REAL NAME: Annabelle Cusaneau RING NAME: MARTYR NICKNAMES: The War Priest, The End Game, The Devourer. BILLED FROM: Beyond The Pale. REPRESENTING: Parts Unknown BILLED HEIGHT: 6'2" BILLED WEIGHT: 180 lb. DATE OF BIRTH (AND AGE): March 15, 1998. PRONOUNS: They/She. TRAINED BY: George Anton - SPARTAN Camp. DISPOSITION: Chaotic Neutral/Force of Nature. PERSONA: Matter-Eater. World-Ender. MARTYR believes they are on a holy conquest to some force beyond human recognition, with their sole goal being utter destruction of all those who are unfortunate to stand across from-or with-them. PICTURE BASE: KiLynn King. BACKSTORY: A young and formidable powerhouse, Annabelle found a purpose for the violence they were able to inflict when they got a bit too into that sort of Eldritch Lovecraftian Fuck Shit. Their beliefs power their violence, and their violence feeds their beliefs in a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. ENTRANCE THEME: "Icon of Sin" by Mick Gordon. ENTRANCE DESCRIPTION: [*code]A heavy thrumming plays out through the arena speakers as the lights go down, vibrating the crowd's chairs with each concussive blast of noise, until a fifth strikes and an eerie silence falls over all. An industrial thundering rumbles through the arena, like the footfalls of a massive animal, before 'Icon of Sin' begins playing out through the speakers.
As smoke billows out through the entrance ramp, a silhouette can be seen, backlit by dark red light. A figure emerges from the smog, clad in maroon and black gear-a consecutive vinyl and leather set carved with DOOM-esque runic symbols up to where it cuts off at the sleeves and around the neck. The figure also wears a blood red leather jacket, and has a half-face mask that protrudes barbed tendrils that hang loosely down the front of it.
The figure makes their way to the ring, not acknowledging the crowd and instead focusing dead ahead as they slide under the rope. They approach their corner with little acknowledgement to the crowd or others in the ring, stepping up onto the middle rope as they drop their jacket off and pull their mask free. The announcer speaks.
"Fighting from Beyond The Pale[/b...weighing in tonight at [b]one-hundred and eighty-pounds...they are the War Priest, the Devourer...the END GAME...i]MARTYR![/i]"
Martyr gives a grim smile as the lights come back up, before laying their mask out on the corner and stretching against the ropes. [/*code]
COMBAT CHARACTERISTICS
COMBATANT CONCENTRATIONS ENVIRONMENTAL AWARENESS: Medium. MARTYR is aware of what makes a good weapon, but their ring awareness (and general technical talents) leave much to be desired. They often won't go for rope breaks in submissions or pins, instead attempting to power themselves out-to their benefit or deficit. However, if they see something sharp or stiff, they'll be sure to throw their opponent into it. FAVORITE WEAPON(S): Blunt objects. Chairs, tables, anything that can crack a skull. They don't favor the sharp bits. FAVORITE COMBAT STIPULATION(S): Last Man Standing. Endurance is their strong suit, they seek to outlast all others who come to war them. TENDENCY TO CHEAT: Intentionally, low, but they will go a bit too far in being aggressive to their opponents and others in the ring, which could either do some heavy damage to their competition or cost them a bout. MOTIVATIONS FOR COMBAT: To cause pain and gain recognition. Little else. WRESTLING STYLE (YOU CAN CHOOSE MORE THAN ONE): POWERHOUSE
PRO COMP(S): The brutal, violent bits of WALTER, Brody King, Jacob Fatu.
COMBAT CLOSERS (List in order of predominance of use; you do not need to use all of the slots; optional Limit Break Finisher) PRIMARY FINISHER: BLOOD AND DARKNESS Spin-Out Argentine Neckbreaker, into a pin. SECONDARY FINISHER: WRATH OF THE GODS Powerbomb, lifted and popped up into a Samoan Drop. TERTIARY FINISHER: THE OLD PAIN. Ripcord into a Black Hole Slam. DESPERATION FINISHER: THE DEEP'S KISS Flying Big Boot/Brogue Kick.
SIGNATURE MANEUVERS (List in order of predominance of use if possible; you do not need to use all of the slots) Lift-Up Pop Up into a Forearm Smash. Sit Out Double Arm Chokebomb. Choke Lift into a Lariat Slam. Counter-Catch into a BearHug, into a BearHug Spinebuster. Running Stomp to a Kneeling Opponent. Full Nelson Bomb.
COMMON MANEUVERS Running Boot and Kick Variations. Lariat Variations. Suplex Variations. Chokeslam and Toss Variations. Punches, Elbows, and Forearms. Backbreaker Variations. Spinning Scoop Slam into a pin attempt. Cradle Suplex Lift into a Corner-Aimed Suplex. Torture Rack Backbreaker. Pop-Up Running Powerslam. Thumb Spike To The Throat. Inverted Crush.
OUT-OF-CHARACTER
YOUR NAME: Juuuunnniiipppeeeerrrrrrr YEARS OF EXPERIENCE (HANDLER): a lot YEARS OF EXPERIENCE (STAFF): a lot but not as many. CHARACTER TWITTER HANDLE (IF APPLICABLE): n/a yet HOW DID YOU FIND US?: i come here somtimes. DID YOU READ THE RULES AND FAQ THREADS?: yea
SAMPLE ROLEPLAY
“This…this is the end.”
A cold, dark place, fitting for the voice that speaks it. We’re in a derelict house in some derelict fishing town. The smell of salted water and rotting fish is fresh in the air, but the figure in frame doesn’t seem to notice. Clad in a black pair of dress pants with a white rolled-sleeve shirt and a blood red dress vest, they wear a grim smile.
“You already know that, though, don’t you? You wouldn’t have come here expecting a happy story, some pleasant jaunt through the marsh and an expectation of glory. No, this is the end and you’re all too happy to meet it. You’re all too happy to walk into the maw of something great and expect death…but I can smell that hesitancy on you, that brief moment before you step into the lair of the devil, when you admire those stalagtites like teeth before you descend into the cave.
You’ve still got hope. You’ve still got dreams. You’ve still got an expectation that somehow, you make it out of this scenario alive. Maybe, perhaps, the stories aren’t as bad as they say. Maybe the legends are wrong, and this cavern doesn’t swallow up all that come in. Maybe this town doesn’t eat souls, and it’s just an urban myth, that the washed up husks that’ve walked away from this encounter were just fried out from drugs, 5G, whatever you want to say.
I love those who are still hopeful when they come to me, who expect that the void won’t eat them because they’ve remained positive. What keeps them hopeful is always different-someone back home, a God above in the skies, the mounting debt that they find themselves crushed under. Something’s gotta keep us all going, after all, keep our engines pumping through with diesel and oil, powering onward. Something’s gotta fucking give, aye?”
The figure chuckles.
“It’s none of those reasons that I love them, though. I get a certain sort of satisfaction out of it. Call me sick-you would regardless of whether or not you knew this-but that momentary panic when the light drains from their eyes as I wrap my hand around their throat like so many fucking worms coming out of wet soil, the moment that hope is extinguished, that feeds me. Nourishes me. Gets me off, even. That’s my God, for the moment, that moment of divine fear when someone realizes that they’re well and truly fucked.
In that moment, when I’m sure they know it’s over-I end it.
I’m glad to see so many hopeful faces staring back at me as I watch you through the puddles, the windows, the eyes of the crowd. I’m glad to see so many that have what feeds me, that’ll be stomped out when the moment provides. I’m glad to see so many waiting.
I’m glad to take your hopes for Victory...and devour them whole.”
by MinaAizawa Thu Oct 13, 2022 3:46 am
Subject: MARTYR 
