Post by Rowan MacDonnough on Jun 15, 2017 16:45:13 GMT
“How does it feel, Shea?”
Rowan fades into view, sitting on a steel chair in the middle of a burned out room, ground coated with a thin layer of ash. She seems tense, like a spring coiled just a fraction too tight. There is hate in her eyes, and open wounds visible on her flesh. Several shadowed figures lay on the ground around her, perfectly still, and Rowan’s hands are dripping with blood.
“How does it feel to have walked out of the ring, with naught but a pyrrhic victory to cling to? How does it feel to have your first title defense won in such a way? Yes, you have the victory to laud yourself with… and some will argue that it was well earned, well fought… but the whispers come in from the edges, don’t they Shea? The doubt of your worth to hold that belt seeping in from the cracks, rot in the corners of the castle you have built yourself. You must know that it will only spread, festering and expanding through all that you have built, eating away at the foundation until it all comes crashing down on top of you, crushing you into a pulp underneath it. The only way to stop it is to finish me… truly finish me, best me on your own, pin me, make me give up… it is a truth that you and I both know like an instinctual pulse in the back of our minds. The difference is the effect that it has on us… while it gives you pause, it gives me confidence. I know you lack the strength. You threw everything at me, and you didn’t have what it takes. You will never be able to defeat me in the way you need to in order to make the whispers stop, and so they will drive you to madness and destruction.”
She chuckles – a harrowing sound that seems unnatural and unwelcome. “You know… I think I like this better. After everything that you and I have gone through together, besting you at Open Fight Night would have been almost anticlimactic. I wanted to take my time with you as I do all of my prey, but other… factors… pushed me to try to end you quickly. I’m glad that our battle on Monday Night ended the way that it did… because now I can play to this hunt on my usual terms. Mother always told me as a child not to play with my food… but she’s long in the grave, now, and cannot stop me from what it about to happen.”
Dean hadn’t been this afraid of Rowan since the day they had met. After she had taken him to join her, the magnetic sort of attraction she radiated had won him over, and even though he knew that she was an inherently threatening creature, he wasn’t exactly afraid of her. He knew that as long as he remained valuable and loyal, he would not be harmed… much.
Now? After Rowan’s first defeat in a singles match, and having lost her chance at the Shieldmaiden by countout? She was on a rampage. Dean was glad to have been near the back of the compound when Rowan arrived, with many other followers between him and the entrance, because Rowan had begun laying people on the ground with brutal strikes immediately upon her return. Her roars of fury echoed through the building, matched by a symphony of screams from those unfortunate enough to get too close. Dean watched the carnage go on, not wincing when he heard the unmistakable snap of a breaking bone. He was beginning to enjoy the violence, enjoy watching the pain. Sometimes he visualized himself being the one in the ring, punishing other wrestlers in Rowan’s name… he had been working on a fitness regimen for several weeks now, with the idea becoming more and more tangible in his mind…
Abruptly, Rowan ceased the rampage and stood, breathing heavily, in the middle of the compound, her hands dripping with blood as many prone figures around her tried to crawl away while others stood completely still. She looked slowly around the compound, and every time her eyes fell on someone they backed away… until her eyes found Dean. The two of them stared at one another for several long moments before Rowan started to laugh, a sound that always made the pit of Dean’s stomach twist with discomfort.
Still, Dean tentatively stepped forward. “What’s… why do you laugh?”
Rowan took a deep breath, arching back and taking in the air. “Because now… now we get to play the game my way. Shea may have beaten me, but I am still dogging her trail, haunting her mind… what could have been over disappointingly quickly can now extend, and my loathing from tonight’s humiliation will only make me stronger when we next fight over the title.”
Dean tilted his head to the side. “But you lost the shot… who knows how long that will take?”
Rowan laughed again. “Not long. The crowd, screaming for blood like ancient Rome, wants to see a final conclusion between the two of us. Wants to see one of us truly and utterly destroy the other. By defeating me by count out, she sealed her death warrant… the fans will chant for blood and demand to see destruction, and Conway will eventually have no choice but to submit. Take my word for it… whoever may have had the next shot at the Shieldmaiden will be viscerally disappointed to find that I’m not out of the picture yet. Oh no. No, Shea cannot banish this phantom nightmare that easily… no matter how many friends and allies she calls to her side.”
Dean nodded slowly. “I… think I understand. Soon the whole Diamonds division will be forced to bend the knee. If only… if only there was some way for you to spread that to the rest of the IWF.”
Rowan’s head snapped to him, appraising him with curiosity. “I see through you, Dean Harper. I know what you are insinuating.”
Dean quailed. “I… well, I wouldn’t dare suggest anything that would undermine your-“
“Prepare,” Rowan snapped, cutting him off. “Be ready soon. If it is your wish to be my emissary to the others… then you will need to be much stronger, much crueler, and much more dangerous than you presently are. But the idea… intrigues me. I would enjoy seeing my message and dominion spread throughout all of the IWF, no longer contained… and you would make a most fitting choice, my first.”
Dean felt a thrill go through his spine. It was happening!
“But not yet,” Rowan snarled. “First, we have a Shieldmaiden to annihilate… an offering to the voice in the flames.”
“It’s better this way, Shea. For you, and for me. This way we get to finish our little fairy tale in style, with a nice drawn out ending to give it real… weight. I’m sure you appreciate stories that make a true impact just as well as I. I think I’m going to enjoy destroying your friends while you watch, helpless from the sidelines. What better place to start than with the woman with whom you stood when out conflict first began… the so-called Valkyrie, Astrid Hall.
Oh, Astrid Hall. A woman with the fire of a warrior burning in her belly, desperately fighting to become better than her peers and betters. Not quite able to handle the big leagues, but thinking that a single victory against four squabbling women will turn your luck around. A shame that you have been chosen to stand between me and my prey, little shieldmaiden. You will see just how unprepared you are. You have already failed to stand against me before, when I fought you and Shea alone after betrayal at the hands of my last meal. Now I will enjoy the company of one who wants to hurt you almost as much as I want to hurt Shea. If the two of you could only barely beat me then, you have no chance to defeat us now.
Many times, Astrid, you have called me one of the Dark Elves. You sign your own death warrant with such words, Valkyrie… look around you. Look at the Imperial Wrestling Federation, and tell me what you see? A man possessed by death has come to fight alongside us. Cole’s Chaos has come. The Usurper has returned. Eternity still stands, lurking in the fog of madness, waiting for her next move. Maxine Valentine has emerged from the wasteland, a harbinger of the end. Even the demon-possessed Helena has returned to our ranks… and then, of course, there is the Wolf of the Abyss standing against you. Darkness and destruction reign in the IWF, girl – Ragnarok has come for you. You call yourself Valkyrie and me Svartálfar? In so doing you already declare yourself on the losing side, and it will be my singular pleasure to drag you into shadow.”
Her eyes gleam. “And once in its depths, you will see with waking eyes what you see in your private moments of nightmare – your friends destroyed, on by one, while you are helpless to watch. Come now, Astrid. Did you really think I would not answer your bold challenge with silence? Nobody is fearless, and you wore yours on your sleeve.”
She stands slowly, cracking her neck without breaking eye contact with the camera. “What happens next will weigh on you, Shea. You will declare that none of it is your fault, that nothing that will happen here will fall on your conscience… but like most words of would-be heroes thrown at the shadow, they will be lies. Things will happen to Astrid Hall that will haunt you in nights to come. You will watch as she is broken and injured, unable to save your friend from what I do to her. Those nightmares will haunt you for days, knowing that she would not have been involved in this conflict were it not for you. That is my gift to you now, Shea. A gift that will come to a head sooner than you think, when you face me again with your title on the line. There, in that arena, with all of this and more weighing upon you and slowing you down, I will come for you. I will shatter your body, mind and spirit… and I will rip the Shieldmaiden Title from your bleeding and splintered fingers. Even if it means little to nothing to me in a void… taking it from you, after you fought and worked so hard to obtain it will give me great satisfaction.”
She turns and starts to walk away, looking back at the camera over her shoulder. “The Fairy Tale goes on, Shea – and the longer it goes, the worse the ending will become. Just the way I like them.”
The camera slowly fades to black as she walks away, with her cruel, mocking laughter lingering through the dark.
Rowan fades into view, sitting on a steel chair in the middle of a burned out room, ground coated with a thin layer of ash. She seems tense, like a spring coiled just a fraction too tight. There is hate in her eyes, and open wounds visible on her flesh. Several shadowed figures lay on the ground around her, perfectly still, and Rowan’s hands are dripping with blood.
“How does it feel to have walked out of the ring, with naught but a pyrrhic victory to cling to? How does it feel to have your first title defense won in such a way? Yes, you have the victory to laud yourself with… and some will argue that it was well earned, well fought… but the whispers come in from the edges, don’t they Shea? The doubt of your worth to hold that belt seeping in from the cracks, rot in the corners of the castle you have built yourself. You must know that it will only spread, festering and expanding through all that you have built, eating away at the foundation until it all comes crashing down on top of you, crushing you into a pulp underneath it. The only way to stop it is to finish me… truly finish me, best me on your own, pin me, make me give up… it is a truth that you and I both know like an instinctual pulse in the back of our minds. The difference is the effect that it has on us… while it gives you pause, it gives me confidence. I know you lack the strength. You threw everything at me, and you didn’t have what it takes. You will never be able to defeat me in the way you need to in order to make the whispers stop, and so they will drive you to madness and destruction.”
She chuckles – a harrowing sound that seems unnatural and unwelcome. “You know… I think I like this better. After everything that you and I have gone through together, besting you at Open Fight Night would have been almost anticlimactic. I wanted to take my time with you as I do all of my prey, but other… factors… pushed me to try to end you quickly. I’m glad that our battle on Monday Night ended the way that it did… because now I can play to this hunt on my usual terms. Mother always told me as a child not to play with my food… but she’s long in the grave, now, and cannot stop me from what it about to happen.”
Dean hadn’t been this afraid of Rowan since the day they had met. After she had taken him to join her, the magnetic sort of attraction she radiated had won him over, and even though he knew that she was an inherently threatening creature, he wasn’t exactly afraid of her. He knew that as long as he remained valuable and loyal, he would not be harmed… much.
Now? After Rowan’s first defeat in a singles match, and having lost her chance at the Shieldmaiden by countout? She was on a rampage. Dean was glad to have been near the back of the compound when Rowan arrived, with many other followers between him and the entrance, because Rowan had begun laying people on the ground with brutal strikes immediately upon her return. Her roars of fury echoed through the building, matched by a symphony of screams from those unfortunate enough to get too close. Dean watched the carnage go on, not wincing when he heard the unmistakable snap of a breaking bone. He was beginning to enjoy the violence, enjoy watching the pain. Sometimes he visualized himself being the one in the ring, punishing other wrestlers in Rowan’s name… he had been working on a fitness regimen for several weeks now, with the idea becoming more and more tangible in his mind…
Abruptly, Rowan ceased the rampage and stood, breathing heavily, in the middle of the compound, her hands dripping with blood as many prone figures around her tried to crawl away while others stood completely still. She looked slowly around the compound, and every time her eyes fell on someone they backed away… until her eyes found Dean. The two of them stared at one another for several long moments before Rowan started to laugh, a sound that always made the pit of Dean’s stomach twist with discomfort.
Still, Dean tentatively stepped forward. “What’s… why do you laugh?”
Rowan took a deep breath, arching back and taking in the air. “Because now… now we get to play the game my way. Shea may have beaten me, but I am still dogging her trail, haunting her mind… what could have been over disappointingly quickly can now extend, and my loathing from tonight’s humiliation will only make me stronger when we next fight over the title.”
Dean tilted his head to the side. “But you lost the shot… who knows how long that will take?”
Rowan laughed again. “Not long. The crowd, screaming for blood like ancient Rome, wants to see a final conclusion between the two of us. Wants to see one of us truly and utterly destroy the other. By defeating me by count out, she sealed her death warrant… the fans will chant for blood and demand to see destruction, and Conway will eventually have no choice but to submit. Take my word for it… whoever may have had the next shot at the Shieldmaiden will be viscerally disappointed to find that I’m not out of the picture yet. Oh no. No, Shea cannot banish this phantom nightmare that easily… no matter how many friends and allies she calls to her side.”
Dean nodded slowly. “I… think I understand. Soon the whole Diamonds division will be forced to bend the knee. If only… if only there was some way for you to spread that to the rest of the IWF.”
Rowan’s head snapped to him, appraising him with curiosity. “I see through you, Dean Harper. I know what you are insinuating.”
Dean quailed. “I… well, I wouldn’t dare suggest anything that would undermine your-“
“Prepare,” Rowan snapped, cutting him off. “Be ready soon. If it is your wish to be my emissary to the others… then you will need to be much stronger, much crueler, and much more dangerous than you presently are. But the idea… intrigues me. I would enjoy seeing my message and dominion spread throughout all of the IWF, no longer contained… and you would make a most fitting choice, my first.”
Dean felt a thrill go through his spine. It was happening!
“But not yet,” Rowan snarled. “First, we have a Shieldmaiden to annihilate… an offering to the voice in the flames.”
“It’s better this way, Shea. For you, and for me. This way we get to finish our little fairy tale in style, with a nice drawn out ending to give it real… weight. I’m sure you appreciate stories that make a true impact just as well as I. I think I’m going to enjoy destroying your friends while you watch, helpless from the sidelines. What better place to start than with the woman with whom you stood when out conflict first began… the so-called Valkyrie, Astrid Hall.
Oh, Astrid Hall. A woman with the fire of a warrior burning in her belly, desperately fighting to become better than her peers and betters. Not quite able to handle the big leagues, but thinking that a single victory against four squabbling women will turn your luck around. A shame that you have been chosen to stand between me and my prey, little shieldmaiden. You will see just how unprepared you are. You have already failed to stand against me before, when I fought you and Shea alone after betrayal at the hands of my last meal. Now I will enjoy the company of one who wants to hurt you almost as much as I want to hurt Shea. If the two of you could only barely beat me then, you have no chance to defeat us now.
Many times, Astrid, you have called me one of the Dark Elves. You sign your own death warrant with such words, Valkyrie… look around you. Look at the Imperial Wrestling Federation, and tell me what you see? A man possessed by death has come to fight alongside us. Cole’s Chaos has come. The Usurper has returned. Eternity still stands, lurking in the fog of madness, waiting for her next move. Maxine Valentine has emerged from the wasteland, a harbinger of the end. Even the demon-possessed Helena has returned to our ranks… and then, of course, there is the Wolf of the Abyss standing against you. Darkness and destruction reign in the IWF, girl – Ragnarok has come for you. You call yourself Valkyrie and me Svartálfar? In so doing you already declare yourself on the losing side, and it will be my singular pleasure to drag you into shadow.”
Her eyes gleam. “And once in its depths, you will see with waking eyes what you see in your private moments of nightmare – your friends destroyed, on by one, while you are helpless to watch. Come now, Astrid. Did you really think I would not answer your bold challenge with silence? Nobody is fearless, and you wore yours on your sleeve.”
She stands slowly, cracking her neck without breaking eye contact with the camera. “What happens next will weigh on you, Shea. You will declare that none of it is your fault, that nothing that will happen here will fall on your conscience… but like most words of would-be heroes thrown at the shadow, they will be lies. Things will happen to Astrid Hall that will haunt you in nights to come. You will watch as she is broken and injured, unable to save your friend from what I do to her. Those nightmares will haunt you for days, knowing that she would not have been involved in this conflict were it not for you. That is my gift to you now, Shea. A gift that will come to a head sooner than you think, when you face me again with your title on the line. There, in that arena, with all of this and more weighing upon you and slowing you down, I will come for you. I will shatter your body, mind and spirit… and I will rip the Shieldmaiden Title from your bleeding and splintered fingers. Even if it means little to nothing to me in a void… taking it from you, after you fought and worked so hard to obtain it will give me great satisfaction.”
She turns and starts to walk away, looking back at the camera over her shoulder. “The Fairy Tale goes on, Shea – and the longer it goes, the worse the ending will become. Just the way I like them.”
The camera slowly fades to black as she walks away, with her cruel, mocking laughter lingering through the dark.
Well howdy there pardner.