Handler Information
Name: Nicholas
Email Address: nich0las.allen@yahoo.com
Best Way to Contact You: Forum PM or e-mail.
eWrestling Experience: Currently in XXW and ACE, but I have 10+ years experience.
How did you find DEFIANCE?: The Zine
Writing Sample
[The camera opens with a slow, panoramic shot. From left to right, the camera makes its way across a lush valley filled with enormous fir trees that look as if they could be thousands of years old. Tall, emerald grass dances with the wind, making the ground seem alive. Enormous boulders that once may have belonged to mountains dot the valley, an outcropping here and there, sticking out like a sore thumb but still maintaining a confusing quality of beauty. Short breaks between groupings of trees reveal a small stream that could one day be a river. Slowly we lose sight of the valley as the streams true nature, rushing rapids take the place in frame. With water as clear as glass, the white foamy waves almost inviting. This particular rapid leads back up to an enormous waterfall that's easily one-hundred meters high. The crashing sound of water slamming in to the rocks below almost has a natural cadence, drowning out almost every other sound that nature can offer.]
???:
*inaudible*
[As we finally lose focus of the water, the camera begins its journey again, this time we come to a clearing in a smaller valley opposite the falls. Tree stumps dot the valley floor, along with a couple small rows of an unidentifiable crop. Toward the far side of the clearing a small log cabin sits in solitude, smoke pouring in to the sky from the hearth inside. Obviously hand built, the logs look as thick as tires and connected with axe eaten notches. On the porch sits a small wooden chair, and smaller, unidentified crates. Two windows on the front face work as a natural light source, but iron lanterns can still be seen hung from the awning. Suddenly, a small, dark object darts across the frame going the opposite way with tremendous speed.]
BLAM!
[The sound of ceramic exploding assaults the senses, and that is followed up by the sound of someone racking a shotgun. The camera finally comes to a stop, and we get our first glimpse of Harley Black. Dressed in a pair of black boots, dark wash and snug denim jeans, his torso is covered in a light down, black vest, a static grey hooded sweatshirt underneath with the hood drawn and hands covered in black leather gloves. In his hands he holds what looks to be a Mossberg five-hundred shotgun, equipped with a black nylon shoulder sling.]
Harley Black:
Pull.
[Another burnt orange, ceramic disk rockets in to the sky. Harley calmly pulls the shotgun to his shoulder, draws a bead on the now minature target and squeezes the trigger.]
BLAM!
[He racks the shotgun once more, expelling the empty shell from the chamber. Flipping the safety, he expertly pulls the sling about his shoulder and let's the shotgun dangle softly at his side. He removes the hood on his sweatshirt to reveal a head full of thick, black hair, parted to the right but mussed from the hood. His face is clean shaven to reveal a strong jawline and pronounced cheekbones. Removing the shooting frames from his eyes, his green eyes are flecked with black, making them stand out below his neatly arched eyebrows. As he turns from the range and begins walking, the camera turns with him and reveals two destinations, one being his house and the other a barn. Starting at the fingertips he begins to remove the black leather gloves, finger by finger.]
Harley Black:
For years everyone has been talking about the end of the world, the end of days. Armaggeddon. They say the earth will be cleansed with fire, and all of the non-believers will perish in those flames. If you happen to believe that this is an act of God, they say you will be saved. You will be carried away on the backs of angels as the heathens cries can be heard as they are burned alive. You might be surprised how many people find God when it's their life on the line, when doom is inevitable and even the thought of hope is crushing. Is that all it takes to keep from being burned alive? You say you want to be saved, be free of sin and safe from the fires, and you're saved? This is a concept I have never understood. If reciting a few words before the end absolves you of sin, I'm not sure that is a group of people I want to exist with. Willing to give up everything you've lived for, your whole identity and who you are as a person because of fear? It grips you so tightly that your own word means nothing to you anymore? That is a coward, and nothing more, and I am no coward. Since I've been old enough to call myself a man, I've lived my life by a certain moral code. I set standards for myself and aimed to surpass them, aimed to obliviate them. If some of the things I've done have left a black mark on my soul, then so be it, let the fires consume me. Because for as long as I still draw breath, I will never betray myself. Never cower nor balk at the presence of fear. Instead, I use that fear for fuel and ammunition. Let it drive me to greatness. Swallow the fear to become the predator.
[Harley Black pauses.]
Harley Black:
I don't believe Defiance has had a true predator in its midst, yet. I mean a true, apex predator. A man so focused at remaning at the top of the food chain that he will stop at nothing to achieve his goal. Defiance is full of sheep who bay at each other, ocasionally butting heads in a show of force. And for such a long time, that has been okay. Defiance has been content to just butting heads. That has been the standard for such a long period of time that the ferocity that anyone once may have had is lukewarm now. It would seem that most of you would rather vomit words at each other rather than settle things like men. There was a time that most of you would've had that damn microphone shoved down your throat, twice over. Again, sheep butting heads and bleating, hoping to stand out among the other sheep that sit right beside you, looking identical to you. And just maybe among all this white, there sits a black sheep somewhere. Feared because he's different, but a black sheep is still a sheep.
[He turns and begins walking again. Taking the path toward his barn, he begins speaking again, not looking at the camera.]
Harley Black:
And this is where I differ from all of you. It isn't about wether I'm good or evil, if I'm going to heaven or hell. The chance to betray myself will never even be presented, my morals will never have to come in to question and I'll never have to worry about burning alive. Because I am the fire. I am that destructive force set upon you by an angry God, destroying anything brave enough to cross my path. I am now what you should be concerned with, Defiance. Be worried because I am that apex predator at the top of the food chain. I am a shark, swimming in a veritable pool of blood. I am the lion that claims territory not with roar, but with bite. I've come to wrap my jaws around your neck and break the bones, squeezing until the life has left.
[Finally reaching the enormous dirt red barn, he pulls open the giant sliding door to reveal the innards. Dead in the middle regally stands a beat to hell wrestling with black ropes and turnbuckles. Covered in a patchwork mat, the apron is non-descript and aged. Harley pauses and places his hands on his hips, staring at the ring with a look of humble pride. He glances back at the camera, and then advances on the ring in a steady pace. Reaching the apron, he unzips his down vest and places it on the steel steps that sit in the corner. Also pulling off his hooded sweatshirt, a tight-fitting black t-shirt that reads 'THE HAMMER' with a graphic of Thor's hammer in gold. Tossing the sweatshirt, he rolls underneath the bottom rope and pops to his feet. He heads toward the opposite ropes and hits them with a fair amount of speed, sending him bouncing the opposite direction. He keeps this up, running the ropes, for a few moments before he slows down and takes a seat, cross-legged in the middle of the ring.]
Harley Black:
This is all I have. This is all I've ever wanted.
[He runs his palms across the mat.]
Harley Black:
I've paid my dues. I've bled, night in and night out, for over a decade. I've broken bones. This isn't just a job to me, this is my life. And now Defiance, I've come knocking at your door. You consider yourselves professional wrestlers, and I'm going to put that to the test. Your comfortable little niches you've dug out for yourselves are going to crumble, implode, and I will be the driving force behind it. Maybe you can pray for mercy, but we all know the power of words, or lack therof. I'm not going to stop until I've had my fill and you're all well acquainted with my name.
[Standing up, he sets his face in grim determination. He folds his arms across his chest, and takes a couple breaths.]
Harley Black:
Because I am the last, true professional wrestler.
[The camera slowly backs away as Harley grows smaller and smaller in the middle of the ring. Eventually we're out the doors and still pulling back, Harley's figure only a memory now. Fade to black.]
Wrestler(s) Information
Please take note of a couple things. It is highly likely that a few roster members will critique your moveset. Please don't be offended. We take that shit seriously here - we don't want a moveset full of finishers and a finisher so ludicrously over-elaborate that it couldn't be done in real life. This goes double if you're applying as a female wrestler. We also check to make sure your finisher(s) and theme song aren't currently being used. It's first come first serve when it comes to those.
And if you're one of those handlers who hates doing movesets, just say so and Jeff will do it for you.
Ring Name: 'the Hammer' Harley Black
Height: 6'0
Weight: 230lbs
Hailing From: Kill Devil Hills, North Carolina
Alignment: Heel
Gimmick: Harley Black believes wrestlers, and wrestling in general, is going soft. At 30 years old, he's usually the "old guy" with the boys in the back. He uses that to demand respect in and outside of the ring. He can be a bully, but he's only trying to show these kids how wrestling should be. None of these "hardcore" matches or fancy flipping moves and MMA kicks or holds. Basically it boils down to this: he's big, he's mean, he's strong and he's ready to put everyone through the ringer.
Wrestling Style: In the ring, Harley is incredibly technical and incredibly strong. He has a background in amateur wrestling which gives him quite a bit of knowledge of throws and suplexes, which he uses to devastating effect. He never goes to the top-turnbuckle, so he has no air offense which can limit him a little. He loves to target a specific body part throughout the match (usually knee or back) and will work it over tirelessly. He's smart, so he uses a lot of psychology to draw the ire of his opponents and throw them off their plan (leaving the ring while opponent has an offensive streak, holding 5-count moves for 6 or 7 seconds, etc.).
Three Weaknesses:
1.) Quick to anger. Even though he's incredibly smart, he has a mile-long temper. Once he boils over, it's easy for him to take it too far earning him a disqualification or even a pinfall.
2.) Lack of offense. He never goes up top, so that really limits his move library. He also doesn't use MMA kicks or holds, claiming that those moves aren't wrestling.
3.) Bad knees. Years of amateur and professional wrestling have taken a toll on his knees. He doesn't go around promoting it, but once it's targeted it's easy to tell it's his weak spot, physically.
Three Strengths:
1.) Brilliant inside and outside the ring. Using his experience from age, he's excellent with ring psychology. He seems to always know where he is, and somehow is always near the ropes during a submission.
2.) Incredibly strong for his size. Even though he's only 6'0, 230 he has the strength of a man much, much larger than him.
3.) Durable. Other than his knees, the guy seems to be made out of marble. He's able to withstand loads of punishment, making it hard to submit him and even harder to knock him out.
MOVESET
Ten regular moveset moves:
1) Burning lariat
2) Russian leg-sweep
3) Over the shoulder single-leg boston crab
4) Gorilla press slam
5) Pumphandle neckbreaker
6) Sidewinder suplex
7) Spinning spinebuster
8) Headlock driver
9) Single leg dropkick
10) Tilt-a-whirl backbreaker
2-5 trademark moves:
1) "Hammerbomb" - Vertical suplex to sit-out powerbomb/pin
2) "Hammerdriver" - Running clutched death valley driver
3) "Natural Selection" - Cobra clutch with figure four'd body
4) Irish whip to turnbuckle/pulls down right knee pad/running, jumping knee smash/diving ace crusher as opponent stumbles out of the corner
5) Irish whip to turnbuckle/leaping calf kick/tree of woe/delayed dropkick
1 Finishing Move: "Doombringer" - Cobra clutch/sleeper suplex in to the middle turnbuckle
1 "MDK" (murderdeathkill) Finishing Move: "Widowmaker" - Package piledriver
Name: Nicholas
Email Address: nich0las.allen@yahoo.com
Best Way to Contact You: Forum PM or e-mail.
eWrestling Experience: Currently in XXW and ACE, but I have 10+ years experience.
How did you find DEFIANCE?: The Zine
Writing Sample
[The camera opens with a slow, panoramic shot. From left to right, the camera makes its way across a lush valley filled with enormous fir trees that look as if they could be thousands of years old. Tall, emerald grass dances with the wind, making the ground seem alive. Enormous boulders that once may have belonged to mountains dot the valley, an outcropping here and there, sticking out like a sore thumb but still maintaining a confusing quality of beauty. Short breaks between groupings of trees reveal a small stream that could one day be a river. Slowly we lose sight of the valley as the streams true nature, rushing rapids take the place in frame. With water as clear as glass, the white foamy waves almost inviting. This particular rapid leads back up to an enormous waterfall that's easily one-hundred meters high. The crashing sound of water slamming in to the rocks below almost has a natural cadence, drowning out almost every other sound that nature can offer.]
???:
*inaudible*
[As we finally lose focus of the water, the camera begins its journey again, this time we come to a clearing in a smaller valley opposite the falls. Tree stumps dot the valley floor, along with a couple small rows of an unidentifiable crop. Toward the far side of the clearing a small log cabin sits in solitude, smoke pouring in to the sky from the hearth inside. Obviously hand built, the logs look as thick as tires and connected with axe eaten notches. On the porch sits a small wooden chair, and smaller, unidentified crates. Two windows on the front face work as a natural light source, but iron lanterns can still be seen hung from the awning. Suddenly, a small, dark object darts across the frame going the opposite way with tremendous speed.]
BLAM!
[The sound of ceramic exploding assaults the senses, and that is followed up by the sound of someone racking a shotgun. The camera finally comes to a stop, and we get our first glimpse of Harley Black. Dressed in a pair of black boots, dark wash and snug denim jeans, his torso is covered in a light down, black vest, a static grey hooded sweatshirt underneath with the hood drawn and hands covered in black leather gloves. In his hands he holds what looks to be a Mossberg five-hundred shotgun, equipped with a black nylon shoulder sling.]
Harley Black:
Pull.
[Another burnt orange, ceramic disk rockets in to the sky. Harley calmly pulls the shotgun to his shoulder, draws a bead on the now minature target and squeezes the trigger.]
BLAM!
[He racks the shotgun once more, expelling the empty shell from the chamber. Flipping the safety, he expertly pulls the sling about his shoulder and let's the shotgun dangle softly at his side. He removes the hood on his sweatshirt to reveal a head full of thick, black hair, parted to the right but mussed from the hood. His face is clean shaven to reveal a strong jawline and pronounced cheekbones. Removing the shooting frames from his eyes, his green eyes are flecked with black, making them stand out below his neatly arched eyebrows. As he turns from the range and begins walking, the camera turns with him and reveals two destinations, one being his house and the other a barn. Starting at the fingertips he begins to remove the black leather gloves, finger by finger.]
Harley Black:
For years everyone has been talking about the end of the world, the end of days. Armaggeddon. They say the earth will be cleansed with fire, and all of the non-believers will perish in those flames. If you happen to believe that this is an act of God, they say you will be saved. You will be carried away on the backs of angels as the heathens cries can be heard as they are burned alive. You might be surprised how many people find God when it's their life on the line, when doom is inevitable and even the thought of hope is crushing. Is that all it takes to keep from being burned alive? You say you want to be saved, be free of sin and safe from the fires, and you're saved? This is a concept I have never understood. If reciting a few words before the end absolves you of sin, I'm not sure that is a group of people I want to exist with. Willing to give up everything you've lived for, your whole identity and who you are as a person because of fear? It grips you so tightly that your own word means nothing to you anymore? That is a coward, and nothing more, and I am no coward. Since I've been old enough to call myself a man, I've lived my life by a certain moral code. I set standards for myself and aimed to surpass them, aimed to obliviate them. If some of the things I've done have left a black mark on my soul, then so be it, let the fires consume me. Because for as long as I still draw breath, I will never betray myself. Never cower nor balk at the presence of fear. Instead, I use that fear for fuel and ammunition. Let it drive me to greatness. Swallow the fear to become the predator.
[Harley Black pauses.]
Harley Black:
I don't believe Defiance has had a true predator in its midst, yet. I mean a true, apex predator. A man so focused at remaning at the top of the food chain that he will stop at nothing to achieve his goal. Defiance is full of sheep who bay at each other, ocasionally butting heads in a show of force. And for such a long time, that has been okay. Defiance has been content to just butting heads. That has been the standard for such a long period of time that the ferocity that anyone once may have had is lukewarm now. It would seem that most of you would rather vomit words at each other rather than settle things like men. There was a time that most of you would've had that damn microphone shoved down your throat, twice over. Again, sheep butting heads and bleating, hoping to stand out among the other sheep that sit right beside you, looking identical to you. And just maybe among all this white, there sits a black sheep somewhere. Feared because he's different, but a black sheep is still a sheep.
[He turns and begins walking again. Taking the path toward his barn, he begins speaking again, not looking at the camera.]
Harley Black:
And this is where I differ from all of you. It isn't about wether I'm good or evil, if I'm going to heaven or hell. The chance to betray myself will never even be presented, my morals will never have to come in to question and I'll never have to worry about burning alive. Because I am the fire. I am that destructive force set upon you by an angry God, destroying anything brave enough to cross my path. I am now what you should be concerned with, Defiance. Be worried because I am that apex predator at the top of the food chain. I am a shark, swimming in a veritable pool of blood. I am the lion that claims territory not with roar, but with bite. I've come to wrap my jaws around your neck and break the bones, squeezing until the life has left.
[Finally reaching the enormous dirt red barn, he pulls open the giant sliding door to reveal the innards. Dead in the middle regally stands a beat to hell wrestling with black ropes and turnbuckles. Covered in a patchwork mat, the apron is non-descript and aged. Harley pauses and places his hands on his hips, staring at the ring with a look of humble pride. He glances back at the camera, and then advances on the ring in a steady pace. Reaching the apron, he unzips his down vest and places it on the steel steps that sit in the corner. Also pulling off his hooded sweatshirt, a tight-fitting black t-shirt that reads 'THE HAMMER' with a graphic of Thor's hammer in gold. Tossing the sweatshirt, he rolls underneath the bottom rope and pops to his feet. He heads toward the opposite ropes and hits them with a fair amount of speed, sending him bouncing the opposite direction. He keeps this up, running the ropes, for a few moments before he slows down and takes a seat, cross-legged in the middle of the ring.]
Harley Black:
This is all I have. This is all I've ever wanted.
[He runs his palms across the mat.]
Harley Black:
I've paid my dues. I've bled, night in and night out, for over a decade. I've broken bones. This isn't just a job to me, this is my life. And now Defiance, I've come knocking at your door. You consider yourselves professional wrestlers, and I'm going to put that to the test. Your comfortable little niches you've dug out for yourselves are going to crumble, implode, and I will be the driving force behind it. Maybe you can pray for mercy, but we all know the power of words, or lack therof. I'm not going to stop until I've had my fill and you're all well acquainted with my name.
[Standing up, he sets his face in grim determination. He folds his arms across his chest, and takes a couple breaths.]
Harley Black:
Because I am the last, true professional wrestler.
[The camera slowly backs away as Harley grows smaller and smaller in the middle of the ring. Eventually we're out the doors and still pulling back, Harley's figure only a memory now. Fade to black.]
Wrestler(s) Information
Please take note of a couple things. It is highly likely that a few roster members will critique your moveset. Please don't be offended. We take that shit seriously here - we don't want a moveset full of finishers and a finisher so ludicrously over-elaborate that it couldn't be done in real life. This goes double if you're applying as a female wrestler. We also check to make sure your finisher(s) and theme song aren't currently being used. It's first come first serve when it comes to those.
And if you're one of those handlers who hates doing movesets, just say so and Jeff will do it for you.
Ring Name: 'the Hammer' Harley Black
Height: 6'0
Weight: 230lbs
Hailing From: Kill Devil Hills, North Carolina
Alignment: Heel
Gimmick: Harley Black believes wrestlers, and wrestling in general, is going soft. At 30 years old, he's usually the "old guy" with the boys in the back. He uses that to demand respect in and outside of the ring. He can be a bully, but he's only trying to show these kids how wrestling should be. None of these "hardcore" matches or fancy flipping moves and MMA kicks or holds. Basically it boils down to this: he's big, he's mean, he's strong and he's ready to put everyone through the ringer.
Wrestling Style: In the ring, Harley is incredibly technical and incredibly strong. He has a background in amateur wrestling which gives him quite a bit of knowledge of throws and suplexes, which he uses to devastating effect. He never goes to the top-turnbuckle, so he has no air offense which can limit him a little. He loves to target a specific body part throughout the match (usually knee or back) and will work it over tirelessly. He's smart, so he uses a lot of psychology to draw the ire of his opponents and throw them off their plan (leaving the ring while opponent has an offensive streak, holding 5-count moves for 6 or 7 seconds, etc.).
Three Weaknesses:
1.) Quick to anger. Even though he's incredibly smart, he has a mile-long temper. Once he boils over, it's easy for him to take it too far earning him a disqualification or even a pinfall.
2.) Lack of offense. He never goes up top, so that really limits his move library. He also doesn't use MMA kicks or holds, claiming that those moves aren't wrestling.
3.) Bad knees. Years of amateur and professional wrestling have taken a toll on his knees. He doesn't go around promoting it, but once it's targeted it's easy to tell it's his weak spot, physically.
Three Strengths:
1.) Brilliant inside and outside the ring. Using his experience from age, he's excellent with ring psychology. He seems to always know where he is, and somehow is always near the ropes during a submission.
2.) Incredibly strong for his size. Even though he's only 6'0, 230 he has the strength of a man much, much larger than him.
3.) Durable. Other than his knees, the guy seems to be made out of marble. He's able to withstand loads of punishment, making it hard to submit him and even harder to knock him out.
MOVESET
Ten regular moveset moves:
1) Burning lariat
2) Russian leg-sweep
3) Over the shoulder single-leg boston crab
4) Gorilla press slam
5) Pumphandle neckbreaker
6) Sidewinder suplex
7) Spinning spinebuster
8) Headlock driver
9) Single leg dropkick
10) Tilt-a-whirl backbreaker
2-5 trademark moves:
1) "Hammerbomb" - Vertical suplex to sit-out powerbomb/pin
2) "Hammerdriver" - Running clutched death valley driver
3) "Natural Selection" - Cobra clutch with figure four'd body
4) Irish whip to turnbuckle/pulls down right knee pad/running, jumping knee smash/diving ace crusher as opponent stumbles out of the corner
5) Irish whip to turnbuckle/leaping calf kick/tree of woe/delayed dropkick
1 Finishing Move: "Doombringer" - Cobra clutch/sleeper suplex in to the middle turnbuckle
1 "MDK" (murderdeathkill) Finishing Move: "Widowmaker" - Package piledriver
