Post by Mr. C on Jul 29, 2011 19:16:21 GMT -5
First-person was the view, as the cameraman walked down the hallways of the arena. Ever since Brett Cross was awarded the title of the first ever Lionheart Championship by Mark Rivera, he has been acting a little... strange. And that's an understatement. He's become pompous, confrontational, cocky, disagreeable, and the list goes on. Not that he was the perfect picture of personable to begin with, but you get the idea.
As the feed showed, the camera man took a right, and as he rounded the corner a very elaborate doorway came in to view, one unlike any of the others they had passed. While others were simple white trim around simple oak doors, this one was far more bold. With trim of massive logs and an equally massive wooden door that looked like it could withstand the assault of a small army, this was quite obviously the locker room of that pompous champion we spoke of. Everything from the large golden door-knocker to the massive horns that sat above the doorway, it was fit for a king - and inside was even more lavish.
A hand came in to view from behind the lens and he slammed the knocker twice, the booms reverberated inside and then a voice boomed back, echoing through the oak.
"Aye, enter!"
With a groan, the cameraman pushed open the door and it creaked in protest as it swung open to reveal not a locker room, but a throne room. The innards in fact looked nothing like a locker room. Without the context of the arena's hallway, you would assume the operator had fallen through a time warp and landed in a Viking king's mead hall in the year 793. No bench, no lockers, no training equipment, no weights nothing you'd expect to see in a locker room. No, what took up the space instead was a large vat which by the smell was most likely for mead, furs of exotic beasts, tapestries and golden decorations and of course, a lavish throne of the same thick logs the door frame consisted of. And in it sat Brett Cross, title about his waist and clad in both furs and armor. In his hand was a large horn of mead and the smirk at his face showed his new personality clearly - he fit the role of the king all too well.
Sitting up from his slouched position, Cross raised his mug to the camera operator. He had called him here not only to show off his throne room, but for a short interview before Scars 'n Stripes as well. As the camera man set up the tripod for the camera, Cross sipped his mead and began. His voice loud and strong, confident and booming.
"Warriors and peasants, listen well! Ah've been appointed by Mark Rivera as ye'r king, and as ye'r king Ah demand only the best. This is the new throne room o' The God o' Midgaard and shall remain for every realm we visit. Know it's look, for if'n a single mistake be made in its creation, the wrath of the Bifrost Brawler will come upon ye.
But Ah have hailed ye not for frivolous items. Nay, The God of Midgaard, ye'r King, has called upon ye for matters most important. Upon the next battle field, the one whose banner speaks of both Scars an' Stripes, Ah have the number o' one Danny Tenfold. If'n that lad thinks he has a chance against the mighty lord o' this kingdom, he is both a fool an' a dead man. No one challenges Brett Cross, no one argues their fate. Ah've beaten ye once, and ye'r lucky to have come out alive. If ye ask for a duel again, Ah cannae guarantee the same fate. Think this over well, Tenfold. If'n ye want to challenge The Norse Hammer, Ah will not back down. But know ye awaken a giant who wants nay to be stirred. And I will not resist the temptation t' tear out thy throat. Bane learned this well in the week past, an' all who continue t' test fate will learn it, too.
But on the eve o' this battle Ah've got not one war to wage, but two. For the duel of a lifetime is upon us, a battle where no sides are drawn an' every man is for himself. These events are a Viking's speciality. Here is where glory is won, where legacies are forged. An' if any soul knows glory, if any man knows how t' forge a grand legacy - it is ye'r king, Brett Cross. So know this everyone, the warning for Tenfold rings true for all who step up to the mighty Norse Hammer. Know ye'r place an' back down. For if'n ye don't, the hammer will come down upon ye, an' Ah will nay think twice over ending a life. For Ah'm ye'r king, an' Ah'm more than willing t' start my reign 'ere with a 'earty example o' why ye should nay cross paths with The God o' Midgaard.
Now begone, scop. Leave my presence wordsmith, and bring the commands to all."
With that, Cross took another swig of his mead and the camera's feed faded to black.
As the feed showed, the camera man took a right, and as he rounded the corner a very elaborate doorway came in to view, one unlike any of the others they had passed. While others were simple white trim around simple oak doors, this one was far more bold. With trim of massive logs and an equally massive wooden door that looked like it could withstand the assault of a small army, this was quite obviously the locker room of that pompous champion we spoke of. Everything from the large golden door-knocker to the massive horns that sat above the doorway, it was fit for a king - and inside was even more lavish.
A hand came in to view from behind the lens and he slammed the knocker twice, the booms reverberated inside and then a voice boomed back, echoing through the oak.
"Aye, enter!"
With a groan, the cameraman pushed open the door and it creaked in protest as it swung open to reveal not a locker room, but a throne room. The innards in fact looked nothing like a locker room. Without the context of the arena's hallway, you would assume the operator had fallen through a time warp and landed in a Viking king's mead hall in the year 793. No bench, no lockers, no training equipment, no weights nothing you'd expect to see in a locker room. No, what took up the space instead was a large vat which by the smell was most likely for mead, furs of exotic beasts, tapestries and golden decorations and of course, a lavish throne of the same thick logs the door frame consisted of. And in it sat Brett Cross, title about his waist and clad in both furs and armor. In his hand was a large horn of mead and the smirk at his face showed his new personality clearly - he fit the role of the king all too well.
Sitting up from his slouched position, Cross raised his mug to the camera operator. He had called him here not only to show off his throne room, but for a short interview before Scars 'n Stripes as well. As the camera man set up the tripod for the camera, Cross sipped his mead and began. His voice loud and strong, confident and booming.
"Warriors and peasants, listen well! Ah've been appointed by Mark Rivera as ye'r king, and as ye'r king Ah demand only the best. This is the new throne room o' The God o' Midgaard and shall remain for every realm we visit. Know it's look, for if'n a single mistake be made in its creation, the wrath of the Bifrost Brawler will come upon ye.
But Ah have hailed ye not for frivolous items. Nay, The God of Midgaard, ye'r King, has called upon ye for matters most important. Upon the next battle field, the one whose banner speaks of both Scars an' Stripes, Ah have the number o' one Danny Tenfold. If'n that lad thinks he has a chance against the mighty lord o' this kingdom, he is both a fool an' a dead man. No one challenges Brett Cross, no one argues their fate. Ah've beaten ye once, and ye'r lucky to have come out alive. If ye ask for a duel again, Ah cannae guarantee the same fate. Think this over well, Tenfold. If'n ye want to challenge The Norse Hammer, Ah will not back down. But know ye awaken a giant who wants nay to be stirred. And I will not resist the temptation t' tear out thy throat. Bane learned this well in the week past, an' all who continue t' test fate will learn it, too.
But on the eve o' this battle Ah've got not one war to wage, but two. For the duel of a lifetime is upon us, a battle where no sides are drawn an' every man is for himself. These events are a Viking's speciality. Here is where glory is won, where legacies are forged. An' if any soul knows glory, if any man knows how t' forge a grand legacy - it is ye'r king, Brett Cross. So know this everyone, the warning for Tenfold rings true for all who step up to the mighty Norse Hammer. Know ye'r place an' back down. For if'n ye don't, the hammer will come down upon ye, an' Ah will nay think twice over ending a life. For Ah'm ye'r king, an' Ah'm more than willing t' start my reign 'ere with a 'earty example o' why ye should nay cross paths with The God o' Midgaard.
Now begone, scop. Leave my presence wordsmith, and bring the commands to all."
With that, Cross took another swig of his mead and the camera's feed faded to black.
