Handler Information

Name: Ross
Email Address: rossuron@hotmail.com
Best Way to Contact You: In order from most used to least used; Facebook Messenger App, Email, Forum PM
eWrestling Experience: I have many years of experience, partaking in a total of 10 places, sporadically, from 1998 to present. Some of these places were self-written offline ventures purely for creativity purposes but some of the actual organizational highlights I have been a part of include PIW (1999-2002), Action! (2002-2004), and GCW (2007-2012).
How did you find DEFIANCE? Referral
Are you willing to write matches?Yes

Writing Sample

I figure to supply you with the first role play I wrote for this brand new character. Otherwise, feel free to peruse the link below for any previous stuff I have done with my most accomplished character, Clyde Fox. I tried to navigate through the website on the wayback machine myself and was unsuccessful with some links so just be weary that they might not work. I have nearly all of my old content saved and can provide more upon request.
https://web.archive.org/web/20080513035137/http://www.gcwonline.net:80/bio.php?username=fox

Are You Reading Me?
Ch. 1 My Name is Kay Fable

The stage was set. The mahogany wood finish was in pristine condition – it glistened under the spotlights. The concert hall was empty and quiet – nothing but white noise filled the air. That was, until, a clacking of shoe soles, presumably made of genuine leather cow hide – tanned, burgundy in shade, and hand sewn in a third world country for the finest of detail, echoed throughout the hall. The windows were vertically rectangular and the ceiling seemingly rose higher than the sky itself. The many spotlights dimmed to accompany such classy ambiance until there was just one which shone on the middle of the stage.

The middle of the stage wasn’t baron, though. A stout black matte finished conductor stand stood tall at the ready. A few crisp sheets of white paper lay back in the trough – its scripture beckoned to be read aloud. The man in those very high-class, non-fake, completely business-like shoes waltzed out on stage along with his appropriately similar dress clothes. The brown elbow patches on his otherwise grey sports jacket might as well been a calling card to the eighties. Both his dress shirt and pants were an off crimson and more of his shirt buttons wished they had been tied together. A microphone, complete with its own stand was positioned just in front of the conductors’. The man created his own breeze as he strutted swiftly towards center stage.

“Hrrmmm-ermmmm,” He cleared his throat as he stopped in front of the materials.

Slight feedback echoed through the microphone and its adjacent loudspeakers but it wasn’t enough to cause a headache. The man pursed his lips as his icy blue eyes scanned over the documents presented in front of him. A few stray strands of luscious blonde hair refused to cooperate and interfered with his sight. The problem was fixed only temporarily with a quick hand flick of his hair. His lips were rather plump for a light skinned man – they wouldn’t protrude as much if he didn’t insist on biting them so often. His face was all rather pointed – his nose was sharp and its bridge looked like it had been broken the odd few times before. He held a fist to his mouth and coughed before trying to speak again.

“Well... this is different.” His eyes shot up from the pages on the stand in front of him to the empty concert hall. Columns of natural sunlight shot in through the cathedral-like windows. He smirked – then he looked back down at the sheets of paper.

“Sooooooooooooo... I’m guessing... do I just read this or something?” He questioned, palms out, “...giving a speech to an empty room – how... metaphorical.”

He scratched the top of his scalp in awkwardness. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do.

“Well then, I’mma go off script – yeah. I don’t need this at all. Probably never will!” He said as he decidedly shuffled the papers from the conductor’s stand and scattered them on the ground.

“I know this script was written for me and all but I mean – I’m just not feeling it. Do you hear me, creative? I refuse to give in to your shit! I’m going to do something a little more my pace, okay creative writers?” He seemingly tried to implicate two groups of people, none of which were there, as he spoke.

“My name is Kay – Kay Fable, for those of you out in the audience wondering. Okay – so there’s that. I’ve introduced myself... my ring name... my persona, if you will. Neato. Ummm, yeah that’s Kay. K. A. Y. And then Fable is my last name. So weird... no one is here,” He mumbled.

“And basically… I am a pro wrestler. I am a very aware pro wrestler. So aware, in fact, that I know I am what I am,” Fable announced.

With any sense of obviousness, any person would have been happy to hear that announcement to indicate sanity but for Kay, it meant so much more than that. For Kay, it meant that he knew he was a wrestler and that he was not bound by the same code of honor other wrestlers abided by.

He attempted to readjust his tie but then he remembered he wasn’t even wearing one and instead, he ended up caressing the few whiskers of dark chest hair that protruded from the gap between his shirt buttons.

“So I am totally just cutting this introductory promo, more or less, just to, ummmm – introduce myself! So yeah, now you know more about me. I’m a wrestler – a good one. I don’t typically telegraph my moves when I’m in the ring but uhhhhh, I might’ve gotten let go from the last fed I was in because I called for the finish of the match and the entire gymnasium heard me...? I mean – allegedly.”

Kay took a breath. It was surprisingly hot up there on center stage. Beads of sweat began to formulate and trickle down from his forehead to his brow. He rarely got stage fright but when he did it was when all the attention was on him – even if he was in an empty concert hall.

“I come to DEFIANCE!” He shouted, regaining his confidence and waving his fists in the air, “With an awesome move set, like, a bunch of charisma, charm and that stuff that makes wrestlers good... skill. Yeah, that’s it – skill! Annnnnnnnd uhhhhh, other than that, I mean, I have an action stance that I could show you all. It’s kind of my signature. Here it is – get ready for it.”

Kay turned his back to the entire empty room of emptiness and hunched over momentarily before swiveling around into his action stance! He looked silly – arms projected, knees bent, face crinkled, and his fierce front molars were exposed.

“ACTION STANCE! May it strike the fear of Mark, Marq and Marc in my wrestling opponent on a given night provided I am booked in a match and furthermore – booked in a match to which I am not predetermined to be the loser! I ain’t no heat bag but I honor the finish!” Fable professed, as a scorned individual who had probably been a good bet to have been booked to lose matches many times over.

He didn’t hold the pose long. It was just a teaser to the fans – a taste of the real thing before they would get to see the action stance in action. Fable collected himself and stood stoically in front of the microphone.

“So this is the end of the promo where I thank you all for watching, listening, or however this medium is consumed. I mean, it’s all very fourth wall dimensional – me being in a theoretical empty room, talking to a nonexistent crowd. Heck, I don’t even really exist, do I? I bet you I am just the idea of some thirty-one-year-old beatnik conjured up as a joke to write about or something. Anyways, like I said – I ain’t no heat bag and that’s certainly enough paradoxical conversation for now. Peace. Find me at gorilla, bro.”

That was Kay’s version of saying that he would see you later. He was a kind of out-there guy after all – if you couldn’t tell. Coming from a rather rough upbringing, where bluntness ran in his family, Kay would always state the obvious – and get swatted for it. Born to initially fun-loving Swiss parents, Kay’s passion for wrestling came naturally. Kay’s father would always bring him to the local shows and it wasn’t until he wanted to get more involved did his parents make a proverbial heel turn. One day after school, Kay came home to find his dad plastered – sitting alone at the kitchen table with a half drank bottle of Wobbly Knees Whisky next to him. It was there that his life took a turn for the obvious. His father told him that his aspirations to be a pro wrestler were not only silly, but they created a rift in their family and was the main reason his mother and father were getting a divorce.

“You’re nothing. You’re a failure of a son. You’ll never amount to anything. Your choreography skills are the worst I’ve ever seen! I know dead fetuses that have better choreography skills than you!” The voice of his father echoed in Kay’s mind.

That only fuelled Kay’s passion more as he eventually moved out and began to live life on his own. He was a naturally talented athlete due to his father’s passion to be a landscaper and his mother’s skill as an Olympic skier with good hair. Kay thought it’d be best to live life on the road and it didn’t matter much anyways as after the divorce, his mother ended up dead from an overdose and his father moved to California to pursue a career in the smut film industry. So Kay joined the first indie fed he came across – WWEWCWECW2K Fed, which promised to revolutionize wrestling during its 2 week run.

* * *

Kay dragged his feet towards the stage right exit – memories of family, failure and past wrestling endeavors shot through his mind like a PTSD sufferer having total recall. He stopped suddenly and noticed a frail old man in a denim colored jumpsuit completing his janitorial duties of sweeping and mopping the glossy hardwood concert hall floor. The shiny wooden floor didn’t even appear to be in need of such elbow grease but you wouldn’t have wanted to tell this particular janitor that – he was having none of it – putting his best effort forth and going full swing with each sweep, hips and all.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, old man. That’s a good way to pull a muscle or break a hip,” Fable said as he forwent the stairs, jumped off the stage and headed straight to the man slaving away.

“Hello? I said hello – did you hear me, old man?” Fable asked as he waved his right hand in front of the janitor’s down-sloped face.

Fable thought he must’ve at least seen him by now if not, heard him.

“HELLO!” Fable screamed.

Again, there was no response. So Kay Fable did what he knew best – run from his problems, so he headed for the exit before an eerie voice emanated from behind him.

“Ye who sell crickets cannot make music,” The voice beckoned.

Fable stopped dead in his tracks. If a voice could tickle, then this was it.

“Did you say something, old man?” Fable questioned from over his shoulder and across the room.

“Ye who shine nickels can never appreciate dollars,” The janitor spoke again.

Perplexed, all Fable could do was scratch his head.

“Um, okay,” Fable accepted, “But what does all that mean?”

Fable hadn’t noticed that he had moved closer to the janitor. The old man’s face was grizzled, weathered with wrinkles and peppered with spotty dark facial hair and liver spots. The man was clearly balding as his dirty grey hair was aflutter.

“It means...” The janitor drooled, “It’s all about perspective. Life. Work. Everything. And ye, my friend, are in dire need of some direction. Ye call yerself a wrasstler… ye don’t even know the first thing about it. Ye overtly break it’s golden rules. Weren’t ye the one who got kicked out of that last place by blatantly screaming out match directions to yer opponent?” The man drilled.

Profoundly hurt as if the schoolyard bully had just walked up and slapped an ice cream cone out of his hand, Kay Fable stood there stunned, jaw to the floor.

“Excuse me?” Fable said controversially. “Do I know you, bro? Do you know who you are talking to? Did you just say I need perspective? I ain’t no heat bag, ya’know? I know where I’m going! I’m going to DEFIANCE and I’m going straight to the top!” He prognosticated.

The janitor nodded all the while smiling sarcastically.

“I am aware of your ambivalence, but this is not some happenstance meeting, no. I am going to become your master and you, my student. This is certainly not up for debate.”

Flustered, off put, upset, and feeling a tantrum coming on, Fable’s face became feverishly red – he wasn’t about to have any of it.

“Yeah, um, no.” Fable shot back, “Kay Fable steers a solo ship. I ain’t not heat bag. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t take direction for anyone – not creative, not fans, not even you. No one.”

Fable began to walk away, much to the dismay of the janitor. However, he didn’t get far before the janitor pursed his lips and whistled. Before he knew it, Fable was standing right next to the old man again who was busy mopping. Perplexed, Fable made an effort to leave again, only to have that foiled by a simple snap of the janitor’s fingers. Fable tried once more and this time he made it to the exit, however, a yellow-eyed black cat prowled by the doorway. If there was one thing in this world Kay Fable was absolutely terrified was, it was definitely black cats – especially ones that walked past doorways unexpectedly. So naturally, Kay took the lesser of two evils and turned back towards the janitor who continued to mop the floor with vigor.

“Okay.” Fable spurted, “You have my completely divided attention.”

The janitor stopped mopping.

“Ye see. Ye see, it’s THAT right there that’s wrong with ye. Ye think yer crass with yer tongue-in-cheek jokes but I see right through ye.”

The janitor sneered at Kay Fable and in all fairness, Kay had never been so crudely rude to by a person he had just met – it usually took two, if not three chance meetings before he let his true dick-self out.

“I’ll fix yer wagon. Come with me. I ain’t asking.” The janitor spewed.

Kay watched in amazement as the grizzled janitor schlepped towards the concert hall walls without slowing his pace. The janitor merged into the wall and vanished from sight. Kay pulled his hands up in front of his face and rubbed his eyes – thinking they just played a magical trick on him. He refocused his attention on the wall and there was not a trace of the janitor to be seen – not even his slop bucket, broom or mop was present anymore. Furthermore, the floor he stood on didn’t look like it was mopped at all either. Confused but intrigued, Fable decided to take a leap of faith and walk towards the spot on the wall the janitor fused with. As he inched closer to the wall, Fable could feel his heartbeat palpitate up through his guts and into his neck. He had never willingly walked into a wall before – his face was usually introduced via the wrestler he was working with at the moment after swapping match instructions through whispers. He stopped a mere millimetre away from the cold wood trim.

He took a deep breath.

“Okay. This is weird, man. I mean, first I did a speech in front of an empty room but as it turned out, it totally wasn’t empty and there was a creepy old janitor dude here sweeping and mopping and then he disappears into a wall without a trace and then he tells me to follow him and then that’s where we are in the story – I am about to follow this guy who I don’t even know into a wall. I don’t even particularly know why I just summarized the entire plot of what just happened for any fact outside the reason to provide the lazy readers out there who scroll down to the bottom of the page to read a summary of everything that just happened… because that won’t typically happen in my adventures... so... yeah... good on ya you lazy readers. You won this round. Anyways, I’m going to walk into this wall now.” Kay Fable summarized.

With that, Kay plunged forward and the wall engulfed him.

Wrestler(s) Information

Ring Name: Kay Fable
Height: 6’1”
Weight: 225 lbs.

Hailing From: Schaffhausen, Switzerland

Alignment: Heel

Theme Song: “Freeze Me” by Death From Above
Here is a link to the nifty official music video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sdQqgVzex_w

Gimmick: Kay Fable is a pro wrestler. No really, that’s his gimmick. His name is derived with a tongue-in-cheek approach from the word Kayfabe, which, by definition is the presentation of a staged performance as genuine or authentic. The only thing is, Kay Fable is unable to differentiate between kayfabe and “OOC” workings. He constantly, chronically, almost annoyingly breaks the golden and unwritten rules of professional wrestling and sees no harm or foul in doing so. His obliviousness to the fact that he breaks the fourth wall, is conscious to the fact that he is essentially a fantasy writing entity, or will flat out communicate match spots during a match, with the use of a microphone so everyone can hear, are only tip-of-the-iceberg antics. Kay Fable’s unfiltered filter clearly doesn’t win any favor with the fans nor so his co-workers. However, his main goal of becoming the best and winning it all remains at the forefront. I mean, to him, it should be just as easy as writing it into the show’s script, right?

Wrestling Style: Kay Fable dabbles in a variety of styles and can adapt to whatever situation is needed but he is best suited and most comfortable with employing a high impact suplex attack. When he wins, he wins most of his matches by keeping his opponent grounded and in the middle of the ring. He tends to fall bend those with more agility or those who are able to dictate the pace. Kay Fable will resort to typical heel tactics if he feels he’s falling behind. He puts a twist on these tactics, however, by breaking long standing wrestling rules. For instance, if he argues with the referee, he will often throw in comments like “That wasn’t in the script,” or “Was it time for that spot already!?” Regardless, Kay always looks to justify what happens and assign blame elsewhere because according to his mind, he always executes his job perfectly.

Three Weaknesses:
-Easily distracted
-Relatively low threshold of pain
-Complains too much / Temper

Three Strengths:
-Ability to antagonize
-Natural power and imposing physique
-Rarely trusts others

MOVESET

Ten regular moveset moves:

1) Standing vertical suplex
2) Sidewalk slam
3) Belly-to-belly suplex
4) Full Nelson slam
5) Swinging neckbreaker
6) Tiger bomb
7) Abdominal stretch
8) Jumping Spiked DDT
9) Pumphandle slam
10) Shoulder block

2-5 trademark moves:

1) Running Powerslam
2) “Switzerland Suplex” (German Suplex)
3) “Dreaded Hand Submission” (Version of the Kimura Lock)
4) “What-A-Maneuver” (Random evasion of attacks followed by a different incredible move each time)
5) “Janitorial Jackhammer” (Jackhammer)

1 Finishing Move:

“Breaking Kay Fable” (Straitjacket Pedigree)