Post by knightmask on May 3, 2017 7:44:39 GMT
"Now onto the Mute I wasn't impressed by your performance..."
Madman's words echoed in KnightMask's head as he drove down the lonesome stretch of highway, en route to the next WWL event. Vast rolling fields yawned out in seemingly endless expanse on either side of the road. He passed by the deserted ruins of an old barn and what was likely once a farmer's house. A little further up the road was a church, or what was left of it. The roof had caved in long ago, leaving the steeple angled off to the side.
Maybe Madman was right.
He'd thrown everything he had against Madman when they'd met in the Warrior Wrestling League's inaugural battle royal...and it hadn't been enough. Not even close. And now, Madman's old partner, Rogar, was back in action. He'd never even imagined himself in the ring with Rogar...and who thinks about fighting a force of nature? But unlike an earthquake or a tornado, Rogar was cruel and hateful.
KnightMask. Some name. What could was a knight that couldn't slay a dragon...?
The night fell fast and hard, barely allowing the last vestiges of day to a sunset before chasing it away. The road ahead seemed to disappear into the darkness, as if swallowed up.
But for the Grace of God, there go you or I. The quote sprang up in KnightMask's mind, unbidden. He looked ahead, down the highway, into a wall of shadow. To be forever driven on by unending, unrelenting fury like Rogar...was he going down that road himself? He thought for a moment and then swung the car around in a u-turn, heading back towards the remnants of that ancient, decayed church he'd earlier passed.
His car parked on the side of the road, KnightMask sifted through the ruins. Old tomes on theology and philosophy lay strewn about, many no longer legible, some ready to crumble at a touch. Some paintings lined what was left of the walls. Many more lay strewn about the floor. As KnightMask looked around, the reflection of the moonlight caught something in the grass: an old, crumpled photograph.
But not just any photograph.
Captain Eagle in full cape and cowl. Blaze, back when he still wore a mask, with his arm around another masked man in a sleeveless Iron Maiden shirt, with a large cross hanging from his neck. Griffin Knight. Towering over the group was a man wearing an eye patch, decked out in the garb of a feudal samurai...of course, it was Chronite, the 7th Ronin. And in front of all of them, a man seated in a wheelchair, smiling widely from beneath his thick, golden beard. A man whose hair seemed more like fur, which made sense, because of course, it was Lionslayer, the founding member of the Slayhamaniacs.
The Slayahmaniacs. The one force that had held the likes of Madman and Rogar in check...not just in the ring, but outside of it as well. KnightMask realized he must have stumbled onto one of their old meeting places.
Rogar and Madman had killed Chronite and Captain Eagle...and had been responsible for Lionslayer's paralysis. Griffin Knight and Blaze were gone...
That left KnightMask...alone, undersized and, yes, afraid. And yet, here he was...standing where they had once gathered, on the eve of battle with the same evil forces they'd dedicated their lives to fighting. KnightMask gazed into the picture and realized he was praying...
...for the courage and spirit to stand where the Slayahmaniacs once stood.
Madman's words echoed in KnightMask's head as he drove down the lonesome stretch of highway, en route to the next WWL event. Vast rolling fields yawned out in seemingly endless expanse on either side of the road. He passed by the deserted ruins of an old barn and what was likely once a farmer's house. A little further up the road was a church, or what was left of it. The roof had caved in long ago, leaving the steeple angled off to the side.
Maybe Madman was right.
He'd thrown everything he had against Madman when they'd met in the Warrior Wrestling League's inaugural battle royal...and it hadn't been enough. Not even close. And now, Madman's old partner, Rogar, was back in action. He'd never even imagined himself in the ring with Rogar...and who thinks about fighting a force of nature? But unlike an earthquake or a tornado, Rogar was cruel and hateful.
KnightMask. Some name. What could was a knight that couldn't slay a dragon...?
The night fell fast and hard, barely allowing the last vestiges of day to a sunset before chasing it away. The road ahead seemed to disappear into the darkness, as if swallowed up.
But for the Grace of God, there go you or I. The quote sprang up in KnightMask's mind, unbidden. He looked ahead, down the highway, into a wall of shadow. To be forever driven on by unending, unrelenting fury like Rogar...was he going down that road himself? He thought for a moment and then swung the car around in a u-turn, heading back towards the remnants of that ancient, decayed church he'd earlier passed.
His car parked on the side of the road, KnightMask sifted through the ruins. Old tomes on theology and philosophy lay strewn about, many no longer legible, some ready to crumble at a touch. Some paintings lined what was left of the walls. Many more lay strewn about the floor. As KnightMask looked around, the reflection of the moonlight caught something in the grass: an old, crumpled photograph.
But not just any photograph.
Captain Eagle in full cape and cowl. Blaze, back when he still wore a mask, with his arm around another masked man in a sleeveless Iron Maiden shirt, with a large cross hanging from his neck. Griffin Knight. Towering over the group was a man wearing an eye patch, decked out in the garb of a feudal samurai...of course, it was Chronite, the 7th Ronin. And in front of all of them, a man seated in a wheelchair, smiling widely from beneath his thick, golden beard. A man whose hair seemed more like fur, which made sense, because of course, it was Lionslayer, the founding member of the Slayhamaniacs.
The Slayahmaniacs. The one force that had held the likes of Madman and Rogar in check...not just in the ring, but outside of it as well. KnightMask realized he must have stumbled onto one of their old meeting places.
Rogar and Madman had killed Chronite and Captain Eagle...and had been responsible for Lionslayer's paralysis. Griffin Knight and Blaze were gone...
That left KnightMask...alone, undersized and, yes, afraid. And yet, here he was...standing where they had once gathered, on the eve of battle with the same evil forces they'd dedicated their lives to fighting. KnightMask gazed into the picture and realized he was praying...
...for the courage and spirit to stand where the Slayahmaniacs once stood.