MNR WEEK 1

[Crusty Salad]

LIVE from Madison Square Garden in New York City!

Deadline: 22nd - 26th (The deadline could possibly be extended this week, depending on how everyone does)



MAIN EVENT
Shannon Moore vs John Morrison

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Hardcore Rules
CM Punk vs Dean Ambrose

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Triple Threat
Mr Anderson vs Bobby Roode vs Jeff Hardy





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Quick notes

• If everyone shows up this week and it goes well then I'll announce the PPV real soon so we all have something to build towards.
  
• Remember that the RP limit is 1 RP per show.
  
• You'll post the RP's on this page, and I shall post the results here after the deadline too. I will make a new post when the deadline has passed.
  
• Get creative! Flush out the characters! Got some angles going! And HAVE FUN!
  

[Shannon Moore (T)]

The Yogurt Rump Presents
Monday Night Revolution
September 26th, 2011
Madison Square Garden
New York City, New York
Main Event
Singles Match
Shannon Moore vs John Morrison
Kijar Presents
Future

[/b][/u]

Shannon Moore

The scene opens with the "Prince of Punk" Shannon Moore wearing a trench coat and in a trashed room.

"This is the kind of place everyone expects me to be at, isn't it? I mean, the darkness, the eerieness, the... disgusting stench. I wouldn't just come hang out here, its a vile place. Yeah, I look like a punk. Yeah, I act like a punk. That doesn't mean I live like a punk. I'm a normal human being, just like everyone else. The difference between me and you is that I have talent. I've been plowing through competition with what I'd call a rebirth, for lack of a better word. Not like my fellow Matt Hardy's disasterous rebirth. Instead, a new outlook, appearing to instill fear in my opponents before I crush them to the ground. If you remember correctly, in the past days of Monday Night Revolution, I've been the Xtreme Champion, the Hardcore Champion, the Intercontinental Champion... Its surprising that I didn't win the World Championship but that's what I'm here for now.

You didn't think you'd gotten rid of me. Hell, when you decided you were gonna come be an avid follower of TYR and watch Monday Night Revolution and go to the show, did you ever think to yourself... 'I hope that punk ass bitch Shannon Moore doesn't show up; I hated him.' That's what I would've thought. Hell, if I wasn't me, I'd hate me. But I get to entertain and you get to be entertained. It doesn't matter what thought process you have, its my thoughts that matter. That's why you're listening to me right now. That's why you care so much.

I'd say my big plan is to win this Main Event predicament I've been given. Yeah, TYR realized that I'm a returning star that they're going to need to catapult them into the new wave of amazing. In turn, I've been placed in the main event at Madison Square Garden for Monday Night Revolution. My opponent is no stranger to my style of wrestling. Its John Morrison! Some see him as the future in professional wrestling. Me? I'm see him as my future. Yeah, he's younger, but you have to think more people deem him popular than me. That sickens me. It strikes me with... jealousy. So, I'm going to go ahead and beat John Morrison. That way, all of his popularity can kiss my North Carolinian ass.

John, you're the first man I wanted to see when I looked down this little roster. I thought you'd be the perfect first opponent for me here in TYR. So, that's why I took it upon myself to start training, getting ready, getting fit. Now, the time and date have been set. I've been given this choice. Either let John Morrison continue his path to pave the future and just step aside, or I can push John Morrison down and start my own path, pave my own way to the future. The future of this company and of this business. Personally, I'm gonna go with the latter. If I just let Morrison slip on by, where's my recognition? People are gonna keep praising him for his abilities, not realizing that I'm better. I'm faster, I'm very light on my feet, I can even hit hard if I need to. All he's got goin' for him heading into this match up is the flashy moves. That's not gonna work, Morrison. I don't get distracted or dazed by the funny little flips you do. Instead, I just improve my craft week in and week out to prove I'm better than every opponent put in front of me.

You aren't my only target, though, John. No, I'm coming for everybody. CM Punk, Mr. Anderson, Robert Roode, everybody! You're just the first tick mark in my Win column. I'm gonna head to the top and get what I haven't gotten in past generations of Revolution. I'm gonna get the World Championship. Its my first goal and I will achieve it. The rest of you are just side quests on my adventure. And I just wanna see the look on everyone's face when I'm crowned the one and only... Prince of Punk... the one and only TYR World Champion. Get ready John Morrison. Get ready."

The scene fades with Shannon Moore forcing a half smile.[/center]

[John Morrison [H]]

[ Revolution kicks off, the pyro, the fans, full of energy excited in the Empire State. Superstars to love and some to hate, John Morrison fits under the bad side of the crowd members. As soon as the guitar hits, the boos follow it.

Now listen, this ain't no make believe...

He comes out from behind the curtain, making his way to the center stage, and hitting his prized pose, gloating in his own unique way. As he makes his way to the ring, he accepts the fans jealousy, and overall embraces it. He gets in the ring, and starts his talk on the 'nonbelievers.' ]

John Morrison
Enter night, and it lives on forever. Your single second of happiness is the fact that you can stand in the same ring as the Guru of Greatness. I am destined for greatness, while you wait in the shadows, awaiting defeat, knowing it is your ultimate fate. TYR, the new home of the Palace of Wisdom, the footnote of a career that will permanently effect this company as a whole, proving to all the caliber of John Morrison. The ring that we stand in is for TYR, I now serve for this company, but that's not to say that the Guru isn't going to make it his own. Opportunity comes short, rare, but I do not pass it up. Unlike the many, I know what it is like to be a champion, to hold a title around my waist, and make believers out of all, which is more than you can say about my opponent. Now, not only am I a phenomenal singles competitor, but I lay not only successful in the singles division. I have took the all tag teams by storm, engraving John Morrison into every single head that follows the wrestling industry, and all of the people here? They hold no grounds near me. They fear me, but all the ladies can't get enough of me. I impress, I was born to be perfect, and perfect I became with every step I took. I breathe to a standard that can not be matched, and all of the actions I do? They emulate success, and now with a fresh start with TYR, I can prove to all my true talent and power. Now, tonight... Revolution... The name speaks for itself. It is the embodiment of perfection, a definition of self worth, and the example of the Shaman of Sexy. The Palace of Wisdom doesn't open it's doors for everyone, only the deserving, the best. Every single member of this audience tonight... is less than worthy. [ The crowd begins to boo at the last comment, upset by the insult, degrading them as John sees fit. ] Now I know you all want my body more than my words, but let me finish.

Shannon Moore... John Morrison and this thing, go one on one tonight, setting a standard for this company. One, ready to face all challengers, backing down from no one, and defeating any opponent who dares challenge perfection, and the other hides himself behind drawings, tattoos, and “symbols of self expression.” These tattoos not only show the fear you hold on the inside, but also the less you show. You dress yourself up, trying to prove to the two fans of yours that you can hold a candle with a great like John Morrison in this business, but just like the masses that have fallen before you, you shall recognize defeat, whether served by me or any other member of the locker room. Many of the men here aren't favored by the common man, those who watch us week in and out, too afraid to put down their popcorn and not step in a ring. The common, just like you fail to realize that society's last hope is an excuse for a man, let alone someone who calls themselves a wrestler. You hide behind your look, covering up the true you, a hick from the south who is always a second hand man. Never taking the lead, a by stander, a watcher, not a doer. You are a man who refutes taking action, and have never held the reigns. I defined what a tag team should be made of, and when I teamed with The Miz, I was the face of our faction, and I didn't even need to ask. John Morrison was a natural born leader, a successor to all things difficult, and you need to face that just like your fears. Fearful, you can't face the fact that you are forgettable, not even worthy of breathing the same air as myself, as are all of you.

You need to face reality. You live a fantasy in which things are handed to you, but no longer. This is a fresh start, a new beginning, something that you've craved for a long time, but will never get as long as I stand in TYR's rings. Your accomplishments in the past mean nothing, and the only thing in my eyes is the TYR World Championship coming home to the Palace of Wisdom, so Shannon Moore... BE JEALOUS!

[ John drops the microphone and soon exits the ring, following where he started out, met by more boos than before, ready to face his opponent tonight. ]

[Crusty Salad]

DEADLINE EXTENDED UNTIL WEDNESDAY 28TH
WELL DONE AND THANK YOU TO SHANNON AND JOHN FOR POSTING

[Dean Ambrose (H)]

A Beautiful Day For Hate



A grim dark tunnel finds itself in possession of a man in a plain black t-shirt, gritty blue denim jeans, messy blonde hair, and the eyes of an intriguing yet disturbing face.

It appears to be some sort of subway tunnel with illiterate graffiti on the dim bricks and very little lighting, yet you get the impression this man belongs there.

The man finds himself staring intimately into the camera lens. He waits several seconds before beginning his speech in a nasally, eerie tone.

Dean Ambrose
I sit myself on a pedestal. Not because I merely believe myself better than everyone else, but because I see things how they truly are. My vision of a greater tomorrow cannot be simply understood by everybody because there is nobody that is capable of understanding how life should be, as opposed to how life currently is - miserable, shallow, hideous and apathetic.

His motions are erratic, his eyes are beaming with anger, and he often stops himself mid-sentence in order to slow himself down and calm himself. He carries on this way.

Dean Ambrose
I'm no pacifist. Not in the slightest. Because I'm not speaking about loving all humanity and throwing flowers in the air, because that's a bunch of bullcrap.
Rather, I'm a realist. My reality is pure, innocent and focused, while everybody elses is nothing but a crumpled up painting trapped behind a broken picture frame and shattered glass; a dillusional idealism which will eventually burn this world to the very core.

He's worked himself up so frantically he pauses for a few seconds to regain whatever composure he had. He begins speaking once more, only this time it's in a quieter tone, even though he brings his face closer to the camera and shows off the peculiar glint in his eyes.

Dean Ambrose
I have a message for the world. And it's not love. It's hate. Because without hate their can be no love. Love is hate, hate is love, and Dean Ambrose is full of love.

He pauses once more, this time slowing his breathing down to a slow pace and seemingly taking pleasure in uttering the next line with precise enunciation.

Dean Ambrose
Allow me to show you.

He suddenly and erratically storms out of shot, his fading footsteps echoing in the absence of his image.


END RP

[Crusty Salad]

DING DING DING!
TIME UP!
DEADLINE IS HERE!
RESULTS AND NEW CARD SHALL BE UP LATER.

[Crusty Salad]

LIVE from Madison Square Garden in New York City!

THE RESULTS



MAIN EVENT
Shannon Moore vs John Morrison

The war of words between these two contrasting wrestlers began this week, and saw both of them fight to a draw in terms of confidence. But the very first main event of TYR Revolution wasn't about words - it was about proving in-ring dominance.

Both men obviously wanted to one-up one another in the early going as they went back and forth with various Japanese arm drags, drop-kicks, snap-mares and hammerlocks.

Eventually John gained the upper hand after a well timed Pele kick to the nose of his opponent, which resulted in a bit of blood decorating the surrounding ring mat.
He continued to use his slight size advantage to his..well....advantage from here-on-out. Slowing the match down with various innovative submission manoeuvres and precise kicks to the lower back.

The crowd seemed to lean more in favour of Moore after a while, which probably was due to Morrison going out earlier on in the evening and insulting the fans directly.

Gradually Shannon found his way turning the match round and claiming all the momentum for himself. An obvious fire fuelling him to continue.

Several high-impact moves later and Shannon was in full control. He made the slow and dramatic climb up the turnbuckles and lept off with a corkscrew senton. The crowd was captured in the moment and watched him as he landed hard on an immobile John Morrison.

Moore covered...1.....2..........

Morrison manages to get the shoulder up just in time to keep the match going.

Shannon crawls back up to his feet and signals Morrison to get up with him. John unknowingly obliges and gets spun round and lifted up onto the shoulders of his competition. John wiggles out of whatever Shannon had in mind and hits the moonlight drive.

He covers...1..........2...............

Shannon gets the shoulder up.

Morrison, getting agitated, drags Moor towards the corner and sets him up for Starship Pain. The crowd hangs on the edge of their seat and stares in amazement as John leaps into the air and bounces off of the ropes. He springboards back down to the canvas in artistic fashion only to slam his stomach straight onto the mat.

Shannon had rolled out of the way and was crawling along the apron and up the ropes. He gets to the top and leaps off with another corkscrew senton, which - just like Morrison before him - finds nothing to land on except empty canvas.

Morrison staggers back up to his feet and walks over to Shannon, who is obviously feeling the match just as badly as he is. He grabs him by the hair in order to pick him up but gets caught in a quick sneaky roll-up.

1....2...........3.

Shannon wins, and the crowd cheer just as much as they boo, but they all know they witnessed a fantastic match.

Shannon celebrates by having the referee raise his arm in victory.

Morrison sits on the mat, showing clear signs of frustration as he knows how closely he came to victory.

The show fades out on the victor posing on the top rope.

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Hardcore Rules
CM Punk vs Dean Ambrose

There's something to be said for an individual who understands the power of words just as much as the power of actions. Both of these gentlemen fit that description. Both ruthless ring warriors with wicked tongues and a talent for grabbing attention.

So what would happen when these two unique personalities clashed in a match where there are no rules?

The bell rang and these two men went straight in to seemingly lock horns, but one had other ideas. Ambrose swiftly delivered a boot to the nether-region of CM Punk - forcing him to his knees and gasping for breath.

A hysterical Dean Ambrose rolled outside of the ring and re-emerged with two ken-do sticks and a black steel chair. Presumably almost as black as his soul.

One shot was heard. The next one was felt. Several more ken-do shots to the spine and Dean was smiling immensely as the audience let out multiple collective teeth grinds.
The sticks broke, and so the chair came into play.

But to the surprise of the crowd Dean set the chair back down in the centre of the ring - still smiling. He hoists Punk back up to his feet, mutters something in his face, spins him round and delivers the Hook & Ladder face first onto the chair.

He covers....1....2......3.


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