Stipulations: This match takes place deep into misted woods, where it's cold, windy, with a lodging cabin and its surrounding structures on a hill's slope. One wrestler is already there, waiting, perhaps hiding, while the second is set to enter. The premises is rigged with weapons, traps and other strange machinations.
Victory Conditions: Only one wrestler can leave.
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Victory Conditions: Only one wrestler can leave.
Credits
A huge thanks to @Rymiscuius for writing the introduction to this thread!
“Ah, it’s about time for the feast.” He stands, and walks to the window with the camera following him to a side profile. He strokes the creases of the living house, solemnly staring at the sirens that continued to sound, but only a tenth of its volume. Just outside, crows begin to collect and descend into the tall glades, with only its red eyes visible, occasionally staring back. “Through the centuries, I have been a mere spectator for the tragic — the violent, the rejected and the hateful. I follow their inclinations to come upon a story. To which—“
He drew a book from within his coat, with its leather edges worn to white, its black and orange face, with inscribed orange words that read Hallowed Tome. “I record here, and grant each protagonist a copy of their own misery. Tonight, I’ll repeat that tradition — in a quarrel of blood-bathed intent.
Dear spectators, I invite you to revel in a story where two evil women have decided each other’s fates and have gone to where no one knows to exact just that. They’re hellbent on carving each other like pumpkins, and ripping out each other’s seeds to plant a lit candle in what’s left.” He opens the window, and two crows fly in. They drop weapons on the floor. A machete and a brown leather clawed glove. Mr Halloween taps his foot down and the house reacts by bridging its planks, and pushes the items up on the back of two by fours. He claims them and raises the machete, looking at it and touching the blade delicately.
“Ah. Her. From the fields of sugarcane, to the necks of the unfortunate. A Hardcore Queen emerges. She, who has only been stopped by her own boredom. A rather angry soul, with battle-lust deep rooted as the bones she will break. Cecilia Northman, the cutting edge of violence.” Mr. Halloween whips the Machete on the ground and strikes the wood between the cameraman’s feet. His breathing hastens, and he stumbles back. The house groans, shakes and he falls on his butt, still pointing the camera while he fumbles to focus. Mr Halloween walks forward, grinning as he dons the bladed leather glove.
“This claw… Belongs to a lowly thief, who frolics in her own mud. She’s a demon who wears her horns in open daylight. Soaked in debauchery and trapped in a smaller body. But where she lacks in size, she matches in a malicious instinct. Angelina Tarrant, a true Akuma.”
He leans towards the downed cameraman, who got comfortable on his back. The camera shakes and Mr Halloween grabs it with his hand, and renders it still. The focus and the light centre on his pale complexion, with the ravens on his shoulders. “When two murderers meet, just who do you think will leave alive? Hm? It’s time you and I found out.” A claw drags against the screen and it turns to violent static. On the other side, in the stadium, the screen throws a small rainfall of sparks from its edges and mimicked the line Mr Halloween carved.
