W Y V E R N vs. Karla "Ray" Reinhardt Match Type: Standard Rules: Match ends via pin or submission. Spoiler
The lights in the arena dim to nothing for a few seconds, the audience's volume dropping to a hush as they wait for the next event with anticipation. As Wyvern's theme begins and the lights begin to strobe, however, it does little to rally the quiet arena's attention. Wyvern makes her way out of the gorilla position and towards the ring to her usual smattering of uninterested boos. She does note a few scattered cheers, as well, but despite the novelty of this new experience she ultimately doesn't care too much. Wyvern isn't a crowd pleaser in any sense of the term, but she hadn't been hired for her charisma. The evidence of the crowd's opinions would fade away from her perception once the match started. No point in worrying about them now. Putting her musings aside, Wyvern closes her eyes as the ring announcer begins speaking, navigating her way forward from memory alone.
"The following contest is set for one fall. Now entering the ring, from Drogheda, Ireland, weighing in at 137 ibs...WYVERN!"
Rolling in under the bottom ropes, Wyvern slides smoothly up to her feet, then rolls her shoulders and neck before opening her eyes. Pacing around the outer edge of the ring, Wyvern continues to block out the crowd as she makes sure nothing is out of the ordinary. The inspection had thus far proven entirely unnecessary thus far, the rings of LAW being held to the highest standards, but Wyvern's habits of caution from her time in far less reliable promotions had yet to fade. The Irish wrestler tugs at a few of the ropes to test their security and satisfy herself before making her way to one of the far corners from the entrance, where she takes a hunched seat on the bottom turnbuckle. Idlely adjusting the fit of her gloves, she directs her focus to the top of the ramp, awaiting her opponent.
Last edited by Hills on Tue Jun 21, 2022 4:35 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Mostly unable to post. Hoping to return fully by the end of the year.
For an entrance worthy of Karla Ray Reinhardt, there was to be nothing in view but her. Lights bowed to darkness, the audible beginnings thrusts of her entrance theme drummed to ears. Spotlights flicked on, small little cones that started to dance around the stage. They conglomerated before the ramp as her theme hit its crescendo, an almost divine sparkle of light, what Karla would call a splitting of the heavens as her figure emerged into the sphere, illuminated for all to see. She was not tall, but the way she walked, deliberate and strong was like she was six foot four. Her figure was carved, the skin smooth like silk. Muscles on her thighs etched a few valleys, and her abdomen was like a trench, forming an eight-pack with a sharp V. Her short-shorts, black, gold and ruby, donning her name, hugged her hips. And her top, latex and spades, black, red, holding her crest at the heart and her name on the shapes, squeezed a fair perky chest and on the back with all those hard-fought definitions. From her round shoulders and hilly arms, her firm forearm and flawless hands, cloaked in latex sleeves. Most recent was that fur coat, black and draping on her forearms as she held her arms out, elbows tucked close, palms up with the fingers half-flexed. She leaned to one hip, stomping her golden-black boot and sneered as the crowd let rip what they thought. It’s a hailstorm of boos, an almost united voice if not for cheers spilling out. Spoiler
Spoiler
Why so? The thought itched on the back of Karla’s mind. She peered to the side, slowly turning head as she grew more smug. But she refused to meet anyone’s eyes, instead tipping her chin up and surveying like some god on a pedestal. Then she walked, slow and scanning. There wasn’t much heckling this time around. That too was an odd sight. Many were quiet, some changed to encouraging shouts, “GET HER KRR!” “KILL HER KARLA!”
Karla stopped on foot after hearing them. She stared outward, not looking at anyone in particular. The positive reaction was something she scoffed at - but it was also all too bemusing. Having this show of respect, if not an itch for the aggression Karla wrought proved to not yield much for her. She simply walked on, dropping her coat on the steel steps as she walked the apron putting a hand on the top rope then snapping her fingers. The referee dragged herself over to seat the middle rope, pushing up the top. Karla hooked her leg over the middle, arched back, planting her palm on her lips then blowing a kiss with her hand flipping the bird. She unhooked her leg, pulled back the top rope and vaulted into the ring, stomping the landing and going into a crouch that jerked the rope onto the referee’s collar, who yelped and tumbled inside the ring, recovering on one knee and holding the impact spot.
“Next time, be faster!” She shouted at the official, then took the ring’s centre, leaning on one hip and lifting a brow to Wyvern. The scrutinizing was almost telepathic. “And just who are you, Hundchen? I didn’t know LAW hired back alley rejects. Then again…” Karla looked to her hand, flexing out the fingers to check her nails, “LAW has a tendency to recruit a lot of lacklustre faces.”
As Karla makes her entrance, Wyvern's eyes narrow in on her target, gauging her from the moment she makes her appearance. Flashy entrance. Obvious pride in her physical appearance and skill. Likely egotistical. Needle about family? No. Too personal/unnecessary. Potential to exceed target effect. Base insults should be sufficient against someone like her. Wyvern's analysis pauses when Karla does, the shorter wrestler sweeping her eyes in the general direction of the crowd while still keeping her nose in the air. Addendum: still more popular with the audience than I am. Another tweak of annoyance, but nothing Wyvern hadn't learned to deal with during her career. As Karla gets closer to the ring, Wyvern begins to roll her shoulders and neck in anticipation of the coming match, but stops with her head cocked to the side when Karla tricks the referee in order to embarass and harm them for some imagined slight. Wyvern expels a derisive breath through her nose before righting herself, immediately standing up and striding over to meet her opponent in the center of the ring. Karla "Ray" Reinhardt. Highly proficient striker, extensive experience and success in the ring. Controls match pace to break opponent down. Will make illegal strikes if the opportunity presents itself, but not overtly reliant on cheating. Vicious. This should be a good fight.
While Wyvern's musculature isn't quite as heavily defined as Karla's own, at this range the German wrestler can easily see that she is no less fit. Every piece of exposed skin is pulled taut over powerful but slender muscles, a body strengthened through pure use and constant labor rather than any kind of deliberate cultivation or focus on appearance. She also moves with a controlled grace that belies the casual, almost blank look on her face, red eyes immediately locking on to Karla's own and refusing to break eye contact or back down. Calloused fingertips emerge from well-worn MMA gloves, which have clearly seen extensive use. New or not to LAW, Wyvern is clearly no stranger to fighting. The younger wrestler steps directly up to Karla, stopping just shy of bumping chests with her. Despite her height advantage, Wyvern does not try to loom over Karla or press her size, opting to just stare her down.
"Law hires all kinds of rejects. You should know that from experience, Soith."
Wyvern maintains a near-monotone the entire time she speaks, despite the insulting nature of her statement. In spite of her flat affect, however, internally Wyvern is coiled, watching carefully for even the slightest sign of aggression from Karla so as not to be caught off guard. Meanwhile, the referee has finally recovered from Karla's stinging admonishment, and goes to call for the bell.
Last edited by Hills on Tue Jun 28, 2022 8:21 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Mostly unable to post. Hoping to return fully by the end of the year.
This woman has quite the stare.
It’s not common that she didn’t pluck what made someone react from the first few moments. A seedling to know just how to speak next. But now she stood toe-to-toe with a stone-wall, looking up, grinning and waiting to see what they had back. Could she smell a sense of arrogance - or was it confidence? Excitement? Maybe a bit of bitterness? It was a guessing game. But with the retort that came back, it was clever in that it provided no clear answer just yet. It did make her chuckle, a brow raised, if not bemused, mentally criticizing the verbal jab if it were a dog trying to sass its master.
“Are you certain it’s wise to say that to your main event, Hundchen?” And the bell rang.
Karla’s stance would remain neutral. Her left foot slipped back slightly. “You look like you enjoy a fight. So, why don’t we start in the spirit of pro wrestling? Just pure ability.” Karla’s right arm flexed to show a wealthy bicep - then the limb outstretched overhead, slowly, the fingers flexed as the latex sleeve stretched tight over the palm. “Take my hand.” A firm voice commanded, loud and to carry to the front row.
Though the moment any move to accept her challenge came. The second eyes lifted to meet her hand, Karla used her stronger left side to deliver its surprise. A potent five-fingered battering ram swung up and tried to thrust into Wyvern’s mouth, with all self-sacrificing ferocity and use of the knuckle. Her shoulder, and thus weight was tossed into the motion to maximise the payload. This woman had the nerve to stand mono on mono. It was time they regret every action leading to this point...
Once again, Karla's taunt and arched eyebrow fails to draw any meaningful reaction from Wyvern. If the younger wrestler had put any stock into her own jab, the chuckle might have drawn a trace of annoyance from her, but Wyvern's trash talk is simply an enjoyable exercise to her, and a chance to draw out the full power of her opponents. A missed shot was just a chance to calibrate further. A returning salvo an invitation to continue. What was the point of even being her if she couldn't have her fun?
"Main event? You're not even my preshow."
Whether or not Karla was too arrogant to even countenance the thought, Wyvern refused to be drawn into the older wrestler's pace. That was a losing strategy against an opponent like this, regardless of if it was in words or actions.
As Karla offers her challenge of strength, Wyvern initially doesn't react. She fixes Karla with a focused stare, red-covered eyes drilling into Karla's own. After a few moments, however, Wyvern lifts one hand to take the one offered by her opponent, and then twitches her eyes upwards to check its position. Immediately, Karla's plan goes wrong. Wyvern's eyes immediately snap back down, the motion no more than a bluff to draw a reaction. In truth, Wyvern had never let her focus lapse on her opponent, waiting for even the slightest hint of aggression to act. At the same time Karla attacks, Wyvern moves her head, unable to avoid the incoming haymaker entirely but enough to prevent her from taking the strike directly into her mouth. And, in the same motion, her own fist rockets forward, a cross counter aimed at Karla's own jaw.
Mostly unable to post. Hoping to return fully by the end of the year.
The reply earned Karla’s instant scoff. She didn’t say anything back at the time, instead, lifted the hand, ready to play an opening game. It’s a rudimentary trick. Call it a taster, not only for Wyvern - but for Karla as well. There’s always a method to this haughty madness, for beyond those eyes was not iron - but steel. So when Karla played her hand, she shot her shoulder; an all-in bid, countered by an indescribable bludgeon to her own jaw that sent it sideways. It rattled up her skull until a moment’s headache swelled. The pain made her eye flinch, a foot drew back and she steadied.
“Pre-show?” Karla asked, followed by a forced laugh. A tongue swiped over her strawberry lipstick savvy bottom lip, as though it could nurse the impact zone. She faced forward again, a hand tapping her jaw. “How precious. Lying to my face.”
Indeed, the match’s pace often had her governance. Not many shaped their way around it, for even by her talking, she was buying time. And to reply was to buy in. Those focused eye’s of her opponent became Karla’s main takeaway. Snappy reflexes and precision rebuttals. It was something she found most deadly, and not worth attacking from here any longer. “Bravo, hundchen!” Karla said, splaying her arms and retreating slowly, “You just punched me in the face! I'm sure many more wish to do the same… But! The question is!” Karla puckered her lips, tapping them, “Can you do it again?”
She propped out her chin and started to walk along the edges of the ring. Her hands grabbed each other behind her back, and she took these high-lift steps like an exaggerated march.
Even without taking the blow directly as intended, Wyvern keenly feels the impact of Karla's punch as it slams into her jaw. As well muscled as she is, Wyvern wasn't expecting the other wrestler to be able to put so much power behind her strikes given her smaller frame. It's a mistake that costs her the chance to follow up, as she's sent reeling backwards from the exchange and forced to take a step back to recover. She takes some satisfaction in seeing that Karla was forced to do so as well, but the lost opportunity to press the attack still rankles. Underestimating her opponent was an amateurish mistake, particularly against an adversary like this one.
Locking eyes with Karla, Wyvern continues to try to read her opponent. For all of her taunting and grandstanding, there was a deadly edge to her movements, and her eyes were that of a predator sizing up its prey. Feeling Wyvern's strength had made her cautious, but it was not fear that was making her back off now. She would keep trying until she found a weak point.
Wyvern does not immediately pursue Karla, instead staying back and working her jaw briefly to ensure nothing had been damaged by the German wrestler's punch. She is initially silent in response to the taunts thrown her way, simply eyeing her opponent up with a neutral expression. Behind this tranqual expression, however, thoughts flash through her head. Counter taunt? No. Challenge phrased in such a way as to remove negative outcomes for her. Engagement will play into her hands. Respond after making a point through action. Remove variables.
Still saying nothing, Wyvern raises her fists once more before edging towards Karla. After a moment, she bursts forward, pulling back her right fist as if to deliver a powerful blow. At the last second, however, she drops to the ground, blasting both legs forward with a powerful Basement Dropkick aimed at Karla's legs!
Mostly unable to post. Hoping to return fully by the end of the year.
Early control was a necessity.
Call it the power lesson, where she stakes her opponent on the uphill battle. Then, it was all about how far they could run until eventually falling into their defeat. Its constant itch nagged Karla into her early gambits, one she ate a fistful of knuckle for. Shots to her skull were manageable. Pain would bristle. But just registered. Call it a boxer’s temperance and innumerable youthful lessons. But it irked her nonetheless, and she withdrew, poking on their patience to see what prodded what. No matter the reaction, it was knowledge for later. Closer they came and she felt more giddy to strike. She was ready with locked eyes on their person.
A swing high prompted her arm to snap up, shooting for the throat. One clean fist was all she needed, but her thrust was halted mid-flight, drawn back, her instinct ripped her eyes down and saw two feet shotgun into the flank of her shins, shoving them together and turning Karla Ray Reinhardt, horizontal. She slapped the canvas with her hip and shoulder. “GH-” An eye flicked shut, and not so much a yelp peeped. Instead, there was an increasingly animalistic growl as she hammered the canvas with her fist and tried rolling away before the follow-up. “How dare…” She’d disappear underneath the bottom rope, then use her arm strength to reach and grip the middle, peeling herself off, gripping the top and taking a stance again, this time hovering the kicked limb to lick her wounds, re-group. She would don this mean-mug; a twitchy right eye, narrowed lips and a hiss through clenched teeth… Almost like this pouty adult who wasn’t getting what they wanted.
There was not a single way she’d allow a nobody take control this early… But being zero for two on her tactics was syphoning on her wit and feeding her growl.
Despite her (seemingly) reckless charge, Wyvern keeps careful track of Karla's body language, waiting for the inevitable counter attack. When it comes, it's unhesitating, dangerous, and unfortunately for the German wrestler, entirely the wrong response. Wyvern drops into her planned kick as soon as she sees Karla aim a punch for her throat, and the other wrestler has the necessary awareness to withdraw. In hindsight, however, Wyvern's not entirely sure she would have entirely dodged the blow even with the situation stacked in her favor. Though she strikes home for the second time, Wyvern's caution against her foe skyrockets. Karla could be a legitimate threat in a straight fistfight, an area where Wyvern is usually confident in her supremacy.
From her prone position, Wyvern twists her body to attempt to deliver another kick to Karla's head, but the smaller woman has already dodged out of the way, leaving her foot to crash painfully into the canvas. Rather than attempting further pursuit, she pushes herself back towards the center of the ring before hauling herself back to her feet. Rotating on her heel, she turns to face her opponent. On the surface, she still appears to have no readable expression, but at this range, Karla can see a mocking twitch in her lips, a smug smile almost completely suppressed. She folds her arms over her chest, her eyes never leaving Karla's own.
"Punch you in the face again? Don't know. But at this rate, I don't think I'll need to. Aren't you supposed to be good at this? We're a minute into the match and I've already forced you to clear out of my ring."
Mockery was a tactic, and it was one Wyvern is well practiced in. Behind her bravado, however, there's a lingering wariness of her opponent. Wyvern is keenly aware that either of the previous exchanges could have gone against her, and she forces herself to stay calm and avoid giving an opening out of overconfidence.
Last edited by Hills on Thu Jul 14, 2022 4:54 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Mostly unable to post. Hoping to return fully by the end of the year.
Shoved back twice. Wasn’t that something? As implausible as it sounds for the rational-minded, it wasn’t unforeseen for the Reinahardt to, not struggle, but not dismantle at the start. It was more like pin-pricks. Would this Hundchen really be considering themselves a threat because of it? The thoughts of that, above all frustrations, was greatly calming and medicine for these incessant growl-fits, like turning her mood on its head. Such unwise words, forcing the Reinhardt’s head to dip just to bear the pungent stench, pinching her nose. “Am I supposed to be good at this…” She levelled her head to look at her opponent, smug again, folding her loose arms up shoulder-height, a shrug mannerism, palms pointed up, “Hahahaha. Is that some kind of joke? My ring. Psh.” Her eyes rolled and her head followed, then tipping it back so she could look down at them with this clear disgust. “That’s just…” Karla stabbed her bottom lip with her top-row teeth, exhaling sharply that it sounded like a hiss. Her shoulders tensed up, fists tightened white-knuckled. Then she relaxed again, easing and breathing a little heavier, “Precious… Hundchen, hundchen. Hunchen.”
Both hands grabbed the rope, leaning back then vaulting into the ring without a hitch. She hopped once, twice, “A-AACH!” A girlish squeal raked the crowd’s ears. Her posture crumpled with buckling knees. A hand gripped the rope to keep her standing and she hobbled towards a corner, burying her face into the turnbuckle pad and slumping against. The left leg lifted, hooked underneath by one of her arms. She hissed and groaned, shaking her head profusely with twisted lips and clammed-shut eyes.
