Post by Nate Pierce on May 20, 2023 3:36:46 GMT
Nate: “Look, just try one. Wheeler isn’t going to give a damn, especially since you have a day off tomorrow. This literally won’t kill you, Ishmael.”
Ishmael: “I said no.”
Severin: “For someone who can be hot-headed at times, you sure are showing cowardice.”
The camera opens up to the fishermen trio lounging around at their usual corner table at the workers’ bar down by the fishery. On the table in relative plain view, is a small assortment of edibles lined up for available selection. Severin fiddles with one in his hands while Nate sat with his arms loosely folded across his chest. Ishmael continued shaking his head at the two, knocking back another few sips of his drink. The other two continue to stare at their fellow fisherman, opting for the silent authority tactic in an attempt to sway Ishmael over to at least trying one, or maybe two. Ishmael stares back in equal measure, not budging on his stance, even with Nate casually nudging one towards him only for the fisherman to push it right back.
Ishmael: “No.”
Nate: “Just one, Ishmael. No one will care.”
Ishmael: “For f…grr, fine.”
Ishmael slams down the rest of his drink in a large gulp before seizing the closet edible to him and popping it into his mouth and down the hatch it went as well. Severin follows suit, as does Nate.
Ishmael: “Are you sure you ought to be even taking one? You’re performing soon aren’t you?”
Nate: “A day won’t kill me. Besides, I have plenty of time to kill before this really kicks in for me.”
Nate grabs hold of his ale mug, standing up with it as he slaps his hand upon the table. The noise is enough to be heard over the surrounding conversations, gradually drawing the attention of the nearby tables and eventually the whole bar. Severin raises a brow at the sudden attraction of attention, trying to figure out what The Whaler is up to.
Nate: “Show of hands, who knows Captain Kidd?”
Almost every single person raises their hand in attendance. Nate nods along with a small smirk, knocking back a large gulp of ale.
Nate: “Allow me to preface some context: Those here not aware of me, my name is Nate. Part-time fisherman and also part-time wrestler on the other side of the Atlantic. The company across the sea has seen it fit to pit me against their National Openweight Champion, Alastor Touchdown. The man thinks he’s above everyone, even the World Champion himself.”
Some in attendance groan while others audibly boo in response. Nate raises his hand, quickly quieting the bar.
Nate: “However, it’s quite plain and obvious that such a man’s tyranny has been allowed to freely reign for this long upon the waters. The man even goes out of his way to ruthlessly cut down others with his own set of lackeys in an attempt to cement his spot within the hierarchy of the company. Is that something anyone here would allow at any interval at the fishery here?”
A resounding “NO!” is heard loud and clear by all.
Nate: “Then join me lads, in doing our own rendition of Captain Kidd. All I need is the response from you all, and leave the improvisation to me on this one.”
Holding up three fingers to the crowd, Nate began a slow countdown before his booming voice began to break out into the shanty.
Nate: “Oh my name was Captain Nate-”
Crowd: “AS I SAILED, AS I SAILED!”
Nate: “Oh my name was Captain Nate-”
Crowd: “AS I SAIIIIILLLLED!”
Nate: “My name is Captain Nate and elsewhere I’m the Great, championship on my plate-”
Crowd: “AS I SAILED, AS I SAILED!”
Nate: “Championship on my plate-”
Crowd: “AS I SAIIIILLLLED!”
Nate: “Put the man in the dirt-”
Crowd: “AS I SAILED, AS I SAILED!”
Nate: “Put the man in the dirt-”
Crowd: “AS I SAIIIILLLED!”
Nate: “Oh his blood did squirt, and air he will barely spurt, Alastor’s in the dirt-”
Crowd: “AS I SAILED, AS I SAILED!”
Nate: “Alastor’s in the dirt-”
Crowd: “AS I SAIIIILLLED!”
Nate: “Put an end to his reign-”
Crowd: “AS I SAILED, AS I SAILED!”
Nate: “Put an end to his reign-”
Crowd: “AS I SAIIIILLLED!”
Nate: “He’ll know the fisher’s pain, by the barb his rule is slain, an end to his wicked reign-”
Crowd: “AS I SAILED, AS I SAILED!”
Nate: “Put an end to his reign-”
Crowd: “AS I SAIIIILLLED!”
Nate: “Come all you young and old-”
Crowd: “SEE AL DIE, SEE AL DIE!”
Nate: “Come all you young and old-”
Crowd: “SEE AL DIE!”
Nate: “Forfeit is your soul, the title is my goal, come all you young and old-”
Crowd: “AL MUST DIE, AL MUST DIE!”
Nate: “Come all you young and old-”
Crowd: “AL MUST DIIIIIIEEEEEE!”
The bar breaks out into celebratory applause for themselves as Nate chugs down the rest of his ale, wiping away the excess with the back of his hand from his lips. The crowd soon fades back into silence, gazes expectant on The Whaler as he remains standing, setting his mug down on the table.
Nate: “I’ve been waiting months to get my hands back on Alastor’s neck ever since the last Adrenaline. To put an end to it all and put that title on a waist that will cleanse the taint that your rule has stained it with. This is more than just a personal war between the remaining bastion of Chaos Theory and a puppet king cowering behind his guards…this is about restoring rightful prestige to that championship with a worthy champion!”
Cheers ring out through the building, several people raising their mugs in approval.
Nate: “Heed me mates! The Whaler, on that night of Discovery, will be the one to testify Touchdown’s legitimacy as a champion and being that night’s manifestation of judge, jury, and executioner, that bastard’s head will fall at the feet of people and we will all rejoice at the fall of Alastor! Out with the meek, and in with the brave! This is the decree I bring and promise, not out of hope, but out of imminence! Moby Dick will face the wrath of The Whaler!”
Another loud series of cheers rings out followed by the thumping of mugs against one another.
Nate: “By the end of the weekend, you will see me returned as a victor. A champion! Down with Touchdown!”
Crowd: “DOWN WITH TOUCHDOWN!”
The bar breaks out into a chant, banging against various bits of furniture weaving in with clapping to keep it fueled. Nate takes the break to seat himself back down leaning back in his seat with a satisfied sigh.
Severin: “Seems you got them rallied.”
Nate: “And good timing too…I can feel it kicking in now.”
Severin simply chuckles as he pats the big man’s arm, turning his gaze over to Ishmael who seems to have blanked out entirely, staring at a distant wall elsewhere while the scene fades to black.
Ishmael: “I said no.”
Severin: “For someone who can be hot-headed at times, you sure are showing cowardice.”
The camera opens up to the fishermen trio lounging around at their usual corner table at the workers’ bar down by the fishery. On the table in relative plain view, is a small assortment of edibles lined up for available selection. Severin fiddles with one in his hands while Nate sat with his arms loosely folded across his chest. Ishmael continued shaking his head at the two, knocking back another few sips of his drink. The other two continue to stare at their fellow fisherman, opting for the silent authority tactic in an attempt to sway Ishmael over to at least trying one, or maybe two. Ishmael stares back in equal measure, not budging on his stance, even with Nate casually nudging one towards him only for the fisherman to push it right back.
Ishmael: “No.”
Nate: “Just one, Ishmael. No one will care.”
Ishmael: “For f…grr, fine.”
Ishmael slams down the rest of his drink in a large gulp before seizing the closet edible to him and popping it into his mouth and down the hatch it went as well. Severin follows suit, as does Nate.
Ishmael: “Are you sure you ought to be even taking one? You’re performing soon aren’t you?”
Nate: “A day won’t kill me. Besides, I have plenty of time to kill before this really kicks in for me.”
Nate grabs hold of his ale mug, standing up with it as he slaps his hand upon the table. The noise is enough to be heard over the surrounding conversations, gradually drawing the attention of the nearby tables and eventually the whole bar. Severin raises a brow at the sudden attraction of attention, trying to figure out what The Whaler is up to.
Nate: “Show of hands, who knows Captain Kidd?”
Almost every single person raises their hand in attendance. Nate nods along with a small smirk, knocking back a large gulp of ale.
Nate: “Allow me to preface some context: Those here not aware of me, my name is Nate. Part-time fisherman and also part-time wrestler on the other side of the Atlantic. The company across the sea has seen it fit to pit me against their National Openweight Champion, Alastor Touchdown. The man thinks he’s above everyone, even the World Champion himself.”
Some in attendance groan while others audibly boo in response. Nate raises his hand, quickly quieting the bar.
Nate: “However, it’s quite plain and obvious that such a man’s tyranny has been allowed to freely reign for this long upon the waters. The man even goes out of his way to ruthlessly cut down others with his own set of lackeys in an attempt to cement his spot within the hierarchy of the company. Is that something anyone here would allow at any interval at the fishery here?”
A resounding “NO!” is heard loud and clear by all.
Nate: “Then join me lads, in doing our own rendition of Captain Kidd. All I need is the response from you all, and leave the improvisation to me on this one.”
Holding up three fingers to the crowd, Nate began a slow countdown before his booming voice began to break out into the shanty.
Nate: “Oh my name was Captain Nate-”
Crowd: “AS I SAILED, AS I SAILED!”
Nate: “Oh my name was Captain Nate-”
Crowd: “AS I SAIIIIILLLLED!”
Nate: “My name is Captain Nate and elsewhere I’m the Great, championship on my plate-”
Crowd: “AS I SAILED, AS I SAILED!”
Nate: “Championship on my plate-”
Crowd: “AS I SAIIIILLLLED!”
Nate: “Put the man in the dirt-”
Crowd: “AS I SAILED, AS I SAILED!”
Nate: “Put the man in the dirt-”
Crowd: “AS I SAIIIILLLED!”
Nate: “Oh his blood did squirt, and air he will barely spurt, Alastor’s in the dirt-”
Crowd: “AS I SAILED, AS I SAILED!”
Nate: “Alastor’s in the dirt-”
Crowd: “AS I SAIIIILLLED!”
Nate: “Put an end to his reign-”
Crowd: “AS I SAILED, AS I SAILED!”
Nate: “Put an end to his reign-”
Crowd: “AS I SAIIIILLLED!”
Nate: “He’ll know the fisher’s pain, by the barb his rule is slain, an end to his wicked reign-”
Crowd: “AS I SAILED, AS I SAILED!”
Nate: “Put an end to his reign-”
Crowd: “AS I SAIIIILLLED!”
Nate: “Come all you young and old-”
Crowd: “SEE AL DIE, SEE AL DIE!”
Nate: “Come all you young and old-”
Crowd: “SEE AL DIE!”
Nate: “Forfeit is your soul, the title is my goal, come all you young and old-”
Crowd: “AL MUST DIE, AL MUST DIE!”
Nate: “Come all you young and old-”
Crowd: “AL MUST DIIIIIIEEEEEE!”
The bar breaks out into celebratory applause for themselves as Nate chugs down the rest of his ale, wiping away the excess with the back of his hand from his lips. The crowd soon fades back into silence, gazes expectant on The Whaler as he remains standing, setting his mug down on the table.
Nate: “I’ve been waiting months to get my hands back on Alastor’s neck ever since the last Adrenaline. To put an end to it all and put that title on a waist that will cleanse the taint that your rule has stained it with. This is more than just a personal war between the remaining bastion of Chaos Theory and a puppet king cowering behind his guards…this is about restoring rightful prestige to that championship with a worthy champion!”
Cheers ring out through the building, several people raising their mugs in approval.
Nate: “Heed me mates! The Whaler, on that night of Discovery, will be the one to testify Touchdown’s legitimacy as a champion and being that night’s manifestation of judge, jury, and executioner, that bastard’s head will fall at the feet of people and we will all rejoice at the fall of Alastor! Out with the meek, and in with the brave! This is the decree I bring and promise, not out of hope, but out of imminence! Moby Dick will face the wrath of The Whaler!”
Another loud series of cheers rings out followed by the thumping of mugs against one another.
Nate: “By the end of the weekend, you will see me returned as a victor. A champion! Down with Touchdown!”
Crowd: “DOWN WITH TOUCHDOWN!”
The bar breaks out into a chant, banging against various bits of furniture weaving in with clapping to keep it fueled. Nate takes the break to seat himself back down leaning back in his seat with a satisfied sigh.
Severin: “Seems you got them rallied.”
Nate: “And good timing too…I can feel it kicking in now.”
Severin simply chuckles as he pats the big man’s arm, turning his gaze over to Ishmael who seems to have blanked out entirely, staring at a distant wall elsewhere while the scene fades to black.