Ride Forth Victoriously!
Mar 7, 2016 20:29:51 GMT -5
Post by Thunderbelly! on Mar 7, 2016 20:29:51 GMT -5
Ah... The promo. A custom of Midgaard I have always struggled to understand. To bluster and brag endlessly. On and on. Why not simply allow ones strength to speak for them?
The scene fades in to something quite out of the ordinary, but not unfamiliar. Despite his back being turned to the camera, there was no mistaking the speaking manner and green skinned Thunderbelly. Sitting atop a rock as looked out among what appeared to be endless amounts of rolling hills dotted with various white sheep, his crook resting in his lap.
It was at this point the operator couldn't help but poke his out from behind the camera.
I feel like we've been here before.... Have we been here before?
Ah, indeed we have, in a time long past.
Thunderbelly exhales something of a content sigh as his shoulders slump, silence falling between the two. The cameraman opened his mouth to remind Thunderbelly as to why he was there, but was shocked when the Asgaardian Amphibian's voice suddenly rang out once again.
BIANCA REED! Thine is the name that has been declared as the opponent of the mightiest Sheepherder in all of Midgaard itself! The Princess of the Reeds, as I have also heard you declare yourself. To do battle with Midgaardian royalty is an honor in of itself. The thought of a Princess standing among the ranks of warriors is something rarely witnessed! Tis truly glorious!
But, as anxious as I may be to once again stand among the many proud and brave warriors of wrestling combat, and perhaps be allowed to be counted amongst them, I cannot help but feel as though you do not share in my excitement. I've heard your words, Princess of Reeds. I know that you look down upon me. Judge me not by my merit as a warrior, but insult me by the ...colors of my skin...?
If you were to judge me as warrior and deem me unfit, you would find no quarrel with me. If anything, you and I may have even found common ground there, dear Bianca.... Truly, I wish I could stand before you as whom I once was... As the warrior I once claimed to be. I wish I could step foot within the Lion's Den, my return to Midgaard's squared circle a grand a glorious one. My hammer held high. I wish I could face you as the Storm Bearer, but it is simply not to be this day. Perhaps that is why I have returned to the Frontier. Within the Lion's Den. Perhaps, Princess of Reeds, you and I share more in common than either of us thought.
You've made it clear what your intent is. You have set out to create your own legacy; you wish to have your name etched within stone, to be remembered apart from your family. To stand on your own, your glory belonging to you and you alone. Tis a quest I can admire, dear Princess, and I truly wish you only the best on the long and harrowing road that lie before you. You come with something to prove, but your quest has not begun quite how you envisioned it, has it? Glory was snatched from you. This is where you and I share ambitions. On this day, we both quest for victory. Aye, we both ride into the Lion's Den with glory in mind. You wish for your own name to hold weight among the Reeds, not simply for the name of Reeds to hold you high. I too seek validation, not only to myself, but... It matters not. Neither of us shall find satisfaction in mere competition, will we, Bianca Reeds? Mere sportmansship will not help us rest easy, will it? Nay, tis truly glory for the victor this day. Neither of us can afford to leave the Lion's Den knowing we were not victorious. If only for our own selfish desires. Tis a true test of wills; of a true warrior's valor. A test, I would dare say, I cannot allow you to have me fail.
Thunderbelly now rose from his seat, once again turning his back to the camera as he proudly held his crook.
Perhaps a day will come where you and I could when blood no longer boils with passion and anger.... Disappointment and lament.... That day shall not be on the ninth of March. Nay, Bianca Reed, Princess of the Reed Dynasty. On that day all I can promise you is the justice of the crook.
With a swift whip of his crook against the granite, the sound of lightning rang out over the hills, the scene slowly fading to black as every white wooly sheep that dotted the hills of Valais, Switzerland immediately began sprinting toward their Shepherd.
The scene fades in to something quite out of the ordinary, but not unfamiliar. Despite his back being turned to the camera, there was no mistaking the speaking manner and green skinned Thunderbelly. Sitting atop a rock as looked out among what appeared to be endless amounts of rolling hills dotted with various white sheep, his crook resting in his lap.
It was at this point the operator couldn't help but poke his out from behind the camera.
I feel like we've been here before.... Have we been here before?
Ah, indeed we have, in a time long past.
Thunderbelly exhales something of a content sigh as his shoulders slump, silence falling between the two. The cameraman opened his mouth to remind Thunderbelly as to why he was there, but was shocked when the Asgaardian Amphibian's voice suddenly rang out once again.
BIANCA REED! Thine is the name that has been declared as the opponent of the mightiest Sheepherder in all of Midgaard itself! The Princess of the Reeds, as I have also heard you declare yourself. To do battle with Midgaardian royalty is an honor in of itself. The thought of a Princess standing among the ranks of warriors is something rarely witnessed! Tis truly glorious!
But, as anxious as I may be to once again stand among the many proud and brave warriors of wrestling combat, and perhaps be allowed to be counted amongst them, I cannot help but feel as though you do not share in my excitement. I've heard your words, Princess of Reeds. I know that you look down upon me. Judge me not by my merit as a warrior, but insult me by the ...colors of my skin...?
If you were to judge me as warrior and deem me unfit, you would find no quarrel with me. If anything, you and I may have even found common ground there, dear Bianca.... Truly, I wish I could stand before you as whom I once was... As the warrior I once claimed to be. I wish I could step foot within the Lion's Den, my return to Midgaard's squared circle a grand a glorious one. My hammer held high. I wish I could face you as the Storm Bearer, but it is simply not to be this day. Perhaps that is why I have returned to the Frontier. Within the Lion's Den. Perhaps, Princess of Reeds, you and I share more in common than either of us thought.
You've made it clear what your intent is. You have set out to create your own legacy; you wish to have your name etched within stone, to be remembered apart from your family. To stand on your own, your glory belonging to you and you alone. Tis a quest I can admire, dear Princess, and I truly wish you only the best on the long and harrowing road that lie before you. You come with something to prove, but your quest has not begun quite how you envisioned it, has it? Glory was snatched from you. This is where you and I share ambitions. On this day, we both quest for victory. Aye, we both ride into the Lion's Den with glory in mind. You wish for your own name to hold weight among the Reeds, not simply for the name of Reeds to hold you high. I too seek validation, not only to myself, but... It matters not. Neither of us shall find satisfaction in mere competition, will we, Bianca Reeds? Mere sportmansship will not help us rest easy, will it? Nay, tis truly glory for the victor this day. Neither of us can afford to leave the Lion's Den knowing we were not victorious. If only for our own selfish desires. Tis a true test of wills; of a true warrior's valor. A test, I would dare say, I cannot allow you to have me fail.
Thunderbelly now rose from his seat, once again turning his back to the camera as he proudly held his crook.
Perhaps a day will come where you and I could when blood no longer boils with passion and anger.... Disappointment and lament.... That day shall not be on the ninth of March. Nay, Bianca Reed, Princess of the Reed Dynasty. On that day all I can promise you is the justice of the crook.
With a swift whip of his crook against the granite, the sound of lightning rang out over the hills, the scene slowly fading to black as every white wooly sheep that dotted the hills of Valais, Switzerland immediately began sprinting toward their Shepherd.