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Post by Bad Luck Bradley on Nov 2, 2023 9:20:57 GMT -5
@bookitkip on Chirpy As a result of Conor Caine's injury, a suitable replacement will be named for him in the J-1 Pinnacle Tournament. The new blocks and match schedule will be released soon. OOC: WHY DID YOU POST AN EMPTY PICTURE.
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Post by Kip Whistler on Nov 2, 2023 11:48:30 GMT -5
@bookitkip on Chirpy
Despite my assurances to Bad Luck Bradley that he would not be involved, Conor Caine's replacement in the 2023 J-1 Pinnacle Tournament will be none other than SEPH KOBANE! The blocks and schedule are now available! #GoodLuck #YoureGonnaNeedIt
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Post by “Heartbroken” Mack Caliber on Nov 2, 2023 13:24:40 GMT -5
@bookitkip on Chirpy Despite my assurances to Bad Luck Bradley that he would not be involved, Conor Caine's replacement in the 2023 J-1 Pinnacle Tournament will be none other than SEPH KOBANE! The blocks and schedule are now available! #GoodLuck #YoureGonnaNeedIt OOC: All good. I wouldn’t be able to give much focus anyway until after the season ends.
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Post by The Mean Queen Jessie Aldean on Nov 3, 2023 6:07:55 GMT -5
jwa.com exclusive
jessie is sitting on a bench looking at the ground...
chief buffalo walks in...'good on you girlie, you gave that she-witch hell-fire and tarnation giddy'ap!'
jessie looks confused. 'i lost...she's right...i'm a loser.'
buffalo sits down and the bench looks like a see saw. 'pff...i lost more times than i can count...i still go out here there and everydamn where to be the best buffalo i ever been or seen or beat up butterbean.'
jessie 'maybe i should just give up and go home.'
buffalo 'well call me maybe because this is crazy and you just met me...a year ago-go...
jessie 'please talk normal.'
buffalo takes a breath. 'give up and go home if you want. or get up and get meaner than you have been...and take it from the guy who you used as your personal brain-washed brutesquad/unconcious source of physical affection...you already are pretty dang mean...so...if you get meaner...shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
jessie stands up and buffalo bumps his butt on the ground. 'i got this,' and she walks off...then walks back in and dumps buffalo's gravy smoothie on his head. 'and these are horrific you overblown warthog!'
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Post by Thumper Moore III on Nov 3, 2023 8:36:00 GMT -5
JWA.com
Arizona Chance is seated in a high-backed leather chair next to an oak side table which holds the JWA World Championship. Behind him is his once filled trophy wall, but the only thing on the wall is a newspaper clipping which reads “Satyros Defeats Chance In Return Match.”
“Well, JWA fans, my win at Guts and Gory makes me a three-time world champion here in JWA. Couple that with my two tag team titles, and that makes me a—“ Arizona holds his hand in front of his head like Quan from Damage Control— “FIVE TIME. FIVE TIME. FIVE TIME. FIVE TIME. FIVE TIME CHAMP.” Arizona smiles into the camera. “And by the way, congratulations to Conor Caine on one of the best runs with the title in the history of this company. There’s no joke here. It was truly a captivating and compelling run.
But there’s no rest for the weary, or, as the case may be—“ Arizona stands up and unbuttons his vest, revealing some Diamond Dallas Page level rib-tape— “rest for the injured. See, Conor put a hurting on me too, and while I could walk out of there, I certainly bear the scars of battle internally. No rest, and no respite. See, the J-1 tournament— the one prize that eluded me for so long, the one that I finally captured last year— is upon us. The winner gets a shot at this—“ Arizona points to the JEA World Title— “unless, of course, the winner is moi.”
Arizona sits back down, clutching his midsection, then straightens back up. “The surest way to win is to win it all is to win in week one. And that brings me to the one guy who has given me fits since I came back— Omega Satyros, my match one opponent. He defeated me in my return match, and he very nearly became my opponent at Guts and Gory. And what an opportunity for Omega— to not only start off the J-1 with a big win, but also to have an opportunity to be 2-0 against the current world champ. He, as all young wrestlers should, desires to be world champ, and a win gives him a claim to another shot. And if he can pull it off on Tuesday, maybe he deserves one.
But all that is moot. Because I’m gonna get my revenge on Tuesday, and then this stupid newspaper clipping can come off my wall. It’s been stuck in my craw for two months now. Some talented, wide-eyed rookie got the best of me. Well, here’s my chance for personal redemption. Satyros, get ready for the fight of your life—“ Arizona stands up and gets in the face of the camera—“NOBODY CHASES REVENGE LIKE ARIZONA CHANCE!”
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Post by Bad Luck Bradley on Nov 3, 2023 11:57:31 GMT -5
Arizona is in Killies, sitting by the bar, a gaggle of silly geese around him, the belt on his shoulder. The bar bell rings. The click, slide, creak of a limped crutch on the wooden boards and the bar turns.
Brad enters, his crutch now a cane, his casual gear now a suit with high trousers, a brimmed hat on his head. He looks up through squinted eyes and an unlit cigarette is slid between his lips. The air has turned a steel gray. The silence crackles. A jazz saxophone in the distance plays a lonely note.
At the bar, Arizona is similarly dressed, his jacket over his shoulders, a golden falcon in his hands.
"Myeh, see," Arizona says, his geese giggling around him, feathers flapping, fans flipping. "Look what the Black Cat dragged in, myeh."
Brad takes a step forward before he is surrounded by men with heaters. "This is your famous Amazonian welcome, I see."
"Let 'em go boys, myeh, he's our guest."
A piano tune rises and a crooner in the corner begins to yowl. The boys take a step back and Arizona beckons Brad over.
"I heard you were shaking some trees, myeh, see if something falls out. Well let me tell you something, sucker, ain't no apples where I'm hanging, myeh."
Brad nods at Jax, who is in a shirt and vest, a moustache on his lips and garters on his arms. A shot of fresh water is poured and slid across the bar. "We don't want no trouble from you here, Brad, y'hear? This here's a clean bar."
"Relax, Jax, I got the skinny."
From behind Arizona, Veronica stands, dressed as a flapper. "This the guy you said had no moxie, 'Zona?"
"Yeah, baby, myeh, he's a real pill."
Brad downs the shot of water, tosses it to Jax and steps towards Arizona, who stands to face him. "Now listen here-"
"Myeh, I'm all ears."
"You got something to say to me?"
"Myeh, I'll say plenty!"
By the side, Daisy is sitting, a tumbler in her hand. "This conversation is fast becoming a confrontation."
A mook siddles up to her, "Gimmie some sugar, toots."
Daisy socks him one in the eye, "A wiseguy, huh? Nobody gets fresh with me without getting a fat lip!"
There is a commotion as the mook takes a tumble. Brad and Arizona continue their heated back and forth as a fistfight starts up amongst the denizens of the bar.
"You got some nerve!"
"Myeh, you ain't got no nerve at all!"
"Why I oughta!"
"Myeh, you need a knuckle sandwich?"
A couple of gangsters crash through a table. The piano begins to increase in tempo. Femme fatales and private dicks clash. Daisy is standing on a table, brandishing a stool in each hand, her mouth wide in a primal scream. Still Brad and Arizona stand, their noses touching.
"Don't let the door hit ya!"
"Myeh, you schmuck!"
"Of all the gin joints!"
"Myeh, put the boots to ya!"
"You're as thick as a short plank."
"Myeh, I'm the mastermind of this here scheme, see?"
A blast fills the air. Jax has shot a shotgun into his own ceiling, showering himself in dust. He pumps the gun, chambering a fresh round. The spent cartridge spirals smokily through the air. Everyone has an unlit cigarette in their mouths yet the air is hazy. The piano runs to a discordant finish. Jax looks around slowly. "Keep it down you lily-livered sons of-"
An old timey siren plays. Someone yells, "the fuzz!" Suddenly everyone scrambles, books are pulled out of nowhere, shawls are shrugged on, the golden falcon screams into Arizona's arms and the speakeasy turns into a reading group. The door swings open, the bell trills and Kip is here in policeman's garb, whistling as he stomps through the bar. He affects a stereotypical Irish accent.
"Now then me boyos, what's this?"
"Myeh, nothing officer Whistler. Just reading is all."
"Now then, you wouldn't lie to a man of the law would you, Chance? Lord Jesus wouldn't be having that. And lies are a mortal sin, as evidenced by this simpleton holding his book upside down."
The others groan. We all know how messed up.
"I'll be booking ye boyos and serving citations to the others. And let me tell ye this: we won't be having a repeat of last year with the tomfoolery the pair of ye got up to with the toys and the little people. Oh no. I've engaged the services of an independent adjudicator, whose identity is unknown to ensure that this year's J1 has no nonsense like that again, let me tell you that for free. Now get up and get out. This sort of pandemonium does a mischief on me humours."
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Post by "The Closer" Omega Satyros on Nov 3, 2023 21:46:05 GMT -5
**JWA BOOBTUBE CHANNEL**
Toni: Welcome ladies and gentlemen to another episode of THE BLIP, where today we catch you up on everything you might've missed at Guts and Gory.
Sal: Indeed Toni, and after the wild night of that costume party, we were worried we might have to cancel the show, but we managed to get a guest who's game to show in Omega.
Omega walks out, the paint from his costume apparently having been a bit too stubborn to wash off, various parts of his visible skin patchy with the red paint.
Sal: Omega, I must admit, most of the folks who were at that party at Guts and Gory are a bit hungover this morning, how are you so chipper in comparison
Omega: It's quite simple, I've had Dionysian Wine, not even two millennia asleep could dull that booze tolerance, nothing today would be allowed to be that strong.
Toni: Hehe, well, regardless. Let's get into the matches from last night. First off what're your thoughts on the Nightmare on Elm Street Fight.
Omega: Artemis and Sakura battered the hell out of each other. Gotta respect their willingness to go the distance no matter the cost to body. And then we got a shocking appearance from BPM, with Electronica becoming a double champ for AOE.
Sal: That's the risk of the Hardcore stipulations, what about the other woman's match, Winter Hex vs. Miss Jessie?
Omega: Another match elevating the women's division. Winter Hex may have come out on top, but all four women who competed in these matches could pose a threat to Daisy, and after the J-1, it's going to be fun seeing where the women's division goes.
Toni: And what about the Penguin Kai Karate Match?
Omega: A fun match to watch, but I can't condone what I've seen Chad do the past few weeks. Not to mention the fact that Penguino possibly would've had that match won if not for his cheating. Either way, fun match, and it'll be fun seeing Chad get some comeuppance in Block B
Toni: And the World Title match?
Omega: An excellent match between two legends of the business. It sucks for Conor Caine to suffer such a brutal injury, and I wish him the best in his recovery. I was hoping/expecting us to meet in the finals to determine Arizona's next #1 contender. And as for Arizona. You have the momentum on your side this time around going in this first match for the J-1. Unfortunately for you, this time around, you have a blatant weak point, while I'm fresh as a rose. I don't want to put you on the shelf, but those ribs will be even worse for wear. You're looking for revenge, while I'm looking for glory. Only one of us can get what we want out of this match, and that will be me. It's just a shame that after the three count falls against you again, it'll be all the easier for the rest of Block A to exploit those injured ribs. “NOBODY CHASES REVENGE LIKE ARIZONA CHANCE?” No doubt, but you'll have to chase just a couple month longer. At Destiny I'll be your title opponent, and this week on Glory, I'll be the first one who will make it a struggle for you to get to Destiny. Block A will be mine.
Sal: Thanks for joining us again Omega. And be sure to check out the next episode of The Blip.
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Post by “Charismatic” Conor Caine on Nov 5, 2023 5:27:01 GMT -5
In his empty room at a motel a few miles from JWA Studios, Conor Caine sits in a wheelchair, waiting for Hito Kizuato, who walks in from the crisp air outside.
Kizuato: Bags are in the car. All two of them... Caine: What can I say, wrestling trunks don't take up much room. Kizuato: Are you sure about this? There are much better ACL specialists outside of Rhode Island. Caine: I've been running long enough, Kiz... It's time to go home. Kizuato: Okay, then. Well, before we leave, there's just one more thing to do.
Kiz leaves for a second, and returns to the room with a confused looking Conor. Kiz hands Conor a small package.
Kizuato: From Arizona.
Conor says nothing, but stares at the package for a while before opening it. He looks like he's been punched in the chest. His eyes well up a little, and he coughs back the flood of emotion. He mutters a breathless expletive and lifts a small plaque from the box. His brow furrows, his eyes are filled with sorrow; a tear breaks free and runs down his cheek, and when it reaches the edge of his mouth it too breaks, into a wide smile. Conor suddenly looks at peace. He breaks out of his trance when he remembers Kizuato is there. He hands the plaque to Kiz.
Caine: It's a photograph, from a meet and greet that must have been twenty years ago. That kid chatting over the table with Arizona is me, and the man next to us is my grandfather. I remember that day so clearly, but I've never seen this photo. He's turned it into a plaque. Kizuato: The inscription... "A Match Decades In The Making... 'Relentless' Conor Caine V 'The Franchise' Arizona Chance... October 31, 2023." Arizona is a very kind man. We're honoured to call him a friend. Caine: Very honoured, Kiz. I don't have many friends, but the few I have are a blessing. You included. There's a note here too... he says a fan sent it to him at the Studio, and... Kizuato: ...what else does he say? Caine: The rest is just between he and I. Kizuato: Oh it is? Maybe Arizona would like to come and bring you to the airport then?
They laugh a little and Kizuato begins pushing Conor out of the motel. They banter a little, Kizuato saying he'll get his own back at the gym when it's time to get Conor back in ring shape; Conor says he'd rather retire. The proprietor of the motel calls out a goodbye to Conor; he replies and says he's paid an extra two months rent on the room, '...to give the bedbugs some time to find somewhere else to stay!' The proprietor cusses him out and tells him not to be a stranger. With that, the cars starts up and Conor and Kiz make their way out of town.
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Post by "The Reminiscer" Winter Hex on Nov 6, 2023 0:50:26 GMT -5
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Chad Shredsbury
Main Eventer
The tide cannot be turning… there’s gold on the horizon
Posts: 295
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Post by Chad Shredsbury on Nov 6, 2023 8:03:23 GMT -5
JWA.com exclusive clip.
Chad Shredsbury sits at the end of a weight bench in a beach in California, with a towel over his shoplifters, full of sweat.
Chad. Well, it appears it’s that time of year again. The most wonderful time of the year. J1 Pinnacle Season. I know the world recalls how I very nearly won this thing last year and how bodaciously appropriate is it that Arizona Chance… the guy who took me out of it… is now the reigning champ. Something tells me we will be seeing one another across the ring when this is all over, Chance. But first I get to headline B Block. And that’s very, very cool. And who better to kick things off with than the biggest man in the JWA. (Fakes a Welsh accent). Pierre, mate… (Laughs and returns to his Cali surfer voice). I really tried to take the high road. Things weren’t working out and I tried to let you down easy. Which was hard for me after you brought in that circus freak mutant pal of yours, I mean… not only do we lose like, every match after he shows up… but look at me. Do you think I put the effort into looking like this so I can be seen and judged by the masses carrying on with a bottomless wing pit, bottom feeding degenerate like Trogbro? Nah, man. No bueno. So let’s not pretend that tomorrow is anything but what it is. It’s Big Waves’ last break. I guess it had to happen sometime, big bro. So why not night one of the J1. And your last gift to me can be not the hurtful words you’ve been saying about me. But rather the two points I’ll get when I shred the gnar on your crumpled carcass. You owe me that much for sure. Hang loose, amigo.
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Post by Pierre The Enormous on Nov 6, 2023 9:04:44 GMT -5
JWA.com Exclusive clip
*I'm seen watching Chad's video and I'm disgusted at what I'm hearing* Chad Shredsbury.... my old brother..... you say we went downhill after I brought Troglo in... the reason why I brought Troglo here in the first place was to even out the playing field when Duke and Thorin were champions and last I checked we won the tag titles back... albeit for a short time but that's not the point... honestly I don't want to do this but.... *I crack my knuckles and stare into the camera* you made me angry... and you know what they say about angry giants...
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Post by Red Pirate Rogers on Nov 6, 2023 14:32:13 GMT -5
via @yourcommand on chirpy
In 2021 I was runner-up in the J-1 to my partner and fellow champ Mack Caliber In 2022 I was sidetracked by a vindictive lover and her brainwashed lacky but still defended the championship against the winner and everyone who beat me in the tournament. In 2023 I will do what I always do...my very best...a best that (given the evidence above, is pretty darned good). And as an added perk, that can be at the expense of "Lord" Taylor Thorin.
You say "ship's mast match?", you say "full pardon?" I say...#atyourcommand.
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Post by “Charismatic” Conor Caine on Nov 7, 2023 7:48:19 GMT -5
If it wasn't for the ACL that doctors say is hanging by a thread, he'd be in a rental car right now, driving the long road back to Providence, and the decade old mess he left behind. He hates airports, avoids them at all costs: too many opportunities to get cornered by papzarri and marks with no regard for personal space. Not that he doesn't love the fans - making them happy is the part of the job he loves most - and he'd never begrudge a Pap making a paycheck, but airports are a meet & greet without rules; it follows you to the bathroom, to the restaurant, when you're trying to catch some shut-eye. Besides, today of all days, he could do with being alone. Too much is uncertain for him, both physically and emotionally, for him to go into work mode and cut promos at the departure gate. That's why he's been sitting in this Executive Longue that makes him wanna puke, just avoiding the chance of being spotted for as long as possible. But the time has come, it's last call for his flight and he has to hobble his way to the gate.
Feet from the door, it happens. How did he not see that garish Dude Brohan shirt from all the way down the corridor? Too late now, the guy has clocked him. "C-C-Conor Caine?" Conor can see the fop sweat begin to bead on the guy's brow and can hear those hundreds of questions well up in the dude's throat. And now, before being able to struggle out a word, he's fumbling in his pocket for his phone. Conor's heart breaks for him, because this doesn't happen every day. Normally he'd take control of the situation, ask the guy's name, inquire about how he's doing, make him comfortable so that the questions flow a little easier, but it's not happening, he was too ready to drop the work, and now Conor's frozen to the spot, wishing for this to end.
As if the universe heard his turmoil and decided to throw him a bone, airport security come rushing between Conor and the fan, making their way towards a commotion further down the concourse that Conor's surprised he didn't notice already.
Whatever's going on, it chaotic. From this vantage point he can't see much but he can hear a cacophony of voices, things falling over, alarms blaring; a woman screams in shock and terror, and then Conor hears it. A low murmur that he first mistook for a machine of some kind, guttural. But as the sound gets closer, it beings to feel familiar... but from where? The closer it gets, the more Conor recognises idiosyncracies in it and he begins to scan his brain for a match. Just as he figures out what that sound is, and the accompanying horror dawns on him, it rises from a murmur to a roar, a roar that calls Conor's name... almost.
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Post by Bad Luck Bradley on Nov 7, 2023 7:55:38 GMT -5
" CONORANDCAINE!" The voice echoes through the terminal. In the distance there is a commotion. On one of the moving walkways, a tumble of objects rolls down it, Arizona-Chance-like. Pursued by TSA agents is Bad Luck Bradley, luggage dragging behind him like he's a sweaty Rudolph. Caine looks around. There's nowhere for him to hide and he's not going to risk boarding with Brad right behind him. He drops his bag, ready for what is about to come.
Brad trundles to a stop several feet from Caine, his sled of IV cables, luggage, several tourists and an armada of armed services behind him, weapons drawn. It's a stand-off, it appears. Brad is breathless. Caine is breathtaking. Brad: Conorandcaine... I... You just left. Caine eyes the guards warily. They appear to be perplexed rather than concerned. Brad: You were... I knew you were busy with the belt, brother, holding gold, defending, pretending, quilting and mending. But listen, straight up, I thought when you dropped it - to a good man, some might say the best man - I thought that we could... The agents have started to disassemble the ball of luggage, aware that Brad is of little credible threat. A tourist in Hawaiian shirt is muttering to himself, tangled in a variety of bags, belts, cameras and packs. Brad: We've been through a lot. From you popping onto the scene like a fight machine, not so green, being seen, promos mean, jumping bean, Bradley's sheen. Insane's mask, hard task, difficult ask, time to bask. Carrying the gold, acting bold, denying to fold, never sold, now you been told. It is just Caine and Brad now. The luggage is gone. People are watching. A moment, a pause, a gap where normally a kind word would emerge. Nothing. Brad struggles. He takes off his sunglasses. Brad: Conor... we never had a chance. We were always together but apart. You never became a Bad Luck B- Caine embraces Brad as the sweaty man chokes on the last syllable. An applause rises. Brad's arms stay by his side for some time, balled in fists. Finally, when he raises them to return the hug, a firm hand on his shoulder pulls him back, breaking Caine's brotherly hold.
Brad is escorted away, a solemn look over his shoulder. He looks too late, however, for Caine has already boarded his plane.
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Post by Kip Whistler on Nov 7, 2023 12:26:05 GMT -5
via @yourcommand on chirpy In 2021 I was runner-up in the J-1 to my partner and fellow champ Mack Caliber In 2022 I was sidetracked by a vindictive lover and her brainwashed lacky but still defended the championship against the winner and everyone who beat me in the tournament. In 2023 I will do what I always do...my very best...a best that (given the evidence above, is pretty darned good). And as an added perk, that can be at the expense of "Lord" Taylor Thorin. You say "ship's mast match?", you say "full pardon?" I say...#atyourcommand. @bookitkip on Chirpy It is official! The J-1 Pinnacle match between Red Pirate Rogers and "Lord" Taylor Thorin on November 14/15 will be a "Ship's Mast Match"!
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