Post by Dagvald Riddik on Feb 22, 2019 21:22:40 GMT -5
Handler Info
Name
Jake
Age
21
Efed Experience in years
3
Email and IM's - optional
thek4livesagain@gmail.com
Wrestler Info
Wrestlers Name
Dagvald Riddik
Nicknames
He Who Walks Two Worlds
Home Town
Born in Flam, Norway
Now Resides in the woods outside Altoona, PA (billed from “The Compound”)
Gender
Male
Age
39
Height
6’2”
Weight
235 pounds
Alignment
Ruthless Heel
Pic Base (With picture)
Ketill Flatnose
Gimmick
Delusional borderline schizophrenic who believes the Norse gods have chosen him to fulfill a prophecy and return mankind to tribal paganism.
In Ring Info
Entrance Music
In Horror by Bloodhorse
Entrance
The slow intro to In Horror by Bloodhorse begins playing as the TitanTron first displays just a waving Norwegian Flag, then the image zooms out and shows it tattered, flying over a war torn battlefield, dead bodies strewn about. Then the heavy (and totally badass \m/ ) guitar riff starts, and the camera pans to the right until burning fires engulf the screen in smoke, and real fog machines cover up the stage. A short moment later it clears, and Dagvald is standing in the middle of the stage in full Viking chainmail, his sword in his right hand, and shield in his left.
Dagvald: Hail Odin, and to Valhalla, we rise!
Announcer: Introducing, bearing the legacy of his ancestors, Dagvald Riddik!
{Alternatives: Introducing, He Who Walks Two Worlds, Dagvald Riddik!
Making his way to the ring, The Prophecy, Dagvald Riddik!}
On the TitanTron, the dead bodies come to life, soldiers of the gods reincarnated to fight again. They fall behind Dag as he marches to the ring. He climbs the steps and poses at the top of the ringpost, his sword pointed to the sky like Conan. He sheaths his sword and places his shield on his back then hops down to the mat. He soaks in the boos and ignores the ref’s demands he disarm himself, but after a moment he takes off his gear, setting it aside
Wrestling Style
Brawler and Reckless
General Moves
Neckbreaker, Suplexes, Powerbomb, Pumphandle Slam, Blue Thunder Bomb, backbreaker, gutbuster, piledriver, kneebar, armbar
Signature Moves
Hammer of the Gods: Package Powerbomb
Fall of the West: Weapon X
Finishers
Victory or Valhalla: Kimura Lock
Odin’s Wrath: Steenalizer
Biography
Dagvald Riddik is a truly unique individual. He suffers from mental degradation brought on by the severe but unexplained trauma he suffered as a child. He often hallucinates to varying degrees, believing his visions to be messages from the gods. When he was in high school, he was a total social outcast. He was deep in the Norwegian black metal scene, which was very taboo in the small town he lived in. Word of his heresy quickly spread and everyone refused to interact with him
as he openly practiced satanism and paganistic rituals.
One girl, however, was enough of an outcast herself to be drawn to Dag. Her name was Isabella, and the two quickly fell in love during Dag’s senior year while she was a freshman. Him and Isabella were happy to be outcasts together, dwelling in abandoned churches and sneaking out of class into closets or skipping school altogether. They’d use that time for far more productive things, like exploring the woods, playfully acting out the rituals of their ancestors, or practicing for the black metal band they wished they could start. Of course, much of their time together was also used for what you’d expect a teenage boy and a teenage girl to do in privacy. What they had was undeniably true love, until it was ripped away from them
by their childish foolishness.
Dag and his Izzy orchestrated an arson as part of a satanic ritual of a 17th century church in their home village which went horribly wrong. The burning rubble trapped Dag inside as he tried to free Isabella, allowing her to escape while the police and first responders arrived. He was arrested and placed in prison for twenty years at the age of 19. Isabella’s parents found out she had been dating him and moved out of the town fearing the influence Dag had on her and repercussions from the locals.
When Dag got out of prison, he had nothing to his name, no contacts, and nowhere to go. He scavenged the countryside, wracking up arrest warrants he escaped by stealing enough money to exile himself to the United States. Dag has been trying to rebuild himself for the past ten years, trying to survive in the wilderness off the grid without being found by the authorities. He has drastically changed his image and embraced the traditions of his ancestors as he slowly lost his mind alone in the forest.
As such, when he stumbled across a pro wrestling event in Altoona one day, everything seemed to align. He realized pro wrestling would be the means he needed to push the ideology he created, dubbed NeoNordicism, and achieve glory in battle just as his ancestors did. He fought in Riot Star Wrestling for a while, winning the RSW Legacy Championship in a short period of time. Since then he has moved on to a larger promotion after disputes with management of RSW.
Sample RP:
“His is a Love Squeezed From Stone”
(Bear in mind this roleplay is not canon)
Tuesday, April 4, (CURRENT YEAR)
Evening
Portland, OR
Dagvald’s Minimalist Compound
There is a burning sensation in her body, but it’s not from the fireplace. The young woman sitting by the crackling embers is feeling an intense heat, not from the flames which seem to be clawing their way ever closer to her immaculate form, millimeter by millimeter, although alas, it is all an optical illusion. Should those flames yet consume her, however, perhaps the last regret she would ponder as her perfect figure disintegrated into nothingness, would be the fact that she has regrets indeed. Or, may well.
It all depends on tonight. She’s been waiting for hours, and hours, all through the day. She hasn’t seen her Dagvald since he left last night, without so much as a kiss goodbye. Important business, he insisted. With whom? Can’t say. As usual. She began to remember why she tested his loyalty all those years ago. She could hardly even remember how long it’s been now. It used to seem a distant memory for the sake of irrelevance, as though she’d actually believed she had moved on from the man who captivated her mind and captured her heart. Now, the details are consciously blurry for a fear of having to relive those painful moments.
He was such a strong, masculine, protecting man. Well, he still is, but like then, he seems preoccupied. He insists everything he does is in the interest of her safety, not the least of which is having to keep secrets, no matter how much he regrets not being able to be open with his dearest Isabella. Whenever she gets into this mindset, she finds herself always coming round back to one thing. How much does she trust him?
She always regrets even having that thought, considering he quite well put his very life on the line to fight for her honor. He found a way to liberate her from the clutches of that psychopathic woman, and she owes him her own life. How could she possibly question his motives? She ought to be ashamed. Yet, here she is, wallowing in self pity as she longs selfishly for the sole attention of a busy man.
A thunderous crack shatters her thoughts back to reality. The din of the rain’s pitter patter against the windows seems to be picking up. It’s been raining for a while, as she found it usually is in Portland, but now it’s getting much heavier. Though she knows he’s fought through harder scenarios than heavy rain, she still wishes for him to make it back safely, as though her will alone would be the deciding factor in this unpredictable universe.
The door slams open, and in walks the man who rips so many tidal waves of emotion from her petite little body. He’s drenched, but not just from the rain. His body shakes, alas, not just from the chilly Pacific Northwest air. What is he hiding now? He looks to her, with cold eyes which merely offer a flicker to confirm he is gazing upon the most beautiful woman on Earth. Should she really demand more? She can’t know what he’s been through today which may have drained him so totally that he can barely manage a smile as he greets his beloved.
His is a love squeezed from a stone.
He hangs up his camouflage jacket, backpack, and shoes. As he turns back to her, finally, he allows a warm, shy smile, perhaps embarrassed at how in love he really is. It’s no secret Dag takes himself way too seriously, but in the past he was never afraid to show his devotion. Despite his attempt at stonewalling his emotions, Isabella enjoys a woman’s natural inclinations towards understanding men’s emotions better than they themselves do. She’s pretty sure he still feels as though he let her down in an unforgivable manner for “allowing” her to be kidnapped in the first place.
It’s only natural for a man who cares about a woman so deeply to blame himself for anything which happens to her, regardless of the level of responsibility he actually bears. Dagvald of all people surely must take this with a heavy weight on his conscious more than most. His attempts to reassert his invulnerable persona may be in the way of a romantic relationship at times, but she knows deep down it’s his way of trying to prove he really is the man she wants him to be. He definitely doesn’t want her thinking he’s weak.
As the thunder strikes again and she is shaken from the thoughts she’d been lost in yet again, she realizes she had, at some point, gotten up from the chair and started toward him with arms outstretched. He embraces her in his warm grasp, glowing despite the cold, damp rain soaked clothes he bears. His arms are strong despite the mentally and physically draining day he’s had. Again, with not showing any signs of weakness. He’d push himself beyond his worldly limits to impress and protect her after what happened.
“It’s so reassuring to finally hold you again, my dearest Isabella.” His words rumble through her and reverberate more profoundly than the roaring thunder ever could, though they are spoken in a low whisper. His gruff voice soothes her in a way she could never explain, not like she needs to. That intangible is itself one of many factors which implores her to simply accept, she is in love.
She nuzzles into his burly arms as he leads her to the lounge sofa. He asks for a second of space to remove his moistened clothes so as not to ruin the upholstery, and she happily obliges. When he still has on a wifebeater and long johns, she sighs, but follows him onto the couch anyway.
They kiss softly, but Izzy can’t ignore the presence of something weighing heavily on his mind. “Honey, what’s the matter? And please don’t say you can’t tell me. I can’t help if I don’t know.”
He tries to ignore her, but she pulls away from his face. “Fine,” he moans. “It’s to do with Pantheon. That wrestling crap I’m stuck in. It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“But aren’t they the ones who helped find me? I know, you set everything up, but still, I appreciate their help. Are they doing well?”
“My, my… there’s just so much you don’t know. Because you don’t need to know. Pantheon aren’t exactly what you think they are. They aren’t what they think they’ve made me think they are. If anything, they didn’t offer me their services out of the goodness in their hearts. They’re snakes, Izzy, nothing more. Snakes who offer a treasure one can only think they can control, but which will inevitably control them.”
“So you’re saying they control you now? Is that why you’re so upset?” She knows this isn’t what he meant, but phrasing it this way will ensure he adds some more clarity to protect his ego.
“Control? Me? Upset? Hardly. I just owe a few favors. They do keep making offerings, but I know how to handle this. I refuse to go further into their debt, but I can’t just blow them off entirely. They’re too powerful for that, at least for now. I wouldn’t say I’d turn on them if I had the chance; that would be stupid. I just need to find a way to disassociate myself with them when it’s safe. They’re going through some rough times right now, so I’m sure I can slip away soon without them worrying about me too much when they have more pressing issues.”
“You mean you don’t get along with them at all? I kind of liked, at least, that Thursday girl. She seems fun. She sends me funny pictures sometimes to see how I’m doing.”
“I wouldn’t know. I only know of her what Jared says, and what she posts on twitter. But she did help find you, and I owe her that much. That’s why I can’t stand how Jared treats her.”
“How Jared treats her? Her husband? She’s never said a word about a bad relationship.”
“They never do.” He sighs.
“I didn’t know… I see why you don’t like having to work with them. Well, look, like you said, it’s only a short time.” She plants a smooch on his cheek. “Just focus on the positives. Namely, all the time you can spend with me now.”
He gets visibly frustrated again and groans, “I have to go fly out to them tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? You just got back!”
“I know. To fuck-knows-where, Ohio to look for some jackoff who’s supposed to finally be retiring his past-prime career. This is his fault for thinking he can still handle this shit, and now they want me to help clean up the mess.” He takes a long breath and turns back to say, “I don’t want to leave you.”
“Then don’t,” Isabella replies as she draws a finger down his chest.
“I have to, my love. To keep you safe. Seeing what Jared does to his own wife, I don’t want to be on his list of enemies again now that I have you to protect. I swear, I will never let anything happen to you again.”
“I know that.”
“Know it well!” He softly but firmly insists. “I just have to play it safe and not take risks. You know you’re safe here for short periods, and I’ll be back in just a couple days. I just hope you’ll trust me again, though I don’t deserve it.”
“Don’t get like that, Dag. Don’t blame yourself.”
“Who else is there to blame?”
Isabella just sighs and kisses him passionately. “We still have tonight, then,” she exhales between acts of love.
Name
Jake
Age
21
Efed Experience in years
3
Email and IM's - optional
thek4livesagain@gmail.com
Wrestler Info
Wrestlers Name
Dagvald Riddik
Nicknames
He Who Walks Two Worlds
Home Town
Born in Flam, Norway
Now Resides in the woods outside Altoona, PA (billed from “The Compound”)
Gender
Male
Age
39
Height
6’2”
Weight
235 pounds
Alignment
Ruthless Heel
Pic Base (With picture)
Ketill Flatnose
Gimmick
Delusional borderline schizophrenic who believes the Norse gods have chosen him to fulfill a prophecy and return mankind to tribal paganism.
In Ring Info
Entrance Music
In Horror by Bloodhorse
Entrance
The slow intro to In Horror by Bloodhorse begins playing as the TitanTron first displays just a waving Norwegian Flag, then the image zooms out and shows it tattered, flying over a war torn battlefield, dead bodies strewn about. Then the heavy (and totally badass \m/ ) guitar riff starts, and the camera pans to the right until burning fires engulf the screen in smoke, and real fog machines cover up the stage. A short moment later it clears, and Dagvald is standing in the middle of the stage in full Viking chainmail, his sword in his right hand, and shield in his left.
Dagvald: Hail Odin, and to Valhalla, we rise!
Announcer: Introducing, bearing the legacy of his ancestors, Dagvald Riddik!
{Alternatives: Introducing, He Who Walks Two Worlds, Dagvald Riddik!
Making his way to the ring, The Prophecy, Dagvald Riddik!}
On the TitanTron, the dead bodies come to life, soldiers of the gods reincarnated to fight again. They fall behind Dag as he marches to the ring. He climbs the steps and poses at the top of the ringpost, his sword pointed to the sky like Conan. He sheaths his sword and places his shield on his back then hops down to the mat. He soaks in the boos and ignores the ref’s demands he disarm himself, but after a moment he takes off his gear, setting it aside
Wrestling Style
Brawler and Reckless
General Moves
Neckbreaker, Suplexes, Powerbomb, Pumphandle Slam, Blue Thunder Bomb, backbreaker, gutbuster, piledriver, kneebar, armbar
Signature Moves
Hammer of the Gods: Package Powerbomb
Fall of the West: Weapon X
Finishers
Victory or Valhalla: Kimura Lock
Odin’s Wrath: Steenalizer
Biography
Dagvald Riddik is a truly unique individual. He suffers from mental degradation brought on by the severe but unexplained trauma he suffered as a child. He often hallucinates to varying degrees, believing his visions to be messages from the gods. When he was in high school, he was a total social outcast. He was deep in the Norwegian black metal scene, which was very taboo in the small town he lived in. Word of his heresy quickly spread and everyone refused to interact with him
as he openly practiced satanism and paganistic rituals.
One girl, however, was enough of an outcast herself to be drawn to Dag. Her name was Isabella, and the two quickly fell in love during Dag’s senior year while she was a freshman. Him and Isabella were happy to be outcasts together, dwelling in abandoned churches and sneaking out of class into closets or skipping school altogether. They’d use that time for far more productive things, like exploring the woods, playfully acting out the rituals of their ancestors, or practicing for the black metal band they wished they could start. Of course, much of their time together was also used for what you’d expect a teenage boy and a teenage girl to do in privacy. What they had was undeniably true love, until it was ripped away from them
by their childish foolishness.
Dag and his Izzy orchestrated an arson as part of a satanic ritual of a 17th century church in their home village which went horribly wrong. The burning rubble trapped Dag inside as he tried to free Isabella, allowing her to escape while the police and first responders arrived. He was arrested and placed in prison for twenty years at the age of 19. Isabella’s parents found out she had been dating him and moved out of the town fearing the influence Dag had on her and repercussions from the locals.
When Dag got out of prison, he had nothing to his name, no contacts, and nowhere to go. He scavenged the countryside, wracking up arrest warrants he escaped by stealing enough money to exile himself to the United States. Dag has been trying to rebuild himself for the past ten years, trying to survive in the wilderness off the grid without being found by the authorities. He has drastically changed his image and embraced the traditions of his ancestors as he slowly lost his mind alone in the forest.
As such, when he stumbled across a pro wrestling event in Altoona one day, everything seemed to align. He realized pro wrestling would be the means he needed to push the ideology he created, dubbed NeoNordicism, and achieve glory in battle just as his ancestors did. He fought in Riot Star Wrestling for a while, winning the RSW Legacy Championship in a short period of time. Since then he has moved on to a larger promotion after disputes with management of RSW.
Sample RP:
“His is a Love Squeezed From Stone”
(Bear in mind this roleplay is not canon)
Tuesday, April 4, (CURRENT YEAR)
Evening
Portland, OR
Dagvald’s Minimalist Compound
There is a burning sensation in her body, but it’s not from the fireplace. The young woman sitting by the crackling embers is feeling an intense heat, not from the flames which seem to be clawing their way ever closer to her immaculate form, millimeter by millimeter, although alas, it is all an optical illusion. Should those flames yet consume her, however, perhaps the last regret she would ponder as her perfect figure disintegrated into nothingness, would be the fact that she has regrets indeed. Or, may well.
It all depends on tonight. She’s been waiting for hours, and hours, all through the day. She hasn’t seen her Dagvald since he left last night, without so much as a kiss goodbye. Important business, he insisted. With whom? Can’t say. As usual. She began to remember why she tested his loyalty all those years ago. She could hardly even remember how long it’s been now. It used to seem a distant memory for the sake of irrelevance, as though she’d actually believed she had moved on from the man who captivated her mind and captured her heart. Now, the details are consciously blurry for a fear of having to relive those painful moments.
He was such a strong, masculine, protecting man. Well, he still is, but like then, he seems preoccupied. He insists everything he does is in the interest of her safety, not the least of which is having to keep secrets, no matter how much he regrets not being able to be open with his dearest Isabella. Whenever she gets into this mindset, she finds herself always coming round back to one thing. How much does she trust him?
She always regrets even having that thought, considering he quite well put his very life on the line to fight for her honor. He found a way to liberate her from the clutches of that psychopathic woman, and she owes him her own life. How could she possibly question his motives? She ought to be ashamed. Yet, here she is, wallowing in self pity as she longs selfishly for the sole attention of a busy man.
A thunderous crack shatters her thoughts back to reality. The din of the rain’s pitter patter against the windows seems to be picking up. It’s been raining for a while, as she found it usually is in Portland, but now it’s getting much heavier. Though she knows he’s fought through harder scenarios than heavy rain, she still wishes for him to make it back safely, as though her will alone would be the deciding factor in this unpredictable universe.
The door slams open, and in walks the man who rips so many tidal waves of emotion from her petite little body. He’s drenched, but not just from the rain. His body shakes, alas, not just from the chilly Pacific Northwest air. What is he hiding now? He looks to her, with cold eyes which merely offer a flicker to confirm he is gazing upon the most beautiful woman on Earth. Should she really demand more? She can’t know what he’s been through today which may have drained him so totally that he can barely manage a smile as he greets his beloved.
His is a love squeezed from a stone.
He hangs up his camouflage jacket, backpack, and shoes. As he turns back to her, finally, he allows a warm, shy smile, perhaps embarrassed at how in love he really is. It’s no secret Dag takes himself way too seriously, but in the past he was never afraid to show his devotion. Despite his attempt at stonewalling his emotions, Isabella enjoys a woman’s natural inclinations towards understanding men’s emotions better than they themselves do. She’s pretty sure he still feels as though he let her down in an unforgivable manner for “allowing” her to be kidnapped in the first place.
It’s only natural for a man who cares about a woman so deeply to blame himself for anything which happens to her, regardless of the level of responsibility he actually bears. Dagvald of all people surely must take this with a heavy weight on his conscious more than most. His attempts to reassert his invulnerable persona may be in the way of a romantic relationship at times, but she knows deep down it’s his way of trying to prove he really is the man she wants him to be. He definitely doesn’t want her thinking he’s weak.
As the thunder strikes again and she is shaken from the thoughts she’d been lost in yet again, she realizes she had, at some point, gotten up from the chair and started toward him with arms outstretched. He embraces her in his warm grasp, glowing despite the cold, damp rain soaked clothes he bears. His arms are strong despite the mentally and physically draining day he’s had. Again, with not showing any signs of weakness. He’d push himself beyond his worldly limits to impress and protect her after what happened.
“It’s so reassuring to finally hold you again, my dearest Isabella.” His words rumble through her and reverberate more profoundly than the roaring thunder ever could, though they are spoken in a low whisper. His gruff voice soothes her in a way she could never explain, not like she needs to. That intangible is itself one of many factors which implores her to simply accept, she is in love.
She nuzzles into his burly arms as he leads her to the lounge sofa. He asks for a second of space to remove his moistened clothes so as not to ruin the upholstery, and she happily obliges. When he still has on a wifebeater and long johns, she sighs, but follows him onto the couch anyway.
They kiss softly, but Izzy can’t ignore the presence of something weighing heavily on his mind. “Honey, what’s the matter? And please don’t say you can’t tell me. I can’t help if I don’t know.”
He tries to ignore her, but she pulls away from his face. “Fine,” he moans. “It’s to do with Pantheon. That wrestling crap I’m stuck in. It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“But aren’t they the ones who helped find me? I know, you set everything up, but still, I appreciate their help. Are they doing well?”
“My, my… there’s just so much you don’t know. Because you don’t need to know. Pantheon aren’t exactly what you think they are. They aren’t what they think they’ve made me think they are. If anything, they didn’t offer me their services out of the goodness in their hearts. They’re snakes, Izzy, nothing more. Snakes who offer a treasure one can only think they can control, but which will inevitably control them.”
“So you’re saying they control you now? Is that why you’re so upset?” She knows this isn’t what he meant, but phrasing it this way will ensure he adds some more clarity to protect his ego.
“Control? Me? Upset? Hardly. I just owe a few favors. They do keep making offerings, but I know how to handle this. I refuse to go further into their debt, but I can’t just blow them off entirely. They’re too powerful for that, at least for now. I wouldn’t say I’d turn on them if I had the chance; that would be stupid. I just need to find a way to disassociate myself with them when it’s safe. They’re going through some rough times right now, so I’m sure I can slip away soon without them worrying about me too much when they have more pressing issues.”
“You mean you don’t get along with them at all? I kind of liked, at least, that Thursday girl. She seems fun. She sends me funny pictures sometimes to see how I’m doing.”
“I wouldn’t know. I only know of her what Jared says, and what she posts on twitter. But she did help find you, and I owe her that much. That’s why I can’t stand how Jared treats her.”
“How Jared treats her? Her husband? She’s never said a word about a bad relationship.”
“They never do.” He sighs.
“I didn’t know… I see why you don’t like having to work with them. Well, look, like you said, it’s only a short time.” She plants a smooch on his cheek. “Just focus on the positives. Namely, all the time you can spend with me now.”
He gets visibly frustrated again and groans, “I have to go fly out to them tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? You just got back!”
“I know. To fuck-knows-where, Ohio to look for some jackoff who’s supposed to finally be retiring his past-prime career. This is his fault for thinking he can still handle this shit, and now they want me to help clean up the mess.” He takes a long breath and turns back to say, “I don’t want to leave you.”
“Then don’t,” Isabella replies as she draws a finger down his chest.
“I have to, my love. To keep you safe. Seeing what Jared does to his own wife, I don’t want to be on his list of enemies again now that I have you to protect. I swear, I will never let anything happen to you again.”
“I know that.”
“Know it well!” He softly but firmly insists. “I just have to play it safe and not take risks. You know you’re safe here for short periods, and I’ll be back in just a couple days. I just hope you’ll trust me again, though I don’t deserve it.”
“Don’t get like that, Dag. Don’t blame yourself.”
“Who else is there to blame?”
Isabella just sighs and kisses him passionately. “We still have tonight, then,” she exhales between acts of love.
