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Thread: CWA: GOLD RUSH [card and promo thread]

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    CWA: GOLD RUSH [card and promo thread]

    2nd March, 2021 - Live from the Krestovksy Stadium, St. Petersburg.
    1/ Humanity vs. Nate Savage (1/20) - PB
    2/ Krash vs. Michelle von Horrowitz (1/20) - PA
    3/Dan Maskell vs. Jon Snowmantashi (1/20) - PA
    4/ Christopher Jackson vs. Cyrus Truth (1/20) - PB
    5/ Alyster Black vs. Chubby Carlos (1/20) - PA
    6/ Main Event: Jonathan McGinnis vs. Shawn Summers (1/20) - PB.

    4th March, 2021 - Live from Red Square, Moscow.
    1/ Dan Maskell vs. Michelle von Horrowitz (1/20) - PA
    2/ Christopher Jackson vs. Shawn Summers (1/20) - PB
    3/ Jonathan McGinnis vs. Nate Savage (1/20) - PB
    4/ Chubby Carlos vs. Krash (1/20) - PA
    5/ Alyster Black vs. Jon Snowmantashi (1/20) - PA
    6/ Main Event: Cyrus Truth vs. Humanity (1/20) - PB

    7th March, 2021 - Live from the Yekaterinburg State Circus.
    1/ Alyster Black vs. Dan Maskell (1/20) - PA
    2/ Shawn Summers vs. Humanity (1/20) - PB
    3/ Jon Snowmantashi vs. Krash (1/20) - PA
    4/ Christopher Jackson vs. Jonathan McGinnis (1/20) - PB
    5/ Chubby Carlos vs. Michelle von Horrowitz (1/20) - PA
    6/ Main Event: Cyrus Truth vs. Nate Savage (1/20) - PB

    9th March, 2021 - Live from Olkhon Island, Lake Baikal.
    1/ Jon Snowmantashi vs. Michelle von Horrowitz (1/20) - PA
    2/ Chubby Carlos vs. Dan Maskell (1/20) - PA
    3/ Shawn Summers vs. Nate Savage (1/20) - PB
    4/ Christopher Jackson vs. Humanity (1/20) - PB
    5/ Cyrus Truth vs. Jonathan McGinnis (1/20) - PB
    6/ Main Event: Alyster Black vs. Krash (1/20) - PA

    11th March, 2021 - Live from the Primorskiy Stage of the Mariinsky Theatre, Vladivostok.
    1/ Christopher Jackson vs. Nate Savage (1/20) - PB
    2/ Alyster Black vs. Michelle von Horrowitz (1/20) - PA
    3/ Humanity vs. Jonathan McGinnis (1/20) - PB
    4/ Chubby Carlos vs. Jon Snowmantashi (1/20) - PA
    5/ Cyrus Truth vs. Shawn Summers (1/20) - PB
    6/ Main Event: Dan Maskell vs. Krash (1/20) - PA

    - One promo only for this event, totalling a total of no more than 1,000 words. Your promo will be copied and pasted into Google Docs and a word check will be run. All quotes, lyrics, extracts from previous works or matches, etc, are counted towards the 1,000 word limit.
    - Deadline is the 14th March at midnight, PST. This is the 15th March at 03.00 EST, or 08.00 GMT, or 11.00 MST. This is indeed midweek but the window stretches over two full weekends (three if you count this one). ​An extension of 48 hours is available upon request: please use the discussion thread.
    - Please let me know if you'd be up for me reaching out for a couple short interview segments either before or during the tournament, maybe in the form of me asking for your words, or if you'd be happy to let me write some short stuff for your character on the shows that would be helpful too.
    - All promo and card discussion should still be in the other thread:
    - Will be graded by myself, Shake, and Sulley in the first instance. After the pool stages, all eliminated participants with have the opportunity to send in grades on the four finalists if they so wish to.
    - The winner of this tournament will receive the first shot at the CWA World Heavyweight Championship in three years, should they choose to challenge for it!

    Good luck! Have fun!
    Last edited by SpecificSecretary; 03-14-2021 at 01:29 AM.

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    Re: CWA: GOLD RUSH [card and promo thread]

    Kaiju straps his boots. Adjusts his tights. Tosses on his shirt. He’s done it a thousand times. Different building, constant routine. He steps past the curtains. He sees admiration. Hatred. Boredom. Indifference. He’s seen it a thousand times. Different visages, only so many reactions. He steps through the ropes and exchanges a cold glare with his opponent. He sees fear. Determination. Passion. Greed. Different adversaries, only so many emotions. The bell rings. Time passes, as it always does. They batter each other. Bruise. Bloody. Beat. The bell rings again. Kaiju, or sometimes that adversary, has their hand risen. He steps back through the ropes. Back through the curtains.

    “412 days,” he says to the students. He does not desire to boast, but he recognizes a subconscious need to do so, to demand to be acknowledged. “No other conqueror has achieved such a feat.” He justifies his boasts, perhaps misguidedly, as a necessity for his message. “And even so, it’s a hollow feat. The mountain fell, it’s no more. Abandoned by some, replaced by others.”

    But the mountain had risen again, though now nothing more than a hill. Those who’d once climbed returned. Out of habit? Meager hope to do what they had not been able to do before? And if they accomplished it, what then? Would it fill some emptiness inside of them they had long yearned to be rid of? And for how long will it satisfy? A day or two, he guessed.

    “I intend to do to you what I did to all of those who attempted to lay siege to my mountaintop. To rid you of the notion of fate, destiny, ambition, and finality. There is only one thing to be done in this world - find the gestures commanded to you by existence. Toil away at it. Let it deplete you until you have nothing else to give. Rid yourself of the idea that there is a purpose to your suffering. That the world will reward you. That reason dictate that compensation is due to you for your labor. It is not.”

    The Kaiju’s struggle had weakened, briefly. He recalled his every feat, and he feared that to continue his toil was to undo it. He’d forgotten that happiness was in the struggle. He’d forgotten that legacy amounted to nothing in the end. Every deed and every effort, all the trials and the tribulations had no inherent value outside the acts themselves.

    “You will all,” and this was an optimistic assessment, “begin the climb yourself. Some of you will falter. Some of you will succeed. Everyone of you will war for a tomorrow. You will live for a future, one in which your climb will amount to something. A paper prize. Fulfilled vengeance. Glory. Whatever it may be, most of you will never achieve it.” He met acceptance in few, defiance in most. “And those of you who succeed, will come to recognize the worthlessness of that achievement soon after.” And in the same way that people scorn the rich man who betrays his richness, his students momentarily scorned the climber who betrayed his climbs.

    In Russia, twelve who had climbed the mountain, in some measure or another, would gather:

    To obtain long sought after redemption;

    To taste something that had been so fleeting;

    To ascertain their independence;

    To sneer at an indifferent world once again;

    To rekindle the world’s hope;

    To be remembered in the face of erasure;

    To validate one’s faltering ego;

    To serve a makeshift god;

    To fulfill the demands of the endless journey;

    To chase forgotten glories;

    To reject their own weakness.

    How many of them would reject his assessment? Few, the Kaiju feared. Like his students, they longed for destiny’s answer. They longed for their owed supremacy. They longed for their expected tomorrow. Each believing that they were deserving of it above all the others who felt they were deserving of it. Each stipulated that destiny owed them. The Kaiju would not abide by destiny, his or anyone else’s, he would reject it every night, no matter its determination.

    He had only one intention. One purpose. One goal. One ambition. To toil. To struggle.

    On March 2nd, he would inflict as much pain as he would receive. He would struggle until one or the other could no longer. He would disregard whatever sneer or insult was thrown his way, only the struggle mattered.

    On March 4th, he would do to one what he had long ago done to the other. He would care nothing for the man’s cry for independence, and he would not pretend to be the shadow the man was railing against. His black veil would not shelter him from a struggle more fearsome than any he had ever found in his old friend.

    On March 7th, he would remind the man that his passions, his heroics, his beating heart, they had all faltered in the end. He was empty, when it came to the struggle. This was not his new world. This was his old world. But it was not the old world he had cherished, filled with treasured friendships and rivalries. He would be faced with that same indifferent visage, the visage of someone who only knows to struggle, and whose struggle cannot be surmounted by a stalled heart.

    On March 9th, he would give the wilted flower her long sought chance at vengeance. It would be a one-sided affair. He cared not for the past. He cared not for reprisal. He cared not for the validation she so desperately solicited. He cared nothing for her. For him, there would only be the struggle. There was ever only the struggle.

    On March 11th, faced with his voluminous predecessor, he had only the one offering that had once been too much for him: the struggle he had long abandoned. This would be his reminder of what it took. Could he handle the struggle now?

    And as for tomorrow? The Kaiju rejected it. Only today’s struggle mattered.

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    Re: CWA: GOLD RUSH [card and promo thread]

    When I was younger, my grandfather used to tell me this story about the time he was stationed in Germany between the Second Great War and the Korean one. When I was really young, I’d get treated to it perhaps twice a year. Three if I was unlucky. The thrust of it surrounded my grandfather - a loyal Dutchman with little interest in what lay beyond its borders - arriving at Dortmund Station. He lamented the lack of instruction from his superiors, but eventually concluded he needed to change in Hamburg. A few awkward hours later, he was on a tram heading towards his base, when he was accosted by an attendant who demanded in German to see his ticket. He had neither the requested item nor the money to buy one, and eventually eyes were beginning to turn upon this foreign interloper and his flagrant black-riding, his disrespect of the fatherland, and his willingness to dance upon the corpse of its recent defeat. He watched them try to work out if he was English or French or Dutch, and mused upon which he’d hoped they’d land on. Eventually, he was rescued by an English woman who (as a well-travelled military wife) spoke German and Dutch and, more importantly, had the deutschmarks to purchase a ticket for him. He’d never felt so indebted, despite the rather miniscule monetary value of the loan, and even moreso when he’d found out that this samaritan was the wife of his new commanding officer. She had simply smiled and waved away his thanks, but had requested his attendance at a language class she ran at the base. He’d gone every week until his duty was over and he could return home, passable German and (in his teacher’s words) actually-rather-good English now part of his repertoire.

    As he grew older and his mental capacity diminished, he began to tell the story more frequently. It probably didn’t help that I was away from Rotterdam (gallivanting, as he put it) and only saw him once every few months. I’d smile and nod, too polite to halt my ageing grandfather as he wistfully strode down memory lane, recapturing his youth as best he could with what parts of his brain remained under his control. I drank my grandmother’s instant coffee and flicked through their Sunday newspaper, wondering if any of the details would become lost in the retelling. They never were. Not in that story, at least. The rest of his life was becoming a mess. My grandmother’s, too. She was a few years younger than him but had been in ill-health for a time already. They struggled to complete trivial tasks. Washing clothes. Eating properly. Cleaning the house. Soon enough they were forgetting to take medication and having dizzy spells or falls. My father was already dead, and my mother now too indebted to the bottle. Isobel and I visited the nursing home we placed them in as often as we could, and at first the visits were much the same as in their suburban home. Cups of bad coffee and grandpa’s a foreigner abroad story.

    I must admit that there were occasions when I grew tired of the story. I’d heard it a hundred times if I’d heard it once, and I am not renowned for my patience. But it was worse when he stopped telling it. The last few times, he just sort of stared off blankly into the distance, his brilliant white hair finally thinning and falling out in patches. I had to stop going. They died some point soon afterwards.

    Whenever I think of him, I wonder why it was that story that stuck with him, long beyond the point when the others had faded. When he was alive I’d assumed it was an attempt to walk as a young man and bathe in the fountain of youth. But I’m sure he had other semi-interesting stories from that period that I’d never heard. I imagine it was because of the experience’s uniquity: the peculiar otherness he’d felt whilst standing on that tram. He was a flawed man and a simple man, but this memory fell short of expectation. He’d been panic-stricken by an inability to speak: an inability to understand. After his tour he had returned to live somewhat happily in the suburbs of Rotterdam, where he would remain until death. This otherness would never return to him, with perhaps the notable exception of his final moments, as Death came and found him a frail, old man.

    I remember that he used to practise his German and his English whilst he drove his van, delivering repaired lawnmowers to various people around the city. He had cassette tapes that he’d carefully place back into their boxes after each journey, a gift - he had once told me when I was very young - from a woman he'd known on his base near Hamburg. Years after his death, I realised that he hadn’t returned to Germany since completing his service, and never once to England. Perhaps it was this - the failure to correct a memorable error, despite acquiring the pre-requisite abilities to do so - that made him recall the story as often as he did. I had come to accept that my grandfather wasn’t celebrating this story: he was haunted by it.

    The same is true of all of us, and it is true of me. I have been telling my own story for years now, and the opportunity to correct my mistakes - an opportunity readily available but refused by my grandfather - has long been denied me. But now it has come. And, surprisingly, uncharacteristically, I feel certain of something. As sure as I sit here in accursed St. Petersburg, writing in my notepad and sipping a cup of coffee as bad as any my grandmother served me... as sure as a moth’s flight to the flame... as sure as I too will sit, waiting for death, in my appointed resting place...

    The kaiju and I will dance again.

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    Re: CWA: GOLD RUSH [card and promo thread]

    You can't go home again.. But you cannot blame people for trying, right?

    In the winter of 2012. I stood over the body of Cyrus truth with that beautiful glittering world title. My body feeling like it's been through a wood chipper pain wracking my body from my head to my toes. I don't mind telling you I got backstage, first thing I did? I vomited my guts out. But it felt cleansing in a way. I have spent my career, bleeding sweating bumps on the road, set back, payback. Ups and downs. Shattering ceilings, pushing my body to limits that no one thought possible. All worth it to have that title clad about my waist...At last.

    Two months later, I shattered my tibia bone right there in the middle of the ring, and Krash won the world title for the first time.

    Major Bummer.

    ..and you gotta look back and wonder, you know? If that didn't happen, would the history of pro wrestling change? Butterfly effect, right? If I don't shatter my leg, maybe I don't lose that belt that night. Maybe I beat Krash; maybe I'm the one they call the best in the world. Maybe I'm the one with three awards and a boatload of titles instead of one.

    Who is Krash if he didn't use my broken leg as the foundation of his career?

    But I ain't gonna hate. Krash is a cool dude, But it always got me thinking y'know?, What could have been, I had a perfect career...but the ending….kind of always stuck with me, I've never got over that, and it's always irked me. Still, I moved on, I moved past that black spot in my life, and things have been pretty dope, and I went on to create the WLO, The World Lucha Organization, the greatest Lucha promotion in the world I was happy. I was fulfilled.

    I was always going to come back home to CWA; You really can't have a CWA event without me, right? Well, you can, but not a good one.. I owe this place everything, and I was fully prepared for the typical standard affair. Put on the most entertaining match of the night. Win. And have the world be like, "Oh wow, Chubby. You're amazing" and I'm all like "Yeah, I know."

    But then, then a shot at the world title got tossed into the conversation. That was the day this game changed. That, this stopped being about having fun.

    This became about slaying my demons.

    Let me spell this out; That belt means. More. To. Me. For half the field, if they lose, hey, no big deal, they have their jobs with FWA to fall back on. There's another day and another match….but there is no tomorrow for Chubby Carlos. This is my one and only chance to erase, the single worst day of my life. The day where my heart was ripped out of my chest and my world was turned upside down.

    Do you people have any idea what I'd go through to take that day back?

    I know what you're thinking; I see who I'm in the ring with; The most dominating champion of his age. A man I've never beaten, the greatest wrestler in the world. A hungry brutal dude and someone who simply does not give a shit, and here I am years after my prime with a bum leg. I got no shot whatsoever.

    I love it.

    With my back against the wall, I achieve the impossible. I grab the improbable; it doesn't matter who steps in front of me. When I set my mind on something...I do not stop; I do not pause; I do not quit until I get it…..

    You're going to have to kill me to stop me getting my redemption.

    So Krash? My friend? You will never get another accolade at my expense ever again. Last time it took a broken leg to stop me. This time it's going to take you breaking my neck.

    Ally Black? The man I never beat? Just another demon I have to slay.

    Jon? The most dominate champion of all time? You've never stepped in the ring with someone like me. Someone you can't break.

    Dan Maskell? You want a fight? No one has more fight then a man with nothing to lose?

    MVH? Let's see if you're as good as they say.

    I will run through them all because; I am not a victim. I refuse to be one, and I refuse to let others tell the story of how Chubby Carlos was powerless to change his destiny. If I have to take a risk to do that? So be it. Getting up is always going to be a risk because what goes up must come down. That's what they tell you, right? But what goes up can go even higher if it chooses to stand and climb the gold rush mountain. And if I have to take that risk of not getting back up, I will. If this is the last time I stand back up, then let them say I came tumbling down and died on impact instead of rotting away in the life of a philosophical corpse. I chose this life that led me here. I chose to fight; I chose to risk the injuries; I choose to risk my rep; I intended to write my story as a life of triumph. I'm not going to give up on it again. I'm not going to succumb to that weakness, and those five have a problem with that? If they want to drag me down, and keep me away from what is mine? Then I am going to step up, I am going to meet each victim face-to-face, and I am going to make them see, because what they tried to do to me... I will make sure I do to them."

    Chubby Carlos

    Gold Rush Winner.

    World Heavyweight Champion.

    The most amazing thing about this recent conversation is that I've learned AON is even more of a waste of space than I thought he was previously

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    Re: CWA: GOLD RUSH [card and promo thread]

    “I won’t run far
    I won’t run far
    I won’t run far”

    With a makeshift fire pit crackling before him under the night sky. For the first time in a really long while it seems like Dan Maskell has found some peace in this world. Lightly strumming a guitar in his hands as he sits on the pebbly sand and stone beneath him. Dan’s eyes are focused on the fire as in the distance waves can be heard coming in closer to shore. Sitting on the sand and tapping his right foot in rhythm with his guitar. By his side on the sand are Dan’s black pair of converse shoes. Dan is also decked out in a black button shirt and a pair of torn black jeans. Continuing to play the opening strands to the other side of Mt. Heart Attack, Dan looks to be fully focused on his gaze of the fire. Through the fire Dan slowly begins to see visions of his past. More specifically his childhood. While in the past we have been led to believe Dan’s childhood was strictly all training and all a drive to succeed. In these flashes we do see happier times such as trips to the seaside with Dan and his family. How he and his younger brother Nathan would form a band as kids and this was where Dan first learned how to play guitar. The more Dan relives these memories the more a light appears in his eyes and a slight smile forms on his face.

    “I can always be found
    I can always be found
    If you need me
    If you need me
    If you need me”

    Soon however Dan’s smile slowly fades despite him continuing to play. For now the visions and this trip down memory lane takes a much different turn. Primarily showing Dan’s time boxing and the rigorous training regimen Dan endured. The early morning wake ups and his father Charlie’s overbearing if not at times harsh coaches mentality is also highlighted prominently. As he continues to play and look back on these memories. Dan’s playing goes from a light strumming into a more harsher play. His arms rigid and his body language tense. Dan’s breathing hastens with some of the lyrics being mumbled out through gritted teeth. The constant berating over his training and the steadily harsher treatment in the hopes to make Dan live out his legacy would be focused on. Yet in hindsight it might also appear that Dan’s father was attempting to keep Dan’s head on straight. As with every victory he achieved Dan’s head would slightly grow bigger. His confidence oozing from every pore of his body as for a while Dan was the talk of the town in amateur boxing. With his at the time girlfriend Ellie by his side and his best friend Henry along for the ride. Dan very much embraced the party lifestyle after his victories with this furthering the rift with his father who could not help but express disappointment in his son’s decisions.

    “I can always be found
    I can always be found
    If you want me to stay
    If you want me to stay
    If you want me to stay”

    However soon the playing slows down and any passion in Dan’s voice dissipates. As from the flames he sees the fight with Andre Marcus which put him in prison. A 16 year old kid thrown in an adults prison. Very much the equivalent of being a goldfish and dropped in a shark's tank. In Dan’s eyes it appears that the memories of this have touched into some strong emotions as he even sheds a tear. The repeated beatings which shaped him becoming the person he is today. The loss of his family and friends which sent him on this downward spiral. For a brief moment it becomes too much for him. The music stops playing and he lowers the guitar. His hands remain clenched around it as he closes his eyes before taking a couple of deep breaths. Steadily regaining composure before clearing his throat in order to resume. Dan’s flashes turn to his early wrestling career with CWA. The early struggles and the frequent defeats in some ways as he looked back on them would snap Dan out of his trauma. In fact there was almost some amusement on Dan’s part as he looked back at his early days of being in the ring. This would allow Dan to resume playing as he looked to relax some by stretching his legs out and leaning back further against a rock behind him.

    “I will stand by your side
    I will stand by your side
    I will stand by your side
    I won’t run far
    I won’t run far
    I won’t run far”

    Continuing this trip down memory lane however again takes a turn for Dan. As while he can’t help but express some pride in becoming CWA champion. This is shown again in his playing as his voice at points is almost soothing. But then we see anger and frustration being to show themselves again. The cause of which is his memories of his former mentor Cameron Roberts as well as his ex-girlfriend Ashley Martins. His post title loss altercation with Cameron and breakup with Ashley is shown. With Dan through his eyes expressing some regret for these actions. However as he reaches the final part of his song. Dan begins to see flashes of those who he is set to do battle with as part of Gold Rush. His memories of past battles with Krash and Chubby. The prospect of battling the likes of Snowmantashi, MVH and Alyster. For a brief moment it appears that Dan is excited but just like the flames in front of him thanks to the incoming tide that excitement soon washes out. His song finished and his moment of peace complete. The last shreds of light produced by the flames burn away as again the darkness consumes him.

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    Re: CWA: GOLD RUSH [card and promo thread]

    Clint Shepard is sitting inside a booth of a restaurant in the middle of the night located somewhere on the outskirts of San Antonio, Texas. The restaurant has a retro diner aesthetic as Clint sits alone and sips on a cup of coffee; he takes a look at his watch when a bell sounds as the door to the establishment opens up, and the person that walked inside makes their way to the booth where Clint is sitting and takes a seat across from him.

    Clint Shepard: I was beginning to think that you wouldn’t show up, Nate

    Nate Savage sits across from his mentor and chuckles a little to himself under his breath as Clint says this. Nate is wearing a black hooded sweatshirt along with black sweats and white athletic shoes. He notices that Shepard had already ordered him a cup of coffee, so he pours some creamer and sweetener into it before taking a sip.

    Nate Savage: Why would you think that?

    Clint Shepard: Are you sure that you want to do this?

    Clint asks this question as Nate is taking another sip of the coffee.

    Nate Savage: Straight to the point, I didn’t expect that, although I can respect it, I think that you already know the answer to your question.

    Clint Shepard: How is FWA allowing you to do this?

    Nate Savage: Don’t worry about that; I’ve handled it. We have a show happening here in San Antonio tomorrow night and they are well aware of what I'm doing and they are okay with it.

    Clint Shepard: Is your family okay with it?

    This time Nate doesn’t answer right away; he remains silent as the question lingers. A waitress comes over and refills Shepard’s coffee, and then she offers to fill Nate’s, but he politely declines.

    Clint Shepard: It’s a big commitment, you know that, right?

    Nate Savage: I knew that the day that I wanted to do this for a living. You saw it in me when I walked into the doors of your training facility. You knew that this is what I wanted to do, what God put me on this planet to do. My family knows this too, and they know that every time I step foot inside a ring, it’s for them. I do this for them to provide them with a life that I never had growing up. It is all I know how to do; this all I've ever been good at in life. They believe in me, and that’s all that matters to me.
    Why all of the questions? Do you think that I’m not capable of doing this? I thought that you, of all people, would actually believe in me, but instead, you’re sitting here questioning my decision to do what I love.

    Shepard puts his hand up in defense and stops Nate.

    Clint Shepard: You should know as well as anyone that I meant no disrespect with any questions I have; it’s just that I wanted to make sure that you know what you’re doing that’s all, but judging by what you’ve just said, I can see that you are more than ready.

    Nate Savage: It’s been almost three years since the last time I stepped foot inside of a CWA ring, and every day since then, it’s eaten away at me, you know why? Jax and I were robbed out of the CWA Tag Team Championship. Ever since that day, I’ve had this sour taste in my mouth. It’s no secret that we weren’t happy with how things went down there, but now I have a chance to right this wrong. I have an opportunity to remind wrestling fans all over the world what I am capable of inside of that ring.

    Clint Shepard: Besides being the last ever CWA pure champion, how do you want to be remembered?

    Nate finishes off the last of his coffee and sets the mug down before answering.

    Nate Savage: I want to be remembered as the man that walked into this Gold Rush and defeated anyone that dared to stand in my way. Whether it’s Humanity, Jonathan McGinnis, Shawn Summers, Christopher Jackson, or Cyrus Truth. Each of them will stand across from me on their respective nights to face me, and they’ll know after I defeat every single one of them that I am the toughest son of a bitch to have ever laced up a pair of boots.

    I want to be remembered as the man that people feared. I want to be remembered as the man that people trembled at the mere mention of my name. I want to be recognized as the nastiest, toughest bastard to be in that ring, no matter who I faced. Ask Michelle von Horrowitz, ask Krash, ask Jon Snowmantashi, they know. They all felt my wrath. Did you know that I was one of only a handful of people to have ever gained a pinfall victory over Snowmantashi? Same with Michelle. The man that I defeated to become the last ever Pure champion? Krash. I beat him so bad I’m sure that he hasn’t forgotten it.
    Soon enough, everyone will be able to forget what happened three years ago, the last time I was in a CWA ring, but they won’t forget what I do in the Gold Rush three years later. I’ll make sure that no one will ever forget the name “Nasty” Nate Savage.
    Rest in power, Flock U
    Rest in power, TCON

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    Re: CWA: GOLD RUSH [card and promo thread]

    Exile Chronicles: Interlude
    "The Connecting Thread"

    We find ourselves in a dimly-lit room, illuminated only by an antique iridescent lightbulb fixture hanging from the ceiling. The room is sparsely furnishes, with just basic chairs and well-worn tables.

    The walls, however, tell a different story: plastered along the walls are posters of CWA events from the past. Classic events such as Five Star Attraction, In Exile, World's Strongest, Global Collision, and countless others from all facets of CWA's past. It's a treasure trove, a vivid and visual walk down memory lane for what was, in its height, the most powerful and prestigious wrestling company in history.

    However, one wall looks very different from the others.

    Pinned to this wall are photographs, pictures of the competitors in the revived CWA's Gold Rush Tournament. Champions all, these pictures represent the very best and brightest throughout CWA's history. Curiously, they all seem to be connected to one another by threads of string, like a conspiracy theorist's connection board. And there seems to be some obvious connections, like with former tag partners Krash and Alyster Black, or Krash and Dan Maskell...or with bitter opponents like Jonathan McGuinness and Jon Snowmantashi.

    And there's one other curious bit...there's one photo missing.

    It's here we turn our attention to the figure standing in front of the wall of photographs. Dressed in familiar black garments, standing tall and straight in front of this mess of photos and strings, the man looks at this collection, taking in all the threads and connections.

    His jaw is clenched in contemplation.

    His eyes, somewhat sallow but still piercing and burning.

    It's him.

    And as he speaks? One can't help but tremble a bit.

    "A lot of things can be said about the Clique Wrestling Alliance, and a lot more will be said when it's all said and done. Whether this is just one last burst from a wrestling promotion that meant so much to so many or the start of a true revival, I don't know. But I couldn't just let this pass by...this opportunity to reclaim the fire that was thought snuffed out.

    "A tournament! A five-day contest among some of CWA's best and brightest for a chance to call themselves CWA World Champion once more. A title I'm all too familiar with. For me, the path takes me across so many familiar faces...

    "The man who was my first true opponent in Pride N' Honor...

    "The madman who came into his own during the height of my run...

    "The protégé of the man who I won my first title from...

    "The boy who ended my last World Title reign...

    "And another boy who found his most defining success against me on the greatest stage..."

    There's a certain aura in the room as the man speaks. A certain feeling of...dread? No, that's not the right word. Weight? Yes...weight. A feeling of gravitas, as if the entire world is focused squarely on this room, these photographs...and this man.

    "And that's to say nothing for the remaining participants in this tournament, either. All of them, one and all, deserves to be here. All of them have held championship gold and has proven themselves in the crucible of professional wrestling excellence. And through that crucible, connections have been formed. Threads that bind partners, friends, rivals, and bitter enemies, threads that will be pulled as we all fight to reclaim the glory that died along with the Clique Wrestling Alliance.

    "However...there is ONE thing that unites them all. One singular thread that ties them all together, one champion that binds them all together. The man who reigned first as World Champion among this group of warriors. The man who threw CWA into chaos and ended the old order, and allowed them the freedom to rise..."

    As we zoom out from the pictures, we see that there is, indeed, one singular thread that ties them all together. Not directly, maybe...but they all eventually lead to this single thread. This thread leads away from the board...and finds itself wrapped around the hand of the man.

    "I think it's long past time that I remind my friends, my rivals, and my fellow CWA legends just who the hell I am...and cast my shadow once again over them. There are times where the Long and Winding Road takes you back from where you came from. And this? This is one of those times.

    "It's been long overdue...but it's time for Cyrus Truth to come home. And to reclaim what was MINE."

    With a flash, the man wrenches his hand back, pulling the string and sending all of the photographs of his fellow Gold Rush competitors scattering to the winds. We finally see the missing photo that we didn't see before, as it was buried underneath all the others...

    It's the captured image of Cyrus Truth, right after his first CWA World Title win over the Ultimate Pain.

    The man walks up to the picture, gently touching it as if remembering something important, something that happened so long ago that defined him. And as Cyrus Truth turns to face the camera, we hear one last thing before we cut to black...

    "Welcome home, friends and the house that I laid the cornerstone for. Let's see if the spirit of CWA still lives..."
    Something Witty!

    Cyrus Truth
    4x FWA World Heavyweight Champion
    1x FWA North American Champion
    Carnal Contedership 2016 Winner
    2x CWA World Heavyweight Champion
    1x PnH International Champion

    Konchu Hao
    1x FWA X Division Champion
    Ground Zero Winner (Season 2)

  8. #8
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    Re: CWA: GOLD RUSH [card and promo thread]


    I'm Still in Love With You

    As a child, my biological parents abandoned me. I don't share this information with many because they take it as a sign that no one loved me. That thought is the furthest from the truth. I've had people that have loved me throughout my life, but no one's loved me like you. We've gone through our rough patches and have spent months not talking, but I can't quit you. You love me unconditionally, and you know that I love you for all your flaws, rewards, and everything in between. While others talk about their love for you in private, I want to take this time to express my feelings for you to the world. This article is my love letter to you.

    As I previously stated, my biological parents abandoned me. The Summer's adopted me and raised me as one of their own. They were, and still are, a loving family, but I always felt lost with them. I felt lost in the sense that I didn't fit in and was never accepted. That is until you found me. You captivated me from the moment I saw you. You showed me love and protected me like my mother - teaching me right from wrong and encouraging me to keep going when all I wanted was to quit. You taught me tough life lessons and how to be a man like my father - showing me that I had to work for what I wanted in life and how to care for those around me. You gave me siblings and showed me what a family could be - always having one another's backs and loving one another unconditionally. You brought light into my world that started with darkness. For that, I'll never be able to quit you.

    "I'm an addict." That was one of the first times I was honest with myself, and you made that possible. I loved cocaine, molly, acid, and anything else that could give me a feeling of euphoria or bliss. I overdosed twice. The first time was in college before a tournament. The second time was in a hotel room in Berlin during a CWA tour. After my first overdose, I was just happy that the family you provided for me was there to help see me through it. After the second overdose, I was sad and scared because I realized that I was dangerously close to losing you.

    My vices overcame me, and the fear of losing you drove me away. In our time apart, I tried to replace the high that you gave me. I used other people and other things, but nothing compared to you. Nothing could give me the satisfaction that I felt when I had a good night with you. Nothing could cause the pain that you could. Nothing could make me swell with emotion each time I saw it. Nothing could make me go to the lengths and places like you. I'm addicted to you. I know our relationship is unhealthy at times, but I don't care. When I prove myself to you, you reward me in ways that no one else can. When I slip up, you show me errors in my way. You're the one drug that I can't give up. But I know that I'm not the only one who gets high off and is addicted to you. I know I'm not the only one that claims to be in love with you.

    I stated it earlier, but it bears repeating: Others talk about their love for you in private. And when I hear them, I can't help but laugh. It's comical to me because they claim to love you and sacrifice for you, but they don't care about you. They claim to love you but abandon you when you no longer stimulate them in the ways that they used to enjoy. When you no longer tell them, "you're the best," they abandon you until their new love interest sees them for what they are - worthless quitters. They pretend to tell you nothing but truths and make bold claims about themselves to you - but in reality, they're nothing more than pathological liars. I doubt they believe the bullshit that comes out of their mouths.

    It pains me to see them use you so. Using you to gain fame, riches, attention, and to be idolized like the false prophets they are. They use you as a vessel to spin tales of grandeur where they are the heroes doing things they could never do in reality. They treat you like a plot device, and that's despicable to me. But, their worst crime is that they don't respect you. They take you and paint you as a clown for comedic relief - not realizing that you are sacred and are much more than just entertainment.

    I don't have to address the people who disrespect you by name because they know who they are. They know the crimes that they have committed against you. And they know that in due time they will have to pay for this.

    I love you for your flaws, your rewards, and everything in between. I promise that on March 2nd, I will show the world my truth. The world will get to see what lengths I'm willing to go to show my love for you. The world will see me protect you as you did for me. The world will see me banish those who disrespect and lie to and about you. The world will see us reunited once more.

    But until then, allow the words in this article to express my undying love for you - wrestling.


    Shawn Summers

  9. #9
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    Re: CWA: GOLD RUSH [card and promo thread]

    It's cold. Dark. Wet.

    It’s night, somewhere. A clear moon rose in the night sky, as a handful of athletes, warriors, fighters, the last remnants of a forgotten world, gathered in the yard. They had names, of course. Names, families, lives outside of this Gathering. But all of that, everything beyond this yard, was meaningless for just one night. Tonight was about something bigger than all of them, that meant something so much more than anything else in their lives. Just for one night.

    Shroud stood tall, face hidden as always, as he knelt down into the soil, rubbing a bit of dirt between his fingers and flicking it onto GodKing's shoes, who visibly restrained himself from marching across the yard and snapping Shroud's ankle again.

    Kaiju was motionless, his bulky body protecting him from the worst of the cold. He didn't give any of his fellow Gatherers a passing glance as he stared tepidly into the distance. Indeed, the pointed glare Dreamer continuously shot his way went either unnoticed or completely ignored.

    A soft munching echoed in the night as Chubster casually devoured a hot hamburger, the sauce running down his chin and dripping onto the ground. Effigy stared, not at Chubster, but at the sauce dribbling down his face, his eyes blank, almost in a trance-like state. His fingers twitched, catching Chubster's eye, and after a brief second of consideration, offered half of the hamburger to Effigy. Blinking, Effigy waved it away.

    Pacing, Nasty snarled. “What are we waiting for?” He barked. “We already did this thing. It’s over. It’s done with. It died, and we're the only ones who gave a shit.” He exhaled, his voice becoming a bit softer, uncharacteristically so. “We paid our respects. Did what was asked of us, for the Lost World. Maybe it’s time to let it go. Move on.”

    “No.” Heartbeat, his moustache sopping wet with rainwater, shook his head. “I’m not ready. None of us are. If you were ready, you wouldn’t be here right now.” He fixed Nasty with a stare, those piercing green eyes boring deep into Nasty’s soul, until finally, he looked away. “Besides, you’re wrong.”

    Nasty scoffed.“Yeah? In what way?”

    “We weren’t the only ones who gave a shit.” Heartbeat spoke, staring into the shadows around them. “There were others.”

    And from the darkness, figures emerged. Figures few, if any, would ever predict stepping into the Lost World again.

    From the shadows, Heretic stepped into the light. Even now, long after cutting off contact with everyone he once worked with, he still stared at his fellow Gatherers with a hungry, foul expression, the bruises on his knuckles fresh as they were years ago. His gaze settled on Heartbeat, and for the briefest of moments, the eyes softened, before resuming their focused gaze.

    A cold, steely gaze swept among his fellow Gatherers as Exile – not one for any sort of social gathering – approached. He had left the Lost World long ago, long before it faded away. He said his goodbyes long ago and never looked back. But something still brought him back here, to this damp yard in the middle of nowhere. Chubster smiled, anxiously waving a greasy hand.

    Indy swaggered past Exile, pointedly brushing his shoulder past him. Smug and arrogant, as if he knew all along the downfall that would come to the Lost World after he left it, he sneered at Kaiju, earning a rare glance of surprise, a raise of the eyebrows, by Kaiju at the newcomer. The sole motion of acknowledgement, from Kaiju to Indy, caused Dreamer to start fuming.

    And finally, Franchise stepped into the circle. A figure long gone, from the days of yesteryear, his approach earned more surprise than anyone else’s. He tapped his foot in the dirt, exhaling. “We doing this thing, or what?” He spoke into the night.

    An exchange of glances, all around. Fighters. Warriors. Athletes from all walks of life. Daredevils, sociopaths, behemoths. All with one thing in common, a shared past, despite the differences each had.

    “We’re all here because of one thing.” Heartbeat began. Several eyes locked onto him. “There’s something missing from each of us, that we can only get by returning to the Lost World. For some, it’s closure.”

    Chubster raised his head, wiping the sauce from his chin.

    “For others, it’s because of unanswered questions.”

    Dreamer glowered, her eyes shooting once again to Kaiju.

    “Because our best times were there, and we want to revisit them.”

    Indy smirked, nodding, his silver curls glistening in the moonlight.

    “Because our worst times were there, and we want to redeem them.”

    Shroud tilted his gaze down at his ankle.

    “Because we want to prove something to someone.”

    GodKing’s eyes flickered to Shroud’s ankle once again.

    “Because it’s a place where we once felt like we belonged.”

    Effigy stared at the moon, rising above them.

    “Because it’s a place where we could be ourselves, consequences be damned.”

    Heretic exhaled, closing his eyes. Nasty chuckled beside him.

    “Because it’s where our dynasty began.”

    Exile’s cold gaze flickered across the group.

    “Because we answered the call when it needed us to.”

    Franchise stood proud, nodding.

    “Or simply because despite everything, we can’t let go.” Heartbeat paused, his expression faltering. “Maybe we never will.”

    Silence reigned. Heartbeat frowned, shaking his head. “This is the chance for all of us to answer those questions, fix those mistakes, revisit those memories. For all we know, this could be the last chance any of us have for this. Anything after tonight isn’t guaranteed. So do your best. Do your worst. Do the things you’ve been wanting to do for years, to silence the voice inside you.”

    Heartbeat paused, coughing.

    “We’ve all been missing something, friends. That something brought us here tonight. And whatever it is, I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

    Heartbeat smiled, his sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight.

    Few smiled back.

    Somewhere in the distance, a white wolf howled into the night.

    “... Fuck.”


  10. #10
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    Re: CWA: GOLD RUSH [card and promo thread]

    I'm going to shift the deadline to SUNDAY at midnight, EST, for this. Want to give everyone a chance to get something in. I understand those that have posted may feel this unfair, but given that the event is a one-off and about encouraging involvement etc I think a more lenient deadline here is the way to go.

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