Post by Silver Eagle on Jan 16, 2017 1:56:39 GMT
One of Satan's most deceptive and powerful ways of defeating us is to get us to believe a lie. And the biggest lie is that there are no consequences to our own wrongdoing. Satan will give you whatever you ask for if it will lead you where he ultimately wants you.
Do you know where he is leading you? Do you know you are even being lead? Do you take his gesture willingly or do you gleefully skip down the path less travelled in ignorance? It’s funny how it works, isn’t it? Some who follow the path of the damned believe they are doing so in the name of justice, in the name of what is good and true. Some feel they are walking in the footsteps of Michael the Archangel, slaying those wrongdoers in a bid to free the world of tyranny and pain in the name of the most heavenly father… But they are wrong. They are simply manipulated by the serpent in the garden into believing the apple of wisdom they have been passed will free us all… But all it leaves is the bitter taste of the barren wilderness.
But is Michael different from Lucifer? Is Lucifer himself too far detached from his new persona of Satan? Is the Antichrist the same as the Messiah? Is the False Prophet the saviour after all? Are God and the Devil not one and the same? Has black and white merged into a cloudy form of grey?
It’s strange how a few fleeting moments can change everything. How the power of The Thing That Should Not Be can make you rethink your entire existence, question your past and what the future had in store for you. You can stand in front of that relentless beast and start a revolution; you can lay all the proof on the table on why he is the purest of evil, you can acquire all the tools to overthrow them and end their reign of tyranny. In this case, a one man revolution is not the way; an army must be gathered to ensure victory. And the most trusted generals must be assembled. But in battles such as these, armies can not be assembled, generals can not be found and the only choice is to step alone into the realms of mortal combat. Such an action could be classed as suicidal, though tales of old and tales of fantasy would have you think differently. Even in the biblical sense, David vs. Goliath is by far one of the most popular tales. Good vs Evil. The hero vs. the villain. The underdog vs the undeniable beast. One man vs. The world. Daunting, don’t you think? Would that make you think twice, if you were in those shoes? Would you even want to lace them up, or would you burn them and run, even through broken glass and hot coals in a bid to escape? To escape that impossible fate. Do you fear it? Do you fear death?
There is a side to me that many fear, there is a side to me that I fear, there is a side to me that fear itself fears. It seems to appear in waves, short waves in certain circumstances when all seems lost and hope is gone. But many moons ago it was ever present, it was my sole form of thinking and that side of me left a sea of carnage and destruction everywhere I went. My enemies lay crumpled on the floor, a mess of broken bones and spilled guts. The sensible ones fled the entire industry and were never heard from again. The biggest fools are now only represented by headstones in a churchyard. That or their ashes have been scattered as fish food.
I have always tried to suppress that side of me, always tried to keep it hidden from the world so that those closest to me can never witness the true brutality of it all. But in doing so, didn’t that hold me back? Did shrouding it in a cloak of invisibility merely hide the truth away from myself as opposed from those that deceive me? Did my longing for redemption for my sins tear me away from my true calling? Did my affection for a sport built on selfishness and greed corrupt my views on what was better for myself, for the wrestling world? Did my wish for a peaceful home life make me put down my arsenal and settle for a stereotypical existence? Love... What is love when the lust for the prize is ever burning...? Give me the quickening and have done with it...
The path to the throne of the Iron King is a treacherous one. I have discovered this many times on my travels, through tournaments the world over. Through my storied career, through my six years of exile. Through the dark days of studying in Vatican City, to the revenge that I took in St. Petersburg. From the training in the dark land of the Angles, the pain inflicted in Japan, to the glory of the east coast, the madness and gold of the west coast. And yet the ultimate prize still eluded me. Thirteen times I thought it was mine forever more... But my longing for something else always got in the way.
No more...
The quest must begin anew. My crusade will begin again. Glory will be mine and I will hold the supreme truth in my pierced palms once more. The Iron King will be mine, and I will ascend to the throne of professional wrestling… one… last…. time.
There was a single grave surrounded by a white picket fence. The gravestone itself was a beautiful monument, a white marble angel. Its ‘skin’ was smooth and she was clad in a flowing white gown, but it was her face that captured the attention. She seemed to dance and waltz as the wind blew, her arms almost waving to him as he gazed with piercing blues. She was a beauty plucked from the heavens, and her angelic face was framed by short cropped hair. But her eyes were jewels. One an exquisite deep green emerald, the other eye a shining blue Sapphire. He opened the fence and strode in slowly. He admired some of the pretty flowers and glowing tributes that had been left there, yet he was still mesmerized by the two bejewelled eyes. He crouched down, smearing the frost away from the head plate and read it in his head.
‘Jessica Corey Bongartz
Born: 1st of April 1963
Tragically Taken From Us: 6th of January 1992
A much beloved Mother, Grandmother, Partner and Friend. We will one day see you in heaven, our sweet Seraph.
Also the ashes of her beloved son
Isaac Bongartz
Lost To This World: 12th December 2014
A Silent Symphony That Will Never Be Unheard.’
Andreas stood there in front of the monument now, staring up at the monument of the woman he respected so much, before his eyes darted to the plaque of her son, his first trainee, the one he failed. He bowed his head in respect, in sorrow, in tragedy. He tried to lead Isaac down the right path, but ultimately he failed. His relationship with Andreas’ sister had soured beyond repair, and he seemingly never recovered from it. He still did not believe the reports, that he had overdosed on heroin, thus taking his life. Even now, two years later, he could not fathom the reasoning behind it, it dug deep into him. And now, with Anastasia realizing who exactly she was, he felt a sudden urge to find out the truth. What had happened and why, why did Isaac take this route. He had found the blonde haired boy with the needle in his arm, did everything he could to save him, but it was for nothing. Nothing. He had to know. He had to know everything, especially in light to the information Fowler had recently fed him, regarding the boy's father. All in the world did not seem right at all.
He laid two lilies upon the snow covered ground, a single crimson tear trickled down from his eye, and the thought of of thirteen fingers plagued his mind. Was all of this linked? He had to know for sure, and this might mean another visit to Blackthorn Asylum. This time, he was quite sure Fowler would not accompany him.
He stood. He turned. He left.
And then he wondered… why wasn’t Isaac’s date of birth on his plaque?
It is a stage thing to be ever so willing, yet ever so doubtful. The man who stands in the way of my most unholy path is one who is split between these paths, standing at the fork in the road for two whole weeks, trying as he might to make that final decision. Does he choose the path of bravery, of glory? The same path that brings pain and destruction? The path that will test his mind and mortality? Or does he take the other path, the path most traveled? The path of light and peace? The path that will guarantee him to breathe another day? A path no one would ever forgive him for taking?
He stood at that fork and let thought consume him, his mind wandering through all possibilities to the point that it almost drove him to insanity, at a level that there would be no return. He considered swallowing his pride, but at the final second, with his boots laced and his belongings in hand, he turned to the dark forest of despair and anguish and pain and marched forward. But as he did, his eye constantly turned back, wondering if he had made the right decision as he held the wolves howl, the wind roar and the eagles shriek. And thus was the tale of Cassius Reed, long may he rest.
Cassius, you are an interesting creature, coming from a long line of professional wrestlers relatively new to the industry. Many say the Reeds grow like them, sprouting up at the riverbank from seemingly nothing, one appears, then another. And then, if left unchecked, the area is rife with them. Same could be said of weeds in the garden, and they must be removed unless they ruin the majestic scenery.
Your family has become known in some circles as a bane. In others a plague, spreading disease like rats. Others say they are an infestation. I myself, think differently. I happen to train Bianca, Killer B as she is known. Out of your ever growing clan, I feel that she has the potential to go very far. She has been recognised on the world scene as an up and comer since her performance in the Young Guns Cup, and yes, I did personally invite her to RISE. I believe she has a bright future. And Aries, I would regard him as the talent of the family. Brash, outspoken, an irritation above most things. But I will state that some of his performances have been on another plane, on occasion. When he puts his mind to it, which he rarely does. Shame. Then we have Zeke, who would rather sit on his hands and make the occasional off comment than actually work towards an attainable goal. And the list goes on, Darius, a failure. Jasmine, a pretty face who knows better than to enter the family trade. Trevor, who is… someone, I suppose. And on and on and on they go, just names without substance or meaning or reason, stacked up alphabetically for the sheer weight of numbers and nothing else. Those Gospel boys sure were busy, in one regard but not the other, and certainly not a religious one.
And then we come to you, Cassius. You could argue you are the most successful, what with that momentous Passion of the Super Juniors win. Most impressive, I must admit, in a crowd of potential talents and superior high flyers. But then what did you do? How did you capitalize? You took a desk job. Yes, you, Cassius Reed took the role of Vice President of Talent Relations for HKW. Very well done, sat on your backside doing paperwork and fraternizing with management. After all, you couldn’t make it there as a wrestler. Was it your first match that you were systematically destroyed? Second at a push? It didn’t last long, that was for sure. Of course, you avenged that only a few days ago, but your style has changed so much. You may not be the quality to be Iron King, but you have certainly become King of the Shortcut, have you not?
Your fashion in the ring has cheapened, which I suppose after so much time away from competing, playing the desk job, badly I may add seeing as the board do so despise to inform you of decisions, and regularly go above your head in such matters. It is a wonder why you are still there at all, maybe they have realised you are quite unqualified, just like I know that you are undoubtedly unqualified to defeat me.
But you do have strengths, plus points. I will be fair and list them now, Cassius. You are, without a shadow of a doubt one of the best pure punchers in the industry right now. I wouldn’t say the very best, I have seen you out boxed on rare occasions, my protege Fowler being one who did, but you are on a level with the very best. By far, that is your greatest strength, and your only hope of being able to pull anything out of our match up.
Such a tragic shame that your only hope of success has been ripped from your hands, quite literally. I feel sorry for you, almost, that this has occurred. It is not that you can not wrestle, far from it, but not at a level that you would require to best me. It is a shame, I am not fond of handicap matches, though maybe it is fitting seeing as my last round was handicapped, with myself having to fight two, as opposed to one. Now I am the one, and you are simply none.
I wish you good fortune in the war to come, Cassius. I do expect even in the face of adversity you will do so in style and class, that is something you are quite known for, is it not? But, that said, let me show you what class really is, whilst answering the question you have been repeating in your head for the past fortnight.
Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name...
Music...
Do you know where he is leading you? Do you know you are even being lead? Do you take his gesture willingly or do you gleefully skip down the path less travelled in ignorance? It’s funny how it works, isn’t it? Some who follow the path of the damned believe they are doing so in the name of justice, in the name of what is good and true. Some feel they are walking in the footsteps of Michael the Archangel, slaying those wrongdoers in a bid to free the world of tyranny and pain in the name of the most heavenly father… But they are wrong. They are simply manipulated by the serpent in the garden into believing the apple of wisdom they have been passed will free us all… But all it leaves is the bitter taste of the barren wilderness.
But is Michael different from Lucifer? Is Lucifer himself too far detached from his new persona of Satan? Is the Antichrist the same as the Messiah? Is the False Prophet the saviour after all? Are God and the Devil not one and the same? Has black and white merged into a cloudy form of grey?
It’s strange how a few fleeting moments can change everything. How the power of The Thing That Should Not Be can make you rethink your entire existence, question your past and what the future had in store for you. You can stand in front of that relentless beast and start a revolution; you can lay all the proof on the table on why he is the purest of evil, you can acquire all the tools to overthrow them and end their reign of tyranny. In this case, a one man revolution is not the way; an army must be gathered to ensure victory. And the most trusted generals must be assembled. But in battles such as these, armies can not be assembled, generals can not be found and the only choice is to step alone into the realms of mortal combat. Such an action could be classed as suicidal, though tales of old and tales of fantasy would have you think differently. Even in the biblical sense, David vs. Goliath is by far one of the most popular tales. Good vs Evil. The hero vs. the villain. The underdog vs the undeniable beast. One man vs. The world. Daunting, don’t you think? Would that make you think twice, if you were in those shoes? Would you even want to lace them up, or would you burn them and run, even through broken glass and hot coals in a bid to escape? To escape that impossible fate. Do you fear it? Do you fear death?
There is a side to me that many fear, there is a side to me that I fear, there is a side to me that fear itself fears. It seems to appear in waves, short waves in certain circumstances when all seems lost and hope is gone. But many moons ago it was ever present, it was my sole form of thinking and that side of me left a sea of carnage and destruction everywhere I went. My enemies lay crumpled on the floor, a mess of broken bones and spilled guts. The sensible ones fled the entire industry and were never heard from again. The biggest fools are now only represented by headstones in a churchyard. That or their ashes have been scattered as fish food.
I have always tried to suppress that side of me, always tried to keep it hidden from the world so that those closest to me can never witness the true brutality of it all. But in doing so, didn’t that hold me back? Did shrouding it in a cloak of invisibility merely hide the truth away from myself as opposed from those that deceive me? Did my longing for redemption for my sins tear me away from my true calling? Did my affection for a sport built on selfishness and greed corrupt my views on what was better for myself, for the wrestling world? Did my wish for a peaceful home life make me put down my arsenal and settle for a stereotypical existence? Love... What is love when the lust for the prize is ever burning...? Give me the quickening and have done with it...
The path to the throne of the Iron King is a treacherous one. I have discovered this many times on my travels, through tournaments the world over. Through my storied career, through my six years of exile. Through the dark days of studying in Vatican City, to the revenge that I took in St. Petersburg. From the training in the dark land of the Angles, the pain inflicted in Japan, to the glory of the east coast, the madness and gold of the west coast. And yet the ultimate prize still eluded me. Thirteen times I thought it was mine forever more... But my longing for something else always got in the way.
No more...
The quest must begin anew. My crusade will begin again. Glory will be mine and I will hold the supreme truth in my pierced palms once more. The Iron King will be mine, and I will ascend to the throne of professional wrestling… one… last…. time.
==
There was a single grave surrounded by a white picket fence. The gravestone itself was a beautiful monument, a white marble angel. Its ‘skin’ was smooth and she was clad in a flowing white gown, but it was her face that captured the attention. She seemed to dance and waltz as the wind blew, her arms almost waving to him as he gazed with piercing blues. She was a beauty plucked from the heavens, and her angelic face was framed by short cropped hair. But her eyes were jewels. One an exquisite deep green emerald, the other eye a shining blue Sapphire. He opened the fence and strode in slowly. He admired some of the pretty flowers and glowing tributes that had been left there, yet he was still mesmerized by the two bejewelled eyes. He crouched down, smearing the frost away from the head plate and read it in his head.
‘Jessica Corey Bongartz
Born: 1st of April 1963
Tragically Taken From Us: 6th of January 1992
A much beloved Mother, Grandmother, Partner and Friend. We will one day see you in heaven, our sweet Seraph.
Also the ashes of her beloved son
Isaac Bongartz
Lost To This World: 12th December 2014
A Silent Symphony That Will Never Be Unheard.’
Andreas stood there in front of the monument now, staring up at the monument of the woman he respected so much, before his eyes darted to the plaque of her son, his first trainee, the one he failed. He bowed his head in respect, in sorrow, in tragedy. He tried to lead Isaac down the right path, but ultimately he failed. His relationship with Andreas’ sister had soured beyond repair, and he seemingly never recovered from it. He still did not believe the reports, that he had overdosed on heroin, thus taking his life. Even now, two years later, he could not fathom the reasoning behind it, it dug deep into him. And now, with Anastasia realizing who exactly she was, he felt a sudden urge to find out the truth. What had happened and why, why did Isaac take this route. He had found the blonde haired boy with the needle in his arm, did everything he could to save him, but it was for nothing. Nothing. He had to know. He had to know everything, especially in light to the information Fowler had recently fed him, regarding the boy's father. All in the world did not seem right at all.
He laid two lilies upon the snow covered ground, a single crimson tear trickled down from his eye, and the thought of of thirteen fingers plagued his mind. Was all of this linked? He had to know for sure, and this might mean another visit to Blackthorn Asylum. This time, he was quite sure Fowler would not accompany him.
He stood. He turned. He left.
And then he wondered… why wasn’t Isaac’s date of birth on his plaque?
==
It is a stage thing to be ever so willing, yet ever so doubtful. The man who stands in the way of my most unholy path is one who is split between these paths, standing at the fork in the road for two whole weeks, trying as he might to make that final decision. Does he choose the path of bravery, of glory? The same path that brings pain and destruction? The path that will test his mind and mortality? Or does he take the other path, the path most traveled? The path of light and peace? The path that will guarantee him to breathe another day? A path no one would ever forgive him for taking?
He stood at that fork and let thought consume him, his mind wandering through all possibilities to the point that it almost drove him to insanity, at a level that there would be no return. He considered swallowing his pride, but at the final second, with his boots laced and his belongings in hand, he turned to the dark forest of despair and anguish and pain and marched forward. But as he did, his eye constantly turned back, wondering if he had made the right decision as he held the wolves howl, the wind roar and the eagles shriek. And thus was the tale of Cassius Reed, long may he rest.
Cassius, you are an interesting creature, coming from a long line of professional wrestlers relatively new to the industry. Many say the Reeds grow like them, sprouting up at the riverbank from seemingly nothing, one appears, then another. And then, if left unchecked, the area is rife with them. Same could be said of weeds in the garden, and they must be removed unless they ruin the majestic scenery.
Your family has become known in some circles as a bane. In others a plague, spreading disease like rats. Others say they are an infestation. I myself, think differently. I happen to train Bianca, Killer B as she is known. Out of your ever growing clan, I feel that she has the potential to go very far. She has been recognised on the world scene as an up and comer since her performance in the Young Guns Cup, and yes, I did personally invite her to RISE. I believe she has a bright future. And Aries, I would regard him as the talent of the family. Brash, outspoken, an irritation above most things. But I will state that some of his performances have been on another plane, on occasion. When he puts his mind to it, which he rarely does. Shame. Then we have Zeke, who would rather sit on his hands and make the occasional off comment than actually work towards an attainable goal. And the list goes on, Darius, a failure. Jasmine, a pretty face who knows better than to enter the family trade. Trevor, who is… someone, I suppose. And on and on and on they go, just names without substance or meaning or reason, stacked up alphabetically for the sheer weight of numbers and nothing else. Those Gospel boys sure were busy, in one regard but not the other, and certainly not a religious one.
And then we come to you, Cassius. You could argue you are the most successful, what with that momentous Passion of the Super Juniors win. Most impressive, I must admit, in a crowd of potential talents and superior high flyers. But then what did you do? How did you capitalize? You took a desk job. Yes, you, Cassius Reed took the role of Vice President of Talent Relations for HKW. Very well done, sat on your backside doing paperwork and fraternizing with management. After all, you couldn’t make it there as a wrestler. Was it your first match that you were systematically destroyed? Second at a push? It didn’t last long, that was for sure. Of course, you avenged that only a few days ago, but your style has changed so much. You may not be the quality to be Iron King, but you have certainly become King of the Shortcut, have you not?
Your fashion in the ring has cheapened, which I suppose after so much time away from competing, playing the desk job, badly I may add seeing as the board do so despise to inform you of decisions, and regularly go above your head in such matters. It is a wonder why you are still there at all, maybe they have realised you are quite unqualified, just like I know that you are undoubtedly unqualified to defeat me.
But you do have strengths, plus points. I will be fair and list them now, Cassius. You are, without a shadow of a doubt one of the best pure punchers in the industry right now. I wouldn’t say the very best, I have seen you out boxed on rare occasions, my protege Fowler being one who did, but you are on a level with the very best. By far, that is your greatest strength, and your only hope of being able to pull anything out of our match up.
Such a tragic shame that your only hope of success has been ripped from your hands, quite literally. I feel sorry for you, almost, that this has occurred. It is not that you can not wrestle, far from it, but not at a level that you would require to best me. It is a shame, I am not fond of handicap matches, though maybe it is fitting seeing as my last round was handicapped, with myself having to fight two, as opposed to one. Now I am the one, and you are simply none.
I wish you good fortune in the war to come, Cassius. I do expect even in the face of adversity you will do so in style and class, that is something you are quite known for, is it not? But, that said, let me show you what class really is, whilst answering the question you have been repeating in your head for the past fortnight.
Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name...
Music...
