Post by Sheamus on Jul 16, 2010 22:50:58 GMT -5
Part 1: Inside the mind of Sheamus...
My purpose...to be the very best at my craft. To be the greatest Warrior walking the Earth. To etch my name into the very foundation of the world. Many people believe that I wish to achieve this out of simple pride, that somehow I wanted people to tremble, just at the mere mention of my name for the sake of my own vanity. They are somewhat correct in the assumption. Everyone is vain, in some way or another. As for me, my desire to increase my reputation was not nearly as important as the desire..no..the NEED to be the very best at what I do. The furthering of my reputation was indeed welcome, but not neccessarily for the sake of my own pride, despite what I say. The reason perhaps, is that I know having such fear and doubt running through the emotional armor of my enemies provided me even more of an advantage.
The trembling and shaking hand cannot, and will not, thrust the blade true. Every true Warrior knows this. It is what seperates simple men from Warriors. Orton puts on a tough front, a facade. In reality, he is a scared little rabbit, backed into a corner. When backed into a corner, a Viper, or any other animal, has no choice but to lash out. I had him cornered. He knew I could defeat him, and he barely walked away from the first encounter with the victory. I took everything he had, and kept going. This time would be different, my slipup would not happen again, I knew what I must do.
I aspire to reach the pinnacle, it gives me a purpose in this life, and reason to live. The fear Orton has will cause him to make a mistake, that I will capitilize on. This time...there is no way out for Orton.[/i]
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Part 2: Roots
Sheamus had awaken at the crack of dawn, to work on his father's farm. A few acres of orchards and fields, providing enough to feed his family, and live off the land, and enough to sell the surplus for money. By the sweat of his brow did he earn his living. As it should be, for any man. Sheamus had spent the morning tilling the ground, planting in proper time for what was in season. It was backbreaking work, but Sheamus did not relent. The effort was an aid to his cause, and there were two sides of the coin. On the first side, he was helping out his aging father, so that he might continue to prosper. On the other hand, it was a good way to keep in shape, to keep him physically fit. He needed to maintain that level of health in order to stay at the top of his game.
The morning was cool, and breezy. The Irish winds carrying many scents familiar to Sheamus, and the scent of the ocean. By midday, the sun was at the top of its climb. Glaring angrily down on him, blasting him with waves of heat. He was drenched in perspiration, but the winds offered a relief, a cooling effect. He walked over to a certain patch of the fields, on the edges, lying somewhat near the orchards his family maintained. He noticed a few large weeds, as tall as he. He shook his head, his father really was slipping. When he was younger, there would have been none at all, but age takes its toll.
He grabbed a shovel, and dug deep down into the earth, the tip of the shovel cutting and digging underneath the roots, cutting them, and he grabbed hold it yanked it out, roots coming with it. He approached another in a similar manner, pulling, but only the top coming off, roots remaining.
The roots are deep. One may remove the plant, and cut it off, but the roots remain, and it will grow back again, stronger. Some roots are shallow, and are easily taken up from the land. Some roots are deeper, and require more effort. You must always take them out by the roots, or the problem remains. The root of my problem...Randy Orton. It still bothers me...that I did not defeat you. I did not dig down deep enough to acquire the win. The haunting memory will not go away, will not be erased from my mind, until I fully extract you from my mind. My mind being akin to the very lands I work here, and you being this weed. That is all you are, a weed. Leeching off the life of others, sucking all the moisture, and leaving them dry and dead. A plague you are, Randy. And so I must remove you completely. [/i]
Sheamus digs down deeper from the plant he ripped. He grunts, and digs a hole about two feet down, and finally gets under the large weed. He shovels the dirt to the side, and then drops the shovel, reaching down into the hole. He grabs it by the bottom, and pulls up. It groans in protest, with a cracking sound, the sound of roots being ripped from the earth. He pulls the monstrosity out, roots intact, and tosses it to the side.
You have strong, deep roots Randy. You are a third generation superstar, not many can claim such a thing. You are entrenched in history and greatness. Your father, Robert Keith Orton, or Cowboy Bob Orton. Bob Orton Jr. A hall of famer, for good reason. Eight heavyweight championships, in different promotions. Thirteen tag team championship reigns...and other various titles held. When it came to the big leagues, however, he did nothing. He was past his prime then. A storied career, nontheless however. He will be remembered for what he had accomplished.
Your grandfather was a success aswell. Robert Dale Orton. Bob Sr. The Big O, he was called. Twelve heavyweight championships won...even more than your father. Ten tag team championships. Your family has an established name in the history of the business. Many accomplishments, many titles and championships. A long line of greatness. You seek to continue in your father's, and grandfather's, footsteps. You want to exceed their glory. You want to become better than they ever were. You want to do them proud.
What have you done in your career, Orton? You've won a royal rumble, you have held the prestigous Intercontinental championship. You've even won a tag team title. To top it all off, six world titles, Randy, six. One would say you are well on your way to surpass your forefathers. However...that is all in the past. With the recreation, of the New WWE...Thy WWE...what have you done? You have done nothing. You have beaten me, but that soon will mean nothing at all once I beat you. Here I stand, the Celtic champion...I unified the United States and Intercontinental champion...I already have three successful title defenses. I am rated number three in the power rankings. What about you? No gold to your name here, no rumble victories. In fact, I tossed you over the top rope in that match, eliminating you, spoiling your chance of a Wrestlemania title shot.
You have slipped, and fallen, Randy. Perhaps never to rise again. All of your past accomplishments and accolades mean nothing, this is the NEW WWE. You have done nothing here.
Back to your roots, Randy, they are deep as I have said. However, they are still not too strong, that they cannot be pulled. Just as this weed I have just removed. Lets talk about my roots, Orton. You are a third generation wrestler...and what am I? I am...a twentieth generation WARRIOR! Perhaps more. My father fought in the army, and so did his father. Everyone in my line of ancestry has been a Warrior of some sort. Great Warriors, leaders, generals, gods among men. They were no typical grunt soldier, they were great leaders. Not to mention, I am of the bloodline of the greatest Warrior in the history of time, Cú Chulainn. His blood runs through my veins. My roots, run much deeper than yours, strongly embedded into the ground we walk.
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Sheamus walks forward, and heads into the orchards. He walks through the great trees, and eventually reaches a mighty oak, with a trunk so thick Sheamus could not wrap his arms around it.
This tree represents me. See these thick roots? They run deep down, far into the earth. It would take a miracle, an act of god, to completely remove them. Now surely, you may take an axe, and chop the tree down. The roots remain, and it will grow back. When you beat me in my debut here, all you did was merely chop the tree down. Yet I have grown back, stronger than ever. Since my defeat, I have gone on to do many things. Mike Knox, lasted about five seconds in the ring against me. Montel Vontavious Porter...fell to my blade. Even Chris Jericho, a former world champion and United States champion here, could not stop me. I took his championship. And then, I faced Dan Hellman, and he fell under the might of the Celtic Warrior, and I took his title aswell. Brian Gunn made his triumphant return, only to be thrown back down into obscurity. AJ Styles signed a contract, and made his debut, winning a shot against me. He thought he could bloody my face and take my belt, but he too fell short like all those before him.
You will be facing a different Warrior, one who has, and will continue to evolve with each victory, each matchup. I grow stronger and stronger, while you remain at your plateau. I climb higher and higher above you, you look up at me, and I look down at you. You think me the same man, but you are sorely mistaken.
Of course, I cannot expect different from a man who is not focused. You say you hear voices Randy? You have this internal struggle, this conflict, of some sort of split personality. It is because you are weak, Orton, you are hiding from yourself. You cannot look yourself in the mirror and be proud. Your mind has created these so called voices, because deep down in your heart, you truly know that you hate yourself, and you put up walls and barriers, trying to protect yourself. You hate everything about you, who you have become. You think to hide it, but everyone can see it. You are transparent as glass. You put on a tough front, but on the inside you are really soft, and weak. You have a hard exterior, but a fragile inside. You do not have the willpower, you do not have the heart, or the clarity of mind that I do. I will adapt my strategy, and use my axe to crack through your tough shell, and then once I am past that, it will be so easy to rend and tear the soft puddy thats left.
I wonder what you are doing right now. Probably not training for our match, most likely not maintaing any level of focus or discipline whatsoever. Most likely you are trying to hang on to your failing marriage, the one that suspends, dangling by just a thread. Would it help to know that I fucked that sweet little cunt of hers? Oh how she moaned, screamed, and begged for more. She needed a REAL man. She told me about you, how unsatisfying you were. Very brief and abrupt. She was extremely tight Orton, she needed a real man, with a real tool, to pleasure her. You just came up a bit short, if you know what I mean. I am superior to you in every way possible. How does it feel, not being able to give your own wife what she desires? That she must seek out another man in order to be happy? Its been going on for weeks, and you are too stupid to even realize it.
And ah, that brings me to the matter of your daughter. A spoiled little brat with no discipline. You are unfit to be a father Randy. She is going to end up a cheating whore, just like your wife. Spreading her legs for any man who looks at her. She will end up marrying some pathetic excuse for a man like you.
What do you have to live for, Randy? Nothing, the way I see it. The only thing in store for you is broken dreams. You will never live up to your family's legacy. You will lose your unfaithful, cheating wife, and your daughter will end up being trash. Your career is going downhill, down the tubes. I will leave you a bitter, beaten, broken man. A shell of your former self, which you already are, so I am not sure what that leaves you as. Perhaps just a memory, long forgotten. A man of glass, shattered to pieces, irrepairable, never to be put together again. When we cross swords again Randy, I will not leave anything behind this time. I will gut you, stab you in the heart, and watch you bleed, and die, an honorless coward.
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Sheamus heads back to the fields, to continue his work under the the heat of the blistering sun.
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Part Three: Snake Handler
Later that evening, Sheamus had finished all of the work for the day. He drove many miles to see a certain person. He arrived at the location, and stepped out of the vehicle. There was a brick building, of two stories. He walked to the side of the building, in a circular area, where no grass grew, a ring of dirt. Inside this circle there was a man, and many cages and containers, holding various assortments of snakes.
Ah Sheamus, you have come to observe my wares?
Aye, and to learn a bit more about snakes in general, and the different types there are. One must know their enemy. So enlighten me.
Very well then. Now they say, mythologically of course, that the snake is one of the first reptiles on the Earth. Many studies have brought forth proof of this. They are called snakes, or some call them serpents, which is a derivative of Old French, which means, "to creep". Generally people view snakes as poisonous, though this is not always true. There are various types of snakes, after all. Poisonous, or venovous snakes use thee fangs in its mouth to either kill or immobilize its victim. The said snake uses venom and a sort of modified saliva to do this. Of course, in every different family of snakes, lie venemous types. Poisonous snakes are classified into four different families, you see. Colubrids, Hydrophiidae, Elapids, and Viperids.
The Colubridae family holds the Colubrids, obviously. The bodies are covered in scales, and are generally harmless and non-venemous. Some of these snakes, such as the African Twig snake and the Boomslang have reportedly killed humans before. The fangs of these creatures usually lie at the back of their mouths.
Take a look to your left, and you will see the Queen snake, the Garter snake, and the milk snake. A few a poisonous but not very many of them. Moving on....
There are Hydrophidae, or rather sea snakes. I do not have any here at the moment however. Obviously sea snakes are found living in aquatic conditions. They are somewhat related to the cobra. They usually reach a length of two meters. Most of the snakes in this family are venemous. Their fangs are hollow and are placed at the front of the upper jaw. They will not attack humans unless provoked. However, their poison is usually more toxic than the venom found in land snakes.
Elapids...ah look to your right. All of these snakes are venemous. They have hollow fangs aswell, that they use to inject the poison into their prey. They can reach upto six meters in length. As you can see, the king cobra, the regular cobras, coral snakes, kraits, and mambas. Their poison is the most deadly of all.
species in this family. Some Elapids are kraits, king cobras, cobras, mambas, Australian copperheads and coral snakes. The most dangerous snake in existence, is in this family, though it is a type of sea snake. Behold the mighty Hydrophis belcheri.
Now, as I recall you were most interest in Vipers. Yes, look straight in front of you. You see, the Viperidae, or vipers, are not the most deadly family of snake, however a very deadly foe indeed. They can be found pretty much anywhere except Austrailia and Madagascar. The fangs on these are long and hinged, and allow penetration deeper into the flesh.
Common among these type, are cottonmouths, rattlesnakes, vipers, and copperheads. They wield a deadly protein degrading enzyme. The effects of such causing swelling, prevention of blood clotting, causing much blood loss, and necrosis.
Now see this basket here? A Viper can be charmed, and I will do so, as by your request. They may not be the most dangerous, but do not make any sudden moves, as they are still deadly in their own right.[/i][/color]
The man pulls out some sort of instrument, similar to a flute, but makes a different sort of noise. The man begins to play an enchanting tune, and the Viper slowly rises out of the basket, swaying back and forth, apparently this man knows what he is doing. Sheamus draws nearer, and before anyone can react, he grabs the Viper, holding it by the neck so that it cannot lash forward and bite him. Sheamus looks the snake in the eyes, and grins.
Ah, the deadly viper. Not the most deadly, eh? I will have to inform Orton about this. The snake cannot strike at me when I have it by the throat. Perhaps I should implement a similar strategy in my match. I will repay you for the cost, my good man, because I cannot resist such temptation, and such symbolism. May it be an omen of good fortune. This is the Viper, and this is what I will do to Randy, when we meet again.[/i]
The man merely shrugs and watches on, not too bothered by this, as he has many snakes. One lost snake would not be too much of an issue, especially if he would be repaid. Sheamus began to squeeze tight, his strong muscles tensing. The snakes eyes bulge, and Sheamus crushes it, crushes its throat, then with a mighty pull, he rips the Snake's head off from the body, and casts it down on the dirt. He steps on it, grinding its head underneath his heel, and spits on it.
I'll see you in the ring, Randy. May you have better fortune than your cousin here. If you do not, I will crush you as I have this poor, unfortunate Viper. The Celtic Warrior may be bitten, but he will not succumb to the poison, but he will, undoubtedly, prevail.
Perhaps this Orton you speak of is similar to the Heterodon platirhinos, a type of snake more commonly known as the Eastern Hognose Snake. Non venemous and essentially harmless. [/i]
Sheamus chuckles, pats the man on the back, saying "Perhaps he is". He pays the man the cost of the snake, and goes back into his vehicle, driving off, heading for the airport. He will then make the long flight to GreenBay, Wisconsin, where the Viper awaits the man called Sheamus, only to be awaiting his inevitable defeat at the hands of the Celtic Warrior.
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