Post by Hano Eiyu on Apr 23, 2013 3:23:56 GMT -5
I will not abandon ye in the dark of night. I will not let ye be beaten or bruised any longer, for thy will be done, I have felt the warmth of a heart and it spoke a poem so emptying and eye-opening that I wish to never eat or blink again if it would satisfy thou master and creator. Doth thou promise to do the same for me?
This is one of Hano Eiyu's RP. It is fair and honest for the most part. It enters with a description of the area at hand and what our subject has chosen to do for the week, whether it is terrorize the masses, his loved ones or himself. It worked hard and tried to give a few twists and turns to stay interesting, but its owner disowned it and threw it to the wayside when he didn’t get what he wanted and because of that, it had to fend for itself as it continually travelled deeper into the uncharted plain. It would like to speak of Smith Jones and Brian Stryker in a brash and cynical way but its muscles are too weak from the beating it has taken, for you see; it has no tale to wag to let other RPs know it is friendly and thus has to continually fight off much bigger and more impressive RPs. It would also like to say how your current Broadcast and United States champions are the cancers that PCW and PW must remove if they wish to live, but it is too preoccupied by cancers of its own that it had gain from potent fumes spreading through the ether net as the trash built higher and higher, like a castle of old. If it had the energy, it would boast about how it would come out the victor and a new era of wrestling would begin. But it didn’t feel confident enough to say such things about anybody for it cursed itself for being wrong enough as it was to be thrown away. It would continue on to say that the heels have robbed the lower card wrestlers of a chance to evolve and experience the top spots that others kept from them, but it started to think maybe there was a lower card for a reason for it could not help its master win any titles. Let’s be honest, how many people have been a part of PCW and how many of them have become champions. The food chain is a humorless bitch that doesn’t help anyone fantasize about their future. And maybe, just maybe, if it had the energy it would speak of Reyna Carter and Angelina Williams with such an acidy tone about how they feared it so they had to interfere to keep it from winning the United States title. But the acid proved to be too corrosive and burnt the tongue before the words could even leave its mouth.
It would have so many things to say and so many cheeky ways to say them…with pop-culture references and obscure movie facts, along with a story that hopefully keep the audience reading. But this RP was not meant to survive as its owner rushed in picking an idea and forever weakened the bones it walked with and tearing the muscle it pushed with. For a young and healthy RP needs a good central idea to pump the words through its paragraphs and a well developed sentence structure to give form and to keep it from being a pile of nonsense. But Alas, this RP was doomed with a poorly executed plot and a very inane point of view. So as it walked along the internet super highway, avoiding the trash that the people threw out their windows, it wished it was a strong and impressive RP like the ones that had beaten upon him, so that his master could be proud and accept him back with loving arms and a profound satisfaction. But this owner was too busy with a new RP, trying to recreate the glory of an RP he had long ago when he felt as fresh as day. For once one tastes the sweet gift of acceptance, he is instantly addicted to the foul drug as if it were the air we breathed. And with that, he neglected all that he chose to create and sometimes cursing the successful RP he had raised. The RP kept moving along.
It now reached a very disturbing part of its journey as it travelled into the dark corners of the web, the bad part of town…It could see more vicious and terrifying RPs lurking in the alleyways and cracks of the abandoned world. But even in such a volatile place, it met others like it. RPs from long ago that were the failures of their owners and were cast aside, never to be remembered again. These few RPs travelled with each other down the rabbit hole in search for something to fill their stomachs and rest their aching limbs, but nay, the most powerful and violent RPs would haze them and block their entrance into a sanctuary that took the little buggers much of their energy to find. Their stomachs still empty, they tried their best to continue onward, feasting on the trash that they spent such a long stretch avoiding. The first two were lucky that all they consumed was benign waste, but the third fell ill to a bad flesh eating virus that ironically consumed him from the inside out, slowly wiping out any signs that he had ever existed. The other two stayed and comforted the third in hopes that he might make a turn for the best, but all they met was disappointment as it remained still and then ceased living with a last pathetic sigh. They continued…Their stomachs ached but were at last full.
Now, you might wonder if the owner ever felt any guilt for doing what he did and the answer is yes, but only in the fact that he brought it into existence in the first place; for not only did he ruin a chance of life, but he made himself look the fool at the same time. So, anytime he felt saddened by his choice of disposing of such a thing, he quickly turned to cursing it for the displeasure it had given him. He felt as if he couldn’t show his face until he could prove that his best hadn’t arrived yet. That he was capable of many more great works that could sit on a shelf instead of fester in the street. So he kept on with his work, forgetting that he had ever turned from it in the first place.
If you looked closely at these two RPs, you would find differences. They had different structure and themes that might have been such in failure or just in common thought. Worlds from the point of view of hateful cynics that placed their beliefs into weird flashes of consciousness. They displayed characters facing hardships that were either asinine or simply childish in a very over protective way to their Mary Sue-ish fictional beings (But let it be known that the author tried…bless his ugly heart). As it has been said, “Birds of a feather flock together”. They shared the suffering and pushed the other onwards in times of surrendering and hopelessness. They would watch each other’s back as the night would come and leave, hoping to find some form of shelter from the hideous monsters creeping around. They would sometimes run into a rat of an RP, small and fractured, which gave the travelling orphans some joyous laughter if their lungs were strong enough to bear it…but if the devil may have it, there would be many others lurking behind it; enough to swarm them and hand them more scratches and scuffs and bangs and bumps. The victims of so many tragedies would gain another tally of depression and then move along as swiftly as they could.
A bond grew between the two as they seemed to be the only ones left that understood the very bottom of the food chain. How they kept on going was beyond the author of this venture and even beyond God himself. With how much they clung to life, you’d think they had something worth living for, but nay, it was just the poor humor of existence that they continued to live as words. But further down the road, their words became jumbled and the other RP lost its tale too. The worlds they once held as hearts and stomachs were empty and lost. Heroes and villains were blurred and the names were cracked. One soon gained a limp and the other gained a cloudy eye. The one with the limp whimpered on and on with every step as it took, struggling to keep up with the other and was at risk of being knocked off by one of the more vulture like writings that used someone else’s words to thicken their gut. But the cloudy eye RP would not let such a thing happen as it chased them off with the fact that these boney RPs were still alive and kicking if it had anything to say about it…if it could say anything about it.
They finally reached the black pit, a land filled with the most vile and deceitful of writings. Creatures that were either filled with nothing but nonsense bigotry or simply filled with fluff and superfluous junk so that it may look bigger. Either way, the entering RPs had very little to fend off the approaching forces, so they ran, they ran as fast as they could to some other place. They didn’t care if it was somewhere they had been rejected before or if they ran somewhere new where writing such as theirs had not been before, they just wanted to escape their attackers. But once again, the one with the limp failed to keep up and was struck by one of the hateful mockeries and fell to the ground. The cloudy eye RP turned back and began to scratch and claw and bite and hit its enemies with such ferociousness that they mistook it for something much bigger and stronger, so they ran back into the abyss that was infested by their kind.
The limping RP laid there whimpering as the words poured from its page. The cloudy eye RP did not try to fool itself if the other would live, now was a time to comfort it in its last moments. So, the RP walked over to it and stayed with it like they had done with the third RP so long ago. It watched the words of its friend and noticed even more similarities than before…wording, the fallacies of grammar, the feeble description and a name, a name so in tuned into its mind that it flinched at the sight of it and cursed the owner of it and its mask. The name was Hano Eiyu. The RP, out of pure chaotic chance had come upon another from the same owner without even realizing it. Many RPs were made to suffer because of one man’s vanity and drive for success and many RPs lay around like corpses because they were made in too much of a rush that they did not have the proper reinforcing to survive. The RP grew angry and howled into space as he knew the creator of this unnecessary hell.
The limping RP’s breaths became sharper and shorter as more words spilled out. It no longer panicked or rattled in hopes of preventing its fate; it merely accepted it and tried to enjoy the company it had been robbed of for most of its existence.
Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale…silence.
The cloudy eye RP was now alone, no one to travel with and no reason to fight…
The owner travelled in search of his forgotten RP in hopes that he could appreciate it now that he had no reason to be ashamed of it since such a stretch of time had passed. He hoped that maybe he could even find some parts he could really enjoy and use them once again in his other RPs. He searched and searched for his RP, simply kicking the once big and violent RPs to the side as they tried to take him down like he was another yummy body of words. After searching for a good amount of time, he finally discovered it laying next to a work he did not recognize for the words had spilled out and dried up. He reached out to his RP but instead of receiving endearment, he received a growl. Puzzled by why he would receive such a response, he reached in closer to calm the abandoned work of art. He received a bite upon his fingers. He quickly pulled his hand back and saw that he bled. He could not comprehend such a sour reaction, he was the creator of it yet it shunned him like he was of a lower life form and as far as the beaten, battered, cloudy eye RP was concerned, he was. The RP barked and growled violently as it kept him away from the other orphan he casted out. The owner backed away then walked off, perplexed and unexplainably ashamed in himself.
The RP remained there for days and days, not wanting to abandon it like the once great creator had. It would continually fight off the vultures and scratch and bite at the predators for it was given something before leaving the hands of its owner and that something was pride. It no longer needed the acceptance from the master and no longer needed to wag a non-existent tail for he was growing stronger from the string of other failed RPs that joined him. There was strength in numbers and he was truly in good company as the common re-occurring problem of vain writers would go (And because the author wished not to leave such a creature in such a disastrous situation on account of his own bitterness). So the RP was no longer a waste of memory and turned into a guiding light to all those that had been abandoned by one writer or another. Together they protect the body of the fallen RP with a limp and there they stood for the rest of existence or at least the rest of existence for Proboards…
The author did not write this for sympathy or shock. He wrote it as a cautionary tale to those who have ever been so shamed at a piece of art that they no longer understood the beauty they once saw. For those words stay long after you leave and forgetting them is as much the same as forgetting your ambition to be. Never stop loving your writing for if you do, you serve only to have it feed on the trash you take in.
(fin)
This is one of Hano Eiyu's RP. It is fair and honest for the most part. It enters with a description of the area at hand and what our subject has chosen to do for the week, whether it is terrorize the masses, his loved ones or himself. It worked hard and tried to give a few twists and turns to stay interesting, but its owner disowned it and threw it to the wayside when he didn’t get what he wanted and because of that, it had to fend for itself as it continually travelled deeper into the uncharted plain. It would like to speak of Smith Jones and Brian Stryker in a brash and cynical way but its muscles are too weak from the beating it has taken, for you see; it has no tale to wag to let other RPs know it is friendly and thus has to continually fight off much bigger and more impressive RPs. It would also like to say how your current Broadcast and United States champions are the cancers that PCW and PW must remove if they wish to live, but it is too preoccupied by cancers of its own that it had gain from potent fumes spreading through the ether net as the trash built higher and higher, like a castle of old. If it had the energy, it would boast about how it would come out the victor and a new era of wrestling would begin. But it didn’t feel confident enough to say such things about anybody for it cursed itself for being wrong enough as it was to be thrown away. It would continue on to say that the heels have robbed the lower card wrestlers of a chance to evolve and experience the top spots that others kept from them, but it started to think maybe there was a lower card for a reason for it could not help its master win any titles. Let’s be honest, how many people have been a part of PCW and how many of them have become champions. The food chain is a humorless bitch that doesn’t help anyone fantasize about their future. And maybe, just maybe, if it had the energy it would speak of Reyna Carter and Angelina Williams with such an acidy tone about how they feared it so they had to interfere to keep it from winning the United States title. But the acid proved to be too corrosive and burnt the tongue before the words could even leave its mouth.
It would have so many things to say and so many cheeky ways to say them…with pop-culture references and obscure movie facts, along with a story that hopefully keep the audience reading. But this RP was not meant to survive as its owner rushed in picking an idea and forever weakened the bones it walked with and tearing the muscle it pushed with. For a young and healthy RP needs a good central idea to pump the words through its paragraphs and a well developed sentence structure to give form and to keep it from being a pile of nonsense. But Alas, this RP was doomed with a poorly executed plot and a very inane point of view. So as it walked along the internet super highway, avoiding the trash that the people threw out their windows, it wished it was a strong and impressive RP like the ones that had beaten upon him, so that his master could be proud and accept him back with loving arms and a profound satisfaction. But this owner was too busy with a new RP, trying to recreate the glory of an RP he had long ago when he felt as fresh as day. For once one tastes the sweet gift of acceptance, he is instantly addicted to the foul drug as if it were the air we breathed. And with that, he neglected all that he chose to create and sometimes cursing the successful RP he had raised. The RP kept moving along.
It now reached a very disturbing part of its journey as it travelled into the dark corners of the web, the bad part of town…It could see more vicious and terrifying RPs lurking in the alleyways and cracks of the abandoned world. But even in such a volatile place, it met others like it. RPs from long ago that were the failures of their owners and were cast aside, never to be remembered again. These few RPs travelled with each other down the rabbit hole in search for something to fill their stomachs and rest their aching limbs, but nay, the most powerful and violent RPs would haze them and block their entrance into a sanctuary that took the little buggers much of their energy to find. Their stomachs still empty, they tried their best to continue onward, feasting on the trash that they spent such a long stretch avoiding. The first two were lucky that all they consumed was benign waste, but the third fell ill to a bad flesh eating virus that ironically consumed him from the inside out, slowly wiping out any signs that he had ever existed. The other two stayed and comforted the third in hopes that he might make a turn for the best, but all they met was disappointment as it remained still and then ceased living with a last pathetic sigh. They continued…Their stomachs ached but were at last full.
Now, you might wonder if the owner ever felt any guilt for doing what he did and the answer is yes, but only in the fact that he brought it into existence in the first place; for not only did he ruin a chance of life, but he made himself look the fool at the same time. So, anytime he felt saddened by his choice of disposing of such a thing, he quickly turned to cursing it for the displeasure it had given him. He felt as if he couldn’t show his face until he could prove that his best hadn’t arrived yet. That he was capable of many more great works that could sit on a shelf instead of fester in the street. So he kept on with his work, forgetting that he had ever turned from it in the first place.
If you looked closely at these two RPs, you would find differences. They had different structure and themes that might have been such in failure or just in common thought. Worlds from the point of view of hateful cynics that placed their beliefs into weird flashes of consciousness. They displayed characters facing hardships that were either asinine or simply childish in a very over protective way to their Mary Sue-ish fictional beings (But let it be known that the author tried…bless his ugly heart). As it has been said, “Birds of a feather flock together”. They shared the suffering and pushed the other onwards in times of surrendering and hopelessness. They would watch each other’s back as the night would come and leave, hoping to find some form of shelter from the hideous monsters creeping around. They would sometimes run into a rat of an RP, small and fractured, which gave the travelling orphans some joyous laughter if their lungs were strong enough to bear it…but if the devil may have it, there would be many others lurking behind it; enough to swarm them and hand them more scratches and scuffs and bangs and bumps. The victims of so many tragedies would gain another tally of depression and then move along as swiftly as they could.
A bond grew between the two as they seemed to be the only ones left that understood the very bottom of the food chain. How they kept on going was beyond the author of this venture and even beyond God himself. With how much they clung to life, you’d think they had something worth living for, but nay, it was just the poor humor of existence that they continued to live as words. But further down the road, their words became jumbled and the other RP lost its tale too. The worlds they once held as hearts and stomachs were empty and lost. Heroes and villains were blurred and the names were cracked. One soon gained a limp and the other gained a cloudy eye. The one with the limp whimpered on and on with every step as it took, struggling to keep up with the other and was at risk of being knocked off by one of the more vulture like writings that used someone else’s words to thicken their gut. But the cloudy eye RP would not let such a thing happen as it chased them off with the fact that these boney RPs were still alive and kicking if it had anything to say about it…if it could say anything about it.
They finally reached the black pit, a land filled with the most vile and deceitful of writings. Creatures that were either filled with nothing but nonsense bigotry or simply filled with fluff and superfluous junk so that it may look bigger. Either way, the entering RPs had very little to fend off the approaching forces, so they ran, they ran as fast as they could to some other place. They didn’t care if it was somewhere they had been rejected before or if they ran somewhere new where writing such as theirs had not been before, they just wanted to escape their attackers. But once again, the one with the limp failed to keep up and was struck by one of the hateful mockeries and fell to the ground. The cloudy eye RP turned back and began to scratch and claw and bite and hit its enemies with such ferociousness that they mistook it for something much bigger and stronger, so they ran back into the abyss that was infested by their kind.
The limping RP laid there whimpering as the words poured from its page. The cloudy eye RP did not try to fool itself if the other would live, now was a time to comfort it in its last moments. So, the RP walked over to it and stayed with it like they had done with the third RP so long ago. It watched the words of its friend and noticed even more similarities than before…wording, the fallacies of grammar, the feeble description and a name, a name so in tuned into its mind that it flinched at the sight of it and cursed the owner of it and its mask. The name was Hano Eiyu. The RP, out of pure chaotic chance had come upon another from the same owner without even realizing it. Many RPs were made to suffer because of one man’s vanity and drive for success and many RPs lay around like corpses because they were made in too much of a rush that they did not have the proper reinforcing to survive. The RP grew angry and howled into space as he knew the creator of this unnecessary hell.
The limping RP’s breaths became sharper and shorter as more words spilled out. It no longer panicked or rattled in hopes of preventing its fate; it merely accepted it and tried to enjoy the company it had been robbed of for most of its existence.
Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale…silence.
The cloudy eye RP was now alone, no one to travel with and no reason to fight…
The owner travelled in search of his forgotten RP in hopes that he could appreciate it now that he had no reason to be ashamed of it since such a stretch of time had passed. He hoped that maybe he could even find some parts he could really enjoy and use them once again in his other RPs. He searched and searched for his RP, simply kicking the once big and violent RPs to the side as they tried to take him down like he was another yummy body of words. After searching for a good amount of time, he finally discovered it laying next to a work he did not recognize for the words had spilled out and dried up. He reached out to his RP but instead of receiving endearment, he received a growl. Puzzled by why he would receive such a response, he reached in closer to calm the abandoned work of art. He received a bite upon his fingers. He quickly pulled his hand back and saw that he bled. He could not comprehend such a sour reaction, he was the creator of it yet it shunned him like he was of a lower life form and as far as the beaten, battered, cloudy eye RP was concerned, he was. The RP barked and growled violently as it kept him away from the other orphan he casted out. The owner backed away then walked off, perplexed and unexplainably ashamed in himself.
The RP remained there for days and days, not wanting to abandon it like the once great creator had. It would continually fight off the vultures and scratch and bite at the predators for it was given something before leaving the hands of its owner and that something was pride. It no longer needed the acceptance from the master and no longer needed to wag a non-existent tail for he was growing stronger from the string of other failed RPs that joined him. There was strength in numbers and he was truly in good company as the common re-occurring problem of vain writers would go (And because the author wished not to leave such a creature in such a disastrous situation on account of his own bitterness). So the RP was no longer a waste of memory and turned into a guiding light to all those that had been abandoned by one writer or another. Together they protect the body of the fallen RP with a limp and there they stood for the rest of existence or at least the rest of existence for Proboards…
The author did not write this for sympathy or shock. He wrote it as a cautionary tale to those who have ever been so shamed at a piece of art that they no longer understood the beauty they once saw. For those words stay long after you leave and forgetting them is as much the same as forgetting your ambition to be. Never stop loving your writing for if you do, you serve only to have it feed on the trash you take in.
(fin)
