A staff meeting for RhyDin Sports Network (RSN) two weeks ago
“Ratings are down all over the place! Ever since the end of the Hydra tournament this summer, we’ve barely had a single good show,” suit #1 complained loudly to all the other suits gathered around the conference table.
“We did have a nice feature on that Melanie Rostol chick climbing the ranks so quickly,” another suit piped up defensively.
“Yesss,” suite #1 hissed out, “but how many times can we replay that?” A few of the suits shared a look; apparently, they thought the Melanie piece couldn’t be replayed enough. Afterall, the chick was hot and dangerous! The boss didn’t seem to share that sentiment as he paced the room in an agitated manner, “We need something new, something fresh!”
“Well we’re still trying to get Dueling Wives up and running. We’ve also got the IFL updates and breaking news…” a lesser suit, one of the few females in the room, spoke up before she was cut off.
“Dueling Wives is on hold for the moment until we can get everyone signed. Everything else is just the same old same old!” Suit #1 jabbed his finger in the air at the woman who spoke up, “You have your people show up for the matches and record them with some dry commentary that no one even listens to. I want a new idea! Something that hasn’t been tried before.”
The man known as suit #8 sat up, “Wait. We’re offering ideas?” All the heads in the room snapped to the side and everyone stared. The suit sunk in his chair, “Cause I’ve had an idea for like.. three weeks now.”
Suit #1 stepped forward, slamming his palms on the conference table and upsetting several cups of water, “Yes, we are all thinking of ideas, so out with it or I’ll have your head on a platter!”
Suit #8 swallowed hard, adjusting his tie. “Well.. uh… I thought maybe we could do personal interviews with each of the fighters after their IFL bouts. You know, set up an interview booth where they can just go in and talk about the match. We can even do some uh.. creative editing to hype up some drama if we need to.”
The poor man wasn’t allowed to fully finish explaining his idea before suit #1 threw his hands up into the air, “Brilliant! I want it up and rolling tomorrow.” He breezed out of the conference room, leaving all the other suits to stare at #8.
He fiddled with his tie again, “What?”
[]The idea for “Dueling Wives” is not my own; if the creators of that brilliant idea would like it removed from this thread, please let me know and I can switch it out for something else. Also, the feature on Melanie is fictional, although it would make brilliant TV![]
In Your Face: Raw Footage! (IFL Season 3 Edition)
Moderator: Staff
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JewellRavenlock
- Legendary Adventurer
- The Empress
- Posts: 2475
- Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:26 pm
- Location: Little Elfhame, Old Market
- Contact:
In Your Face: Raw Footage! (IFL Season 3 Edition)
Last edited by JewellRavenlock on Sat Nov 16, 2013 1:38 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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JewellRavenlock
- Legendary Adventurer
- The Empress
- Posts: 2475
- Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:26 pm
- Location: Little Elfhame, Old Market
- Contact:
It took a few more days than suit #1 at RSN would have preferred, but eventually two interview booths were set up outside the Iron Fist Gardens for the purpose of personal interviews with fighters, team members, or even some spectators. The booths looked like slightly larger versions of boardwalk photo booths, the sides plastered with the RSN logo. There was a small door on the back end to allow a lackey to enter, sit and then freeze inside the small space as he waited to ask questions of any potential interviewees.
The fighters gained access by parting a red curtain on one side of the booth. Inside, there was a cushioned bench big enough to hold at least one person, though the possibility to cram more people inside was not out of the question. Once seated, the fighters faced a darkened glass panel through which they were videotaped and asked questions by the lackey on the other side. The glass was actually a reflective screen, playing what the camera was recording once activated. A panel along the right hand side allowed the interviewees to change the background behind them with options ranging from different colors, to all the team logos, to a variety of scenic backdrops.
As the different fighters entered and left the Iron Fist Gardens during the season, a professional looking young lady or man grasping a clipboard approached whoever’s attention they could get, asking for a moment of their time. If granted, the fighter or spectator was given an invitation to enter the the interview booth (and perhaps a little shove of encouragement to do so) and share a few words of wisdom with the rest of RhyDin.
[]I tried to leave this as open-ended as possible for people to use. Feel free to play the lackey NPC interviewers as you want, cram as many people into the booth as you want, change the background to whatever you feel like, and just have fun![]
The fighters gained access by parting a red curtain on one side of the booth. Inside, there was a cushioned bench big enough to hold at least one person, though the possibility to cram more people inside was not out of the question. Once seated, the fighters faced a darkened glass panel through which they were videotaped and asked questions by the lackey on the other side. The glass was actually a reflective screen, playing what the camera was recording once activated. A panel along the right hand side allowed the interviewees to change the background behind them with options ranging from different colors, to all the team logos, to a variety of scenic backdrops.
As the different fighters entered and left the Iron Fist Gardens during the season, a professional looking young lady or man grasping a clipboard approached whoever’s attention they could get, asking for a moment of their time. If granted, the fighter or spectator was given an invitation to enter the the interview booth (and perhaps a little shove of encouragement to do so) and share a few words of wisdom with the rest of RhyDin.
[]I tried to leave this as open-ended as possible for people to use. Feel free to play the lackey NPC interviewers as you want, cram as many people into the booth as you want, change the background to whatever you feel like, and just have fun![]
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JewellRavenlock
- Legendary Adventurer
- The Empress
- Posts: 2475
- Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:26 pm
- Location: Little Elfhame, Old Market
- Contact:
IFL Week 3
Jewell Ravenlock
Team Dirty
Jewell was practically shoved into the interview booth by a well-meaning but career ambitious young lady with a clipboard. The Empress poked her head out of the red curtain to glare at the lady before letting it fall back into place. She scooted around on the bench and adjusted her hair as the screen came to life with her larger-than-life image.
“Can you please state your name, your team affiliation, and the IFL week?” A voice from behind the partition asked.
“Who’s back there?” Jewell leaned in perilously close to the glass, providing the camera with an up-close and personal shot of the pores on her face.
He knew Jewell couldn’t touch him or even see him, but the lackey quickly leaned back away from the glass and ended up smacking his head on the wall behind him. “Ow! Ugh that hurt.” He rubbed his head, “My name is Jimmy.”
Jewell sat back, “Hi Jimmy! I get how technology works you know because I’ve done this before, so you don’t have to explain anything to me. I mean, it was a really long time ago and I accidentally got undressed in front of the recording device, but I’ll make sure not to do that this time. Oh! And I was on Harris and Seirichi’s radio show too. I’m pretty famous.”
“Uhuh.. can you please just state your name, your team affiliation, and the IFL week?”
“Sure. My name is Jewell Ravenlock, and I am on Team Dirty! It is week three of IFL, so I just got my butt kicked by Bane from Top Flight.”
“So that didn’t go too well for you?”
Jewell shrugged. “It wasn’t so bad. I almost won you know,” she buffed her fingernails on her Dirty tanktop. It didn’t take long for her to become distracted, though: “Hey Jimmy, what do these buttons over here do?”
“They change the background color..”
“Oooo.” Jimmy then had to wait as Jewell insisted on pushing every single button twice in her attempt to find the right color that best flattered her skin tone. “Which do you think looks better, the light blue that matches my hair or the silver that matches my eyes?”
“I.. I don’t care.”
“You’re right,” Jewell nodded, “it’s the silver. Can you remember that for next time for me? It’s button 22.”
“I guess?”
“Great! I have to go now. It was nice meeting you!” Jewell blew a kiss at the camera before hopping out of the booth.
“Right.”
[]No one has to follow the format I used for this, but please at least include the IFL week, character name, and team name at the top of each post.[]
Jewell Ravenlock
Team Dirty
Jewell was practically shoved into the interview booth by a well-meaning but career ambitious young lady with a clipboard. The Empress poked her head out of the red curtain to glare at the lady before letting it fall back into place. She scooted around on the bench and adjusted her hair as the screen came to life with her larger-than-life image.
“Can you please state your name, your team affiliation, and the IFL week?” A voice from behind the partition asked.
“Who’s back there?” Jewell leaned in perilously close to the glass, providing the camera with an up-close and personal shot of the pores on her face.
He knew Jewell couldn’t touch him or even see him, but the lackey quickly leaned back away from the glass and ended up smacking his head on the wall behind him. “Ow! Ugh that hurt.” He rubbed his head, “My name is Jimmy.”
Jewell sat back, “Hi Jimmy! I get how technology works you know because I’ve done this before, so you don’t have to explain anything to me. I mean, it was a really long time ago and I accidentally got undressed in front of the recording device, but I’ll make sure not to do that this time. Oh! And I was on Harris and Seirichi’s radio show too. I’m pretty famous.”
“Uhuh.. can you please just state your name, your team affiliation, and the IFL week?”
“Sure. My name is Jewell Ravenlock, and I am on Team Dirty! It is week three of IFL, so I just got my butt kicked by Bane from Top Flight.”
“So that didn’t go too well for you?”
Jewell shrugged. “It wasn’t so bad. I almost won you know,” she buffed her fingernails on her Dirty tanktop. It didn’t take long for her to become distracted, though: “Hey Jimmy, what do these buttons over here do?”
“They change the background color..”
“Oooo.” Jimmy then had to wait as Jewell insisted on pushing every single button twice in her attempt to find the right color that best flattered her skin tone. “Which do you think looks better, the light blue that matches my hair or the silver that matches my eyes?”
“I.. I don’t care.”
“You’re right,” Jewell nodded, “it’s the silver. Can you remember that for next time for me? It’s button 22.”
“I guess?”
“Great! I have to go now. It was nice meeting you!” Jewell blew a kiss at the camera before hopping out of the booth.
“Right.”
[]No one has to follow the format I used for this, but please at least include the IFL week, character name, and team name at the top of each post.[]
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Napoleon Bonarat
- Seasoned Adventurer
- Posts: 570
- Joined: Fri Apr 02, 2004 8:55 pm
- Location: Dread Ship Lollipop
IFL Week Three
Napoleon Bonarat
Badside Brawlers
After hours, the camera is left on, but no one else is around. The next day, anyone editing the footage would see the following shots:
The top of a tricorn hat.
Extreme closeup of black, beady eyes, followed by a pink nose and very long, very attractive whiskers. Audio would pick up the sniffing noises as Napoleon explores.
A bit of camera shake, then blurred footage of yellow rat teeth scraping against the edges of the camera lens. As his teeth taste the panel, the backgrounds flip through the options, finally settling on a beach scene.
Blurring again a few seconds, until the focus is on Napoleon standing on the chair. It looks like he's conducting an orchestra that must be somewhere behind the camera. The audio is eerily quiet.
A bright point of light shows up in front of the camera. As the camera adjusts the light balance, there's footage of Trixie, the Dread Pirate Pixie, zooming around, leaving pixie dust trails in her wake.
After about 10 minutes of the footage of Napoleon conducting and Trixie zooming to some unheard beat, 13 demons and 803 wraiths cram themselves into the booth, which clearly annoys Trixie; she's shaking her fist and shooing everyone out, including Napoleon.
The last shot is a big whiskery grin.
Napoleon Bonarat
Badside Brawlers
After hours, the camera is left on, but no one else is around. The next day, anyone editing the footage would see the following shots:
The top of a tricorn hat.
Extreme closeup of black, beady eyes, followed by a pink nose and very long, very attractive whiskers. Audio would pick up the sniffing noises as Napoleon explores.
A bit of camera shake, then blurred footage of yellow rat teeth scraping against the edges of the camera lens. As his teeth taste the panel, the backgrounds flip through the options, finally settling on a beach scene.
Blurring again a few seconds, until the focus is on Napoleon standing on the chair. It looks like he's conducting an orchestra that must be somewhere behind the camera. The audio is eerily quiet.
A bright point of light shows up in front of the camera. As the camera adjusts the light balance, there's footage of Trixie, the Dread Pirate Pixie, zooming around, leaving pixie dust trails in her wake.
After about 10 minutes of the footage of Napoleon conducting and Trixie zooming to some unheard beat, 13 demons and 803 wraiths cram themselves into the booth, which clearly annoys Trixie; she's shaking her fist and shooing everyone out, including Napoleon.
The last shot is a big whiskery grin.
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Trixie Dread Pixie
- Junior Adventurer
- Posts: 13
- Joined: Fri Apr 02, 2004 9:25 pm
- Location: Dread Ship Lollipop
- Contact:
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Andrea Anderson
- Legendary Adventurer
- Less Than Three
- Posts: 1607
- Joined: Sat Oct 22, 2011 9:55 pm
- Location: Her Twilight Isle home she shares with Lilith.
IFL Week Four
Andrea "Apple" Anderson
Badside Brawlers "Merchandise Lady" / Free Agent
You know what they say. Free publicity is the best publicity. That's why Andrea got in front of the camera.
"During Week Four of IFL only! Every win the Badside Brawlers nab from Team Dirty will get you 10% off Badside Brawler merchandise! If there's a 4-0 sweep? 50% off!"
"Don't forget the Free Special Edition Badside Brawlers Beer Mug! Make a purchase over thirty silver nobles and it's yours!"
The man behind the camera asked, ".. Uh.. don't you want to say anything about IFL? You know, that isn't about trying to sell the Badside Brawler gear?"
"Of course."
Ahem.
"Jake's the best. Drink Badsider or Candy will beat you up."
Andrea gave a thumbs up and a wink to the camera.
"Enjoy Week Four of the Iron Fist League! Go Badside Brawlers!"
Andrea "Apple" Anderson
Badside Brawlers "Merchandise Lady" / Free Agent
You know what they say. Free publicity is the best publicity. That's why Andrea got in front of the camera.
"During Week Four of IFL only! Every win the Badside Brawlers nab from Team Dirty will get you 10% off Badside Brawler merchandise! If there's a 4-0 sweep? 50% off!"
"Don't forget the Free Special Edition Badside Brawlers Beer Mug! Make a purchase over thirty silver nobles and it's yours!"
The man behind the camera asked, ".. Uh.. don't you want to say anything about IFL? You know, that isn't about trying to sell the Badside Brawler gear?"
"Of course."
Ahem.
"Jake's the best. Drink Badsider or Candy will beat you up."
Andrea gave a thumbs up and a wink to the camera.
"Enjoy Week Four of the Iron Fist League! Go Badside Brawlers!"
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Gren Blockman
- Expert Adventurer
- Posts: 747
- Joined: Thu Jun 19, 2008 9:00 pm
- Location: The forest, the woods, the trees
IFL Week 4
Gren Blockman
Badside Brawlers
Chants of "Brootman! Brootman! Brootman!" can be heard outside of the booth, followed by a frenzied rustling of the red curtain. Suddenly Gren, frantically clawing at the sides of the booth's opening, appears head first, with several pairs of hands shoving him inside.
"WAIT! WAIT! Now just a second, fellas . . . "
Gren unceremoniously plops down onto the bench, and turns his ice blue eyes to the camera behind the glass with a deer-in-the-headlights look.
"Can you please state your name, your team affiliation, and the IFL week?”, the disembodied voice asks.
"Uhhhhhh . . . . " Gren stares bewildered, then gulps mightily.
"Mr. Blockman?" The young lady with the clipboard prods, then sticks her finger through the red curtain to poke Gren in the ribs.
"*AH!* Oh. I'm sorry. What was the question again?"
A exasperated sigh can be heard behind the glass. "Can you please state your name, your team affiliation, and the IFL week?”
"Oh. Right. Of course. Hello. Everybody." Gren gives a nervous, shaky wave. "My name is Gren Blockman. I'm with the Badside Brawlers. This is Week 4. Heh."
"Can you tell us a little about your match tonight?"
"Right. My match. I dueled. Tonight. Right over there." He points his finger vaguely towards the curtain, then gives the camera an unsteady smile.
There is a long, awkward pause. "Do you care to elaborate, Mr. Blockman?"
Gren's eyes rapidly shift from side to side, before it dawns on him what the voice is asking. "Oh! Right. You want to know how I did in the duel. Well, I had to face Juliane Smith tonight in the Anchor match. I was pretty nervous. Well, I'm always nervous." Another long pause. "I don't *mean* to be nervous . . . "
"The match, Mr. Blockman."
"Right. Sorry. I was pretty nervous, because Juliane had such a big upset last week against a great fighter, Melanie. I wanted to get a win pretty bad too, since I got off to a rough start this season. So I went out there, gave it my best, and Thank God, things worked out." He gave the camera a cheesy thumbs up. "I'm just glad to get a win for my team, and contribute something positive. I hope we continue to do well and make it to the playoffs. Also."
"How did you feel about Missus Blockman being there for your victory?"
"Huzzahwha?"
"Missus Blockman? There were reports of a short woman in a flowery dress with curlers in her red hair calling you her husband. I'm sure you were glad to have your family supporting you tonight."
Gren stares off to the side for a long moment, before a look of abject panic crosses his face. "*NO!* No, wait! That's Tara! She's not my wife! We're not married! She's just playing a complex, mean-spirited trick on me! She better not have ruined my treehouse! My poor comic books . . . "
"She personally showed me the documents . . . "
"She *what*? They're all *forged*! Anybody could sign my name like that! Look, I have a girlfriend, her name is Izira Nyte, and she runs the Forgotten Layers Inn! I don't know why Tara's doing this to me, I swear!"
The chants of "Brootman!" go up outside the booth again, and arms reach in to grab Gren's grey cloak.
"Hey, not again! Take it easy, take it EASY!"
"If you say so, Mister Blockman. Do you have anything else to add?"
"*Yes!* Yes I do!", he replies, struggling against the grasping hands. "Go Badside! DRINK BROOT!" The curtain parts and Gren is almost tugged out, before he struggles forward and pokes his head back inside. "*I Love You Iziraaaaa!*" Then he is suddenly yanked clear of the booth.
Gren Blockman
Badside Brawlers
Chants of "Brootman! Brootman! Brootman!" can be heard outside of the booth, followed by a frenzied rustling of the red curtain. Suddenly Gren, frantically clawing at the sides of the booth's opening, appears head first, with several pairs of hands shoving him inside.
"WAIT! WAIT! Now just a second, fellas . . . "
Gren unceremoniously plops down onto the bench, and turns his ice blue eyes to the camera behind the glass with a deer-in-the-headlights look.
"Can you please state your name, your team affiliation, and the IFL week?”, the disembodied voice asks.
"Uhhhhhh . . . . " Gren stares bewildered, then gulps mightily.
"Mr. Blockman?" The young lady with the clipboard prods, then sticks her finger through the red curtain to poke Gren in the ribs.
"*AH!* Oh. I'm sorry. What was the question again?"
A exasperated sigh can be heard behind the glass. "Can you please state your name, your team affiliation, and the IFL week?”
"Oh. Right. Of course. Hello. Everybody." Gren gives a nervous, shaky wave. "My name is Gren Blockman. I'm with the Badside Brawlers. This is Week 4. Heh."
"Can you tell us a little about your match tonight?"
"Right. My match. I dueled. Tonight. Right over there." He points his finger vaguely towards the curtain, then gives the camera an unsteady smile.
There is a long, awkward pause. "Do you care to elaborate, Mr. Blockman?"
Gren's eyes rapidly shift from side to side, before it dawns on him what the voice is asking. "Oh! Right. You want to know how I did in the duel. Well, I had to face Juliane Smith tonight in the Anchor match. I was pretty nervous. Well, I'm always nervous." Another long pause. "I don't *mean* to be nervous . . . "
"The match, Mr. Blockman."
"Right. Sorry. I was pretty nervous, because Juliane had such a big upset last week against a great fighter, Melanie. I wanted to get a win pretty bad too, since I got off to a rough start this season. So I went out there, gave it my best, and Thank God, things worked out." He gave the camera a cheesy thumbs up. "I'm just glad to get a win for my team, and contribute something positive. I hope we continue to do well and make it to the playoffs. Also."
"How did you feel about Missus Blockman being there for your victory?"
"Huzzahwha?"
"Missus Blockman? There were reports of a short woman in a flowery dress with curlers in her red hair calling you her husband. I'm sure you were glad to have your family supporting you tonight."
Gren stares off to the side for a long moment, before a look of abject panic crosses his face. "*NO!* No, wait! That's Tara! She's not my wife! We're not married! She's just playing a complex, mean-spirited trick on me! She better not have ruined my treehouse! My poor comic books . . . "
"She personally showed me the documents . . . "
"She *what*? They're all *forged*! Anybody could sign my name like that! Look, I have a girlfriend, her name is Izira Nyte, and she runs the Forgotten Layers Inn! I don't know why Tara's doing this to me, I swear!"
The chants of "Brootman!" go up outside the booth again, and arms reach in to grab Gren's grey cloak.
"Hey, not again! Take it easy, take it EASY!"
"If you say so, Mister Blockman. Do you have anything else to add?"
"*Yes!* Yes I do!", he replies, struggling against the grasping hands. "Go Badside! DRINK BROOT!" The curtain parts and Gren is almost tugged out, before he struggles forward and pokes his head back inside. "*I Love You Iziraaaaa!*" Then he is suddenly yanked clear of the booth.
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Jake
- Top Thug
- Warlord of the Boards
- Posts: 2245
- Joined: Wed Feb 11, 2004 1:25 am
- Location: Red Orc Brewery, a dueling venue, or the taverns of Badside
- Contact:
IFL Week Five
Jake Thrash
Badside Brawlers
"Alright...so how does this work?"
"Make yourself comfortable, and tell us your name, your team affiliation, and the IFL week.”
"Jake Thrash of the Badside Brawlers, and it's week 5. That was easy. Am I done?" The orc starts to exit the booth.
"Wait, wait, now we ask some questions."
"Oh. Alright. Go ahead."
"You got off to a slow start. Were you surprised to get beat by Team Fist?"
The orc shrugs. "Eh...you win some, you lose some. It's a new line-up. I figured some of the team had some rust to shake off. I expected we'd take a loss or two. I was content as long as we did our share of dishin' out the bruises."
"So, things are more to your liking now?"
"We're where I expected to be. There's some tough competition out there."
"Who do you think are your main rivals?"
"The Champions always put up a good fight. I expect no less this week. Rivals tho'? I dunno. You can't focus on a match. You have to focus on the season. You focus too much on a match, and you get distracted if ya' lose."
"So, you aren't worried about winning?"
"Of course I want the Brawlers to win. I want them to crush everybody. But, you don't stop to figure out who won until the war is over." The orc leaned back a bit in the booth and looked into the camera. "What counts is who's still standing at the end. Not who won this or that match."
"Do you think the Brawlers will win again, as they did in 2007?"
The orc shrugs.
"I plan for the Brawlers to be in the playoffs. I plan to inflict some bruises, and maybe a broken bone or two. Once we're in the playoffs, we'll see. Like I said, there are some good teams out there. I expect them all to put up a fight."
"Did you do anything special to prepare for the season?"
"Well, I've got a trainin' camp set up on the grounds of New Haven manor to practice. I figured I'd let Napoleon, as assistant, run some of the training, but that...didn't quite work out."
"Why so?"
"Well...Napoleon's idea of training seemed to involve a lot of cookie-eating contests." The interviewer chuckled. "The Tai Chi was ok, but it didn't seem to involve much hittin'. So, I turned the training over to Candy."
"And how's that working out? Better?"
"Mostly. I had to remind Candy that she wasn't allowed to break anybody. Especially Kal. At least not until after the season was over." Leans a little closer to the camera. "She's kind of hard core, ya' know. I like that about her."
"Week four was a pretty good week for you. Did you expect to sweep? Has the 50% off deal helped sell Badsider?"
"I expected it to be a good week for..." the half-orc stopped and did a double-take. "The 50% off what deal? Who...what are you talking about?"
"Maybe you should talk to your promoter."
The orc grumbled.
"Let's move on."
"Any predictions going into the final three weeks?"
"Bruising. Lots of bruising."
"That's it?"
"Oh...and lots of ale guzzlin' afterwards. Can't forget that." Pauses and adds, "and Broot, I guess for Gren, and those that prefer it."
"Any final words?"
"Yeah, drink Badsider, and come out and cheer on the Brawlers!"
Jake Thrash
Badside Brawlers
"Alright...so how does this work?"
"Make yourself comfortable, and tell us your name, your team affiliation, and the IFL week.”
"Jake Thrash of the Badside Brawlers, and it's week 5. That was easy. Am I done?" The orc starts to exit the booth.
"Wait, wait, now we ask some questions."
"Oh. Alright. Go ahead."
"You got off to a slow start. Were you surprised to get beat by Team Fist?"
The orc shrugs. "Eh...you win some, you lose some. It's a new line-up. I figured some of the team had some rust to shake off. I expected we'd take a loss or two. I was content as long as we did our share of dishin' out the bruises."
"So, things are more to your liking now?"
"We're where I expected to be. There's some tough competition out there."
"Who do you think are your main rivals?"
"The Champions always put up a good fight. I expect no less this week. Rivals tho'? I dunno. You can't focus on a match. You have to focus on the season. You focus too much on a match, and you get distracted if ya' lose."
"So, you aren't worried about winning?"
"Of course I want the Brawlers to win. I want them to crush everybody. But, you don't stop to figure out who won until the war is over." The orc leaned back a bit in the booth and looked into the camera. "What counts is who's still standing at the end. Not who won this or that match."
"Do you think the Brawlers will win again, as they did in 2007?"
The orc shrugs.
"I plan for the Brawlers to be in the playoffs. I plan to inflict some bruises, and maybe a broken bone or two. Once we're in the playoffs, we'll see. Like I said, there are some good teams out there. I expect them all to put up a fight."
"Did you do anything special to prepare for the season?"
"Well, I've got a trainin' camp set up on the grounds of New Haven manor to practice. I figured I'd let Napoleon, as assistant, run some of the training, but that...didn't quite work out."
"Why so?"
"Well...Napoleon's idea of training seemed to involve a lot of cookie-eating contests." The interviewer chuckled. "The Tai Chi was ok, but it didn't seem to involve much hittin'. So, I turned the training over to Candy."
"And how's that working out? Better?"
"Mostly. I had to remind Candy that she wasn't allowed to break anybody. Especially Kal. At least not until after the season was over." Leans a little closer to the camera. "She's kind of hard core, ya' know. I like that about her."
"Week four was a pretty good week for you. Did you expect to sweep? Has the 50% off deal helped sell Badsider?"
"I expected it to be a good week for..." the half-orc stopped and did a double-take. "The 50% off what deal? Who...what are you talking about?"
"Maybe you should talk to your promoter."
The orc grumbled.
"Let's move on."
"Any predictions going into the final three weeks?"
"Bruising. Lots of bruising."
"That's it?"
"Oh...and lots of ale guzzlin' afterwards. Can't forget that." Pauses and adds, "and Broot, I guess for Gren, and those that prefer it."
"Any final words?"
"Yeah, drink Badsider, and come out and cheer on the Brawlers!"
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Kruger
- Seasoned Adventurer
- The Anvil
- Posts: 388
- Joined: Sun Dec 18, 2011 11:40 pm
- Location: Kruger's Exotic Weapons Armor & Leather
IFL Week 5
Kruger 'The Anvil' Allen
Rock Hards
Jimmy stands with a microphone in his hand looking off camera before setting up to speak. He turns his face and begins talking instantly. “I’m standing here with one of the most talked about fighters in the IFL today…well everyday really. You know him as The Anvil.”
Kruger The Anvil Allen enters carrying a news paper. He is garbed in the black and red of the Rock Hards. Sunglasses covered eyes look to Jimmy. “You know what I’m reading here Mean Jimmy?” The Anvil rattles the newspaper in his hands and tears it in half as Jimmy mouths the word mean.
“The Anvil is reading yesterdays news yeah…just like Vanion Shadowcast and Gaius of the Casii.” The paper is torn in half again. “That was yesterday’s news though, The Anvil is the news of today and tomorrow…yeah.” He bends down and lifts a trash can from the floor and shoves the paper into it overdramatically.
Kruger flexes a bicep and keeps his back to the camera looking at Jimmy as he keeps up his posturing. “You see that Mean Jimmy…just like yesterday's news Gaius is going right in the trash…And his little henchman Vanion will be wrapping the fish that The Anvil eats for dinner tonight, yeah. Cuz The Anvil is rising right to the top!”
The Anvil throws down the trash can and drops a towel with a Rock Hard symbol onto Jimmy’s shoulder. “Take this and give it to Gaius yeah…and tell him it’s a crying towel straight from The Anvil.” Jimmy pulls the towel and looks at it just before noticing that Kruger is walking away.
“Anvil…Can I ask you a question?” Jimmy calls after Kruger.
The Anvil doesn’t turn around he just flails an arm back at Jimmy and shouts. “No More Questions!”
Kruger 'The Anvil' Allen
Rock Hards
Jimmy stands with a microphone in his hand looking off camera before setting up to speak. He turns his face and begins talking instantly. “I’m standing here with one of the most talked about fighters in the IFL today…well everyday really. You know him as The Anvil.”
Kruger The Anvil Allen enters carrying a news paper. He is garbed in the black and red of the Rock Hards. Sunglasses covered eyes look to Jimmy. “You know what I’m reading here Mean Jimmy?” The Anvil rattles the newspaper in his hands and tears it in half as Jimmy mouths the word mean.
“The Anvil is reading yesterdays news yeah…just like Vanion Shadowcast and Gaius of the Casii.” The paper is torn in half again. “That was yesterday’s news though, The Anvil is the news of today and tomorrow…yeah.” He bends down and lifts a trash can from the floor and shoves the paper into it overdramatically.
Kruger flexes a bicep and keeps his back to the camera looking at Jimmy as he keeps up his posturing. “You see that Mean Jimmy…just like yesterday's news Gaius is going right in the trash…And his little henchman Vanion will be wrapping the fish that The Anvil eats for dinner tonight, yeah. Cuz The Anvil is rising right to the top!”
The Anvil throws down the trash can and drops a towel with a Rock Hard symbol onto Jimmy’s shoulder. “Take this and give it to Gaius yeah…and tell him it’s a crying towel straight from The Anvil.” Jimmy pulls the towel and looks at it just before noticing that Kruger is walking away.
“Anvil…Can I ask you a question?” Jimmy calls after Kruger.
The Anvil doesn’t turn around he just flails an arm back at Jimmy and shouts. “No More Questions!”
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The Breaker
- Junior Adventurer
- Posts: 9
- Joined: Fri Jul 05, 2013 8:56 pm
- Location: Where the noise is
IFL Week 5
Jin "The Breaker" Sin
Mercenarii
The crowds had since dispersed from the Park and aside from the floodlights it was pitch black as midnight approached. The nameless employee grabbed hold of the camera man's arm and drew close to whisper into his ear.
"Did you hear that?! There's someone there!" The frantic, and frankly underpaid employee remarked to the camera man.
"Dude you're nuts, we're the only ones here at this hour who would even--" His jaw went slacked as he pointed towards the other side of the booth.
Jin crawled on in and let out a sigh of relief. Wearing a big puffy winter coat and with a duffle bag he'd set up, to apparently sleep here for the night.
The employee nudged the camera man and took a moment to clear his voice.
"Please start off with your name, your team affiliation and the IFL week."
Jin abruptly shot up in the booth and darted frantic looks were thrown in each direction.
"Who said that?! Jin's got rocks and can use them!" Mimicry of the fighting irish right now.
"Over here!" He hadn't thought that one through, but as Jin slowly leaned into the lens, proceeding to poke it a few times, the message had clearly hit home.
"Oi, how does a camera talk? Jin's not completely sure about this..." Jin had his doubts about the legitimacy of this operation, clearly.
"Ahem. We will be asking the questions and we're not cameras. Please: your name, your team affiliation and the IFL week." The younger employee was pleased with his poise.
After a few moments of Jin delivering the stink eye he'd sit back onto the seat and give a cheesey smile and a thumbs-up!
"Oi my name's Jin, I fight for Team Mercenarii and this is currently....", he had to use his hand, "week five!" Thumbs up.
"Can you elaborate a little on how you're feeling going into this week's matchup? You're squaring off toe-to-toe with Rock Hards very own Dust Cameron. This is both your own and Dust's first season in IFL and you're both taking on the Iron Fist Match; tell us what's going through your head." The young man wanted to get all of the footage he possibly could before Jin fell asleep in the booth.
"Oi Jin's excited!" Thumbs up and cheesey smile with it.
"Please, do elaborate." My pay depends on this!
"Oi well as far as rocks go Jin can only imagine a team named Rock Hards can throw some mean lookin' rocks! Real mean! Jin thinks it's going to be a real good match! Real rocks!" Jin finished that portion with some thumbs ups and a few nods.
"Is this guy serious?" The younger of the two stared at the camera man, who coincidentally stared right back. A shrug was made and then it was time for one last question. They couldn't take much more of this.
"Okay so you're a relatively unknown fighter, only a few appearances in Hydra and then you fell off the map. You have claimed two victims so far, not at all pushovers, with force! Can you tell us any secrets of who you train with, or how you trained to get this strong in such a short amount of time? Tell us your secrets Jin!" He may or may not have had dreams of dueling in IFL one day!
"Oi for a camera you're certainly asking a lot of Jin..." Chin strokes ensued before the cheesey smile and thumbs-up were given.
"Jin's coach is a real pretty sheila. Real strong!" Jin lifted both arms flexing-esque to illustrate the point.
"She's got real nice red hair, very kind and always giving Jin pointers. After Jin's fights in Hydra, Jin asked red how Jin could get stronger. She told Jin to travel to Bangkok and confront the he-shes.(**The actual instructions were to travel to Thailand to learn Muay Thai**) She said they were the most dangerous crowd in the world! So Jin went, and Jin definitely did NOT enjoy it!" Jin's face was all too serious, staring right into the hearts of the men who were watching behind that one-way screen. They both gulped.
"Jin spent countless nights sleeping with Jin's eyes open! Jin never knew what was around any given corner! It was the most terrifying experience of Jin's life!" Nods with the arms crossing.
"Jin, please I know I'm dying to know as well as our viewers; who exactly is your mentor?!" He was now leaning in, his nose pressing against the glass.
"Oi that'd be Red-sheila", Jin had to stroke his chin and remember her name. With a snap of the fingers, Jin gave the cheesey smile and ended the suspense, "Apple! Jin and Apple have long strenuous training, reminds Jin of the he-she horde Jin had to fight in Bangkok!"
The story was too absurd to be true, both the younger interviewer and the camera man were thinking the same thing.
"Th-thank you, I think. That will be all. Also you may not sleep here." There was the sound of the facepalm as the younger man watched his dreams of moving on up slide right down the drain.
"Oi it was Jin's pleasure!" Jin gave his cheesey smile and thumbs up before slipping on out into the night.
Jin "The Breaker" Sin
Mercenarii
The crowds had since dispersed from the Park and aside from the floodlights it was pitch black as midnight approached. The nameless employee grabbed hold of the camera man's arm and drew close to whisper into his ear.
"Did you hear that?! There's someone there!" The frantic, and frankly underpaid employee remarked to the camera man.
"Dude you're nuts, we're the only ones here at this hour who would even--" His jaw went slacked as he pointed towards the other side of the booth.
Jin crawled on in and let out a sigh of relief. Wearing a big puffy winter coat and with a duffle bag he'd set up, to apparently sleep here for the night.
The employee nudged the camera man and took a moment to clear his voice.
"Please start off with your name, your team affiliation and the IFL week."
Jin abruptly shot up in the booth and darted frantic looks were thrown in each direction.
"Who said that?! Jin's got rocks and can use them!" Mimicry of the fighting irish right now.
"Over here!" He hadn't thought that one through, but as Jin slowly leaned into the lens, proceeding to poke it a few times, the message had clearly hit home.
"Oi, how does a camera talk? Jin's not completely sure about this..." Jin had his doubts about the legitimacy of this operation, clearly.
"Ahem. We will be asking the questions and we're not cameras. Please: your name, your team affiliation and the IFL week." The younger employee was pleased with his poise.
After a few moments of Jin delivering the stink eye he'd sit back onto the seat and give a cheesey smile and a thumbs-up!
"Oi my name's Jin, I fight for Team Mercenarii and this is currently....", he had to use his hand, "week five!" Thumbs up.
"Can you elaborate a little on how you're feeling going into this week's matchup? You're squaring off toe-to-toe with Rock Hards very own Dust Cameron. This is both your own and Dust's first season in IFL and you're both taking on the Iron Fist Match; tell us what's going through your head." The young man wanted to get all of the footage he possibly could before Jin fell asleep in the booth.
"Oi Jin's excited!" Thumbs up and cheesey smile with it.
"Please, do elaborate." My pay depends on this!
"Oi well as far as rocks go Jin can only imagine a team named Rock Hards can throw some mean lookin' rocks! Real mean! Jin thinks it's going to be a real good match! Real rocks!" Jin finished that portion with some thumbs ups and a few nods.
"Is this guy serious?" The younger of the two stared at the camera man, who coincidentally stared right back. A shrug was made and then it was time for one last question. They couldn't take much more of this.
"Okay so you're a relatively unknown fighter, only a few appearances in Hydra and then you fell off the map. You have claimed two victims so far, not at all pushovers, with force! Can you tell us any secrets of who you train with, or how you trained to get this strong in such a short amount of time? Tell us your secrets Jin!" He may or may not have had dreams of dueling in IFL one day!
"Oi for a camera you're certainly asking a lot of Jin..." Chin strokes ensued before the cheesey smile and thumbs-up were given.
"Jin's coach is a real pretty sheila. Real strong!" Jin lifted both arms flexing-esque to illustrate the point.
"She's got real nice red hair, very kind and always giving Jin pointers. After Jin's fights in Hydra, Jin asked red how Jin could get stronger. She told Jin to travel to Bangkok and confront the he-shes.(**The actual instructions were to travel to Thailand to learn Muay Thai**) She said they were the most dangerous crowd in the world! So Jin went, and Jin definitely did NOT enjoy it!" Jin's face was all too serious, staring right into the hearts of the men who were watching behind that one-way screen. They both gulped.
"Jin spent countless nights sleeping with Jin's eyes open! Jin never knew what was around any given corner! It was the most terrifying experience of Jin's life!" Nods with the arms crossing.
"Jin, please I know I'm dying to know as well as our viewers; who exactly is your mentor?!" He was now leaning in, his nose pressing against the glass.
"Oi that'd be Red-sheila", Jin had to stroke his chin and remember her name. With a snap of the fingers, Jin gave the cheesey smile and ended the suspense, "Apple! Jin and Apple have long strenuous training, reminds Jin of the he-she horde Jin had to fight in Bangkok!"
The story was too absurd to be true, both the younger interviewer and the camera man were thinking the same thing.
"Th-thank you, I think. That will be all. Also you may not sleep here." There was the sound of the facepalm as the younger man watched his dreams of moving on up slide right down the drain.
"Oi it was Jin's pleasure!" Jin gave his cheesey smile and thumbs up before slipping on out into the night.
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Claire Gallows
- Legendary Adventurer
- Eternal Light
- Posts: 1605
- Joined: Sun Feb 24, 2013 8:03 pm
- Location: Dunmovin (Outside of Rhydin City), Underwood (New Haven), or Caelum Training Center
Claire Farron
Team Dirty
Week Five
The curtain of the interview booth rustles a few times. A hand shoots through the material and grasps at air before being promptly yanked back.
“Damnit, Zack! I wanna go into the booth and talk...to the people...you know. I swear I'll beat you with that lady's clipboard.” A woman's voice can be heard just before an indignant huff and the yanking of the curtain open once more. Wobbling her way in, Claire Farron drops onto the bench and stares at the camera, squinting as she works on focusing her eyes. Her cheeks puff up before she exhales, making her bubblegum pink bangs flutter in front of her face.
“Name, Team Affiliation, and week?” A voice sounds from somewhere behind the camera. Claire's squinting intensifies but ever so slowly she answers.
“Claire, um Farron. And I'm Team Dirty. Captain and [BLEEP]. And I don't know what day it is let alone what [BLEEP]ing week it is.” She manages finally, ever so slightly tilting to one side. A man's hand appears from the break in the curtain, pressing against her arm to keep her upright. She reaches up and pats at the hand gently, a fond smile crossing her expression before she quickly forgot what she was smiling about.
“So, Claire, how'd this week go? For you and for your team?” The voice asked. Though they had spoken once before, it still made her jump and she blinked a few times before leaning forward much to the chagrin of the hand holding her up at the moment. With a hard tug, she was sitting upright again and she huffed at whoever it was outside of the booth, glaring daggers at the curtain.
“Not so hot. Another sweep and um, I fought Koy. She sort of knocked me the [BLEEP] out. They say I'm concussed. I think I have brain damage now.” Despite this, she grinned ear to ear, an almost crazed smile as she tossed up a shaking hand to thumbs up the camera. As she dropped her hand, she blanked out, staring at the camera and huffing out a breath. Grumbling incoherently under her breath, she rubbed at her temple, blinked a few times and grinned once again.
“That's the third sweep of Team Dirty in five weeks, how do you feel about it and what is the team doing to try and keep in the running for playoffs?” That question had her scowling and she turned a rather sullen look right into the camera lens, managing to even focus long enough to huff at it and lean back. Setting her head back against the wall of the booth with a dull thud, she shrugged.
“I've got them doing two-a-days, working hard, and trying to turn it around, you know? Getting swept sucks, but sucking sucks more, so we just have to make a stronger showing in the last two weeks and hopefully knock the [BLEEP] out of the Rock Hards and Mercenarii.” Another shrug, her eyes closing for a moment or two. The hand from outside of the curtain gave her a light nudge and she sat bolt upright, blinking a few times.
“Huh what? I'm good...I swear. Bite my [BLEEP], Zack.” She grumbled just loud enough to be heard. Outside of the curtain, a voice could be heard, male sounding but his words were unable to be distinguished by the booth's microphone. She snorted in a rather unladylike fashion and shook her head, jerking her thumb toward the curtain. “I swear, he's going to be the first one I go after tomorrow.”
“Who was that?” She was asked, prompting a wrinkling of her nose and a look of disdain at the curtain, then at the camera, then at the curtain again.
“Zack Alcar. Best friend, teammate, general pain in the [BLEEP]. But he means well.” Again her eyes began closing as she leaned in the booth, her words trailing off into quiet. When the sound of her voice died down, she was given another nudge, this time toppling to the side. Her limbs flailed every which way, her hands randomly smacking against the control panel on the side of the booth as she caught herself.
“What the [BLEEP]ing [BLEEP]?!” She looked bewildered as the lighting in the booth changed and the background behind her lit up with the Team Dirty logo. Seeing that reflected in the glass panel, she perked up immediately and grinned.
“Holy [bleep]! Hey look! I'm pretty now!” She declared brightly, beaming from ear to ear just in time for the hand from outside of the booth to give the sleeve of her sweatshirt a light tug and a few indistinguishable words. Her smile faltered and her shoulders dropped before she eyed the camera again.
“I guess I gotta go. Doctor's orders say I have to get to eating cupcakes and petting my dog and resting while watching Dueling Wives.” She said sadly, though the prospect of cupcakes was rather enticing. Fluttering a wave to the camera, she grins and blows a kiss.
“Any last words?” The interviewer asked as Claire moved to slide out of the booth.
“YES! TEAM DIRTY FOR [BLEEP]ING LIFE!” She threw up a bunch of random hand signals just in time to get pulled from the booth by her rather exasperated companion.
Team Dirty
Week Five
The curtain of the interview booth rustles a few times. A hand shoots through the material and grasps at air before being promptly yanked back.
“Damnit, Zack! I wanna go into the booth and talk...to the people...you know. I swear I'll beat you with that lady's clipboard.” A woman's voice can be heard just before an indignant huff and the yanking of the curtain open once more. Wobbling her way in, Claire Farron drops onto the bench and stares at the camera, squinting as she works on focusing her eyes. Her cheeks puff up before she exhales, making her bubblegum pink bangs flutter in front of her face.
“Name, Team Affiliation, and week?” A voice sounds from somewhere behind the camera. Claire's squinting intensifies but ever so slowly she answers.
“Claire, um Farron. And I'm Team Dirty. Captain and [BLEEP]. And I don't know what day it is let alone what [BLEEP]ing week it is.” She manages finally, ever so slightly tilting to one side. A man's hand appears from the break in the curtain, pressing against her arm to keep her upright. She reaches up and pats at the hand gently, a fond smile crossing her expression before she quickly forgot what she was smiling about.
“So, Claire, how'd this week go? For you and for your team?” The voice asked. Though they had spoken once before, it still made her jump and she blinked a few times before leaning forward much to the chagrin of the hand holding her up at the moment. With a hard tug, she was sitting upright again and she huffed at whoever it was outside of the booth, glaring daggers at the curtain.
“Not so hot. Another sweep and um, I fought Koy. She sort of knocked me the [BLEEP] out. They say I'm concussed. I think I have brain damage now.” Despite this, she grinned ear to ear, an almost crazed smile as she tossed up a shaking hand to thumbs up the camera. As she dropped her hand, she blanked out, staring at the camera and huffing out a breath. Grumbling incoherently under her breath, she rubbed at her temple, blinked a few times and grinned once again.
“That's the third sweep of Team Dirty in five weeks, how do you feel about it and what is the team doing to try and keep in the running for playoffs?” That question had her scowling and she turned a rather sullen look right into the camera lens, managing to even focus long enough to huff at it and lean back. Setting her head back against the wall of the booth with a dull thud, she shrugged.
“I've got them doing two-a-days, working hard, and trying to turn it around, you know? Getting swept sucks, but sucking sucks more, so we just have to make a stronger showing in the last two weeks and hopefully knock the [BLEEP] out of the Rock Hards and Mercenarii.” Another shrug, her eyes closing for a moment or two. The hand from outside of the curtain gave her a light nudge and she sat bolt upright, blinking a few times.
“Huh what? I'm good...I swear. Bite my [BLEEP], Zack.” She grumbled just loud enough to be heard. Outside of the curtain, a voice could be heard, male sounding but his words were unable to be distinguished by the booth's microphone. She snorted in a rather unladylike fashion and shook her head, jerking her thumb toward the curtain. “I swear, he's going to be the first one I go after tomorrow.”
“Who was that?” She was asked, prompting a wrinkling of her nose and a look of disdain at the curtain, then at the camera, then at the curtain again.
“Zack Alcar. Best friend, teammate, general pain in the [BLEEP]. But he means well.” Again her eyes began closing as she leaned in the booth, her words trailing off into quiet. When the sound of her voice died down, she was given another nudge, this time toppling to the side. Her limbs flailed every which way, her hands randomly smacking against the control panel on the side of the booth as she caught herself.
“What the [BLEEP]ing [BLEEP]?!” She looked bewildered as the lighting in the booth changed and the background behind her lit up with the Team Dirty logo. Seeing that reflected in the glass panel, she perked up immediately and grinned.
“Holy [bleep]! Hey look! I'm pretty now!” She declared brightly, beaming from ear to ear just in time for the hand from outside of the booth to give the sleeve of her sweatshirt a light tug and a few indistinguishable words. Her smile faltered and her shoulders dropped before she eyed the camera again.
“I guess I gotta go. Doctor's orders say I have to get to eating cupcakes and petting my dog and resting while watching Dueling Wives.” She said sadly, though the prospect of cupcakes was rather enticing. Fluttering a wave to the camera, she grins and blows a kiss.
“Any last words?” The interviewer asked as Claire moved to slide out of the booth.
“YES! TEAM DIRTY FOR [BLEEP]ING LIFE!” She threw up a bunch of random hand signals just in time to get pulled from the booth by her rather exasperated companion.
-
Kalamere
- Black Wizard
- Devil's Advocate
- Posts: 1824
- Joined: Mon Oct 31, 2005 10:45 pm
- Location: Dragon's Gate
- Contact:
IFL Week 5
Kalamere Ar’Din
Badside Brawlers
The red curtain parted as a woman stepped backward into the booth. Long brown hair spills over exposed shoulders, her black trenchcoat having slipped down her arms. Beneath the falling coat she wore a deep metallic blue slip dress and black heels.
“When I said someplace more private, darlin’, this was na really wha’ I ‘ad in mind,” the man pulled in with her protests weakly, his complaint stifled as their lips lock and the red curtain closed behind them. They started to make themselves comfortable on the small cushioned bench.
A nervous throat cleared from behind the reflective glass of the partition. With that having little effect, Jimmy raised his voice to disrupt the pair, “Can you please state your name, your team affiliation, and the IFL week?”
The woman paused, looking around for the voice. A soft giggle to Kalamere, “Looks like we’re less alone than I thought.”
The tall elf frowned as he turned to see the glass partition and reached to pull a curtain closed across it. “I can fix tha’. Why don’ ye come back tomorrow, lad?” he suggested to Jimmy.
“H-hey!” Jimmy protested from behind the glass.
The woman laughed with amusement, reaching to stop Kalamere’s progress with the curtain and push it back. “I’m curious now.”
With a grumble he released the curtain, letting it fall back open. “If ye insist, darlin’.”
“Who might ye be, lad? And wha’ organization are ye workin fer?” Kal asked of the glass partition once he’d turned back to face it.
The woman leaned over, whispering something to Kalamere’s ear that the microphones failed to pick up.
“My name is Jimmy. I’m with the RhyDin Sports Network. Can you please state your name, your team affiliation, and the IFL week?”
“Kalamere Ar’Din, Badside Brawlers and tis week 5 or so in the season. Time works odd in the league, so tisn’t easy ta pin down.”
“Unlike other things,” the woman teasingly interjects.
“Who is this with you?” asks Jimmy.
He gave an almost nervous look between the woman seated next to him and where he expected the camera was. “Is this bein’ filmed?” That would go poorly with his teammate, he was sure. “Might be we ought move on ta yer other questions.”
“I’m Candy R. Hart,” the woman interjected without shame.
“Candy Hart…. of the Badside Brawlers?” The voice sounded incredulous, given what is known about the woman. But when he was handed a photo of the known female dueler, he could definitely see the resemblance.
“Nae. Well.. err.. Na, really. Tis complicated.” He sighed as he answered, already wondering what excuse he might use to avoid the next team practice. “Aye, she’s Candy. Nae, she’s na m’teammate. When did ye’ say this footage would be airin’?”
“That is up to the executives. How do you feel going into your next bout given your 5-1 loss to The Rock Hard’s Rachael Douglas in your last match-up?”
“Tis hard ta look tha’ far ahead, as I’ve m’Barony ta be defendin’ first. I’ll be fightin’ Elaine later in the week though an lookin’ forward ta it. She tends ta bring cookies.”
“Is that all it takes?” Candy playfully asked, ignoring the camera and leaning to brush a finger over the point of Kalamere’s ear.
“Ne’er hurts, m’dear. Though in yer case I might ‘ave some other suggestions.” a wicked grin crept across his lips as he returned a wink.
Jimmy cleared his throat again. “Elaine Aqua is from Champions of Mythos who have only recently experienced their first defeat against Top Flight. Do you expect the Brawlers to hand them a second one?”
“Well, tha’s the plan now, aye? The orc took one down already an Lilly’s runnin’ hot. Tha’ leaves me an, umm, Candy. The other Candy. She sees this b’fer her bout an I might feel a wee bit sorra fer Joku. Things are lookin’ good fer our crew though.”
The Candy in the booth is toying with the buttons, changing the background until she finds something blue.
“Candy is known for being brutal. How do you feel about being on a team with her? Rumor has it you two had a scuffle at the IFL Meet and Greet. What was the cause?”
“Jealousy?” the Candy in the booth offers.The woman smiles shamelessly toward Kalamere, a smile that offers to make up for any trouble she may cause.
“Ahem,” Kal cleared his throat to interject and put a halt to whatever other dangerous suggestions this Candy might make on camera. “Jus’ a slight difference o’ opinion.” Kal being of the opinion he should keep all his teeth. Candy less so. “We’ve been gettin’ along fine since the season started.”
“It certainly looks that way. Any final words?”
“Jus’ ta remind folks ta stop by The Line ‘ere in Dragon’s Gate an place their bets. We’ve an assortment o’ odds available on all the IFL bouts or, really, anna other sportin’ event ta catch their fancy. Now, if ye’ don’ mind?” he reached out to drop the curtain closed once more.
(( Written with a lot of prodding and cooperation from Candy. No, the other one. ))
Kalamere Ar’Din
Badside Brawlers
The red curtain parted as a woman stepped backward into the booth. Long brown hair spills over exposed shoulders, her black trenchcoat having slipped down her arms. Beneath the falling coat she wore a deep metallic blue slip dress and black heels.
“When I said someplace more private, darlin’, this was na really wha’ I ‘ad in mind,” the man pulled in with her protests weakly, his complaint stifled as their lips lock and the red curtain closed behind them. They started to make themselves comfortable on the small cushioned bench.
A nervous throat cleared from behind the reflective glass of the partition. With that having little effect, Jimmy raised his voice to disrupt the pair, “Can you please state your name, your team affiliation, and the IFL week?”
The woman paused, looking around for the voice. A soft giggle to Kalamere, “Looks like we’re less alone than I thought.”
The tall elf frowned as he turned to see the glass partition and reached to pull a curtain closed across it. “I can fix tha’. Why don’ ye come back tomorrow, lad?” he suggested to Jimmy.
“H-hey!” Jimmy protested from behind the glass.
The woman laughed with amusement, reaching to stop Kalamere’s progress with the curtain and push it back. “I’m curious now.”
With a grumble he released the curtain, letting it fall back open. “If ye insist, darlin’.”
“Who might ye be, lad? And wha’ organization are ye workin fer?” Kal asked of the glass partition once he’d turned back to face it.
The woman leaned over, whispering something to Kalamere’s ear that the microphones failed to pick up.
“My name is Jimmy. I’m with the RhyDin Sports Network. Can you please state your name, your team affiliation, and the IFL week?”
“Kalamere Ar’Din, Badside Brawlers and tis week 5 or so in the season. Time works odd in the league, so tisn’t easy ta pin down.”
“Unlike other things,” the woman teasingly interjects.
“Who is this with you?” asks Jimmy.
He gave an almost nervous look between the woman seated next to him and where he expected the camera was. “Is this bein’ filmed?” That would go poorly with his teammate, he was sure. “Might be we ought move on ta yer other questions.”
“I’m Candy R. Hart,” the woman interjected without shame.
“Candy Hart…. of the Badside Brawlers?” The voice sounded incredulous, given what is known about the woman. But when he was handed a photo of the known female dueler, he could definitely see the resemblance.
“Nae. Well.. err.. Na, really. Tis complicated.” He sighed as he answered, already wondering what excuse he might use to avoid the next team practice. “Aye, she’s Candy. Nae, she’s na m’teammate. When did ye’ say this footage would be airin’?”
“That is up to the executives. How do you feel going into your next bout given your 5-1 loss to The Rock Hard’s Rachael Douglas in your last match-up?”
“Tis hard ta look tha’ far ahead, as I’ve m’Barony ta be defendin’ first. I’ll be fightin’ Elaine later in the week though an lookin’ forward ta it. She tends ta bring cookies.”
“Is that all it takes?” Candy playfully asked, ignoring the camera and leaning to brush a finger over the point of Kalamere’s ear.
“Ne’er hurts, m’dear. Though in yer case I might ‘ave some other suggestions.” a wicked grin crept across his lips as he returned a wink.
Jimmy cleared his throat again. “Elaine Aqua is from Champions of Mythos who have only recently experienced their first defeat against Top Flight. Do you expect the Brawlers to hand them a second one?”
“Well, tha’s the plan now, aye? The orc took one down already an Lilly’s runnin’ hot. Tha’ leaves me an, umm, Candy. The other Candy. She sees this b’fer her bout an I might feel a wee bit sorra fer Joku. Things are lookin’ good fer our crew though.”
The Candy in the booth is toying with the buttons, changing the background until she finds something blue.
“Candy is known for being brutal. How do you feel about being on a team with her? Rumor has it you two had a scuffle at the IFL Meet and Greet. What was the cause?”
“Jealousy?” the Candy in the booth offers.The woman smiles shamelessly toward Kalamere, a smile that offers to make up for any trouble she may cause.
“Ahem,” Kal cleared his throat to interject and put a halt to whatever other dangerous suggestions this Candy might make on camera. “Jus’ a slight difference o’ opinion.” Kal being of the opinion he should keep all his teeth. Candy less so. “We’ve been gettin’ along fine since the season started.”
“It certainly looks that way. Any final words?”
“Jus’ ta remind folks ta stop by The Line ‘ere in Dragon’s Gate an place their bets. We’ve an assortment o’ odds available on all the IFL bouts or, really, anna other sportin’ event ta catch their fancy. Now, if ye’ don’ mind?” he reached out to drop the curtain closed once more.
(( Written with a lot of prodding and cooperation from Candy. No, the other one. ))
-
Koyliak
- Seasoned Adventurer
- Fashion Police
- Posts: 426
- Joined: Sat Apr 03, 2004 11:14 pm
- Location: The Heavenly Boutique - Where Dreams Become Realities
IFL Week 5
Koyliak VanDuran-Simon
Team Fist
“Jest give me a moment, bub,” Koy said as she slid past the curtain and into the booth. Fresh off her fight with Claire that evening a large knot had formed over her right eyebrow. She took off the sweatshirt Kheld had let her borrow after she gave her wool cape to Zack to cover her unconscious opponent. Koy’s attention immediately was drawn to the glass in front of her and the reflection it showed. She frowned and glanced towards the curtain.
“Are ye sure ye want ta film me now? I seem ta be both sweatin’ and shiverin’ at the same time. It’s not my best--” Koy was about to continue her critique when a voice resonated inside the booth.
“I’m on the other side of the panel now, Koy.” Sal, who had ushered her inside the booth moments earlier, now adjusted the sound levels on the microphone recording the elf. “And yes, we prefer having you download us on your fight immediately after leaving the ring. Don’t worry, you look tough.”
Koy adjusted herself in the seat and spoke in the direction of the glass panel instead, again confronted by her image. She reached into her purse for a silk handkerchief to try and blot away the sheen from her face. “Ye want me ta go down and do wha now?”
“Download. You know, tell us about it.”
“Why didn’t ye jest say tha then?”
“I just did.”
“Look, bub, iffn ye’re gonna get fresh with me the very least ye can do is fix the lightin’ ye’ve got goin’ on here. This is how yer camera sees me, aye?” Koy peered again at the panel, having more experience with filming than she did with technology to make the word “download” part of her common vocabulary. She tilted her chin up and checked out her profile. “Ye’ve got ta make my eyes pop, ye know with tha lightin’ tha really lets ye see a person’s pupils and everythin’?”
Another adjustment came from behind the panel. “You can call me Sal. Like this?”
“Aye, tha’s better, bub.”
“Sal.”
“I jest got a massive welt on my noggin’ from headbuttin’ someone, do ye really think my brain can remember yer name right now, bub?” Koy gave the faceless voice behind the panel a crooked grin.
“Fair enough. Ready to start?”
“Wait, wait. Wha’s tha background ye got there fer me?” Koy tapped a short but polished fingernail against the glass and the Team Fist logo floating behind her. “Tha’s fine, but could ye lighten it some? I’m wearin’ black now, and ye’ve got me on a black background. I’m not tryin’ ta blend in here.”
The logo remained on the background but the black faded into white with more emphasis given to the gold tones of the clenched fist.
“Something tells me not blending in is a common issue for you. Would you care to tell us how you choose what to wear for your fights?”
“The way I choose wha I wear fer any other occasion: wha makes me feel the most fabulous.”
“It never crosses your mind that what you’d wear for a night out on the town might not be practical in a ring?”
“I mean, I’m ‘ware of it, sure, but wha’s the fun in tha? I had more flair ta my outfit earlier but I lost my cape. Ye should’ve seen it, it had such a nice drape ta it.” Koy started to relax against her seat. Sal had picked a comfortable topic to discuss.
“What happened to it?”
“Claire needed somethin’ warm ta cover up.”
“Do you make a habit of lending clothes to your opponents?”
“When I’m the one who knocked ‘em out and the match is over, sure. Although there are certainly a few others I’d like ta clothe jest ‘cause I think they could use my help.”
“An example?”
Koy did not hesitate in sharing the first name that came to mind with a grin. “Keo. I’m dyin’ ta give her a makeover. She needs somethin’ tha does more ta turn tha sour face she’s ‘lways wearin’ inta somethin’ tha looks more edgy than like she jest ate a rotten fish.”
“Back to your match. How did it go?”
“Well I won so my husband should be glad fer tha.”
“You don’t care about winning?”
“In league fightin’ like this I do ‘cause it’s my team. But it’s no secret I’m more inta the physicality of the fight than anythin’ else.”
“Is it difficult having your husband also be your captain?”
“Iffn we can figure out how to parent a child together, workin’ together on anythin’ else isn’t nearly as tough.”
“Do you feel the nickname ‘Captain Futility’ is warranted this season?”
“I think Matt’s accomplishments speak fer themselves. Iffn he were any run of the mill fighter, no one would bother talkin’ ‘bout ‘em at all, no?”
“All right then. And how do you feel about your own performance this season?”
Koy gave a small shrug. “I’ve enjoyed each of my fights and I’ve won more than I’ve lost so I can’t complain.”
Sal’s tone remained even-keeled as he veered further and further away from the earlier easy talk of fashion. “If I might make an observation, for a fight that you won by a healthy margin, you look pretty winded, Koy.”
“I told ye from the start I’m not lookin’ my best right now. I jest cracked skulls with a woman who got a good swipe in on me.”
“True, but you’ve frequently spent nights in the Outback where you’ve had to by choice or tourney fight multiple matches in a row, haven’t you?”
Koy felt her temper rising even though she wasn’t sure what Sal was driving at. “Aye, wha of it?”
“Like I said, a simple observation. You’re not exactly fighting at the peak of your game. I was wondering if you had any idea why not? Have you been slacking on your training?”
“Tha’s ridiculous. I don’t need ta sit here and defend myself comin’ off of a win, bub.” Koy clenched her fists together tightly in her lap.
A freeze-frame image of Koy appeared on the panel. It was in the middle of her match, a round where both women caught a breather, but Koy’s face looked a sickly yellow-green color. A photo of Koy in the ring from the second IFL season was pulled up next to it for comparison. There was no denying she looked healthier and more vitale in the latter.
“Here you are last season. I know it was a few years ago but you can’t deny which Koy Team Fist Nation would likely prefer to see showing up in the ring.”
Koy bolted up and pointed at the glass panel. “Tha’s easy fer ye ta say hidin’ behind tha screen! Ye meet me in a ring, any time, and we’ll see which one of us leaves it lookin’ more full of life, Sal. We’re done here.”
Koy stormed out of the booth cursing under her breath on the long, cold walk home.
Koyliak VanDuran-Simon
Team Fist
“Jest give me a moment, bub,” Koy said as she slid past the curtain and into the booth. Fresh off her fight with Claire that evening a large knot had formed over her right eyebrow. She took off the sweatshirt Kheld had let her borrow after she gave her wool cape to Zack to cover her unconscious opponent. Koy’s attention immediately was drawn to the glass in front of her and the reflection it showed. She frowned and glanced towards the curtain.
“Are ye sure ye want ta film me now? I seem ta be both sweatin’ and shiverin’ at the same time. It’s not my best--” Koy was about to continue her critique when a voice resonated inside the booth.
“I’m on the other side of the panel now, Koy.” Sal, who had ushered her inside the booth moments earlier, now adjusted the sound levels on the microphone recording the elf. “And yes, we prefer having you download us on your fight immediately after leaving the ring. Don’t worry, you look tough.”
Koy adjusted herself in the seat and spoke in the direction of the glass panel instead, again confronted by her image. She reached into her purse for a silk handkerchief to try and blot away the sheen from her face. “Ye want me ta go down and do wha now?”
“Download. You know, tell us about it.”
“Why didn’t ye jest say tha then?”
“I just did.”
“Look, bub, iffn ye’re gonna get fresh with me the very least ye can do is fix the lightin’ ye’ve got goin’ on here. This is how yer camera sees me, aye?” Koy peered again at the panel, having more experience with filming than she did with technology to make the word “download” part of her common vocabulary. She tilted her chin up and checked out her profile. “Ye’ve got ta make my eyes pop, ye know with tha lightin’ tha really lets ye see a person’s pupils and everythin’?”
Another adjustment came from behind the panel. “You can call me Sal. Like this?”
“Aye, tha’s better, bub.”
“Sal.”
“I jest got a massive welt on my noggin’ from headbuttin’ someone, do ye really think my brain can remember yer name right now, bub?” Koy gave the faceless voice behind the panel a crooked grin.
“Fair enough. Ready to start?”
“Wait, wait. Wha’s tha background ye got there fer me?” Koy tapped a short but polished fingernail against the glass and the Team Fist logo floating behind her. “Tha’s fine, but could ye lighten it some? I’m wearin’ black now, and ye’ve got me on a black background. I’m not tryin’ ta blend in here.”
The logo remained on the background but the black faded into white with more emphasis given to the gold tones of the clenched fist.
“Something tells me not blending in is a common issue for you. Would you care to tell us how you choose what to wear for your fights?”
“The way I choose wha I wear fer any other occasion: wha makes me feel the most fabulous.”
“It never crosses your mind that what you’d wear for a night out on the town might not be practical in a ring?”
“I mean, I’m ‘ware of it, sure, but wha’s the fun in tha? I had more flair ta my outfit earlier but I lost my cape. Ye should’ve seen it, it had such a nice drape ta it.” Koy started to relax against her seat. Sal had picked a comfortable topic to discuss.
“What happened to it?”
“Claire needed somethin’ warm ta cover up.”
“Do you make a habit of lending clothes to your opponents?”
“When I’m the one who knocked ‘em out and the match is over, sure. Although there are certainly a few others I’d like ta clothe jest ‘cause I think they could use my help.”
“An example?”
Koy did not hesitate in sharing the first name that came to mind with a grin. “Keo. I’m dyin’ ta give her a makeover. She needs somethin’ tha does more ta turn tha sour face she’s ‘lways wearin’ inta somethin’ tha looks more edgy than like she jest ate a rotten fish.”
“Back to your match. How did it go?”
“Well I won so my husband should be glad fer tha.”
“You don’t care about winning?”
“In league fightin’ like this I do ‘cause it’s my team. But it’s no secret I’m more inta the physicality of the fight than anythin’ else.”
“Is it difficult having your husband also be your captain?”
“Iffn we can figure out how to parent a child together, workin’ together on anythin’ else isn’t nearly as tough.”
“Do you feel the nickname ‘Captain Futility’ is warranted this season?”
“I think Matt’s accomplishments speak fer themselves. Iffn he were any run of the mill fighter, no one would bother talkin’ ‘bout ‘em at all, no?”
“All right then. And how do you feel about your own performance this season?”
Koy gave a small shrug. “I’ve enjoyed each of my fights and I’ve won more than I’ve lost so I can’t complain.”
Sal’s tone remained even-keeled as he veered further and further away from the earlier easy talk of fashion. “If I might make an observation, for a fight that you won by a healthy margin, you look pretty winded, Koy.”
“I told ye from the start I’m not lookin’ my best right now. I jest cracked skulls with a woman who got a good swipe in on me.”
“True, but you’ve frequently spent nights in the Outback where you’ve had to by choice or tourney fight multiple matches in a row, haven’t you?”
Koy felt her temper rising even though she wasn’t sure what Sal was driving at. “Aye, wha of it?”
“Like I said, a simple observation. You’re not exactly fighting at the peak of your game. I was wondering if you had any idea why not? Have you been slacking on your training?”
“Tha’s ridiculous. I don’t need ta sit here and defend myself comin’ off of a win, bub.” Koy clenched her fists together tightly in her lap.
A freeze-frame image of Koy appeared on the panel. It was in the middle of her match, a round where both women caught a breather, but Koy’s face looked a sickly yellow-green color. A photo of Koy in the ring from the second IFL season was pulled up next to it for comparison. There was no denying she looked healthier and more vitale in the latter.
“Here you are last season. I know it was a few years ago but you can’t deny which Koy Team Fist Nation would likely prefer to see showing up in the ring.”
Koy bolted up and pointed at the glass panel. “Tha’s easy fer ye ta say hidin’ behind tha screen! Ye meet me in a ring, any time, and we’ll see which one of us leaves it lookin’ more full of life, Sal. We’re done here.”
Koy stormed out of the booth cursing under her breath on the long, cold walk home.
Koyliak "The BobCrusher" VanDuran-Simon
Owner of the Heavenly Boutique
Owner of the Heavenly Boutique
-
Lilly Hyde
- Adventurer
- Posts: 77
- Joined: Thu May 31, 2007 9:25 pm
IFL Week 5
Lilly Hyde
Badside Brawlers
After she'd bandaged up from her match with the linotaur Lilly found herself pulling a man into the seemingly private booth. His face was in shadow and he was chuckling at something Lilly said just before they nearly fell into the small space. There was an exhalation, what could have been a wince of pain but it didn't seem to slow Lilly down.
The disembodied voice that came in through the reflective glass sounded exasperated. "Doesn't anyone look at the sign before they enter?" It was said under his breath but loud enough for Lilly's enhanced hearing to pick up. "Who's there?" The words a dangerous growl, one hand went to her companions chest to forcibly press him down onto the bench for later access.
Jimmy cleared his throat and announced. "Jimmy here. Can you please state your name, your team affiliation, and the IFL week?” Then adding, just in case, because he'd read the article and recognized the woman. "Do you require any assistance, mister?"
"He requires the ability to please me, which he has in spades, Jimmy." There was a wide, toothy grin aimed at the glass. "So this is that IFL box thing that Jake was talking about?" One fist came up and knocked on the glass, it shook in a satisfying manner and Lilly could hear the squeak of protest from Jimmy. "Hey now, careful with the equipment please!"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm Lilly Hyde, Badside Brawler and its week five I think." The man she'd brought in with her was still chuckling even as she used him as a chair, sitting in front of him there was no way to see his face now. "What do you want? You're cutting into private time and I don't take kindly to that."
"You and your teammates all." Jimmy said softly but in a louder tone. "How do you feel about the recent article comparing you with butch Jake cybernetic organism?"
"I thought it was sweet of G to notice that when I hit I mean it. Screw all that pansy punching I like to kick a man to the ground and then follow up with a boot to the head." Said in a tone that was both pleasant and chilling.
"Remember our first date? You bruised me so badly they didn't recognize me at work the next day." Another chuckle from the hidden man. She threw an elbow back, it landed with a thud and a grunt. "You were the one that wanted to go spar no whinging about it now."
Turning back to the barrier to speak. "You have anything else Jimmy, or can I get on with my plans. Plans that you'd best not film or else you might learn first hand about the force of my punches, capiche?"
"We just got the footage from your match with Rakeesh, any thoughts on beating on him while he was in the state he was in?"
"What do you mean? The state where he cracked two of my ribs, gave me a gouge on my arm that needed stitches and bloodied my nose and mouth? That state? If he wasn't in a fighting state then his manager should have benched him. Lion-o had more than enough fight in him to take out three other opponents before he got to me." Her voice was flat and there was anger in her gray eyes.
An arm snaked around her waist and gently pulled her into a seated position again, she'd gotten up and was getting closer and closer to the glass. Lilly looked about to say something unladylike to the man but the words didn't come. She stared at the glass again. "I might have thoughts about beating you into the state he was in, Jimmy. That would be unfair. You get in the ring, you roll the dice and sometimes fortune smiles on you and you manage to out beat the other guy. Period."
"Thanks for the interview, Ms. Hyde. We sure do appreciate it! Do you have anything else you want to say to the fans?"
"Fans? Badsider fans? I guess that makes sense, team is awesome. Nothing other than come out and watch our matches, and get some Badsider brews! I like the Autumn specials, good stuff. Now shoo, Jimmy. Shoo."
"Right, shoo-ing!"
The camera shuts off and Jimmy puts a 'Do Not Disturb' sign up before going for a coffee break, hoping they'd be gone when he gets back.
Lilly Hyde
Badside Brawlers
After she'd bandaged up from her match with the linotaur Lilly found herself pulling a man into the seemingly private booth. His face was in shadow and he was chuckling at something Lilly said just before they nearly fell into the small space. There was an exhalation, what could have been a wince of pain but it didn't seem to slow Lilly down.
The disembodied voice that came in through the reflective glass sounded exasperated. "Doesn't anyone look at the sign before they enter?" It was said under his breath but loud enough for Lilly's enhanced hearing to pick up. "Who's there?" The words a dangerous growl, one hand went to her companions chest to forcibly press him down onto the bench for later access.
Jimmy cleared his throat and announced. "Jimmy here. Can you please state your name, your team affiliation, and the IFL week?” Then adding, just in case, because he'd read the article and recognized the woman. "Do you require any assistance, mister?"
"He requires the ability to please me, which he has in spades, Jimmy." There was a wide, toothy grin aimed at the glass. "So this is that IFL box thing that Jake was talking about?" One fist came up and knocked on the glass, it shook in a satisfying manner and Lilly could hear the squeak of protest from Jimmy. "Hey now, careful with the equipment please!"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm Lilly Hyde, Badside Brawler and its week five I think." The man she'd brought in with her was still chuckling even as she used him as a chair, sitting in front of him there was no way to see his face now. "What do you want? You're cutting into private time and I don't take kindly to that."
"You and your teammates all." Jimmy said softly but in a louder tone. "How do you feel about the recent article comparing you with butch Jake cybernetic organism?"
"I thought it was sweet of G to notice that when I hit I mean it. Screw all that pansy punching I like to kick a man to the ground and then follow up with a boot to the head." Said in a tone that was both pleasant and chilling.
"Remember our first date? You bruised me so badly they didn't recognize me at work the next day." Another chuckle from the hidden man. She threw an elbow back, it landed with a thud and a grunt. "You were the one that wanted to go spar no whinging about it now."
Turning back to the barrier to speak. "You have anything else Jimmy, or can I get on with my plans. Plans that you'd best not film or else you might learn first hand about the force of my punches, capiche?"
"We just got the footage from your match with Rakeesh, any thoughts on beating on him while he was in the state he was in?"
"What do you mean? The state where he cracked two of my ribs, gave me a gouge on my arm that needed stitches and bloodied my nose and mouth? That state? If he wasn't in a fighting state then his manager should have benched him. Lion-o had more than enough fight in him to take out three other opponents before he got to me." Her voice was flat and there was anger in her gray eyes.
An arm snaked around her waist and gently pulled her into a seated position again, she'd gotten up and was getting closer and closer to the glass. Lilly looked about to say something unladylike to the man but the words didn't come. She stared at the glass again. "I might have thoughts about beating you into the state he was in, Jimmy. That would be unfair. You get in the ring, you roll the dice and sometimes fortune smiles on you and you manage to out beat the other guy. Period."
"Thanks for the interview, Ms. Hyde. We sure do appreciate it! Do you have anything else you want to say to the fans?"
"Fans? Badsider fans? I guess that makes sense, team is awesome. Nothing other than come out and watch our matches, and get some Badsider brews! I like the Autumn specials, good stuff. Now shoo, Jimmy. Shoo."
"Right, shoo-ing!"
The camera shuts off and Jimmy puts a 'Do Not Disturb' sign up before going for a coffee break, hoping they'd be gone when he gets back.
-
Khoom Helston
- Adventurer
- Posts: 26
- Joined: Sat May 01, 2010 10:41 pm
- Location: Oh, here and there, as the fancy strikes me.
Once all the hubbub died down and most had departed, the booth's curtain fluttered as he slipped inside, winking at, and then passing one of his cards to the business-suited woman with the clipboard and hair pulled up in a tight bun on the way past, then seating himself on the bench.
"My name is Marvin. Please state your name, affiliation, and IFL week for the record?" A bored voice droned, obviously someone who wanted to wrap things up and go home.
"Marvin ... what a strong name." He chortled, straightening the mahogany robe and golden medallion for the best possible shot on camera. You don't happen to man this all hours, do you?"
"Ummm ... no. But please, the information?"
"Oh, very well. Khoom Helston, Flyweight for Team Dirty, and I believe this is for the week six bout against Onyx Solare from Rock Hards."
"And how do you feel about all the reports printed in the Zone?" Marvin, poor Marvin, was going off of a checklist and not looking up, nor paying attention to the fact that the businesswoman had peeked into the booth, catching the Kirn's eye.
"Hmmm? Oh, that drivel? I don't bother giving it much thought. I have so many other methods of ... occupying my time." He winked at the woman, quietly patting the bench. Curious, the woman slipped in, just out of sight of the camera.
"You say you don't read the news, calling you a sleaze and something deserving neutering?" Marvin had himself a copy of the Spotlight, obviously. And still wasn't quite paying attention to the very hushed and rapid conversation going on in the booth.
"That, my distant friend, is old and oft-repeated nonsense. I've heard it countless times, and will likely hear it again, ad nauseum." A faint titter of girlish laughter in the booth, as the woman kept herself out of the camera's eye, just below the line of sight.
"Okay ... so tell me about this match. You held quite the commanding lead there for a while, then nearly lost it all. What happened?" Marvin looked up and grimaced, for apparently the cat-man had fiddled with the controls, choosing a rather psychedelic background that swirled in colorful patterns. He looked like a deep shadow in front of that. That and the purr acting as white noise ... this would be hell to edit.
He eased back on the bench, hands behind his head, and smiled. "Oh, the poor dear ate something that didn't agree with her ... I think she was trying to rush out a win in the beginning to get back to the toilet. She certainly got her ... head back in the game, however. Mmmmm, yesssss ... "
Marvin looked nonplussed for a moment, not quite figuring out what was going on. "So you say you fought a sick woman?"
"Oh, quite. We've gone rounds before, and she was ... to put it mildly, sucking something fierce in those first rounds. I'm glad she seemed satisfied in the end, though."
"Ooookay ... what are your thoughts on Mercenarii, your opponents for next week?" He frowned, as it took a moment for the Kirn to answer, and what was that smirk all about?
"A fine crew, with a well experienced captain, but I've no doubt we'll ... come out on top." The smirk widened as he chuckled.
"Okay ... well, thanks for the interview. Anything to add to the fans?"
"Indeed. Let's all get Dirty, and enjoy a Liquid Heat! House Helston REPRESENT!" He threw his head back with that last, and heaved out a sigh afterward.
Marvin shut off the camera and shook his head. "God, what a weird bunch."
A few moments passed, before Khoom slipped out of the booth, making a few last-minute adjustments before looking back over his shoulder. The woman in the business suit followed a moment later, tucking her blouse back into the long pleated skirt and rebuttoning her jacket. She didn't bother with the bun, leaving her hair free-flowing as she gathered up her clipboard. With a wink, the Kirn sauntered off, whistling a jaunty tune.
"My name is Marvin. Please state your name, affiliation, and IFL week for the record?" A bored voice droned, obviously someone who wanted to wrap things up and go home.
"Marvin ... what a strong name." He chortled, straightening the mahogany robe and golden medallion for the best possible shot on camera. You don't happen to man this all hours, do you?"
"Ummm ... no. But please, the information?"
"Oh, very well. Khoom Helston, Flyweight for Team Dirty, and I believe this is for the week six bout against Onyx Solare from Rock Hards."
"And how do you feel about all the reports printed in the Zone?" Marvin, poor Marvin, was going off of a checklist and not looking up, nor paying attention to the fact that the businesswoman had peeked into the booth, catching the Kirn's eye.
"Hmmm? Oh, that drivel? I don't bother giving it much thought. I have so many other methods of ... occupying my time." He winked at the woman, quietly patting the bench. Curious, the woman slipped in, just out of sight of the camera.
"You say you don't read the news, calling you a sleaze and something deserving neutering?" Marvin had himself a copy of the Spotlight, obviously. And still wasn't quite paying attention to the very hushed and rapid conversation going on in the booth.
"That, my distant friend, is old and oft-repeated nonsense. I've heard it countless times, and will likely hear it again, ad nauseum." A faint titter of girlish laughter in the booth, as the woman kept herself out of the camera's eye, just below the line of sight.
"Okay ... so tell me about this match. You held quite the commanding lead there for a while, then nearly lost it all. What happened?" Marvin looked up and grimaced, for apparently the cat-man had fiddled with the controls, choosing a rather psychedelic background that swirled in colorful patterns. He looked like a deep shadow in front of that. That and the purr acting as white noise ... this would be hell to edit.
He eased back on the bench, hands behind his head, and smiled. "Oh, the poor dear ate something that didn't agree with her ... I think she was trying to rush out a win in the beginning to get back to the toilet. She certainly got her ... head back in the game, however. Mmmmm, yesssss ... "
Marvin looked nonplussed for a moment, not quite figuring out what was going on. "So you say you fought a sick woman?"
"Oh, quite. We've gone rounds before, and she was ... to put it mildly, sucking something fierce in those first rounds. I'm glad she seemed satisfied in the end, though."
"Ooookay ... what are your thoughts on Mercenarii, your opponents for next week?" He frowned, as it took a moment for the Kirn to answer, and what was that smirk all about?
"A fine crew, with a well experienced captain, but I've no doubt we'll ... come out on top." The smirk widened as he chuckled.
"Okay ... well, thanks for the interview. Anything to add to the fans?"
"Indeed. Let's all get Dirty, and enjoy a Liquid Heat! House Helston REPRESENT!" He threw his head back with that last, and heaved out a sigh afterward.
Marvin shut off the camera and shook his head. "God, what a weird bunch."
A few moments passed, before Khoom slipped out of the booth, making a few last-minute adjustments before looking back over his shoulder. The woman in the business suit followed a moment later, tucking her blouse back into the long pleated skirt and rebuttoning her jacket. She didn't bother with the bun, leaving her hair free-flowing as she gathered up her clipboard. With a wink, the Kirn sauntered off, whistling a jaunty tune.
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