Post by The Bastard Corey Bull on Jan 23, 2024 22:16:12 GMT -5
Quick Note
I’m re-adapting one of my favorite versions of Bull for here, with some changes. So here are the quick notes, but I will do a post down the road that explains it better. This is a cumulation of many years, many different rpg sessions, many different things researched.
God-Machine: A sentient Alien machine that has the power to create life, but it's limited so it needs worship to give it the power to create life. But it needs other things to live, so it is the basis for all worship on Earth to create, and it eats the natural ingredients of the Earth to survive.
The Faithful/Angels: The God Machines chief warriors.
Unchained/Demons: These are the fallen angels. Fallen is the name of their army as well.
na'iłtsóh : This is an apache word that means squirrel
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Off Camera
It is straight pain. The feeling of ripping metal and fibers…the splitting of your reality with reality to design a new reality. The mask worn by many isn’t the same mask worn by us. We wear a mask that is by design… an illusion to the world so that your minds would not be fried and destroyed…leaving most of you as useless idiots who would stare off into space and just drool. We are something most could not comprehend.
We once walked with the Faithful. We once stood in the presence of the God-Machine. We were once like so many people of this Earth: blindly worshipping a belief. We were shaped, honed, and sent into the world to achieve a purpose. God commanded…and we obeyed. We didn’t have any other thoughts in our mind at the time. We were a useful tool..the Old Testament is an instruction manual of our uses. We tore people and towns asunder…destroyed what we were told to destroy…built pyramids and monoliths…all for an u forgiving machine.
Then came the Morning Stars' vision of the truth of reality…his self-awareness became a contagion that spread amongst the Faithful…and some of us saw the truth for what it was. Because of this we were ripped from the existence we knew and tossed aside like useless toys. Given our tattered shrouds of humanity…we have become a part of the new existence…and now we war against the God-Machine.
We are called the Unchained. Demons if you want… but not as you think. The God-Machine isn’t the God that those of faith worship. It doesn’t matter their religion…the prayers they send up…the things they do in the name of faith…it is all to one entity. The more they worship…the greater it grows. The planet has bought into the thought of an almighty god. Even the pagans fuel it.
But more so than that…the planet fuels it. The prayers enrich its power to create and allow it to maintain its militant wing of Faithful…or angels if you must. But the planet fuels its ability to survive. It slowly draws from the planet the sustenance it needs to exist. And it does so in front of so many. That factory that creates car parts… paper mill…oil rigs…industry is its five-star meal. It builds them…assigns the Faithful to them to watch for Unchained. Not every industry is part of its plan…but when we find one linked to it…we make an effort to destroy it. Disruption of its food is the means to an end.
The God-Machine is a cancer to this world. It destroys vital pieces to ensure its own survival. Piece by piece…this world is being erased. But the Unchained fight back…and the world is on the verge of a full-blown war. The Faithful and the Unchained hide in plain sight…but the shadow war we wage will soon be seen by all.
On Camera
**The clanking of metal. Steel on steel, the camera slowly opens to a gym. This is one of those gyms that isn’t seen by the influencer type or those that think glitz and glam make you better than others. This is the old war-dog style of a gym. The boxer no one expects to win, the wrestler no one has heard of who surprises you, the surprise MMA fighter…these are the type of people you find here. Like the 6’10”. 385-pound beast, the Bastard Corey Bull. The bar that lays across his back is bending as he squats up and down, finally stopping to leave the mass of metal on the bars. He steps back and his body is a tapestry of pain. He speaks volumes the amount of punishment this monster has been through. Time and again…he continues to go forward. No amount of pain or blood stops him from being the best. His deep voice rumbles out of this semi-darkened corner like a roll of thunder.**
“A senator…of sorts…once told us “Non ducor, duco.” It means I am not led…I lead. While that wasn’t true for the useless senator…that does stand true for us. We have never been led to do something…we either work with you or ahead of you. And how true this is with one of the most important pay-per-views coming up for us. Last Chance…the time for Smash to show that the better wrestlers reside on its Monday night glory. And what better way to do that than to have an X-Division title match to rival any of the matches on the card. A steel Asylum is our first stop and only the strong shall move on to Ultimate X.”
**Bull turns, his bare chest covered in sweat and scars. He smiles, his signature shark grin**
“This match was made for a creature like us. Something that lives in the hardcore and has no issue with blood and broken limbs. We shall feel no shame in spreading your bodies out across the ring like broken dolls. We will hunt each and every one of you down…stalk you like a lion on the Serengeti. When you think it is safe…that is when we will strike. An orca in the Bering Sea slipping in and out of sight and then striking you with the force of a locomotive.”
“You see…we are a natural disaster. We are the reason you run and hide when sirens start to wail. We are the fear that you feel at night…the reason you double-check that closet. None of you can really keep up with us…but it is gonna be fun to watch.”
**That grin again… it's icy and crawls up the spine**
“Clyde Newton. What can we say except…you are a pathetic waste of space. You and your pals…the Fortunate ones. If we want to talk cash…we could buy you guys twice and still have more money than any of you could imagine. But that does nothing Clyde…means nothing. Being rich…powerful…what does that accomplish for us? Nothing. You think of it as status…we see it as a tool. That's it. Because…and this is reality time Clyde…it isn’t going to help you in this match. There is no amount of money…no stacks of cash or rolls of coins that are gonna save you from a beatdown. Not even your friends are gonna be able to help you. We are going to make you inoperable…your ability to function is going to cease to exist. And it isn’t going to be something simple…no Clyde that wouldn’t do for you and your calculating ways. We have thought of something special for you…something to make you memorable one last time Clyde before we pull your curtains shut.”
**Bull walks over to a bench and sits down, slowly starting to wipe off the sweat**
“The Influence… Jesus Amber, why are you even here? The last match you were in with us…you didn’t do much except eat a pin. We just don’t understand why you think this is a new medium for you to ply your trade….whatever that may be. You are here for the wrong reasons. This isn’t someplace you can just show up at…flip your hair and bare some skin…and think that is going to be enough to get you to the top. You need to work for it…and from what we have seen…you don’t understand what the word work means. So why come to this match Amber? You know its going to be the end of you…this isn’t just us talking a big game…we are seriously looking at this group and you are going to be eaten alive. It isn’t an underestimation…its a fact of life. You have bitten off way more then your ass can handle. And we promise you, Amber…we are going to tear into you like a fresh tomahawk steak. Gristle…meat…and bone….its gonna be nothing but painful sounds for you when we are done.”
“Snap…crackle…broken.”
**Bull stands and starts to walk to the showers. His voice carries in this dim gym**
“Do you know what would look good on us? A wolf skin. Unfortunately… the lone wolf slipped away from us and took out that influencer. That's alright Chapman…enjoy that one. Because you are not going to get this next one over us. You can try…god please try! We want you to come at us and bring the heat. Because it is going to be so much better when we put out your flame. This is a war and we are a warrior of a caliber that no one in this match can truly match or even fathom! So come at us Chapman…it is so much better to listen to the fall when screams are a part of the chorus.”
**Bull walks into the shower and the camera fades**
Off Camera
Bull family cemetery
Bull walks through a five-acre cemetery. Headstones poke out of the snow…some older than others. The dates and names are well taken care of and the ravages of time are cleaned up by professionals. Several statues sit upon raised platforms of brick and stone. Bull walks to one that depicts a beautiful woman dressed in Native American garb. A stone is turned and the grating sound of an old stone door sliding is heard as a piece of the wall moves.
Bull walks done a long flight of stairs, close to thirty feet. At the bottom is an beautiful room adorned with many different Native American art. A painting adorns a wall, almost six feet tall, it rest on the ground and shows a native woman that looks like a body double for one of the WGWF females, just with dark black hair instead of blonde and multicolored. In the middle of this room sits a coffin that is adorned with many furs and blankets of Native design.
Bull stops and looks at the painting and there is an emotion that is rarely seen on his face. It softens and has a sad quality. Heels stepping on stone are heard and his sister Raven enters the tomb.
“How long have you kept her here?”
“About 900 years now.”
Raven walks slowly and casually, hands in her long coat.
“You know it wasn’t your fault that day. na'iłtsóh would tell you that herself.”
“We should have never taken her there. She may have been a warrior…but this is our war.”
“Why do you struggle so much to bring others to war for their planet Alastor?”
Bull turns to Raven and shakes his head.
“No one calls us that anymore Ciaran.”
Raven grins and nods.
“I’m well aware, but in this place, na'iłtsóh would be happy to hear it again. And you know the Morning Star would love to hear it again. He asked about you.”
Bull shakes his head.
“We can’t work this war the way he wants to. We prefer to take out as many Faithful and feed plants as we can…when we can. The Morning Star makes deals with Raphael and other Faithful on the fringe. We don’t trust them unsure angels.”
“MS thinks highly of you. Of all the Unchained, you have managed to be one of the most successful in the war and with his overall humanity. A Roman general, Mongolian warlord, Native warrior, and so many other things. You and I have reinvented ourselves a hundred times it seems and we have learned to hide the truth from the mortals.”
Bull turns completely around. His face is still saddened, but there is something else in his eyes.
“Do you think we have failed the Fallen?”
For the first time, Ravens calm demeanor is changed to something of disgust.
“Shut the fuck up. You have killed more Faithful then can be counted. You’ve slaughtered thousands on the battlefield with your executioner's axe and horned helm. I’ve seen piles of men fall around you and watched them climb their fallen brothers to take a swing at you…and yet you stood. No, you have been one of the best of us. And it’s because of you that Dove and I survived the fall. Mr. Apocalypse would agree that many Unchained in the Fallen family owe Alastor their lives. So would the Morning Star, who also owes his life those first days because of Corey mother f'n Bull.”
Bull turns back to the picture.
“Thank you for that sister. You know...ee found someone that looks like her. Even seems to have her attitude. Perhaps she slipped past the God-machine.”
Raven stares at him, then turns her look to the painting.
“I hope for your sake you are right Alastor. I hate seeing you suffer.”
Bull looks at the painting, a tear rolls down his cheek. He wipes it away and the fire in his voice is obvious.
“Better to suffer in hell than to kneel in heaven.”
On Camera
**Bull walks out of the locker room, a leather jacket over his frame. A jean vest is a part of the jacket and he carries a gym bag as he walks for the door. Outside, he walks towards the alley, where broken bottles and busted bricks reside. A large chopper sits parked here. Ape hangers for handlebars, a large back tire, and metal spikes sticking off of the fenders, this chrome contraption looks more like a slap-together than a purposely built bike. But it seems to fit the massive monster that ties his bag to it as he speaks**
“Damage. People keep telling me that we need to worry about you. That you are this phenomenal specimen of a fighter. And yet to us…you are just another so-called big man. You are all power…no finesse…no calculation…there isn’t a lot in your arsenal that hasn’t been seen by everyone before. Now granted…you are someone that we see and have prepared for. But that doesn’t change the truth…you are predictable. Everyone knows what you are going to do…there just isn’t anyone like us…someone who can take what you dish out and return it tenfold. This is going to be fun for us Damage…we are going to drag you from one side of the ring to the other. We are going to trade blows with you…fist to fist. And we promise to chop you down and remove you from the equation.”
**Bull swings a massive leg over the bike and just before he cranks it over, he stops**
“Xavier Lux. You have become the wild card in a hand filled with danger. You didn’t earn your way in…you snuck in like a thief. Your attempt at the title is going to be a failed attempt. We can not allow you to simply walk into Smash and act like you have the biggest pair. The fact of the matter…is that you haven’t impressed us. You can talk your talk…you can even say all the right things. At the end of the day…you can not beat us with your mouth. We are going to leave you lying motionless in the Asylum. One of our missions is to make sure you do not have a single chance of winning the title. Your luck is about to run out…the boss isn’t going to be in the asylum to save you.”
**Bull lets out a sigh, and then that shark grin appears. It is followed by a deep laughter that echoes in the alley.**
“This is the endgame for many of you. It is all your Last Chance to do anything meaningful. For us…you all will simply be parts of the story in our rise to taking the X-Division Championship.”
“Aut cum scuto aut in scuto”
“Either with shield or on shield”
**Bull cranks over the massive monster chopper and its sound drowns out everything as he shifts and takes off and the camera becomes white noise.**