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Excalibur Combat Alliance


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In the autumn of some obscure year, three men met in an apple orchard. The day was aflame with all the gold, orange, and crimson glory that is the hallmark of a traditional, crisp, fall day. Tree branches bowed in offering of their red flowers, the hanging apples patiently waiting to be plucked. On the ground were some of their brethren, who, being impetus and headstrong, leapt off the hold and fell crashing to the ground where they lay bruised and immoblized. It was one of these dirt-dwellers now picked up and brushed off on the brown sleeve of one of the men as he spoke. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do now really. I guess I'll just have to wait and see what happens. If nothing else, I can always go back to working in retail for a while." Across from the apple polisher, a fat man with a bushy black moustache snorted disdainfully and took a puff of his cigar. "You go back to retail, Tom, and you'll never get out of it. ****, you hate that line of work and now you're going to go back into it? What the hell did you go and get the degree for then? Might as well just not have gone then if you're going to do something stupid like that." In counterpoint, Thomas Mud, for that was the recent graduate's name, viciously bit into the apple, errant bits of red fruit flying as he shot back his reply. "Oh, go to hell Barry! You think you're so great, then why don't you suggest something for me to do, huh? I mean, if you're so wise and all-knowing, then please, tell me. What should I do?" The answer came not from the beefy smoker, but from the third in the party. A short distance away from the quarreling duo, there stood an old man, his hair as thick and soft as it had been in his youth, only silver now instead of chestnut. Just after Thomas's indignant question, the weathered owner of the orchard turned to look at the others. "Thomas, you're a young man of many gifts, gifts that I haven't seen in one person for a great many years. You were the apple of your grandfather's eye and I promised him shortly before he died that I'd help you when the time is right. That time is now, and more importantly, we'll be helping each other." "What do you mean, Old Hans?" asked Thomas as he swallowed his bite of apple. "Well, Thomas, as you know, my family has been in the orchard business for several generations now. My own grandfather came from the Old Country a long time ago and established here in the New World the business he left behind. I fell into it because that was what was expected of the blood sons of our family." Here, Hans took a breath and reached out to caress the trunks of one of the trees, his grey eyes growing dim. "But I always wanted to do something more than that. So, as you know, I went into raising and training horses. I still do that in a small way, but that isn't enough. I want to use my money to finance something that will make people happy, that will be thrilling and exciting to be a part of. Whether or not it turns a profit, I don't care. But what's important is that I myself start something and therefore, Thomas, it is my intention that you are to start a business that you find exciting. Then both your grandfather's spirit and I will have our dreams fulfilled." "Heh. An exciting business? You may be made of some pretty old money, old man, but you don't have *that* much cash floating around." Barry voiced his skepticism as he took another pull of his cigar, the brown of his smoke preposterous against the banana yellow of his three-piece suit. "No, I do not have that much money, Barry. But surely there must be something Thomas wants to do that I can help him with." Thomas was silent during this exchange, ideas racing through his mind. Here he is making a new invention that sells millions and makes him both rich and famous. There he is living on Hans's money while he writes the greatest novel the world is ever known. Or shall he be an owner of a sports team? From humble beginnings to untold glory.... "Wrestling!" the degreeist blurted out. The two men turned and stared at him. Thomas blushed under their scrutiny, but continued. "One of my own dreams is to someday own a sports team, but that's not possible around here. All the teams are bought up and you don't have that kind of money to convince them to sell, Hans. Establishing a league would take too much money as well. But wrestling's a sport, and there's always a niche market to be filled in it. It's a big business, too, what with the Big Two we've got here in the US and a lot of other federations besides. So I want to start a wrestling federation with your help, Hans." "Pah! You? Wrestling? What the hell do *you* know about wrestling, Mr. Flighty English Bastard?" spat Barry as he dropped his spent cigar and ground it out in the dirt. "Not much", admitted Thomas, "But I was also a Business minor and I understand enough of basic principles that I can make this thing a success. And even if I fail, so what? At least it'll have been a fun run, and Hans here said he wants to be a part of something exciting and new. This would qualify." Hans's wrinkled fingers rubbed his sunburnt chin for a few moments before he nodded and spoke, cutting off Barry's enthused and no doubt negative answer, "Yes. I have every faith in you, Thomas and as I said, I promised your grandfather. You will have your federation and I will provide you the seed money." And so it was that the first inkling of what was to become the Excalibur Combat Alliance was born, in an autumnal orchard in the Western United States. But that was just the beginning.
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Rain beat down upon the world, an unrelenting cascade of hard needles that dashed against the population foolish enough to be out of doors in this flu-inducing storm. But inside Old Hans's farmhouse, all was coziness and pleasantry, merry fire crackling as it feasted on its diet of fresh-cut logs and threw out a ruddy glow over the living room. Seated on the couch was Thomas, Hans and Barry flanking him. The former sat in an old wooden rocking chair that was much more comfortable than it looked, the latter's beefy body flung down in a recliner. Each of them had a cup of hot cocoa nearby and occasionally sipped from it. On the coffee table in front of Thomas, there lay spread out profiles on all of the available wrestlers for hire and the conversation that had started before we intruded and took up voyeur's fly-on-the-wall spot continued. "So I think we'll have just two belts for now, a federation singles champion belt and a federation tag team champions belt." Barry grunted and nod, scratching his chubby chin, "Heh, for once I agree with you. Though you should probably make the tag team belt worth less than the singles belt. I mean ****, as much as I'd like to bang the Williams sisters and be the cream in the middle of that Oreo cookie, everyone's all about the singles titles they've won." "Besides, it is greater for an individual to accomplish something alone. Having two makes things much easier", concurred Hans from the corner. "Right", said Thomas with a faintly amused smile, "Besides, from what I hear, wrestling fans find singles titles more prestige than anything else." Thus, the ECA Grand Chevalier title was created as the singles belt, with the ECA Glory Knights as the tag team title name. "So what the hell made you decide on the Excalibur Combat Alliance and those goofy title names anyway?" asked Barry as he took a long drink of cocoa, his bushy moustache lined with brown after the swallow. Thomas laughed, blushing a little, "Well, to me, wrestling should be about epic matches and epic storylines alike, and what better example of memorable combat and noble quests than the Arthurian legends?" "Uh huh, and why the **** did you put the French in the main title? You think wrestling fans are going to get up for some foreign language in their American federation?" As ever, Barry was quite the negativist. "Well, I'm partial to Chretien des Troyes's versions of the romances", shot back Thomas, who shrugged and added, "Besides, this'll be something different. While I can't guarantee that we'll be able to stick to the period in the federation, it'll at least be something fresh and different." "It might be wise to start looking at the wrestlers who may be joining us before we get ahead of ourselves", Hans counseled. This advice was taken and they spent the rest of the day and evening going over the information on each individual. Invitations to negotiate contracts were sent out to the chosen ones the next morning.
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After a couple of weeks of negotiations, the roster was set. Here, then, are those who will fight it out in the ECA: [b]Main Eventers[/b]: Masked Knight (American Elemental) (F) Beezulbub the Unholy Demon (Tribal Warrior) (H) Braxus the Mighty (Leroy) (H) [b]Upper Midcarders[/b]: Alexius (Zeus Maxmillion) (H) Fire Acolyte (C.H. Threepwood) (H) Evil Jester (Flemmy Lemming) (H) Aquinas Burgher (Marc Speed) (H) [b]Midcarders[/b]: Chiyo (Ginko Kuroda) (F) Saracen (Kashmir Singh) (F) Warlock (Nomad) (H) [b]Lower Midcarders[/b]: Higgus the Giant (Larry Wood) (H) [b]Managers[/b]: Nimue (Chloe Dean) (F) [b]Referee[/b]: Chad Brent [b]Announcer[/b]: Rock Downpour The teams and stables were yet to be decided, but the date for the first event was fixed as Wednesday on the last week of December, giving Thomas and the rest of the ECA staff time to promote it.
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Thomas paced with clenched hands backstage, nervous sweat casacading profusely down his brow. "I'm not sure how well this show or this concept is going to go over. It doesn't look like we'll have more than a handful of people either." Rock Downpour looked up from where he was testing the microphone and grinned, walking over to pat the anxious neophyte owner on the back, "Hey, take it easy, Tommy Boy. You guys are just starting out so you're not going to get a lot of people showing up. And if this whole medieval thing you got going on doesn't work, then just switch to something else." "Yes, I suppose you're right", conceded Thomas as he wiped his equally sweaty hand off on his navy blue dress trousers, part of the suit he'd purchased exclusively for this occassion, even if he wouldn't be appearing on screen as the saying went. "Just relax", Rock advised with a wink. And so Thomas tried to relax, but failed. Instead, he ended up in a chair near the curtain's opening, where he could watch as the show unfolded. [b]First Skirmish[/b] [b]Rock Downpour[/b]: Lords and ladies, what a show we have for you tonight! As promised, Masked Knight will be upholding the ideals of Justice, Faith, and Glory against the evil Beezulbub the Unholy Demon. Also, the Defenders of Justice will be valiantly battling against the Infernal Bloodbrothers for the ECA Glory Kinghts title! It should definitely be an exciting time for all involved! But first, we have the lovely and mysterious ninja, all the way from Japan, Chiyo! Grace and elegance are evident as Chiyo walks out, dressed in the high and ornate dress of a geisha. She is striking, ravishing in an exotic way and more than one man in the crowd suddenly finds himself hungry for an Asian delight. From the other side comes Alexius in a white toga and a crown of laurel leaves. He pounds his chest and addresses the crowd. "I am the greatest there ever was, ever is, and ever will be! No city, no civilization can hope to match the might, power, and glory of Athens in olden times. And I am here to prove that, for I am.. the greatest!" They enter the ring and the fight commences. [b]Singles Match: Chiyo vs. Alexius[/b]: Chiyo dazzles the crowd with her brilliant flying moves and quick tactics that leave Alexius bewildered. Unfortunately, Chad Brent is a terrible referee and so the crowd is subdued, even as Chiyo gets the win in 9:50 with a brilliant pinfall. [i]Rating: E[/i] Masked Knight comes out during the end of the match to watch the final moves. Just as Chiyo and Alexius are clearing out, Beezulbub the Unholy Demon walks out and deliberately bumps into Masked Knight, knocking the heroic man offstride. [b]Masked Knight[/b]: Varlet! Foul spawn of Satan! Watch where you go and do not pollute this land with your presence! Beezulbub only smiles sinisterly and reaches out to grab Masked's arm, squeezing it tightly. [b]Beezulbub[/b]: Who are you to tell me where to go? You are ashamed of your King and your God, else why would you wear the mask as you do? You are a coward and nothing more. Fury purples Masked Knight's body as he yanks away out of Beezulbub's grip, his eyes flaring with righteous anger. [b]Masked[/b]: Then meet me in solo combat, foul demon! [i]Rating[/i]: C- [b]Beezulbub[/b]: I will only accept your challenge if you agree to fight me and my disciple. Should you refuse to, then I will not agree to battle with you mano a mano. [b]Masked[/b]: Then let us have at! I, too, have a friend. A Moor whom I call Saracen. He is a great comfort to me when times as dark as his own skin appear, times as now... Beezulbub gives no reply, but merely snaps his fingers. Fire Acolyte emerges and joins his master. Masked Knight takes out a small battle horn and blows it resoundingly. In response, Saracen emerges, garbed in the dark colours and thin fabrics of the medieval Arabs. [b]Defenders of Justice vs. Infernal Bloodbrothers[/b]: This match is a furious one, but once again horrible refereeing brings the crowd down. Still, it is much better received than the opening match, all 15 people in attendance roaring when Beezulbub pins Saracen with the Dark Curse. [i]Match Rating: C-[/i] [b]Beezulbub[/b]: Now my disciple and I are without question the greatest team of fighters in this world. Therefore, I deem us the champions of the realm. [i]Infernal Bloodbrothers are the inaugural ECA Glory Knights title holders[/i] [b]Rock Downpour[/b]: What an amazing amount of action we've had in the early going here, ECA fans! Chiyo destroying the self-important Alexius and a feud developing between Masked Knight and Beezulbub the Unholy Demon! Let's take a look at the clips! Unfortunately, the video was hastily shot by Thomas's unsteady hand with a cheap digital camera and so the quality is so poor that those attending stare at it with flat expressions, a couple of them making up their minds to never attend another ECA event. [i]Rating: F[/i] Beezulbub and Masked Knight re-enter after the video plays, growling at one another before the much-anticipated match begins. [b]Match: Masked Knight vs Beezulbub the Unholy Demon[/b] They fight to their utmost and wrestle as impressively as they can, but by this time the crowd has soured somewhat on the night after that horrible video and so there is only mild reaction when Beezulbub pins Masked with the Dark Curse. [i]Match Rating: C-[/i] [b]Beezulbub[/b]: Weakling! You are a weakling, Masked Knight! Twice you have been defeated by me tonight! You are not worthy of being here! Masked tries to get up, but can only stumble and fall back down to the mat. The crowd is unimpressed with the exchange. [i]Rating: E[/i] After considerable effort, Masked Knight staggers to his feet, his breathing heavy as he stares wild-eyed at Beezulbub. [b]Masked Knight[/b]: You may have bested me tonight, but the stars were not in alignment for my victory. It is the Devil's night tonight and that is why you have won. Face me again, Beezulbub! Face me if you have any courage in you at all and are not the flea-bitten Lucifer's whelp I know you to be! [i]Rating: D[/i] [b]Beezulbub[/b]: I accept, Masked Knight. Such an uninspired response disgusts the fifteen paying watchers, a third of whom throw their popcorn and boo at the wrestlers as they leave the ring. The exits are swift. No one wants to stay for any autographs. [i]Rating: F[/i] Rock Downpour just sits there a moment, staring at the fleeing backs of the small group of customers. This was an ugly start, so ugly that he wasn't even going to bother with parting words. [b][i]Final Show Rating: D[/i][/b] After they finished cleaning up all the tossed popcorn and spilled soda, Thomas sat in the back with a gloating Barry and a thoughtful Hans at his side. "I told you this wouldn't do anything. You're ****ing retarded, Thomas! You go and say you're going to have a cutting-edge promotion and then you go and put in so many non-matches that they get pissed and leave. Real smart, real ****ing smart." Barry beamed as he delivered his opinion of the whole Thomas Mud affair. Hans's boots creaked as he leaned back in his chair, narrowed eyes on the ceiling, "I wouldn't say it was so bad, Thomas. There were parts people liked okay, though I do agree with Barry that maybe you want to advertise yourself as a different kind of wrestling group. On the bright side, this helps get our name out and more people should show up for the next show." Thomas only sighed and scribbled doodles on his canary yellow legal pad. He'd hoped for more auspicious a start than this, but such appeared not to be. Maybe the next show would be better. It had to be, didn't it? He could only hope.
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Meh, on an OOC note, that card sucked. I think I'm going to try starting a different diary, one with a different focus and whatnot. There's a lot of stuff I did in the initial going that I really kind of regret doing now, so I may erase the board and start off with something new.
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