back on to the apron, and crawls into the ring. Thoth rolls to the center of the ring, and passes out. Williams remains completely motionless on the outside, as the ref very slowly counts him out. After a few seconds, Thoth sits up and rises to one knee. Thoth takes several deep breaths, and painfully climbs back to his feet. Still dizzy, Thoth stumbles to the edge of the ring and looks down at Danny. The ref reaches "9" when the crowd starts chanting "DAN-E!". Thoth waves his arms at the crowd to motion that Williams is finished, but that only encourages the chant to grow louder. Kivell reaches "12" when Williams starts moving. The chant ends, and is replaced with loud cheers.

 

Thoth's jaw drops in shock, and he starts screaming at Kivell to speed up the count. Williams crawls to the guardrail, and pulls himself to his feet. The front roll fans reach out to pat him on his back, but the uptight security guards put a stop to that. Like a baby learning to walk, Williams cautiously lets go of the guardrail, and takes careful steps towards the ring. Kivell counts "17.....18.....19............" , but halts when Williams drapes his leg across the apron! Thoth shouts curses in Japanese, and waves Williams on. Williams finishes climbing on to the apron, and rolls back into the ring. Thoth greets him with welcoming stomps to the back. After releasing his frustrations, Thoth pulls Williams to his feet. Out of nowhere Williams pops Thoth with an elbow, and tries to crawl away on his hands and knees. Thoth easily catches him by his tights, and drops a couple of elbows on his back.

 

Thoth gets in front of the laid out Williams, and traps him in a front facelock. Both men are on their knees, as Thoth modifies the facelock to choke Williams out. The crowd "boos" the heelish tactic. Thoth replies to the crowd in broken English "Shutah the Fawk Up!", increasing the volume of the "boos". The ref notices Williams gagging and spitting, and orders Thoth to stop choking him. Thoth complies, but the damage has been done. Thoth jerks Williams to his feet with the front facelock, and easily slams him to the mat with a hard Snap Suplex! Thoth floats over for the lateral press.

 

One....

Two....

 

No! Williams kicks out! Thoth casually pulls Williams up, but gets caught with another quick elbow to the nose. While Thoth shakes it off, Williams crawls to the ropes, and tightly locks his arms around the bottom rope. Thoth wipes the involuntary tears from his eyes, and sets his sights on the shelled up Williams. Thoth growls with anger, and starts stomping away at the helpless Williams. After several moments, Thoth quits and tries to pull Williams off the bottom rope. Thoth pulls on Williams legs with all his body weight, but the experienced grappler still won't let go of the rope. Thoth gives up, and stomps Williams some more. This time Thoth starts driving his boot in the back of Williams' head. It doesn't take long for Williams to go limp, and release the rope.

 

Stevens: This is what we expected to see. Thoth just having his way with Williams.

 

Riley: You don't get it Stevens. This match ends when Thoth says so.

 

Thoth takes the opportunity to catch his breath, before jerking the drowsy Williams up by his tights. Thoth locks his arms around Williams' waist, and drags his corpse to the center of the ring. Thoth locks on an abdominal stretch, and tries to grab hold of Williams' free hand for the Pumphandle! But Williams keeps his arm out stretched far out of Thoth's reach. A frustrated Thoth spits out "Give Hond!" Williams strongly shouts back "NO!". Thoth nods, and drives three hard elbows into Williams' ribs. Thoth repeats his order "Give Hond!" Grinding his teeth from the pain of the submission hold, Williams just shakes his head. With a big smile on his face, Thoth starts driving more elbows into Williams ribs. But this time, Thoth doesn't stop. Williams screams in agony as each elbow connects. The crowd starts to count along. "Fifteen! Sixteen! Seventeen! Eighteen! Nineteen!.

 

Thoth raises his arm high into the air, before coming down with the hardest elbow of the series. This one makes a loud crack as it connects with Williams' ribs. Williams is nearly in tears, and Thoth has no trouble grabbing his hand now. Thoth hoists Williams up in the air with the pumphandle, and slams him on his stomach with a beautiful Pumphandle Suplex! The crowd "Ohs" as Williams rolls around on the mat, clutching his stomach. Thoth immediately gets on top of Williams, and hooks his leg for the pin.

 

One....

Two....

 

No! Williams raises his shoulder up. The crowd gives a small applause for the nearfall. Thoth jumps to his feet, and places his boot on Williams' face. Thoth rubs his boot in William's face, like he is putting out a cigarette. This manages to get a negative reaction from the dead crowd. Williams knocks Thoth's boot off, and sits up. Thoth quickly runs into the ropes, bounces off, and drives a Knee into the back of Williams' head! Williams wobbles, and collapses back to the mat. Thoth tightly hooks both his legs for the pin attempt.

 

One....

Two.....

Th

 

NO! Williams raises his shoulder up. A pissed off Thoth slams his fist into the mat, and stands up. Thoth grabs Williams' by his arm, and drags him near a corner. Thoth takes aim, hops into the air, and lands on Williams' face with a nasty knee drop! Williams goes into convulsions before laying completely still on his back. Thoth signals that he is going up stairs, which gets a mild reaction from the crowd. Thoth steps out on to the apron, and climbs to the top turnbuckle. Cameras already start to flash, as Thoth balances himself on the top rope. Thoth raises his arms in the air, before diving off the tope rope. Thoth lands on Williams' forehead with a Kneedrop, and rolls across the ring from the momentum of the strike! Thoth crawls back to Williams, and covers him for the pin. The crowd "boos" as the ref counts.

 

One....

Two.....

Three!

 

NO! The ref waves off the count, and points to Williams' foot on the bottom rope. Williams sits up, but Thoth gives him a hard kick to the back. THUMP! Williams flinches in pain, and rolls on to his hands and knees. Thoth starts nudging Williams' head with his boot, and motioning for him to get up. The crowd starts chanting "Dan-E!", to the rhythm of stomping feet. Williams slowly staggers to his feet only to get kicked in the gut. Williams bends over, and Thoth ties up his arms for the Doublearm DDT! But with what strength he has left, Williams runs Thoth into a corner. Thoth doesn't even wait for Kivell, and releases Williams. Before Williams raises his head up, Thoth knees him in the face, and scoops him up for the Riot of the Blood! But Williams reverses it into an Inside Cradle!

 

One....

 

Williams doesn't have the strength to hold the cradle! A pissed Thoth jumps up, and goes into a rage. Williams can't even stand up, while Thoth is busy kicking the bottom rope and spitting honkers at the crowd. The drunks in the crowd shout curses at Thoth, who replies by flipping them off. Thoth finally cools down, and notices Williams trying to get up. Thoth helps him up, but gets rewarded with another elbow to the face! This one rocks Thoth, and he's forced to stumble into the ropes to keep from going down. Williams drops to hands and knees, and crawls to a corner. Thoth checks his mouth for blood, and goes after Williams. Williams pulls himself up with the ropes, and leans against the turnbuckles with his back to the ring. Thoth reaches out his arms to grab Williams, but he instinctively spins around and catches Thoth flush on the jaw with a hard elbow! Thoth drops backwards like a hacked down tree, and splats on the mat. Williams loses his balance, and goes down from the momentum of the elbow swing.

 

Riley: Ah dammit! Get up Thoth, your the leader of the Clan for crying out loud, you can't lose to this nobody!

 

Stevens: The elbow has been there for Williams all night. There is no excuse for Thoth not seeing them coming. If he would have done any research on Williams at all, he would know the elbow is his most reliable and used weapon. It's obvious Thoth has taken Williams to lightly.

 

The crowd goes crazy, and you can see people waving their hands to motion for Williams to cover Thoth. Thoth is laid out spread eagle, and Williams slowly crawls on top of him for the lateral press. The crowd screams along with Kivell.

 

One....

Two.....

Three!

 

NO! Just like last time, Thoth raises his shoulder at the last possible microsecond. The crowd gives a collective sigh. Williams raises up, with his mouth hanging open to suck in all the air he can. Williams wipes some sweat off his forehead and adjust his tights, before bending down and grabbing Thoth's too cute bright red hair. Williams pulls with all his might to get Thoth on his feet. After several attempts, Williams finally gets Thoth up. But the punch drunk Clan Leader collapses back to his knees before Williams can do anything. Williams sighs, and pulls Thoth up once more by his hair. This time Williams is able to hold Thoth up. Williams raises his right arm to the crowd, as if to ask the intelligent Canadian marks "Should I stiff the hell out of him?" The crowd overwhelmingly responds with a standing ovation.

 

A pumped up Williams unleashes an intimidating growl, and starts jamming elbows into Thoth's temple and jaw for the Elbow Combo of Doom! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!...... Crack!....Crack!........Crack! ....Crack! Thoth takes all eight elbows, but is somehow still handing. Thoth wobbles around like a drunk, with his boots glued to the mat. Williams coldly looks into Thoth's glazed over eyes, before spinning around and blasting him with the Rolling Elbow! Thoth's head snaps with the momentum of the strike, and he drops to the mat on his side. Williams nudges Thoth on his back with his big white boot, and places it on his chest for the Cocky Pin! The crowd goes apeshit for this, and counts along with Kivell.

 

One....

Two....

Thre

 

NO! Thoth knocks Williams boot off, and rolls over on his stomach. Williams reaches down, and tugs and tugs on Thoth's hair, but he is too limp to pull up. Williams just drops down to the mat, and rolls Thoth over for the lateral press. But Thoth quickly rolls back over on his belly to avoid the pin. Williams rolls Thoth over again, but Thoth rolls back over. The majority of the crowd chuckles, as the two continue this until Thoth rolls into the ropes. Thoth quickly wraps his legs and arms tightly around the bottom rope. A frustrated Williams stands up and starts kicking Thoth in the ribs. Thoth just gives Williams a sick grin, and sticks his tongue out at him Gene Simmons style, while keeping himself secured on the bottom rope. Williams responds by drawing his boot back further than ever before, and driving it into Thoth's ribs with the force of all his body weight. CRACK!

 

Thoth buckles, and releases his death grip on the ropes. Williams pulls Thoth up from the apron, and props him up against the ropes to keep him from falling. Williams drives a right/left/right elbow combo to Thoth's jaw, making his head awkwardly bounce back and forth with each blow. Thoth is in La La Land, and Williams easily shoots him off the ropes with an Irish Whip! Thoth hits the ropes on the opposite of the side of the ring, but hangs on. Thoth drops to the mat, and rolls out of the ring. After rolling out of the ring, Thoth just passes out face down on the floor. Williams mutters some curses to himself, and rolls out after the battered Thoth. The crowd is completely loving this unexpected turn of events, and giving a constant cheer.

 

Stevens: I can't believe what I'am seeing, and neither can the fans in this sold out arena! Can you say upset of the decade!

 

Riley: Hell No! Thoth has another comeback in him, I mean he can't lose, he just can't........

 

Williams smirks at the front roll fans, as someone nails Thoth right on the BUTT with a half empty or half full beer cup. Williams pulls the dead Thoth to his knees, and traps his head in a standing head scissors. Williams pulls Thoth up by his tights, and locks his arms around his torso one at a time for the Deathbomb! Audience members start jumping up and down with excitement, while some just stand with their arms crossed. Williams bends his knees, and lifts Thoth off the floor with ease. Williams mounts Thoth on his shoulders, and uses all the power of his small frame to drive Thoth's back on to the thin protective mat on top of the concrete. Even the people in the cheap seats on the other side of the building can hear the thump of Thoth's carcass against concrete.

 

Stevens: THE DEATHBOMB! Williams hit Thoth with the Deathbomb on the concrete floor! It is complete anarchy in the Corel Centre.

 

Riley: These dumbass fans need to the shut the hell up. They have nothing to celebrate until Williams pins Thoth to the mat. Which WILL NOT AND CAN NOT HAPPEN!

 

The fans are near riot level, and are making the biggest noise of the night, thus far. With a deranged look in his eyes, Williams pounds his chest and wastes his time talking trash to the empty shell that is Thoth's body. Williams goes to the head of Thoth's corpse, sits him up, sticks his arms underneath Thoth's armpits, locks his hands around his torso, and drags him to his feet. Thoth's legs are rubber, and Williams is the only thing holding him up. Williams manages to sit Thoth on the apron, and roll him back into the ring. Thoth slowly starts rolling to the other side of the ring, but Williams quickly slides into the ring and stops him half way. Williams hooks both of Thoth's legs for the pin. Once again, the crowd screams at the top of their lungs along with Kivell's count.

 

One....

Two....

Three!

 

NO! Still conscious of his surroundings, Thoth raises his shoulder up. Williams is a bit shocked, but he keeps his cool. Williams extends his arm, and gives the "thumbs down" signal. The crowd reaches riot level finally convinced that a major upset not only can occur tonight, but is going to happen tonight. Williams calmly traps Thoth in a standing head scissors, as he tires to get up. Williams grabs hold of Thoth's tights, and pulls him up to his feet. Williams locks his arms around Thoth's waist, and starts taking long deep breaths. Thoth drops to his knees, but Williams pulls him right back up. Williams bends his knees, and with a "Gahhh" attempts the lift. But he's to exhausted to lift Thoth off the mat. The cheering crowd, lets out a collective sigh. But Williams keeps his grip, and starts summoning his power for a second lift attempt.

 

Stevens: Can he find the power to lift Thoth one more time, and clinch the victory?

 

Riley: Ha! He don't have another lift left him!

 

In the distance you can see a guy in the audience wave his hands up in the air, and yell "Lift Him!" A sweat soaked Williams starts breathing faster and faster. The crowd encourages Williams by stomping their feet so fast that it resembles machine gun fire. Suddenly, Williams bends his knees, and with an "IEEEEE!" lifts Thoth off the mat. Williams drives Thoth straight down on his back with a earth shaking Deathbomb! Thoth hits the mat so hard, it looks like he was dropped from a sky scraper instead of the shoulders of a mere 5'10 man. The back of Thoth's head bounces off the mat, with a gut wrenching thump.

 

Stevens: HE DID IT! HE DID IT!.... DEATHBOMB! DEATHBOMB!

 

Riley: NO! THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!

 

Williams grabs hold of Thoth's dead legs, and bends Thoth in half with the Double Leg Pickup! The crowd blows the roof off the building at the surreal scene of Thoth being pinned to the mat. The crowd shatters the ears of anyone within a 10 mile radius as they scream along with Kivell.

 

One....

Two....

Three!

 

Williams releases Thoth's legs, and stumbles to his feet with a look of disbelief on his face. Kivell raises Williams' hand in the air to make the inconceivable upset official.

 

Stevens: It's offical! Newcomer Danny Williams has defeated Thoth by cleanly pinning his shoulders to the match! I don't think any body could have predicted this. This is just plain shocking!

 

Riley: I'am convinced this is a horrible nightmare, and that I'am going to wake up any second now. How could the leader of the Clan, the greatest stable in SWF history, lose to some rookie.

 

Stevens: Easy, Thoth was not expecting a fight tonight. He wasn't warmed up properly, he didn't research his opponent. I don't care who your fighting, If your not prepared, you don't have a good chance of winning. This is the SWF, were the best of the best, you can't take a night off and expect to stay on top.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Funyon: The winner of the match at 17 minutes and 22 seconds "DEATHWISH" DANNY WILLIAMSsssssss!

 

Excited Canadians start jumping up and down with joy. But it's clear it's not really because Danny's a fan favorite, as they start to chant "THOTH-SUCKS!" But Williams doesn't care about the fans, he just looks down at Thoth's mangled corpse, finally gaining a sense of satisfaction that he did indeed prove himself by defeating one of the best. Thoth isn't moving, and some ring side doctors have already started working on reviving him. Unlike his match against Tod, Williams doesn't wait to see if Thoth is going to be alright, he doesn't care. He just rolls out of the ring, and starts his long journey back to the locker room.

[Guest Rabbi_wilson13]

Well it looks very good, Danny.

 

My only problem is your lack enthusiasm at the ending.

 

One..

Two..

Three!

 

just doesn't really do it for me for a big upset win, or any other win for that matter. Especially surprise victories. Other than that, its solid all around.

[Guest Coffin Surfer]

How about:

 

ONE

TWO

THREE!

 

I still hardly think caplocks has anything to do with me losing. At least you got the storyline of the match. At least my match had a storyline. At least my match had actual transition, and not just three hundred missed blind charges. Did my character go blind and I wasn't informed.

[Guest HVilleThugg]

I PMed you, but I'll say something here too.

 

It just didn't do it for me, if that means anything. I thought the pacing was off and that you got into the big moves to quickly. I know what you were trying to do there, but the whole sequence just seemed like a regular old sequence instead of a hyped up finisher that didn't end the match, ya know? Also, I think that in the beginning, you over sold the elbow to the head. I doubt that anyone would drop lifelessly to the mat after being elbowed. I saw that you tried to save with Stevens comment after it, but it just didn't work.

 

I think you're taking this loss too seriously man. Like I told you over PM, I don't think this was your best effort, as I've marked matches of yours that, IMO, were way better than this one. So, I certainly don't think this was your best match.

 

Also, I thought a count out was 10 now, not 20 like back in the day. I could be wrong, and this certainly didn't lose you the match, nor did the final pin count. Although, Wilson is write, it probably would have scored you some extra points if you had made it a little more excitable, but you certainly didn't lose points on that.

 

Da "must go now" H

[Guest 5_moves_of_doom]

Believe it or not Danny, though it wasn't JUST the caps locks thing, various exclamation marks CAN make the match, as everything just has a more exciting feel. I mean...

 

ONE!

 

...

 

...

 

TWO!

 

...

 

...

 

THREE!

 

...is a lot more exciting than...

 

One...

Two...

Three!

 

...if you can see the difference. Other than that it was a GREAT match, with all of the correct elements, though Thoth just portrayed the same general elements in a more exciting and innovate way.

 

 

Here's Wilson and I's match, which really was pretty bad, for reasons mentioned in some other posts. Anyhoo, I'm sure it wasn't that close even, but I am intent that it's at least a DECENT matchup.

 

 

SWF Storm returns from an extensive commercial break with an opening shot of the external vicinity of the Corel Centre. Herds of Canadians litter the outside streets, as a luminous screen flashes: “SWF STORM! SOLD OUT!” along with yet another advertisement: “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure: The Ballet! Tickets on Sale!” The camera cuts to the interior of the arena, as thousands of enthusiastic ticket holders let out a thunderous yet “YOU SCREWED BRET!” randomly throughout the arena.

 

“Would you get them to shut the hell up?” an irritated Bob Riley shouts over the recitation, to a dumbfounded Mark Stevens.

 

“I can’t!” Marky Mark replies, a tinge of annoyance in his voice also. “They still seem to think that we screwed this guy named Bret!”

 

“Well, who the hell is he?”

 

“I have no clue. We’ll just have to continue with the show like normal. Ahem. Ladies, gentlemen, and everything in between; welcome to yet another edition of SWF Storm coming to you live from the Corel Centre in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada!”

 

“Home of the morons!”

 

“Please Booby, please. Anyhoo, we’ve witnessed a many spectacular bout so far, each better than the last, which brings us to the Main Event! And what an ME this is shaping out to be as three members of the Magnificant Seven fave off against the Midnight Carnival’s respectable trio. Stryke, Taylor Thompson, Chris Wilson, just short of half of the Magnificant Seven, a sadistically horrid team formed just a few days ago! Chris Raynor, Edwin MacPhisto, Z, a good portion of the Midnight Carnival, a long established stable that has been tearing through the Smarks Wrestling Federation for what seems like ages! These two trios clash tonight, as only the result remains a mystery!”

 

“I predict that I win the Light-Heavyweight Championship once again from…who has it right now?”

 

“Righto. We go now to the ring, where Funyon is ready to make the introductions!”

 

The screen pans over to the squared circle, where Funyon stands with wearing a single blazer top and red dotted boxer shorts, apparently haven lost his pants during the commercial break.

 

“I would like to divert the audience’s attention to ringside as it is now time for the MAIN EVENT!” Funyon’s voice rings out, immediately decreasing the “YOU SCREWED BRET!” chants. “This contest is scheduled for one fall and is a six man tag match! Disqualification and count out rules are in affect! Introducing, weighing in at a total of 259 pounds, wrestling for the sake of mischief and mayhem, ‘TNT’ Taylor Nicholas Thompson, Stryke, Chris Wilson, they are…the Magnificent Seven…er…three of them anyway.”

 

The opening rhythms of “Toxicity” by System of a Down echo from the loudspeakers, signaling a succession of boos to hail down from the spectating arena. An ocean of strobe lights flood the entranceway just as a single figure makes its way to the apex of the entrance ramp. Said figure is soon accompanied by two other mystery men, the blinding lights illuminating the trio as Stryke, Wilson, and TNT! All three grapplers strike variously offensive poses on their way to the ring, as the fans show their “appreciation” by relentlessly chanting “SEVEN SUCKS!” The group slides into the ring, as each man heads off to a single corner. The three arrive at the separate turnbuckles, each holding up both of their arms, and extending three fingers of their left hand and four digits of their right. The wrestlers remove their extra clothing, each man stretching, testing the ropes, ect. in order to prepare for their challenge.

 

“Gee wiz,” Riley observes. “These three appear to be locked, stocked, and ready to go for what is sure to be a squash match.”

 

“Oh please,” Stevens counters. “Squash match? This seems to be completely even. Hell, if I had to choose, I’d say that it’s the Midnight Carnival that has the slight advantage.”

 

“BIASED!” Riley shouts, waving a hot pink “Seven ownz Carnival” flag into the air.

 

“Secondly….” Funyon continues with his Buffer-like vocals, “weighing in at a combined 718 pounds, the proclaimed cult of silliness, Z, Edwin MacPhisto, Chris Raynor, they make up…THE MIDNIGHT CARNIVAL!”

 

“The Midnight Carnival” a sultry female voice repeats, as the initiating tunes of “Love Rollercoaster” start up. Fancily patterned lighting effects occur in unison with the beat of the song, coming to a climax including brightly flashing purple lights. The members of the Midnight Carnival emerge from behind a crimson, tacky curtain, each playing to the crowd, egging on the persistent explosion of encouraging screams. The stable trots down the entrance ramp, sliding into the ring as the chorus of the Carnival’s anthem screeches to a halt. The competitors take a tick or two to talk strategy, arranging the placement of each participant. Chris Raynor and Taylor Thompson are cautiously chosen by each team, both men approaching the center of the ring.

 

*** DING DING DING ***

 

Three consecutive chimes of a bell sound off, indicating the beginning of the match as both Raynor and Thompson pace out of their respectable corners, feeling their way around the ring. Raynor takes a single dive at the explosive one, a single arm outreached, but TNT ducks away into a corner, causing Chris to grasp at nothing but empty mat! Chris kips to his feet once more, again lurching forward at the dynamite warrior, who appropriately darts out of the way once more! Raynor leaps at Taylor a final time, this time juking to the right and diving to his left, faking out and pouncing on top of TNT! Thompson topples to the mat, Chris fluidly landing on top of him, as Rayn Man reels back, thrusting his right fist several repeated times into the prone skull of Taylor Thompson! TNT winces with each jab to the face, as Chris finally struggles his shoulders down onto the mat, making the pin!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

“And TNT kicks out of this premature pinfall attempt at the two mark!” Grand Slam screams out in an exited manner.

 

“As if Chris was actually going to get the pin there,” Riley ponders out loud.

 

“Chris yanks TNT to his feet by his streaming dreadlocks, grabs a hold oh his arm, and hurls him at the ring ropes with an Irish whip! What can Chris possibly have in store?”

 

Taylor reverberates off of the opposite set of ring ropes, as he comes lumbering back to the eagerly awaiting Chris, who catches him and puts him back down with a powerslam, holding him down for the pin!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

“And yet another near fall at the hands of Chris Raynor,” Stevens observes, with a hint of excitement in his vocal expression.

 

Chris rolls from the fallen Taylor Nicholas Thompson, a glint of slight aggravation in his eye, as he returns to TNT, and again drags him to his feet by his long, flowing hair. Raynor clasps Thompson’s hand in his with a firm, iron grip, again whip lashing the lumberous figure into the ropes! On this second maneuver however, TNT deliberately paces back towards Chris, but just as he arrives a second time at the tag master, he lurches from the mat, delivering a swift yet stiff flying forearm to the cranium of his opponent! Both men wearily collapse to the mat, catching their breathe as the lay flat on their backs. Fatigued and exhausted, the two opponents reach out in opposite directions to their separate corners, where several team mates stand eagerly outreaching their welcoming arms. The leftover members of each stable clap their hands, as the physically drained Taylor and Chris aimlessly army crawl towards their corners.

 

SLAP!

 

SLAP!

 

Two spank-like sounds cause the crowd to erupt in cheers as both men tag in replacement team mates! Chris Wilson and Edwin MacPhisto dive to the vertex of the mat, as Edwin hurdles from the mat, extending his right leg upward with a flowing spring sidekick!

 

CRACK

 

Eddie Mac’s foot snaps a fairly shocked Wilson’s head backwards as in cracks across the tip of his jaw! Wilson immediately crumbles to the mat but spins right back up, ready for more! Eddie Mac meets Wilson’s punishment enduring needs however as he swipes a few left and right hands to the sides of Wilson’s temples! Wilson reels back with an expression of genuine anguish painted across his face, holding a single hand against the side of his head. Edwin follows the recoiling Wilson, delivering stiff jabs into his sides until he has eased him all the way into a neutral corner. Edwin juts a stiff elbow into Wilson’s face, bloodying his nose a bit, and then steps up to the second turnbuckle…

 

“ONE!” the crowd shouts.

 

“TWO!” the crowd shouts.

 

“THREE!” the crowd shouts.

 

“FOUR!” the crowd shouts.

 

“FIVE!” the crowd shouts.

 

“SIX!” the crowd shouts.

 

“Mac Daddy is delivering several right hands to the forehead of his opponent, as the crowd counts along!” Stevens shouts eagerly.

 

“What are these stupid Canadians doing!? Can’t they just respect the participants of the match and stay silent?”

 

“Silence village idiot. Eddie Mac has gotten to nine and…NO! Chris Wilson reverses just before the ten count, flooring Edwin with a rather improvised and sloppy Manhattan drop! Shocked and bewildered, Eddie Mac has limply collapsed to the mat, allowing Wilson to make the cover!

 

ONE!

 

TW…

 

“And Eddie Mac elevates a shoulder from the mat to the delight of the spectators! Wilson takes advantage of his newly gained momentum, delivering a few stiff boots to his rib cage and such, but seems to want to take a rest, tagging out to Stryke! Stryke leans backwards with his hands still grasping tightly onto the top rope, gaining a bit of momentum from this elastic spring, and slingshots himself forward in a flipping motion, plummeting right onto the weakened and defenseless MacPhisto. Edwin yelps out in pain upon impact, grasping at his arched back as he squints his eyes in a pained manner. Stryke immediately positions himself on top of Edwin, making the quick pin!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Edwin goes to kick out, only to spot the ring ropes mere inches away, positioning his right foot under the bottom multicolored elastic band.

 

“Cheap tactic by Edwin MacDumbPhisto there,” Riley comments.

 

“He saw an opening to conserve some energy, and took it,” Stevens shoots back. “What’s so cheap about that?”

 

“Um…well…er…shut up Grand Spam.”

 

Edwin, now on his feet in a dazed and confused fashion, using the ring ropes to support himself, stumbles over to Stryke, attempting to strike him down with a short clothesline! Stryke nonchalantly ducks underneath Ed’s arm swing, as he ends up behind the Crown Prince of Flash and Panache, toppling him to the ground as he leaps upward, and thrusts his feet forward into Edwin’s back in a dropkick motion! Eddie Mac tumbles down to the mat lifelessly, rubbing his back, as Stryke immediately hones in on Ed. The Showstopper grabs Eddie by the waist band, lifting him to his feet. Stryke observes the dizzied Edwin, and wraps his arm around Eddie Mac’s waist, with a rear waist lock! Stryke desperately tugs on the immovable Mac Daddy, as he hardly manages to lift Edwin over his head. Stryke falls backwards, but rather than flipping all the way over and onto his neck, Edwin simply kerplops on top of Stryke, actually pinning Stryke’s shoulders to the mat!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH…

 

“And Stryke releases the maneuver at the last second, lifting both of his shoulders off of the mat yet letting Edwin get that extra freedom he needs by releasing him! Eddie Mac has so little time to take advantage of this turning of the tide…”

 

SLAP!

 

“And here comes the Z-ster! The little guy comes staggering out of his corner, cleaning Stryke’s clock with an incredibly stiff arm grenade!”

 

“But Stryke uses his super duper ultra uber stamina, immediately springing back up to his feet!”

 

“Not for long however, as Z just unleashes yet another blow! Stryke isn’t getting up this time, as Z makes the cover…”

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THR…

 

“And Stryke proves that he’s not one to be put down with ease, kicking out of that extremely stiff clothesline at 2.5!”

 

Z assists the Showstopper regain a standing posture, but Stryke puts him down with a few quick back elbows to the jaw! Stryke aids Z to a standing position, but suddenly slings his arm across the chest of his opponent, preparing for what appears to be a makeshift Rock Bottom! Stryke forces his entire body forward, plunging Z into the mat with the urinage he calls Break Down!

 

“And Z is just planted into the ring apron with a devastating Rock Bottom-like maneuver! Stryke makes the cover, hooking the leg!”

 

ONE!

 

“Will this be it?”

 

TWO!

 

“Can Z escape the predicaments of this match-ending pin attempt!”

 

“NO! He can’t!”

 

”Shut up Riley!”

 

THR…

 

“NO!”

 

Z desperately grabs at mid air, lifting his shoulder a mere fraction from the mat! Stryke, terribly frustrated, stomps over to his corner…

 

SLAP!

 

Wilson steps into the ring and immediately continues the assault on a fallen Z, stomping him into the corner before driving the sole of his boot into Z’s chest. The referee begins to count, and after a long four Wilson releases the hold and stands him up in the corner.

 

“Ooo, Wilson’s a tough guy,” snips Stevens. “Beat on the poor guy who’s worn down and needs to make a tag.”

 

“He’s just doing the smart thing, Mark,” retorts Riley. “You should really try it sometime. Z should have never interfered in that match on Sunday, and Wilson is letting him know that.”

 

“He didn’t even attack Wilson! He attacked all the goons Wilson had at ringside to help out Edwin, who was basically getting quadruple teamed.”

 

“Whatever you say. Call the match.”

 

Stevens growls, then obliges. “Wilson talks a little trash to Z before cocking back and unleashing a knife-edge chop that sears across the rookie’s chest!”

 

WOOO!

 

“Wilson reloads and sends another merciless strike scything across Z’s chest.”

 

WOOO!

 

“He pulls back for a third, but Z bashes him in the nose with a headbutt, spins Wilson around and jams him into the corner, furiously working him over with right hands. Wilson knees Z in the stomach and spins him back into the corner, pounding on him with some rights of his own. Z starts to show signs of life, blocking Wilson’s right. Wilson tries to come in with a left, but Z blocks that too, spins around and jams Wilson into the corner. He uses the ropes for momentum as he repeatedly rams his shoulder into Wilson’s gut before grabbing him by the arm. The crowd is rallying behind Z as he whips Wilson across the ring and charges after him and as Wilson bounces out, Z nearly beheads him with a Hand Grenade, the clothesline having so much force it knocks both men to the mat!”

 

“What are you doing, Chris?!” asks Riley. “Letting this little punk take you down? Revenge! Focus on revenge!”

 

“Wilson’s focusing on clearing the cobwebs at this moment,” points out Stevens as Z starts to crawl towards the corner. “That brief spurt of offense is giving Z an opportunity to make the tag, and he’s only a few feet away from Edwin’s outstretched hand, the crowd urging him to make the tag to their champion.”

 

“Z lunges for Edwin’s lanky arm,” continues Riley, “But Wilson grabs him around the ankle and yanks him back. The crowd is letting him hear it as he drags Z away from the corner and tries to lock on a figure four, stepping around and reaching down, but Z kicks Wilson square in the rear and he stumbles into the corner. Z needs to learn to respect his elders.”

 

Wilson comes spinning out of the corner, and as he does Z reaches up and drags him down into a small package, the crowd going wild as a surprised Wilson finds his shoulders tightly pinned to the mat. ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THR- but he rolls out of it, surprised by Z’s roll up.

 

“Nice work by Z there,” compliments Stevens, “as he almost beat Wilson with that simple roll up. Wilson’s jacked now as both men reach their feet. He swings at Z wildly, but his efforts of offensive momentum are blocked and Z tries for another stiff clothesline, this time blocked by Wilson! He reaches back, hooking Z’s arms and trying to slide him over to the mat with a pin of his own, a backslide. Z isn’t having it as he flips over entirely and finds himself in a very convenient position: Holding Wilson in a double underhook.”

 

“Not this stupid move!” pleads Riley. “Does anybody want to see a finisher named after a freaking highway?”

 

“These fans do as Z tries to pick Wilson up for the Jersey Turnpike, but Wilson is too strong for him and he rams him into the neutral corner, the force of the blow knocking the wind out of Z and causing him to release the tag champ. Wilson leans on the rope a moment, fuming over having his move reversed, before whipping Z across the ring. Wilson sprints after him, leaping into the air and positioning his body for a ripping spear…BUT Z SLIDES OUT OF THE WAY AND ALL WILSON CATCHES IS RING POST!”

 

The crowd absolutely explodes as Wilson winces in pain and Z drops to the mat, again starting to crawl towards his corner. Wilson extracts his shoulder from the ringpost and starts to turn around, realizing what is happening isn’t very good. He starts to give chase, but can only watch in fear as Z lunges towards his corner and tags in a 250-pound monster from the Bayou. If the crowd exploded before, they’re now tearing the entire place down as Z slaps hands with Chris Raynor, the eager wrestler immediately stepping over the top rope and rumbling towards Wilson.

 

“Tag to Raynor!” shouts Stevens over the roar of the fans as Wilson hops to his feet, only to meet a clothesline from a fired-up Raynor. “Wilson hits the mat hard and is back up and right into and Irish whip. He can do little as Raynor catches him off the ropes, twists him around in the air before cracking him off of his knee with a tiltawhirl backbreaker. Raynor skips the cover and instead takes a heavy step towards the Magnificent Seven’s corner, delivering two hard shots to the jaws of both TNT and Stryke that knock them from the apron.”

 

The crowd starts to boo a bit as Tyler McClelland slowly begins to walk down the ramp. Raynor pays no attention to him, instead turning to a slowly rising and seemingly drunken Wilson. He steps right into Raynor’s grasp and is lifted high up into the air before dropped rather carelessly to the mat with a stiff scoop slam. Raynor points up to the top rope and the crowd roars in approval.

 

“Oh, aren’t we just Mr. Fan Favorite,” derides Riley. “I hate these guys! All of them!”

 

“What the heck is Tyler doing down here?” asks Stevens as Raynor climbs out onto the apron and then up to the top. “He was just out here for the Deathwish/Thoth match up, and now he’s coming around towards us as Raynor leaps into the air, flashbulb silhouetting him before gravity takes over and he comes crashing down…RIGHT INTO WILSON’S CHEST WITH A FLYING ELBOW! OH YEAH! Raynor covers, putting all of his weight onto Wilson. ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THRE…and Wilson is saved as Stryke pulls Raynor off of his tag partner!”

 

Tyler grabs a chair from the timekeeper’s table and innocently heads back to ringside as Raynor works his way back up to his feet and begins to fight off Stryke. He gets some back up as Z and Edwin jump into action, the referee unable to control the competitors as Wilson slinks away, TNT hopping into the ring and throwing some right hands into Edwin before whipping him against the ropes and back body dropping him over the top rope to the outside. TNT turns to smirk at his former commissioner, but takes his eye off of some other action as Z charges into him and both men go tumbling over the top to the outside just as Raynor manages to flick Stryke off of himself, much like a pesky bug and try to get back to business.

 

“This is mass chaos in the ring!” shouts Stevens as Wilson grabs the chair that Tyler is sliding into the ring and trudges towards Raynor. “Wilson has that chair and he waits for Raynor to turn-

 

CRACK!

 

-but Raynor boots it right back into Wilson’s face! The evil genius crumples to the mat, but Stryke comes up from behind, slaps on a reverse facelock and spins Raynor down to the mat with the Rewind!”

 

“Wahoo!” cheers Riley. “That’s the way, boy!”

 

“He drops down to make the cover,” calls Stevens, “but Z crawls into the ring and yanks the Aussie up to his feet. Stryke is taken by surprise as Z locks him in a double underhook, turns away from his fellow fallen Carnie and lifts him up before spiking Stryke to the ground with the Jersey Turnpike!”

 

“Where’s the Carnival’s sense of fair play?!” cries Riley.

 

“Apparently in the same place as the Seven’s, because TNT just came into the ring and he drops a double axe handle across the back of Z’s neck, breaking up any pinning predicament he was getting out of his finisher. He stands Z up…no TNT, don’t do it…TIGER DRIVER 92! Z is down and out,” the crowd pops loudly as a lanky Brit slides into the ring, “but Edwin just recovered on the outside and is in the ring now. TNT doesn’t see him and Edwin grabs him and spins back to back, crowd going absolutely nuts as he hooks their arms together…”

 

“I hate this. I’m going to talk to Stubby about a ban…”

 

“And Edwin begins to slide the young Thompson over with a backslide, but pitches himself forward….AND CRUNCHES TNT’S SPINE INTO THE MAT WITH AN ENCORE CROSS! The ring is littered with bodies and Edwin rolls TNT over, hooking his leg waaaay back. ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THRE- AND WILSON THROWS HIMSELF ONTO EDWIN, BREAKING UP THE COUNT AT THE VERY LAST SECOND!”

 

“Thank goodness for Wilson, or we’d see the corrupt Edwin winning after he snuck up behind poor TNT.”

 

“Oh yes, poor TNT,” snorts Stevens. “Edwin rolls off of TNT and stands Wilson up, shoving him into the corner and beginning to pound right hands into his chin. The referee begins to separate them as the rest of the combatants slowly recover from the various carnage enacted on them. Tyler is still stalking around ringside, making me a tad nervous. He’s already tried to interfere before tonight.”

 

Edwin pulls himself up onto the second turnbuckle, drilling Wilson in the face with some mounted punches on the turnbuckle, the crowd eagerly counting each of them out. The referee turns around to see Tyler hopping up on the apron, and immediately sprints across the ring, trying to shove him off, but he turns his back on the actual wrestlers in the match. Stryke picks up the chair knocked back into Wilson’s face a few moments earlier, and as a staggered Z reaches his feet, Stryke swings it wildly, connecting over the skull of the New Jersey native and scrambling his brains further, dropping him to the mat.

 

“Turn around, ref!” implores Stevens as Raynor shoves himself up to his feet, only to be taken over the top rope by a cactus clothesline from Stryke that drops both men to the outside and away from the action. “TNT’s up on the top rope, and he leaps off…SHELL SHOCK! TNT drives that flying elbow deep into Z’s chest and covers him as Tyler conveniently ends his argument with the ref, dropping to the floor. He drops down and begins to count, and Edwin hops off of Wilson..ONE!

 

He takes a step towards the crookedly evil cover, ready to break it up…

 

TWO!

 

But Wilson reaches out and grabs Edwin by his died locks from behind and yanks him back to the mat, slamming the back of his head off of the canvas just as the ref’s hand comes down towards that same canvas…

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

 

“Victory for the Magnificent Seven and the red-hot TNT!” giggles Riley as the referee signals for the bell, the crowd booing loudly.

 

DING DING DING!

 

“Your winners of this bout…’TNT’ Taylor Nicholas Thompson, Stryke and Chris Wilson, the Magnif-“

 

Funyon’s announcement is cut short as the tussle between Stryke and Raynor comes crashing into him, forcing him to drop the mike. The crowd’s boos over the Magnificent Seven’s dishonorable win turn to cheers as El Luchadore Magnifico sprints down the ramp and does what everyone’s wanted to do since he came to ringside: Knock the snot out of Tyler McClelland.

 

“Mag just clotheslined McClelland from behind,” declares Stevens, “and that’s just the beginning as these men are continuing to go at each other! Wilson tosses Edwin out of the ring and starts to follow, dropping to the floor outside of the ring. Tyler and Mag trade blows on the outside, neither man competing tonight and both relatively fresh.”

 

“Carnival just can’t lose without making a big thing out of it,” sighs Riley, disappointed, but he cheers up. “But here comes the cavalry! ‘Deathwish’ Danny Willilams sprints down the ramp and he’s going to save his mentor from that dirty Mexican. God bless him!”

 

“That’s not all that’s going as, as TNT hasn’t had his share of high-flying, and as Raynor pushes Stryke aside, the number one contender to the US title stretches back the top rope and springboards over, attempting a crossbody…but Raynor catches him! TNT can do little but cry like a little baby as Raynor charges towards the ringpost and jams the smaller man’s spine into it. That’ll make him think twice about trying to sneak up on a caveman next time.”

 

“Hey, get away from here!” commands Riley as Stryke tears the top off of the announcer’s table and grabs the ring bell. “Stryke turns toward where Edwin is getting up to his feet, and bashes him across the skull with the bell! That’s something you don’t get the enjoyment of seeing everyday!”

 

Stryke begins to drag Edwin towards his disassembled table as Stevens continues to call the action the best he can. “Williams tries to get Mag, now sandwiched between two men, away from Tyler but our Light-heavyweight champion is fighting back, right hand to Tyler, right hand to Danny, both men take a swing at Mag, who ducks it. He grabs both of their heads and brings them together…Meeting of the Minds by Magnifico, and this crowd is cheering him on! Wait, Mag! Turn around!”

 

Steven’s cry of warning is either unheard or just too late as Magnifico slowly turns around and eats a fist wrapped in chain as the Boston Strangler ends his sprint down the ramp with a lunging right. On the outside, Raynor places TNT in a standing headscissors, preparing for some nastiness to the cement.

 

“I hate to break it to you, Marky-Mark, but this is a numbers game that the Carnival is just starting to lose. Stryke gets up on the table with Edwin as Raynor prepares to lift TNT up, but Frost just came out of the crowd!”

 

“I wondered how long it would take all of them to get out here,” admits Stevens as the Nordic beast picks up the top piece of the steel steps, behind Raynor. “And Raynor doesn’t see Frost as he charges forward-

 

CLANG!

 

-and drills him in the back of the head with those steps! TNT scampers away to safety as Frost sits the steps down and grabs Raynor. Don’t do this, Frost! The match is over!”

 

“That isn’t stopping Strangler either,” points out Riley as ELM is put in a rear facelock. “The second man to make his surprise return at Snake Eyes just lifted Magnifico up into the air…BEFORE SENDING HIM BACK DOWN THE THINLY COVERED CEMENT WITH THE LAST BREATH! That was just sick!”

 

Stryke stands Edwin up on the table, trying to maneuver him into a good position for table crunching, but Edwin blasts a surprised tag champion with a shotei before wrapping him in a front facelock. The crowd spreads around the announce table as Edwin lifts Stryke into the air and falls back, suplexing him into the audience!

 

“Wait, somebody stop Frost!” remembers Stevens as the former JL European champion locks a double underhook on Raynor before lifting him up into the air… “EARLY WINTER ON THE STEEL STEPS! Raynor is down and Edwin is the only Carnie left standing at the moment as Tyler and Deathwish slide into the ring, just as Z is starting to stir. Williams grabs the rattled Carnie, lifts him up into the air…AND BRINGS HIM BACK DOWN THE MAT WITH A SICKENING DEATHBOMB! Somebody get some officials out here and stop this! It’s a seven-on-four mauling!”

 

Wilson tries to edit the previous statement about Edwin and standing as he sneaks up behind and pulls himself up onto the table, diving forward and driving a low blow into Edwin that doubles the SWF Champion over.

 

“Yes, Wilson!” enthuses Riley. “Dooooo it!”

 

“Get out of the way Riley!” warns Stevens as both men back away from the table, Wilson standing and slithering his arms around into a full nelson around Edwin. “I don’t think its very safe around here at all-“

 

The last sound heard from the commentators is that of their headsets softly thudding to the ground as Wilson pulls himself and Edwin up to full height before wrapping his leg around Edwin’s and driving him forward-

 

CRUNCH!

 

-putting him through the table with the Platinum Nightmares! The crowd boos loudly as Wilson is helped to his feet by Strangler, who has left an unconscious ELM lying on the outside.

 

Seven men slowly pull themselves into the ring, “Toxicity” beginning to play again through the arena, the only sounds heard being that song and the boos of a very pissed-off crowd. The Magnificent Seven do little to acknowledge the crowd, simply standing there with satisfied smiles. The copyright forms in the corner of the screen as the damage around the ring is surveyed by a group of very pleased monsters.

 

And cue the fade to black…

[Guest chirs3]

...weighing in at a total of 259 pounds, wrestling for the sake of mischief and mayhem, ‘TNT’ Taylor Nicholas Thompson, Stryke, Chris Wilson, they are…the Magnificent Seven…er…three of them anyway.”

 

Uh.... wow... you guys are skinny.

[Guest Edwin MacPhisto]

Well, I've read both matches, Danny. Here are my thoughts.

 

First off, you and Thoth took different approaches to the character relationships. Thoth played the face in his match, making Danny the upstart heel. In yours, you played the underdog ring-ethic face, and made Thoth the sadistic heel. I would tend to agree with Thoth's approach more here judging by the direction both of your characters have been involved in (Thoth slowly making his way towards a face turn and going against Chris Wilson), but I can understand the confusion: Thoth hasn't changed his stats at all since his return to wrestling a month ago, and it would probably do him well to change his heel disposition towards tweener, at least.

 

I'm not sure what you mean when you say

 

At least my match had a storyline. At least my match had actual transition

 

because Thoth's match certainly had both of those as well. I pegged your storyline as "ring technician Danny Williams tries to end the match against the veteran Thoth as quickly as he can, taking advantage of Thoth perhaps taking him too lightly while building to the Deathbomb," and I pegged Thoth's as "Thoth starts his quest towards Wilson, trying to pull out all the stops against the surprisingly potent rookie Danny Williams, who works Thoth's upper body and back the entire match, only for Thoth to win on a desperation lucky break when Danny momentarily lets his guard down." A good bit of psychology in both, and I'd actually give the slightest nod to Thoth there, as I thought his having Danny work over the back and shoulders but having Thoth manage to escape the Deathbomb by using some of his still-functioning body (the hurricanrana) was really effective.

 

In terms of transition: Thoth, like many of us, writes a more American wrestling style, where a lot of the transitions come out of character flaws and wrestler's personalities. In the context of the matches, I thought both sets of transitions (Thoth's dodged clotheslines and reversals vs. Danny's striking attacks and constant evolution towards the finisher) worked well. As a total package, though, Thoth's worked a bit better for me, based on what I thought was a more gradual build and a better job of bringing all the elements together into one cohesive unit. Good efforts from both of you, though. A loss to Thoth is nothing to be ashamed of.

[Guest 5_moves_of_doom]

...weighing in at a total of 259 pounds, wrestling for the sake of mischief and mayhem, ‘TNT’ Taylor Nicholas Thompson, Stryke, Chris Wilson, they are…the Magnificent Seven…er…three of them anyway.”

 

Uh.... wow... you guys are skinny.

Um....typo....I guess Jenny Craig has done us good.

[Guest Edwin MacPhisto]

Fun match TNT, but a bit spotty, and it definitely had a rushed feel to it. I ALWAYS mark huge for finishers-a-go-go like you had at the end there, though.

 

Better luck next time, Team 259. Heh heh...skinny bastards.

[Guest Rabbi_wilson13]

Edwin just broke that sucker down Dr. Jack style.

 

If somebody, and I don't want to mention any names, or initials of explosives, would of not wrote this thing at 4 in the morning and only add about 1000 words of wrestling, it would of been a tad better.

 

But my boy isn't a tag writer, he's a singles writer and all of you tune into Smarkdown to see a new US Champion.

 

And Danny, I was just saying that your finish was kinda boring. Jazz it up a bit, toss in some stuff between counts like Edwin and ELM do most of the time, and I myself do at times.

[Guest Coffin Surfer]

Also, I think that in the beginning, you over sold the elbow to the head.  I doubt that anyone would drop lifelessly to the mat after being elbowed.  I saw that you tried to save with Stevens comment after it, but it just didn't work.

Have you ever seen a Misawa match? Have you ever seen Misawa/Hansen for the Triple Crown? Watch that match, or any Misawa match before you doubt the power of the elbow.

 

I'am not talking about pussy RVD elbows here. In my stats I write STIFF ELBOWS! As in the Misawa type that knock mother fuckers teeth out, and give guys concusions. And you can expect alot more stiff ass strikes knocking me and my oppenents out in my matches.

 

Now I'am going to rant, and then I will bitch no more and forget about it. I'am not being bitter, I just asked for some feedback, as someone said before that's what y'all are about.

 

Now I'am going to rant, and say no more:

 

I refuse to dumb down my style for fans of the MODERN American style(which isn't even wrestling to begin with) I can't even remember the last time I saw an American WRESTLING match. This goes for pacing or anything. As far as the boring finish goes. Why the hell does every match have to end with the "I pulled my finisher out of my ass" WWE ending. Either you get it, or you don't and I'll leave it at that.

[Guest Rabbi_wilson13]

Danny, its not pulling the finisher out of nowhere. You can build to it, but when you pull off your finisher, the announcers have to show a little emotion.

 

Your flow and pychology is great, but when you lack emotion its a boring read. Look at some of the top writers over the past six months. Just right now, Edwin and myself have Stevens and Riley marking out for all the end and postmatch happenings.

 

Stevens and King also knew how to use !'s and such.

 

I remember Thugg telling me the ending of his match was about 500 words and spaced out over 10 pages one time, simply becaues he was spacing it out and milking it.

 

You can't have a great match just with great wrestling. If there's no emotion, feeling or mark-out moments, there's no point to it, dumbed down American wrestling or not.

[Guest HVilleThugg]

I agree there Danny...believe me, I do. However, you have to understand that I've never seen any of those matches or any of the style of wrestling that you're used to. I watched WWE (I don't anymore, but I did)...so that's all I have to go by. No one's asking to dumb down your matches or change to suit the American style of wrestling...BUT...we (at least I do) ask that you understand when we don't get it or it comes out wrong or we miss something. I didn't feel that match...and it wasn't your style that messed it up for me. I've read plenty of your matches that would have easily beated Thoth's match...so it's not your style. That particular match didn't do it for me...yes, I read the elbow thing wrong, and I will certainly keep that in mind for the future. I've just never seen anyone go down from an elbow...sorry. Now that I know that you write stiff, I'll understand when I see that in matches.

 

As far as finishes go...I see your point, and you're right. You shouldn't have to have the standard finisher ending crap. However, you should concern yourself with making the marker and those reading really feel your ending. You know...make me be like, damn. There are plenty of ways to make your ending exciting without that classic, finisher out your ass, way. As for this particular ending...was it boring? Not that much...maybe a little. Could it have been better? Yes. Had you made it more exciting, would you have won? Hard to tell...probably not.

 

The point is....keep your style. It's one match. It happens. We're all people...humans that have particular likes and dislikes. And I didn't like your match...so it didn't win. I guess that's what it boils down to. I hope that's not too harsh.

 

Da "tellin' it like it is" H

[Guest BA_Baracus]

PROMO (Stubby P. McWeed);

"If you want to work a Japanese style and make your elbows kill people you have to put them over like they will.

 

Just thowing in an elbow and assuming people will accept that it can kill a guy because it does in Japan won't work.

 

Hype yourself up as a martial arts expert. Make sure it's well known you wrestle a Japanese style and have the announcers make note of when you're going into a Japanese series of moves or something.

 

Almost everyone here tries to emulate the WWE, so if you don't make it clear that you're not in your matches your spots and style will seem out of place.

 

...and remember...these matches aren't actually happening. We have to read through this stuff and thus you have to add a bit more comedy and character stuff to keep things interesting. A great straight-up wrestling match may look good on TV, but when it's written out chances are it will be a tad boring.

 

So basically...don't just assume you can toss out Japanese stuff with no explanation and have us buy it. Most of us don't watch Japanese wrestling. Also you're writing a match, not actually wrestling it...you need to add a bit more spice to make sure the markers don't nod off when they're reading the match at 2 in the morning.

 

Mothernature says, so there...

[Guest Tyler McClelland]

Wow, Stubby...

 

You've changed a lot in my absence.

 

That's really cool of you to give tips, you never did that before

[Guest crusen86]

Yeah, be like Thugg:

 

Thugg hits the Thugg Passion through a table! OMGZ!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Thugg Covers!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DING DING DING

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Funyon: Your winner, the fuckin Thugg! Again!

[Guest HVilleThugg]

1. Fuck you Crusen!

 

2. Thank you Stubby. You just summed up exactly what I was trying desperately to say. Apparently, I didn't really get my point across all that well, but you put it perfectly.

 

3. Get off the lawn!

 

Da "not so well-spoken" H

[Guest Edwin MacPhisto]

Crusen = comedy god.

Thugg = bitter cripple.

Edwin = running away before he gets Thugg Passioned through the lawn.

[Guest Kibagami]

Stubby has a point there, Danny. North American wrestling has completely different standards than the character you're writing. Kawada in 1994 or Ohtani any day of the week might sell an elbow like a gunshot to the head, but I doubt you'd get that reaction from a Benoit or a Guerrero unless they were wrestling in Japan. You have to either tailor your style to the markers, which would mean making your finisher and maybe a signature or two a little more dramatic and easier to mark for, or do what Stubby suggests and put yourself and the Japanese style over heavily so the match flows better. Divefire was a martial artist, and he based all his moves and most of his promos and matches around it to make sure we understood that his style worked just as well as any other. It showed when he won the World title, too.

 

Just some thoughts, and on that note, I suppose I shall go finish writing *own* match.

 

S.

 

EDIT: After reading Wilson's post, I'd also suggest hyping your finisher more. Take Misawa, for example. People MARK for the Tiger Driver, the Tiger Suplex, the Emerald Frosion. Think about how out of control the announcers get when they call those moves. Go for that in your commentary. That should help.

[Guest Coffin Surfer]

I've read everybodies comments, and a VERY BIG THANKS!!!!!!!!!!! To everyone that repiled.

 

I while try the best I can to make my matches a more exciting read. But I do use excalamation points, in fact I use them after every move or reversal. To highlight them. I think using an excalamation point at the end of each sentence, defeats the purpose of it. I use paragraph breaks and commentary to highlight match transition. While my matches are written simply, they are very easy to follow.

 

And I find easy reads more exciting than tough reads. Not to keep insulting Thoth, but do you really find HUGE ASS paragraphs, that break for no reason, and do not highlight transition or key spots more exciting?