Name: Ice Tre
Height: 5'10
Weight: tipping the scales at 171 pounds
Hometown: The Mean Streets
Face/Heel: Face (fan support fueled by sympathy and amusement)
Appearance: (Please be as detailed as possible.)
Possibly one of the most unimposing figures in the sport's history, Ice Tre believes he is a pimp still seeking his stable -- and dresses as such. The palest of Caucasians, Tre wears a massive gold chain with an equally massive crucifix along with a bulky, blocky pair of oversized sunglasses. When weather permits, he is usually bare-chested. And for that, I apologize.
History: A cult Indy Wrestler whom has yet to score a professional victory, let alone an amateur victory. Known for his awkwardly unpolished promo "skillz" and his obliviousness to his own glaring in-ring shortcomings, Ice Tre is a diamond in the rough. Or, possibly, a cubic zirconium in the rough. He is, however, on the cusp of all-out super-stardom ... in his own mind, of course.
Titles Held: None
Style: Tre is barely a wrestler. But, dammit, he means well. He likes to TRY to brawl. And TRY to "take flight". He is known to ATTEMPT a submission or three, and spends most of his time between bells ATTEMPTING to get back to his feet still looking "fly".
Move Set: Is this necessary in my wrestler's case?
Description of Finisher: Although never "unleashed" on any of his opponents, the move is rumored to be a dagger-like kick aimed at the chin/neck.
Finisher Name: The Ice Pick
Entrance:
"Bad as Can" by BEETLEJUICE suddenly bumps through the PA system, the crowd rises to their feet in anticipation, and the curtain parts. It is Ice Tre ... and DAMN is he a sight!?! Dressed in a bedazzled blue/white ring coat, no shirt, and blue tights, Ice Tre trots down the aisle, brimming with confidence and all-smiles. Tonight is the night.
He slaps the hands of fans along his way to ringside, awkwardly sliding under the bottom rope and into the ring. Raising a fist, he snaps his bulky shades from his face and glares into the camera with his version of "menace".
Height: 5'10
Weight: tipping the scales at 171 pounds
Hometown: The Mean Streets
Face/Heel: Face (fan support fueled by sympathy and amusement)
Appearance: (Please be as detailed as possible.)
Possibly one of the most unimposing figures in the sport's history, Ice Tre believes he is a pimp still seeking his stable -- and dresses as such. The palest of Caucasians, Tre wears a massive gold chain with an equally massive crucifix along with a bulky, blocky pair of oversized sunglasses. When weather permits, he is usually bare-chested. And for that, I apologize.
History: A cult Indy Wrestler whom has yet to score a professional victory, let alone an amateur victory. Known for his awkwardly unpolished promo "skillz" and his obliviousness to his own glaring in-ring shortcomings, Ice Tre is a diamond in the rough. Or, possibly, a cubic zirconium in the rough. He is, however, on the cusp of all-out super-stardom ... in his own mind, of course.
Titles Held: None
Style: Tre is barely a wrestler. But, dammit, he means well. He likes to TRY to brawl. And TRY to "take flight". He is known to ATTEMPT a submission or three, and spends most of his time between bells ATTEMPTING to get back to his feet still looking "fly".
Move Set: Is this necessary in my wrestler's case?
Description of Finisher: Although never "unleashed" on any of his opponents, the move is rumored to be a dagger-like kick aimed at the chin/neck.
Finisher Name: The Ice Pick
Entrance:
"Bad as Can" by BEETLEJUICE suddenly bumps through the PA system, the crowd rises to their feet in anticipation, and the curtain parts. It is Ice Tre ... and DAMN is he a sight!?! Dressed in a bedazzled blue/white ring coat, no shirt, and blue tights, Ice Tre trots down the aisle, brimming with confidence and all-smiles. Tonight is the night.
He slaps the hands of fans along his way to ringside, awkwardly sliding under the bottom rope and into the ring. Raising a fist, he snaps his bulky shades from his face and glares into the camera with his version of "menace".