The Russian Federation Of Wrestling

[dstephe4]

The next chapter, simply titled 'Blood' will be posted soon. I just need to sort the formatting and find a picture of a Russian police Lada that I'm really happy with. Then it'll go up - soon as I can hide from my many, many kids long enough to get some laptop time...

Good God I had fun writing this one.

I've only done 3 dynasties since I plopped into the TEW Forum like a hot turd back in 2014. But this chapter is my favourite that I've ever written here. 

I don't know if people are still reading this as much as a few months ago, but I really don't care - I'm having such a blast with this I think I'd still carry on if it was just me on here. There's all sorts of crazy stuff coming up.

To the loyal crew of readers who keep coming back for more, I say a big 'thank you'.

Until 'Blood' is posted, if anyone has any suggestions for names for the Big Event, please do post them here. My frazzled little brain's kicking up nothing but dust, and I need all the help I can get!

Edited September 4, 2023 by dstephe4

[DinoKea]

I'm afraid the best I've been able to come up with is probably just "The Great Russian Bash" which is just a really obvious rip-off

[dstephe4]

Nothing wrong a good rip-off. We could have...

Edited September 5, 2023 by dstephe4

[dstephe4]

 

The ambulance sped off into the distance, tyres spinning and roaring across the loose gravel track, sirens wailing, echoing eerily through the misty, deserted countryside. What was left of Sergey Belyev disappeared over the horizon, into the ominous sea of fog beyond. We stood, shell-shocked by what we'd witnessed. "This is getting stupid" commented Shane Douglas with a weary shake of his head. "Ridiculous" said our World Champion in agreement. I'd wondered why Ilja Dragunov was here, as he wasn't in the main event at all. Turns out that he'd found Sergey Belyev's blood-stained underpants in the branches of a nearby tree, and had passed them to one of the paramedics. "Maybe you can squeeze out some of the blood and put it back in him - he looks like he needs it" Ilja had suggested at the time.  Our Road Agent's expression was one of sheer disbelief. "If this were a story someone told me, I'd call bulls*** on it big time. It's like something a sleep-deprived, drunken moron would dream up. But here we are... in the real world... in an actual, bona fide, supposedly family-friendly wrestling company, watching some silly clown getting mauled and eaten by a bear." Dragunov nodded in agreement. "He was merely a snack" our champion added. "I wonder how many hours it will take to hose out the ambulance. They will be shampooing him out of the hospital carpets for weeks." "Every paramedic in a hundred mile radius is tending to that poor, brave, stupid, mangled little b*****d!" Shouted Shane. "All three of them" I added. "The bear's in the ambulance too. They're waiting for the part of Belyev that it ate to be crapped out, so they can surgically re-attach it" informed Ilja, matter-of-factly. This was like the worst episode of ER ever. "The guy was mangled so badly, when it came to loading him into the ambulance, they didn't know whether to use a stretcher or a sponge." "I almost feel sorry for him" I said, wringing out some of his sweat and blood from my tie. "Don't. It is his fault. What kind of idiot takes on a bear? What was he expecting? A hug?! A cuddle?! What would he do for an encore? Headbutt Godzilla? Arm-wrestle King Kong? He is lucky to be alive. How fortunate for him that the bear was obviously tame" said Dragunov with an air of distain.  I nearly choked in disbelief. "Tame?! Tame?! I saw that savage beast using Belyev's femur to scratch it's balls! That thing was like something from a horror movie!" Ilja shook his head. "Nonsense. It was just playing with him. Did you not see it smile? The locals keep these animals as pets." I didn't know what to say. I looked across to Shane - he was dumbfounded too.  "What the hell is wrong with this country?! Why can't people just have normal pets? Why not just have a dog or a cat or something instead?" I snapped with a stupefied whine. Dragunov looked at me like I was stupid. "Impossible" he said. "They would just get eaten by all the bears." Before I could answer back, Shane Douglas then asked the question that was on everybody's mind. "What if that silly b*****d dies?" I thought about it for about half a second. "Then we hire the bear to take his place" I said. They seemed strangely fine with that. Suddenly a trembling hand tapped me on the shoulder, trying to get my attention. I turned around and nearly jumped out of my own skin with fright. "Boss? I might need a doctor. I have a little cut on my forehead... and... it won't stop bleeding." It was our new guy, 'Hardcore' Bogdan Kilmov, the one who'd insisted on 'blading' during our main event. The one who was now covered in so much blood he looked like a used tampon.  "My God! Somebody get an ambulance!" I shrieked in panic. The silly b*****d was covered from head to toe - every part of him was red. And the stuff was still gushing, spraying out of the daft sod like a fountain. "Christ almighty! How are you still standing?!" Shane Douglas yelled with genuine fear. That spooked me even more. If a veteran of ECW and XPW was freaking out, then this was very bad news.  "We need medics! We need doctors! Get another ambulance here, right now!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "We can't! The only ambulance in Vladivostok just drove off with Sergey Belyev in the back of it! I'm surprised it even made it here - this place doesn't even have proper roads!" Shane Douglas was right. Kilmov was doomed. "We need a vehicle!" I commanded, getting all practical all of a sudden. "We gotta get this fool to a hospital! He won't last long if he keeps bleeding like this! If nobody's gonna help, then it's on us! We gotta get a car!" I looked at Shane and Ilja expectantly. Neither volunteered. Either they both didn't have cars, or both weren't stupid enough to have this silly tit explode his arteries all over their upholstery.  It was time for Plan B. "We go to the car park. We just had a wrestling show with nearly 1500 people in the crowd. A man's life is on the line here! If that means stealing a car, then so be it!" Immediately we hauled ass over to the big, empty, creepily foggy field where the fans had dumped their rides. But there wasn't a single car in sight.  "They must've all gotten the hell out of here the moment a bear started eating our wrestlers!" Shouted Shane. "We need a car, otherwise this moron's death'll be on our conscience forever!" He was panicking now too. That was a really bad sign. Then I realised - with dread - that there was only one option left. My heart sank. I got into a cold sweat just thinking about it. But he was right. This was literally a life or death situation.  And that was the moment I went and got the Porsche. Within moments a $5,000,000+ automotive masterpiece became instantly worthless. Douglas and Dragunov threw the barely conscious Kilmov across the tiny back seat, and within seconds it looked like someone'd murdered an entire basketball team in there. The mayor was going to be beyond furious. His prized possession, pristine since its creation back in the 90s, was ruined - just days after he'd entrusted me with the keys. I was a dead man walking, for sure. But there was no time for self-preservation. I dragged my arse into the driver's seat and poised myself to fire her up. Suddenly I heard Bogdan's trembling voice coming from the back of the car. "Maybe it's not as bad as we think. Maybe we're all just over-reacting. Maybe I don't need a doctor. Maybe I'll be fine" said Kilmov, faintly, his eyes glazed, his tone delirious. "Your head looks like a vagina!" Hollered Shane Douglas, getting a squirt of blood to the eye as he yelled.  "It's true!" I added "I can see skull! I definitely should not be able to see skull!" I was freaking out, big time - which is an appropriate reaction when you can see a man's skull.  Bogdan started drooling uncontrollably. His blood was sploshing and splashing and spraying all over us now. It was an impossible-seeming amount of gore. We were all drenched in seconds. "There's so much of your blood splatted all over the inside of this car we can't even see out of the windows! It's like a vampire's wet dream in here! We're going to the hospital!" I shouted as I fumbled for the key, trying in vain to get it into the ignition. But the blood on my hands meant the damn thing kept slipping out. "Kilmov! Imagine how silly you'll look if Belyev survives getting half-eaten by a bear, but you die just because you wanted to bleed on TV. That wouldn't be very 'Hardcore', would it? You'd be laughed at all the way to the afterlife." Said Dragunov wisely. I glanced over at him. He looked like a man on a mission. "Drive, American!" He commanded with force.  "I'm not American! I'm British!" I yelled back. After saying it a dozen times a day, it'd become like a reflex by now - it just shot out of my mouth without my brain even getting involved.  "Bulls***!" He shouted back, looking very annoyed. "Impossible!" He continued, his cheeks speckled red with flecks of anger. Or was that blood? "The British are a formidable race of men. Strong, broad shouldered and masculine. They exude authority and dominance, aligned with an indefatigable charm and suave sophistication. There are currently 194 recognised countries on Earth. At one time or another in history, Britain has owned or colonised 182 of them. The glorious nation that ran the whole globe for centuries down the barrel of a gun does not count you among it's peers, American!"  He stopped momentarily for breath, as if reloading this verbal salvo. "You are... erm... what is the best way to say this? I try to think of phrasing that will not offend you unjustly, American" he paused, scrunching his face in a monumental display of concentration. I could see that every single module of his brain was firing at full capacity in an attempt to find the right words. "How do you say..." suddenly his eyes shone with triumphant recollection. "You are... too much of a little p***y bitch to possibly be British, my nice American friend. You are much too small, your scent too flowery and effeminate. Your hands are soft and dainty, like a teenage girl's. No. Do not disgrace the wonderful British nation by throwing yourself among their fine number, my friend" he said, all pleased with himself.  "Carry on like that and we won't be friends much longer" I said, my voice like that of an emotionally wounded child. Instinctively he reached in to offer me a hug, as if to balm my wounded feelings. "Get the hell off me!" I shrieked. "A man is bleeding to death next to us! We don't have time for this silly s***!" Our slightly offended World Champion lumbered into the front of the car, shoved me out of the way, and took the wheel.  "I drive!" He boomed with authority. He took the keys. He took control. The car screeched into life, it's finely-tuned engine emitting a symphony of noise. Dragunov drove like a man possessed, throwing the Porsche around the tight, winding corners like a racing driver. The tyres squealed in delight. The engine coughed and roared with joy, being finally tested to it's limits for the first time since it's creation. It ripped through the misty night like a demon. Soon the fog began to dissipate and the buildings of Vladivostok city came into view in the distance. Maybe we'd manage to do this after all. I looked back at the mess in the back seat, saw Shane Douglas jamming his massive fingers deep into the wound, and fainted immediately.   I don't know how long I was out cold, but I was awoken by the sound of sirens. Big, loud, flashing sirens, all around us. We were in the city centre now, surely not far from the hospital, and still burning rubber. I heard Shane's gravelly yells above all the chaos. "What the hell are all these pigs doing here?! What the f*** do they want with us?!" He was furious, but scared a little too.  "Are you kidding, you asshole?! We're driving through the streets 100mph in the world's rarest Porsche, covered in so much blood it's like every Texas Chainsaw Massacre movie happened in here all at once! And... and... maybe I shouldn't have volunteered to drive! Maybe the cops know... that I don't have a driver's licence" stated Dragunov nervously. "What?!" Yelled Douglas. His disbelief was well-founded - somehow this situation was getting even more ridiculous. "It's true! I never even had a lesson!" Said our champion bashfully. "What?!!" Screamed Douglas again. "But you've been driving like Ayrton Senna on crack since you got in the car! Where the holy f*** did you learn to drive like that?!!" Our Road Agent was flabbergasted. "Grand Theft Auto!" Dragunov shouted back.  "If the cops pull us over, they're gonna think we're the new Manson Family or something! Look at all this blood!" Yelled Shane, thoroughly losing his s*** by now. "I am not going to a Russian prison! I am much too pretty to survive in there!" He shrieked in a much higher pitch than I ever knew he possessed. It was time for me to be a man and take control of the situation, which I was now able to do, now that I was no longer passed out on the passenger seat like a fairy with broken wings. "Dragunov! Have you seen what those Russian cops are driving? They're chasing us in Ladas for God's sake! The Lada is the worst car ever made! I can jog faster than those things! You say you learned to drive from GTA, right? When the cops chase you on that game, do you stop for a chat, or drive like hell?!" Dragunov was panicking. "I... I..." he stammered, his eyes full of fear. "DRIVE, YOU SILLY LITTLE RUSSIAN S***-WORM! DRIVE!!!"   Above: The long, slow arm of the law.   His foot floored the accelerator. Instantly the Porsche slammed into hyperdrive with the force of a dozen SCUD missiles. I swear if we'd moved any faster we'd have torn a hole in the space/time continuum. If that kid ever gives up wrestling, he has a career in Le Mans waiting for him, that's for sure. I was expecting our car chase to be like the ones in the movies. But there was no crashing through market stalls, no driving through giant stacks of conveniently placed boxes, no hurtling down one-way streets with terrified pedestrians diving out of the way. Not a single wall was smashed through. Nobody burst into flames. Nobody went screeching round corners so fast they left trails of burning rubber behind. We didn't jump over a rising suspension bridge. We didn't get sideswiped by a helicopter. We didn't smash our way through a mall, or see someone's vehicle flip over a hundred times. And most disappointing of all - nothing exploded. Not even a single fireball. In reality, all that happened was Dragunov floored the accelerator, and we burned off into the distance, never to see the cops again. Our Porsche could do 0 to 60mph in 3.1 seconds. The Ladas the police drove could do 0 to 60mph in... to be fair, I don't think they could do 60. Our Porsche had a top speed of 204mph. Nobody has ever bothered to find out the top speed of a Lada, because... what's the point?  With an almighty screech of tyres we slammed to a halt outside Vladivostok People's Hospital. We didn't even need to open the door to let him out - that crazy b*****d Bogdan Kilmov dived out the window and sped inside, leaving a crimson trail of blood behind him. From that moment on I was sure my death certificate had been signed. Surely there'd be no coming back from this - my ass was grass. I fled for my life, high-tailing it to the airport before any mysterious-looking men in trenchcoats had the chance to turn me into dog food. I nearly cried when they told me all commercial flights were cancelled due to a sudden, treacherous, mysterious fog. Despite me throwing cash around like a Tsar, the earliest private jet I could charter wouldn't be ready 'til 6AM. That was too late. I was screwed. As I contemplated my fate, I realised that everyone in the airport departure lounge was staring at me. I looked down and saw the state of me. There was blood everywhere. There wasn't a piece of clothing on me that wasn't saturated. I looked like a serial killer.  There was blood all over my $800 Armani shirt. So much that it clung to me like I'd been swimming in the ocean. Thinking creatively, I dunked it in a bucket of Lightning Bolt energy drink - available in every good store nationwide (even those in airport lobbies). I was hoping it'd melt away the stains. It worked brilliantly. A little too brilliantly infact. The stains dissolved almost immediately. Unfortunately, so too did the shirt. So there I was, in the First Class Men's washroom, shirtless, blood-drenched and sobbing. Even though it was the middle of the night, and the airport was quiet, I'd drawn a crowd of concerned onlookers. Which of them, I wondered to myself, would be the one to drag me away to a waiting car, off to my doom?  All they asked me to do was put on a wrestling show. All they wanted was a fun, quaint little TV programme to distract people from the colossal, bewildering cluster-f*** that was the Ukraine War. Just a few guys in tights, pretending to throw each other about. A few flags, a few fireworks, a few smiles. What I'd given them instead was a bear mauling, severed arteries, a city-wide police chase, and the mayor's prized, ridiculously rare and expensive Porsche covered in an inhuman amount of blood. My shallow grave would be a fitting end to this bizarre circus of stupidity and horrors. And then suddenly my phone rang. And a familiar voice filled the air. It was Konstantin Shestakov, the mayor. My heart sank. I was ready for rage, for screams, for death threats. But instead his voice was full of joyful congratulation. "Comrade! I applaud your bravery and your very survival! At first I did not believe your story about my priceless, precious Porsche being hijacked by 'big, scary men in ski masks' - I thought for sure that you were full of s***." I didn't remember saying any of that, but apparently I did. "But they finally found the burned out, blood-filled wreckage of what used to be my beloved car." Did we torch it? I really couldn't remember - I was delirious. "I have spoken with our Police Chief. He is now convinced it was Ukrainians. The finest detectives on this side of Russia have expertly determined that Ukrainian agents murdered someone inside my treasured Porsche, dumped it and torched it to hide the evidence." To be fair, I could see why they'd think that.  "Such a scheme must have come from that snake Volodymyr Zelenskyy himself! We had no idea the Ukraine Conflict had reached so far East! No part of our sacred Motherland is safe from these vile Nazis!" Yes, the bizarre Russian propaganda machine really had lowered itself to calling Ukraine's Jewish President a 'Nazi' - and amazingly nobody yelled 'bulls***' upon hearing it.  "I have informed our glorious comrade Vladimir Putin of this directly! Our magnificent nation's entire invasion plan must now be drastically altered as a result of this savage attack! Russia's whole war strategy must now completely pivot! This could well be a radical turning point in the whole affair! We had heard rumours of a Ukrainian counter-offensive, but had no idea their dastardly schemes were so maliciously ambitious! We thank you, valued friend of Russia! Our fine nation salutes you!" "For the glory of the Motherland!" I hollered back, blatantly taking the p***.  "Finally, American, I heard there was some little incident on your TV show involving a cuddly pet bear. A man was brutally decimated, I am told. I trust all is now okay?" He asked with a remarkably casual tone. "Don't worry" I said "the bear will be fine." And with that, he hung up the phone. My heart was pounding on the inside of my chest like a bass drum, shaking my torso like one sledgehammer blow after another. It'd taken every bit of my self-discipline to stop myself hyperventilating through that entire call. I badly needed a drink. With perfect timing, my phone rang again. "This is Mikhail, your pilot for the private flight you chartered. The plane is almost finished fuelling now, and should be ready to fly very soon. A bottle of the finest vintage champagne is in an ice bucket chilling for your delectation. We await your presence on board. However, according to the flight's manifest, no destination has been recorded. Where shall we have the pleasure of flying you today?" Music to my ears. I could feel my blood pressure lowering with each delightful word. I could taste the champagne bubbles already. My answer was simple. "Anywhere. Just get me the f*** out of here!"

 

Edited November 25, 2023 by dstephe4

[dstephe4]

 

Hello amazing people who take the time to read this dynasty! And in particular those who take the time to post predictions!  Everyone! The season finale is upon us! Get predicting! Good luck to you all!   @St. Templar @Vandal @DinoKea @GreatreDRagon @Taylor2020 @Just here to look @christmas_ape @SonOfSharknado @Ippon @KingKennit @Pteroid @MidKnightDreary @John Lions @DarEatWorld @ElectricX @knkmaster69 @Old School Fan @kanegan @DinoKea @Jason Phoenix

Edited September 14, 2023 by dstephe4

[DinoKea]

THE GREATEST EVENT OF THE YEAR PREDICTIONS

Steel Cage Match for the World Championship
Ilja Dragunov (c) def. Edge

Last Man Standing
Vladimir Kulakov def. Bryan Daniels

Damien Black def. Goldberg

Alexandr "Vertigo" Klaptsov def. John Hennigan

Two Famous Tag Teams
Marcel Barthel & Fabian Aichner win

RFW National Championship
Kris Jokic def. Alen Khubolov, Tamerlan Rasuev & Andrei Arlovski

Fans Choose Stipulation & Opponent
??? def. Marty Scrull

Edited September 17, 2023 by DinoKea
Changing Tag Tournament winners

[Just here to look]

Dragonov wins, because MURICA(sucks)!!! 

Daniels wins, somehow. Might be through comedy, might be through him deciding to win.

Damian Black wins because I like him

Well well well. I have no clue who is in this match. I’m just gonna go and a limb and say Sting and Darby Allin win honestly idk.

Vertigo vs Man With Dog. Surely you aren’t mental enough to make this a non finish, riiight? We’ll go Vertigo on this one.

Hmmmm. Khubolov, sure.

Marty Scurll will never win. 

Edited September 17, 2023 by Just here to look

[GreatreDRagon]

Dragunov def. Edge

Daniels def. Kulakov

Black def. Goldberg

Klaptsov def. Hennigan

Arrows of Russia win

Khubulov wins RFW National Title match

??? def. Scurll

[dstephe4]

I have more kids than Cruella DeVille has fur coats. I recently added another one to the brood. The downside is a lot less time to spend writing this, despite how much I enjoy writing this mildly entertaining gibberish. The diary is very much alive, but this - and the ridiculous length of the shows - means I'm posting about one show a month.

 

Hopefully the recent Russian Reminder thingy helped freshen up a few memories that went rusty due to the big gaps between posts. So here's an extra bit of info for anyone cool enough to do Predictions for this show...

 

The Tag Team Title Situation

Steven Seagal was really proud when he announced a big, sexy new tournament to crown RFW's first ever Tag Team Champions. There's been a tournament bout every week, with 3 quarter finals having been contested so far. The final (and biggest) is coming up at this event. Seagal thought these contests would make the Russian Federation Of Wrestling the talk of the wrestling world. It hasn't quite worked out that way, due to the Russian fans not knowing who the hell half these teams are, and due to the mysterious Damien Black and his acolytes spookily kicking the living s*** out of all the competitors.

To set things back on track, Seagal has decided to go All Out with this next tournament bout. It wasn't just hyperbole - the teams in this next match really are two of the biggest in the world.

Here's how the tournament has progressed so far, winners in bold...

Villain Enterprises vs Dragan Spazic & Kris Jokic

The Arrows Of Russia vs Lykos Gym

2 Cool vs The Viking Raiders 

??? vs ???

As you can see, the Arrows have already fought in the tournament. They will not be one of the teams competing in that match. If anyone wants to edit their predictions accordingly, go for it.

Edited September 17, 2023 by dstephe4

[Just here to look]

1 hour ago, dstephe4 said:

As you can see, the Arrows have already fought in the tournament. They will not be one of the teams competing in that match. If anyone wants to edit their predictions accordingly, go for it.

No! The Arrows WILL win! (nah I’ll change it. Guess we just thought it was the finals for the season finale. Ah well.)

[DinoKea]

3 hours ago, Just here to look said:

No! The Arrows WILL win! (nah I’ll change it. Guess we just thought it was the finals for the season finale. Ah well.)

Yeah, my mind just assumed it was going to be the final and went "It's got the be the Arrows of Russia right?" The truth makes way more sense now that I actually think about it.

[dstephe4]

It's understandable that people forgot. It's my fault really - it's the amount of time taken to post each show. Some of these shows are longer than some peoples dynasties. I'm getting carried away.

'The Event Of The Century' - aka RussiaMania - is the second biggest show we'll do. Definitely by far the biggest so far. It coincides with a real life event Putin did.

The plan is for the shows after this one to go back to the shorter, more concise format I started with... up to our biggestest massivest show, coinciding with Putin's 'Victory Day' Parade event in July. 

Thanks again to the awesome decicated folk who keep on reading. And for those who have voted for this in the Diary Of The Month. If this thing wins, I'm buying myself a throne made of skulls, and referring to myself as The Dark Lord Of TEW from this stage on.

[ElectricX]

THE GREATEST EVENT OF THE YEAR PREDICTIONS

Steel Cage Match for the World Championship
Ilja Dragunov (c) def. Edge

Last Man Standing
Vladimir Kulakov def. Bryan Daniels

Damien Black def. Goldberg

Alexandr "Vertigo" Klaptsov def. John Hennigan

Two Famous Tag Teams
Marcel Barthel & Fabian Aichner win

RFW National Championship
Kris Jokic def. Alen Khubolov, Tamerlan Rasuev & Andrei Arlovski

Fans Choose Stipulation & Opponent
??? def. Marty Scrull

[MidKnightDreary]

THE GREATEST EVENT OF THE YEAR PREDICTIONS

Steel Cage Match for the World Championship
Ilja Dragunov (c) def. Edge

Last Man Standing
Vladimir Kulakov def. Bryan Daniels

Damien Black def. Goldberg

Alexandr "Vertigo" Klaptsov def. John Hennigan

Two Famous Tag Teams
MCMG win

RFW National Championship
Kris Jokic def. Alen Khubolov, Tamerlan Rasuev & Andrei Arlovski

Fans Choose Stipulation & Opponent
??? def. Marty Scrull

[HiPlus]

THE GREATEST EVENT OF THE YEAR PREDICTIONS

Steel Cage Match for the World Championship
Ilja Dragunov (c) vs Edge

Last Man Standing
Vladimir Kulakov vs Bryan Daniels

Goldberg vs Damien Black

Alexandr "Vertigo" Klaptsov vs John Hennigan

Two Famous Tag Teams
No idea who it could be, im here for the ride. 

Young Bucks

RFW National Championship
Kris Jokic vs Alen Khubolov vs Tamerlan Rasuev vs Andrei Arlovski

Fans Choose Stipulation & Opponent
??? vsMarty Scrull

[80085]

I looked at how long it takes to post shows. Seems the big one coming real soon, right bruh? My winners are:

Nightmare beats Scurll

Arlovsky wins National title

Tag titles will be fought over by the Dudleyz and the Hardyz because the writer wishes it was still the year 2000. 2 Cool get involved and the whole thing turns into a silly dance party. Prove me right.

Goldberg beats Black.

Nightmare beats Danielson.

Edge wins the title off of Dragon.

[dstephe4]

Attention Citizens!

The ministry for public affairs has the unfortunate duty of informing you of a death which will sadden this great nation to its very core.

It is with regret and trepidation that we must announce the death of @dstephe4's beloved, treasured laptop.

We will miss the way its ridiculous Xeon processor had enough power to restart a dying sun. We will miss the way it made more noise than a 19th century steam locomotive. We will miss the way it ran hotter than one of Satan's turds, even when it wasn't really doing anything.

We shall miss the way it survived for 7 impressive years, like a grizzled hardened veteran, despite being jumped up and down on - and even partially eaten - by the owner's many, many children. We shall miss the way it sang like someone'd set Axl Rose's balls on fire whenever its owner started writing ridiculous nonsense about Russian Wrestling.

The laptop's work will continue. The show it helped write is 98% written and just requiring formatting. A March 2023 Mod will be installed - and heavily edited - once a replacement can be sourced. But this brave little bugger's valiant contribution shall forever be remembered.

We salute this fallen comrade! A year of mourning shall be declared! Bow your heads in respect! Weep at the falling of an icon! But the work of this courageous soldier shall continue afresh.

[I'll publish the damn thing with a hammer and chisel on stone tablets like Moses if I have to lol]

Edited October 2, 2023 by dstephe4

[DinoKea]

I'm sorry to hear of this passing. That laptop was a true RFW legend

[dstephe4]

This is a picture of me when @Togg announced this ridiculous dynasty had won Diary Of The Month for a third time.

Granted, the award was shared with a bunch of other diaries. Yes, there's diaries on here that've won the award dozens of times, making my 3 wins small fry in comparison. 

But it means the world to me, and I thank all of you (especially those who nominated and voted) for making this happen. 

I was delighted that Episode 10 won the Best Event prize too. It made Sergey Belyev getting partially eaten by a bear all the more worthwhile. Thank you, amazing readers.

The diary is coming back soon - once someone with necromantic powers finds a way of bringing the laptop back from the dead. I'm going 'full steam ahead' with the writing while it lays in rest. Fully written so far:

> The Event Of The Century

> Chapter 17: Rockets

> Chapter 18: Skateboards

> Episode 11

> Chapter 19: The Beard

So there's plenty of life left in this one yet. Until the laptop is fixed I will keep on writing, while taking time here and there to polish my crown and my ego, while referring to myself in the third person, wearing sunglasses indoors, and laughing like an absolute lunatic.

I also saw that this diary is nominated for September. Thank you to you all for that too. Everyone please vote! Please! 4 wins would mean... erm... I don't know? A secret fortress made of skulls or something. 

Edited October 19, 2023 by dstephe4

[dstephe4]

Hello fine people of this sexy forum!

 

This is just a little note / shameless plug to let you know that despite being asleep for a million years now, this diary is not dead. It's levels of not-dead-ness are indeed very high. We're talking off-the-chart levels of not-dead-ness here. 

 

New stuff is being written! Bizarre new ideas are being hatched! Silly nonsense like nothing else anywhere on this forum! I'm just waiting on a new laptop to format it on. Early January is when my new device - seemingly powerful enough to command a whole fleet of nuclear submarines - shall finally arrive. And this superb, shiny new toy is what shall catapult my turd-like new stuff onto the web.

 

Above: Slowly, but consistently, new stuff is being written for you fine, awe-inspiring people to consume. 

 

 

Things which WILL be coming your way soon, as they've been written already, so why the hell not post them:

 

> The Event Of The Century

> Chapter 17: Rockets

> Chapter 18: Skateboards

> Episode 11

> Chapter 19: The Beard

> Episode 12

> Chapter 20: Dinner With Dave

> Episode 13

> Chaoter 21: The Fixer

> Chapter 22: Exit Strategy

 

Wonderous things in store!

Be excited!

 

Edited December 27, 2023 by dstephe4

[Old School Fan]

Not dead, just not back in business yet - but we'll be waiting on the edges of our seats (and good to see y'all back, BTW)...  😁🍺

[Just here to look]

5 hours ago, dstephe4 said:

 

> Chapter 19: The Beard

 

The Beard. 

[ElectricX]

Excited to see what the future brings for this Fed.

[dstephe4]

 

The least hotly anticipated comeback in this forum's history... ... is coming soon ... ... very soon ... ... like... really, really, really, really soon... @St. Templar @Vandal @DinoKea @GreatreDRagon @Taylor2020 @Just here to look @christmas_ape @SonOfSharknado @Ippon @KingKennit @Pteroid @MidKnightDreary @John Lions @DarEatWorld @ElectricX @knkmaster69 @Old School Fan @kanegan @DinoKea @Jason Phoenix

[dstephe4]

 

Hello, sexy people of the internet!!! We last checked in on The Russian Federation Of Wrestling as they were about to embark upon their biggest ever show - the so-called 'Event Of The Century' - which will be posted very shortly. Unfortunately, because of dead laptops, the unique and potent kind of sleep deprivation that comes with having waaaaay too many children, and various other random reasons... it has been about 500 years since anyone read this diary.  So before the show (which is longer than some people's whole dynasties) gets posted, I thought it would be helpful to post a bit of a recap. So here goes... @St. Templar @Vandal @DinoKea @GreatreDRagon @Taylor2020 @Just here to look @christmas_ape @SonOfSharknado @Ippon @KingKennit @Pteroid @MidKnightDreary @John Lions @DarEatWorld @ElectricX @knkmaster69 @Old School Fan @kanegan @DinoKea @Jason Phoenix

 

The Tag Team Title Situation...  Steven Seagal was really proud when he announced a big, sexy new tournament to crown RFW's first ever Tag Team Champions. There's been a tournament bout every week, with 3 quarter finals having been contested so far. The final (and biggest) is coming up at the event we had the tenacity to dub 'The Event Of The Century'. Seagal thought these contests would make the Russian Federation Of Wrestling the talk of the wrestling world. It hasn't quite worked out that way, due to the Russian fans not knowing who the hell half these teams are, and due to the mysterious Damien Black and his acolytes spookily kicking the living s*** out of all the competitors. To set things back on track, Seagal has decided to go All Out with this next tournament bout. It wasn't just hyperbole - the teams in this next match really are two of the biggest in the world.   Here's how the tournament has progressed so far, winners in bold... Villain Enterprises vs Dragan Spazic & Kris Jokic The Arrows Of Russia vs Lykos Gym 2 Cool vs The Viking Raiders  ??? vs ???     That Goldberg Gauntlet Thing... When Bill Goldberg came to Russia, he thought he could walk in and Jackhammer his way to glory like in the days of old. Turns out Russia had other plans. Bill Goldberg was the main man when this circus started, but lost in the inaugural World Title match to the younger, hungrier Ilja Dragunov. Pissed off and with a wounded ego, the fallen WCW legend was given a chance to smash his way back to the title. Our energy drink pedaling, kimono-wearing Authority Figure set him a gauntlet of opponents who'd test him like "the soft, lazy, feeble, Western Capitalist opponents of his past never could." The plan was to see whether the angry, bombastic old goat could evolve his style - because after 20-30 years of doing the same three moves every time, people finally figured him out.  After Jackhammering half of the Eastern Hemisphere into a gooey, sticky pulp, Goldberg finally got his big title rematch. The eyes of all of Russia wanted to see whether this legendary wrestling icon had evolved. It was then that we found out that... no, he hadn't. The burly old legend turned out to be no match a second time around for Ilja Dragunov, however, who won handily on account of him knowing more than three wrestling moves, and being able to be in the ring for more than 6 minutes without needing a respirator. Dragunov pissed on the American's parade, won the bout, and even did it with a Jackhammer, just to add insult to injury. With his pride wounded, Old Bill decided to respond by sulking a lot. Things came to a head when things started going wrong in a tag match with Edge, and the jaded old megastar ended up walking away, leaving his partner to an epic ass-kicking.  Will Goldberg bounce back? Will he rediscover his fire? Will he find a way to evolve to match this new generation of competitors? Can fellow legends like Roy Jones Jr help him back to his old ass-kicking ways? Or will the wrestling world just chew him up and spit him out like so many countless others?       The Thing With The Russian Lads In Vests... Tamerlan Rasuev and Alen Khubulov were destined for wrestling greatness. We're talking real wrestling here, not that ridiculous soap opera crap we all love. The legitimate one. Men in vests. Muscles. Sweat. All that crap. Both were almost guaranteed Olympic glory and a lifetime of Russian lips kissing their toned, chiseled arses... until a few little problems got in the way. Like massive corruption and the biggest, most blatant state-sponsored illegal doping operation in the history of all sport... and the fact that their leader decided to demonstrate his d***-swinging masculinity by blowing up half of Ukraine. So instead of immortality and Olympic glory, they had to settle for the next best thing - the National Wrestling Championship. In a tournament that captured the imagination of the biggest nation on Earth, Khubulov won, creating a feud that both men have been trying to maim each other over ever since. Khubulov won our own National bauble. Rasuev went on a weeks-long pissy-fit, and decided to handle the situation in the most Russian way possible - by destroying anything that moved. Alen Khubolov hot his legs hurt so bad he was on crutches for weeks. Even now, on a cold day, he still walks like he's s*** himself. UFC legend Andrei 'The Pitbull' Arlovski caught a whole can of Mace with his face. He was out for weeks too, and looked like some kind of pissed off MMA racoon for what seemed like forever. Which is what brought the Belarusian cage fighter into this thing. The brave, plucky yet somehow continuously doomed Sergey Belyev somehow ended up with every bone in his body broken when he and Rasuev shared a ring. Long story short, Tamerlan was hurting people trying to get his own way. Surprisingly enough, it didn't work - Seagal fired his ass instead. This is wrestling though, and nobody is really fired for long in this crazy business.  Rasuev was so busy hurting people, Seagal had to put RFW's favourite (and at the time only) tag team The Arrows Of Hungary Russia on protection duty, just in case Tamerlan tried to finish the job. Eventually, thanks to a series of (definitely not counterfeit) doctor's notes, Arlovski and Khubulov were cleared to wrestle. This whole caper (possibly) comes to a head at the upcoming 'Event Of The Century', in which Khubulov, Rasuev and Arlovski get to duke it out for the belt and (possibly) put this thing to bed once and for all.  Oh, and the Croatian Kris 'The Falcon' Jokic is in that match too (presumably because the booker was drunk).       The Thing With Daniel Bryan S***ting His Pants... The man who for copyright reasons would be called Bryan Daniels, came to Russia to kick some ass. It all went great - he was winning, people were cheering, everyone was getting all giddy and yelling "Yes!" all the time, all was well. Then he crossed paths with 'The Nightmare' Vladimir Kulakov, and his whole life turned to s***. His Ferrari got flipped a million times, with him inside. A Humvee he was in got smashed into a wall. The deranged Russian in a hockey mask made his life a living hell, and unlike all the foes he faced in the West, there was nothing he could do to stop it. Cue 'The American Dragon's' spectacular breakdown. The unstoppable force of old was reduced to a paranoid, quivering wreck. Apparently this was all part of a master plan, in which Authority Figure Steven Seagal claimed Daniels would be "re-forged in the fires of glorious Russian combat" and "reborn in the fires of adversity". This meant the bearded WWE legend crapping himself on Live TV for about a month. It was all very entertaining. Finally, just as the big guy in the kimono predicted, Daniels seems to have re-grown some balls. After a fight-back for the ages, the bearded Yank briefly halted 'The Nightmare's onslaught, cracking the mask and briefly showing the world the man behind the monster. Since then he's been rejuvenated, reanimated and reenergised. He still looks and dresses like he lives under a bench in a local bus shelter, but if recent showings are to be believed, the 'Yes Man' is back. At our 'Event Of The Century' he gets the chance to prove it, facing 'his demon' once and for all. Will he emerge victorious and earn a World Title rematch, or will the big crazy Russian guy eat him for breakfast and crap him all over the ring? Time will tell...       The Thing With Gerald... Russia prides itself on being the most manly nation on Earth. It's whole culture is based on big strong men fighting each other and blowing s*** up. This is a country of 'real' men - big, strapping, muscular lads, shirtless, masculine - the kind who'd headbutt a Tyrannosaurus into submission. Big, burly men so tough they could stroll through the frozen Siberian wilderness without even needing a shirt on.  So there was a huge, s***-eating grin on my face when I talked John Hennigan (formerly John Morrison / Johnny Nitro) into taking on a Gorgeous George kind of gimmick. Out came the long, luscious, perfumed hair. Out came the tight leather trousers. Out came flower petals and pink lasers and the most genuinely fabulous jackets in wrestling history. From the fans, out came an outpouring of hatred that was bordering on radioactive. This wasn't just heel heat - this was 1500 fans wanting to strangle the luxuriously shirted lothario. And then out came a small, Bichon Frisé / Poodle cross called Gerald. And, as they say, a star was born. I'm serious. I really can't understate how smug I am about Gerald. I really do think it's the greatest piece of booking since Bischoff unveiled the nWo. Meanwhile ex-hacker turned wrestler Alexandr 'Vertigo' Klapstov had a point to prove. After Edge got his arse kicked by half the roster in his unsuccessful World Title shot, Vertigo offered to 'watch Edge's back' in return for some mentoring. An unconvinced Rated R Superstar said he'd do it if his geeky new stooge looked good in an open challenge against anyone on the roster. Up steps Hennigan and his 'spiritual guru and soul guide' Gerald. Due to circumstances too random and ridiculous to go in to, former bodybuilder Ivan 'The Body' Markov ended up taking the match instead, and got his ass handed to him by a dog the size of a football. Vertigo got his match soon after and put his hacking skills to creative use to snatch the win. Markov got involved again, and came off second best to a tiny dog again. Edge and Vertigo are now buddies, the hacker and the pink-coated fashion enthusiast are having a rematch at our 'Event Of The Century', and somehow this all makes sense thanks to the ridiculous, twisted, surreal 'logic' of pro wrestling.       The Thing With Some Villains And A Lad In A Pink Suit... The drunken, hapless booker of this ridiculous federation and high hopes when he brought in a hugely talented, charismatic and snappily-dressed Brit to be RFW's new bad guy. There were high hopes for a Villainous new chapter in the company's history. What I got instead was a toxic, tainted sex pest who'd fled all the way to Puerto Rico after becoming so scandalised he was unemployable. So after much soul-searching, it was decided there was only logical solution to this problem: f*** with Marty Scurll as much as possible. Torture the b*****d. Make him squirm and suffer for our amusement. It's been a fun little journey so far. Highlights include him and his goons getting a Hollywood beatdown from Steven Seagal, having tons and tons of stage equipment fall on him and squish him like a bug, having him left trapped under there for days, then in our most recent episode almost getting decapitated by a big, angry bear. His in-ring exploits haven't gone well either, having inexplicably lost twice to opponents who were unconscious - the latter being 'Dirty' Dragan Spazic, who won the right to join Scurll's 'Villain Enterprises' after our colour commentator broke a flagpole over his head. Chances are he'll be in action again at our 'Event Of The Century', and let's just say his prospects don't look like changing any time soon.

 

The Ministry For Propaganda would have also forced asked post this rather patriotic reminder of the various bouts coming your way...

 

 

So, now that everyone's all caught up... All that remains is for this rather glorious event to be posted. Check back soon. I mean, the whole thing's written, formatted, coded and everything. I could literally post it right now if I wanted to. But I won't. Because I'm a d***.

Edited May 15 by dstephe4