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| Tom Tyco vs P.Y | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 15 2006, 02:27 AM (191 Views) | |
| The Jesus | May 15 2006, 02:27 AM Post #1 |
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Milk was a bad choice.
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Tom Tyco vs P.Y Stipulations: Regular Match Rules Deadline: May 20th at 7pm EST |
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| Tom Tyco | May 15 2006, 02:21 PM Post #2 |
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PWA Immortal
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Out of Intro: I got my own personal reasons as to why I didn't RP last week, but this is a whole new week :). I come finally prepared to battle again. Let's do something wonderful P.Y. Good luck. In Intro: Tom Tyco marches to the ring to the sound of his own beat. The beat of course being "So Far Away" by Crossfade. With a lash amongst his spine, the challenger curves himself into the ring. Once upon the surface, he erects himself to his natural base and awaits his monsterous opponent. Theme music fades, lights contort, hell is near. |
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| P.Y | May 16 2006, 07:42 PM Post #3 |
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Hall of Famer
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::: Tom Tyco paces around the ring, loosening his muscles and his anxiety simultaneously. People around the arena are beginning to wonder if he volunteered himself for this or not, but by judging the slight glazing of fear that coats his eyes, probably not. Still, he’ll give it his best shot without a shadow of a doubt. The piercing sounds of “Juggernaut” by Clutch suddenly hit the arena as does a red tint, blanketing every nook and cranny it can find. Tensions mount, as suddenly, a booming voice speaks the words - ::: I … AM … ETERNAL ::: The light envelops everything in its path, also catching P.Y and Dave Cordell as they march from the back after wrenching the curtain aside. Such a serious expression seems chiselled into the boulder like skull of the beast, with not much different being said about Dave. He seems overly enraged too, for a reason unknown to all, as the two continue to waltz to the ring side by side. ::: I have suffered For your sins But now is when My fun begins If I hit you, Turn your cheek You are righteous But you are weak ::: Inside the ring, Tyco begins to march to his own beat as he prepares for the battle ahead. He simply watches as these two men continue down to the ring, determined as they look, knowing that something sinister may be in store for him in the coming minutes. ::: "Orgy-Porgy, Ford and fun Kiss the girls and make them One. Boys at one with girls at peace; Orgy-Porgy gives release." ::: By now, both P.Y and David Cordell have reached the base of the ring. Dave decides to stay back, but the English Monster on the other hand wastes no time climbing onto the apron. However, instead of entering the ring in his usual fashion, he decides to stay put on the apron for just a little longer. He looks left, then right, as the Ring Announcer speaks. ::: ::: RING ANNOUNCER ::: And his opponent – Hailing from England, he weighs in at 315lbs and stands at a height of 6 feet and 11½ inches. He is the English Monster, the British Behemoth – P.Y! ::: On the outside of the ring, Cordell slams his hands on the canvas to draw the attention of the English Monster. His ears are fine tuned, as instantly, P.Y turns and walks to his corner as Cordell shouts words and tactics in his direction. Having crept his way out of the ring momentarily, Tyco slips back into the battlefield and walks to the centre of the ring. He is ready for battle. In a world of his own, a vacantly staring P.Y also wanders to the ring’s core. He too is ready for battle. ::: DING! DING! DING! (OOC: Good luck man) |
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| Tom Tyco | May 17 2006, 03:05 PM Post #4 |
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PWA Immortal
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With hesitation aligning with the lesser of the opponent's motions, Tom creeps spine first into the ropes opposite of the masterful "monster." He dares not show a gleam of fear in his eyes whilst in reverse pursuit. Instead, the former elite title contender plays the transaction off as though it's part of his fresh strategy to take down the giant. The play-off evolves into an actual state of plan which leads the challenger to squat towards the ground and slightly bob as though ready to "spring" if you will. Obviously the greater man takes notice as does the whole world and anticipates what is to come of this so called "plan." Figuring no real damage can be done to his powerful body, the English Monster walks towards the perched foe with a cocky grin and careless stride. Midway through his center ring dismisal, P.Y is attacked. Using the various muscles of his mass to the fullest, Mr. Tyco leaps towards the giant whilst articulating himself and latches onto his neck. Letting the forces of gravity complete the job, the striking "Man-beast" plummets to the canvas, Falling Neckbreaker at hand. A much to the imagination "Boom" emmits from the tender ring's depths following by an unorthodox yelp of a pain stricken warrior. One can see Mr. Tyco's vertebrate smash into the ring cover, but only his for the giant continues to stand unscaved. It seems P.Y IS that damn powerful; his stature failed to move even the slightest! Jumping to the spot, the fallen fighter's right palm searches his backside for the most aggravated point of pressure. He finds it and pulls himself back onto his heals whilst holding it. The pain can not only be seen through a struggling upper appendage but as well upon a red tainted face. Perhaps the roan that masked his expression is from the pain, but many a person speculates it from embarrassing himself with a miserably failed technique. None the less, P.Y brushes the rich brown follicles back away from his eyes and pivots himself in his opponent's general direction. One can now see his merciless eyes as they glow with an unnatural hatred. Hell is about to pick up; the former champion mach strikes an Uppercut to the red adversary. Taking the blowing hard, Tom's head cocks back as his own eyes dilate to a mix of fear and pain. His whole body infact ajars from it's original position and stumbles into the ring cables nearest. Now with a demonic smile wriggling across his face, the oversized combatant marches at his tattered opponent. Instead of commiting some sort of abusive tactic at arrival, the giant merely latches onto Tyco and rips his spine off the ropes thus sending him to perhaps his doom with a simple Irish Whip. Mr. Tyco runs in zypher until he partakes in greeting the ropes that he was unwillinging commited to visiting. Unfortunaly for him, he is already recoiling from the ropes thus proving escape to be unlikely; yet he finds a way anyways to exert himself from the ring. At the end of the recoil, the Hardcore Legend wisks his lower appendages from under himself and rolls over the ropes brutally. He lands on his right side on the ring mats below, bellowing out in an eerie cry. Although he has released himself from his opponent's grasp momentarily, Mr. Tyco is unable to do anything accept writhe to body jolting pains. His eyes clinch themselves tight behind flesh masks, mouth hangs open to it's fullest; it seems his chance to slay the giant is little to none for the time being. Johnny: Just look at Tom! This was the challenger for the title at Three Hours of Power? This is a sham! Donny: Hey now, don't be making fun of him! Just cause he's getting his ass whooped by P.Y ... again ... and losing to a top contender ... again ... and screaming like a baby ... again ... ... what was I saying again? The smug sly and yet sinister grin slides off of the English Monster's face thus being replaced witha strictly irritable one. With enough power in his step to shake the whole ring, the angry giant marches to the other side of the ring. At this point, Tom himself has peeled himself from the not so quite "soft" foam that surrounds the ring and stands at nearly full mast with the exception of a slight slouch from all the damage endured thus far. P.Y arrives at the cables and merely looks down as his bug of an opponent. He dared not speak for his timeless expression does that for him. A certain fear re-sparks Mr. Tyco's deep water blue eyes; it seems his tactics are vain for he can not seem to do something to pull one step ahead of the English Monster. Steadily, P.Y articulates himself over the top rope thus poising him on the canvas; his squirming opponent uses the precious second to hobble over the fan barrior and take off. As soon as P.Y's feet greet the ring mats, the official makes himself known for the first time today thus calling out a stern "One." His demand is ignored thus the match giant too rages over the ringside barricade. Like the wounded animal he is, Mr. Tyco can only get so far before falling onto the concrete floor. Random hands of complete strangers attempt to touch this being as though he were God himself, but of course the security staff hustles to hold off as many as possible. A flashbulb goes off in the "Gargoyle's" face thus causing him to shield his eyes and squint them to rid of the nasty afterflash. P.Y receives the same treatment; his partner is crime Mr. Cordell can only watch from the point of exit. He acts more as an indictive componant, yelling off the numbers to his giant friend that the referee rounds off. He shouts an ugly "Two, P.Y!" Sooner than later, a "Three" can be heard coming from the lone man's voice in stern. Alas, the raging giant catches the fallen adversary known as Tom Tyco; unfortunally, it's not to best this in the world for him. The giant crumbles onto his knees and sprawls to the concrete. The image becomes so vague with bodies surrounding the event, the official can't determine what has just happened. The local camera can though; a replay on the Pojotron (That the official somehow doesn't see) reviels that with a pipe at hand, Mr. Tyco swung it at the back of P.Y's knees thus sending him to his plummet. Cordell freaks out from the replay on the tron, running his hands through his hair in frustration and snarling viciously. It is then he realises he is P.Y's only hope. As an ugly "Four" secretes through the spectators and to the general point of action, Mr. Cordell jumps onto the ring apron and confronts the official. The two begin to bicker and such over some simple little matter. It seems to be the delay needed for P.Y's resurrection for the count is heavily delayed. At the main point of action, Mr. Tyco sluggishly ways through screaming fans and towards the ring. Once he arrives at the barricade, he slouches over it in dismay to the sight of the two ring "buddies" yelling it out. Meanwhile, P.Y is slow to get up; in fact, he crawls back towards the ring, long stringy hair hiding his painful expressions. Alas, Mr. Tyco gains the knowledge to keep the count going; he articulates himself over the barricade. With one everlasting jump, he hobbles forth and latches onto the bickering component and pulls down thus causing Cordell to fall and smash his face into the apron's edge! A sick "WHACK" exposes itself over a wrestless arena, thus quieting it down slightly. Mr. Tyco grins and writhes himself to rest on the apron himself; head caressed in folded arms. P.Y continues his journy to the ring; he has at last made it to the barricade. The official counts once more. "Five" harshly escapes the top of his lungs. With Tom resting his head on the apron, P.Y a mere couple feet away (attempting to make it over the fan barrier), and Cordell knocked out after having his head collide with the edge of the apron, who will take the advantage next and perhaps take home a hard fought victory? Stay tuned. |
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| P.Y | May 20 2006, 05:45 PM Post #5 |
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Hall of Famer
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::: He may possess the silence of a ninja, but standing close to seven feet tall makes it practically impossible for the monster to hide amongst the shadows of the crowd. Head and shoulders bobbling around in the midst of frantic bodies, slapping his back or throwing obscenities his way, P.Y’s stealthy approach seems to be somewhat of a failure. It’s a good job Tyco doesn’t have eyes implanted into the back of his head, replying only upon the sense of sound to detect his foe. After swinging his oversized legs over the black padded barrier and back into the battleground, the behemoth balances nimbly on his toes whilst gradually reducing the gap to zero, fingers itching upon his hands. A bellowing call of “six” suddenly masks the surprised shriek that escapes the Man-beast’s lungs as ten digits grasp his neck and cut his oxygen supply clean. Face red, the besieged warrior doubles up in a mass accumulation of shock and pain, as the arms on the side of his body claw through the air that surrounds him in search of sanctuary. Unfortunately, all he finds is more air at his fingertips, leaving not only himself in a predicament but also the man left standing inside the ring. It’s like a two for one deal for the referee, as while both men find themselves in danger of being counted out, P.Y also borders the line of disqualification by his blatant illegal Choke. So as many prepare to hear the referee call out the seventh number in this basic sequence, hearing the number “one” once again strikes confusion upon their minds. Obviously his mind has been set, and acting upon instinct he demands simply that the submission manoeuvre is broken before the number five is heard. He roars “two”, soon to be followed be “three”, but thankfully for his own sanity the ordeal is suddenly concluded as the English Monster rolls his foe back into the squared circle of war. ::: ::: DONNY ::: Jesus, all of those numbers are hurting my head. Thank god that’s over! ::: From across the plane calls Dave Cordell, throwing his pointing hand in the direction of the ring where Tyco lay dormant. Despite the long distance call there is no delay on the line as it takes just a split second from the mountainous figure of P.Y to force his body underneath the bottom rope. The horizontal figure of the beast transforms into a vertical one, but unfortunately for the Gargoyle, the same doesn’t apply. His spine remains nailed to the canvas as the angelic lights continue to burn his retinas and make him blind to his surroundings. Maybe that is the reason that he doesn’t even try to prevent damage to his neck when a fast paced Leg Drop crushes his windpipe. The only one to applaud is Cordell, clapping away until his palms turn red raw whilst the lips on the monster’s face begin to evolve into an upturned crescent. Welcome to hell. ::: (OOC: Sorry for that horrid piece I call an RP. I have been kinda busy the latter part of the week, so sorry for this) |
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| P.Y | May 22 2006, 07:30 AM Post #6 |
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Hall of Famer
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::: Continuing his assault on his foe, P.Y returns himself to the soles of his feet with a handful of hair in his palm. Like a puppet, up rises Tyco, but before he can establish his newfound equilibrium he finds himself hauled into the opposing set of ropes in a hurry. This is when things take a sudden twist. P.Y ducks his head forward expecting his opponent to return by foot, but when the seconds tick by and nothing happens, his confusion causes him to look up. Sailing through the sky with the ropes used for his assistance, the fans scream as Tyco sails through the air and nails the devastating Diamond Spear onto the beast! Knowing it’s a now or never situation, he grabs his opponent’s leg tight, locking in the pin as the ref makes the count … ::: … ONE! … TWO! … THREE! ::: Shocked, Tyco sits up having defeated the English Monster. The referee runs over and helps him to his feet whilst simultaneously raising his hand up high, camera flashes lighting up the scene. ::: ::: RING ANNOUNCER ::: THE WINNER OF THIS MATCH AS A RESULT OF A PINFALL - TOM TYCO! ::: Arm still raised, Tom begins to rotate on the spot so that the entire Russian crowd can see him clearly. But when he turns the final corner, his eyes meet those of a risen beast staring back at him with Dave Cordell behind his shoulder. There is no question as to what happens next as two hands draw in the victor towards the sore loser. Handling him like a child in his arms, the consequences are not so fatherly. Dropped to the mat in the form of P.Y’s Denouement, the crowd’s mixed reaction ensue seconds before “Juggernaut” by Clutch hits the arena, Dave Cordell signalling the letter V with his hands as an obvious message for the boss has been made. ::: |
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