The beckoning voices of woe call from the distance, all the while falling on deaf ears.
Biography * Experience * Moves List * Record * Titles Held * Merchandise
Book of Royce (Volume 1) * Tastes of Style (Sample Promos) * The Man behind the Mask
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The beckoning voices of woe call from the distance, all the while falling on deaf ears. |
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Biography * Experience * Moves List * Record * Titles Held * Merchandise Book of Royce (Volume 1) * Tastes of Style (Sample Promos) * The Man behind the Mask |
RoughKut Rd. 5 Promo 1
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We find ourselves in a
desolate foreboding room. Royce is seated cross legged in the center with
books laid out around him. He holds a candle in his hand, the flame barely
jumping too and fro in the nearly non-existent breeze through the open
window. The camera pans around and zooms to the open casement glass. The
trees outside remain unwavering. The leaves do not budge but only so often.
With the movement comes the faintest of rustling. The placid atmosphere
lends a helping tone to the ominous silence in the room. The camera pans back around to Royce who was now hanging over the books and reading intently. Only so often would he look up and gaze around in a slightly paranoid manner. Royce: I see you have noticed my dilemma. The power has been out for some time now, must be a breaker that was blown. Mario is out on vacation and I have no clue where the box is. Guess that is my downfall for living here so long without once assessing a problem with the workings of my own domicile. He remained engrossed with the texts as he spoke, peering down and reading silently to himself between talking to the camera and jolting his vision around the room in a usual state of paranoia. Royce: What a tournament we have here. My fellow CWR teammates have faded away leaving only Elf and I. And here I sit in the semi-final round facing one of my own. Ironic isn’t it? To get so far and face my own, how do you say, colleague in arms. Although as ironic as it is, how fitting of a situation. Royce looks up from his books and flashes a sly smile to the audience watching around the world. Royce: Dear Elf, we have met a few times in the past and each time it has been an interesting battle. And here we sit in the midst of an honorable tournament leaving only one of our own to pass into the final chapter. I will not lie to you, my fellow CWR teammate. I will not pass lightly into this match. We are, as you know, in a competition and I will not go easily. I plan on carrying out the same actions which I have in the past. Royce gazes back down at the books, his enjoyment rising with each word read. Royce: Do you like to read Elf? I know you know I do… So much symbolic interpretations can be pulled from such words. My favorites are the classics. Seems the wannabe legends of recent day struggle to hard to find their place. Never making any sense or showing any talent. You can not get any meaning from a book on a Psycho in the mountains killing his family like you can a perfect rendition of the Hell brought forth from the Human Psyche as in The Inferno. A good read, I must recommend it to you. Although you may never get to it in the coming years, doubt your Sophomore English class allows it. Royce rises from his seated position with the candle still in palm. He strides slowly over to the window seal and rests on the cold stained wood. The eerie calmness of the night is prominent as the small flame of the candle only dances but never goes out, even in the focused opening to the outside world. The only exit of wind and yet it remains only to flicker momentarily. Royce: Across each high-hunched, shoulder he had thrown one haunch of a sinner, whom he held in place with a great talon around each ankle bone. The words flowed from his lips like a thousand poets in a grand outburst of song. The words bled from his mouth exclaiming the harsh reality in his tone. Royce: Do you see the meaning in those words Elf? Each and every foe I have faced I have carried through the flames and picked off like a worm in the mouth of its predator. You too will meet this fate and see the reality of lose. No matter how bad it will hurt me to end the run of a fellow teammate, I will however pluck you from this tournament with the actions of a fluent executioner. You will feel my wrath just as those previous to you. Sharp… Gideon… Tamu… and just recently Martin, each of them have met their demise at my hands. Each did put up a fight, no matter how in vain the attempt came to be, but I walked through each like Moses and the Red Sea. As will, I with you… Royce remained silent as he savored the midnight air. The crisp noiseless night grasped tightly on the throats of the audience as they watched intently through their glass incased box of moving colors. Royce dropped his head low and closed his eyes, attempting to find the slightest sound within the peace of the night. He stood there seeming as if in a trance. After a moment he finally opens back up wide and acknowledges the camera with a loud demonic laugh. The cackle, breaking the silence, could easily cause a suspenseful audience to jump in there seats. Royce: This could not have worked out better. I know your every move Elf, your actions have been witnessed by me all through your career. I know what you will do before you will even do it. Your juvenile games, your schoolhouse remarks, not a one will play even the slightest ice pick in my mind. You walk along outside of the ring worrying too much about your hidden identity, your grotesque fear of being known. Your complex is obvious. You fear your own limits. So you hide behind that mask to keep from finding your boundary. You do not even have the respect for yourself to bask in the glory of which you have attained. I know your boundaries Elf. I know what your limits hold. And I will take pleasure in showing them to the world. I have fought through this tournament with my head high and my actions on my sleeve. You walk through like a shadow in the background. You have garnered the attention of the fans, yes. But you, the man behind the mask, the one that I have worked with for some time now, has scurried about like the scared little boy you really are. Royce walks back over to his books and finds his place back between the unorganized chaos of the novels. He lays the candle to the side and looks back up toward the camera. The flicker of the flame casts a low light across his face. His upper face is overcast by shadow from the under level luminance. His hair is hanging low and aiding in blocking his full expression. The only feeling given is the sinister gaze through the bleak nearly unrecognizable glaring eyes. Royce: You have passed many tests here in the last month, most of which are elementary and easily won. But you have stepped into an entire new realm. Yes, you have faced me before Elf, but at what stakes? None of which were any gain to myself. Here in that very ring under the banner of this tournament, things have taken on an entire new meaning. I am here to prove that I, Dominic Royce is the best of the best and will make this mountain my residence. My home atop the highest peak and there will be no individual to stop me. Not Violent, not Jim, and most certainly not you Elf. You are my teammate, but in these final chapters you are but another soul in the sphere of battle, in my eyes you are now a faceless opponent that I will find pleasure in sending back home. Take heed Elf, for I will bring what it takes to pass this test, and I WILL do what it takes to attain my goal. You may have trouble with the bullies around your high school but you will be facing a pending danger stepping into that ring with me with the stakes this high. Sleep well Elf, because you will have a lot of deciding to do. Will I find you worthy? I would not plan on it. Royce looks down at the layout of books strewn around his feet, the bindings so old they are deteriorating away. The pages flap slightly as a strong breeze begins to pick up. The candle dances and sways tossing Royce’s face into contorts’ of expression which not even he may intend. Eventually Royce gives a final glance at the camera and a grim smile spreads from ear to ear just before the wind takes a final blow and strikes the flame from atop its perch throwing the room into complete darkness and the feed to black. FIN |