Post by Jesse Jamester on Sept 22, 2021 14:42:52 GMT -5
Black cement blocks with moss growing on their side are the backdrop as the camera focuses in. The menacing growl of a giant is audible prior to his presence being seen.
The seven foot one inch tower of hillbilly hell walked into the frame, back to the camera, his face turned to the left to show his leather mask covering all but the left eye and upper cheek. His black hair wet and dangling below the jaw line like a greasy mess. The filth on his shoulder cutoff shirt extended to his massive biceps.
unknown voice: Did you expect something else?
Stepping from the other side of the frame is a smaller man in comparison. Maybe six foot three inches at best with a trucker hat that had seen better days and a shaggy beard that hadn’t seen soap in some weeks.
unknown voice: My name is Calvin Doxson, and this man to my right (thumbs over his shoulder) You may know him already -- he is my brother, Clyde.
Raising his tattooed arm up to the camera, the white beater stained with grease or some other chemical substance was all over his clothes.
Calvin Doxson: Now I don’t pretend to be an athlete, or a star like so many of these men in NPW have stated. No, this here, this is about opportunity. When my good friend called me to come get him from the hospital, Clyde and I did.
Slapping the shoulder with his left hand, Calvin gets Clyde’s attention, and he turns around to show himself holding a massive link of chain made for railroad mechanics to lift the engine out.
Calvin Doxson: We be some good ole’ boys who just like to drink and fight. There ain’t much to it other than that… but ya see, Clyde here, he ain’t all right in the head now. No, Clyde gotta little screw up their loose. Doctors don’t quite know what to do to fix him up. Sooo…. We play to our strengths. I like to scrap, he likes to slam. It ain’t nothin’ pretty, but it gets the job done ya see. This right here is me telling y’all, Calvin and Clyde Doxson are entering the Honor Royale.
Smacking his hands together in a clap, the jester of a smile through his toothless grin was a painting of a million words.
Calvin Doxson: Mix’er up and make it strong, cause the cocktails will be flowing when we come for the NPW roster. We don’t care if you’re a Pirate, a Plug, a Koala, a Time table, a tarantula, or a toaster, it’s not gonna matter when Clyde here takes your head and squeezes it like an orange. Fresh squeezed and dirty, it’s how we get down and we aint afraid of ya’lls fancy bull-shit. Nah, there's a lack of quality in the ranks who are showing up at NPW Honor - and we’re coming to set the record straight. Fighting for the fallen, it’s about getting dirty, it’s about getting bloody -- it’s about fighting for family.
Smacking the shoulder again, Clyde audibly grunts and cracks his neck. His eyes intense with their gaze, never leaving the camera until Calvin punches his open palm.
Calvin Doxson: Clyde and I are coming to settle a debt on our fallen brotha - and there aint no doubt win or lose… that debt will be settled. It aint goin’ to be pretty. But we never leave a fallen brotha behind without getting our piece of revenge pie.
Spitting on the floor, Calvin fake punches his own jaw.
Calvin Doxson: Where are my manners? It’s my HONOR to be a part of Northern Pro Wrasslin. Clyde here, while he’s more the strong and silent type, he’s got a bone to pick with a three-headed dog. We may not look like champions, but gold is not a patient man’s game - it’s for the hungry! Clyde and I, we STARVIN’! It’s time we get fed, and we aint leavin’ no scraps for the rest of y’all.
Spitting one more time, Calvin turns and Clyde snarls as he rolls his knuckles, cracking them individually on each hand.
Clyde: REVENANTS! You’re mine!
The scene zooms out to show the two new members of the NPW roster joining the ranks at the last minute for Honor: Fight for the Fallen’s Battle Royal. It’s our first time getting a taste of the monster Clyde who helped save Jesse Jamester at August on the Atlantic III. Now paired with his sharp tongued loose hillbilly looking brother Calvin Doxson; what unpredictability would this add to the Northern Pro Wrestling locker room.
The seven foot one inch tower of hillbilly hell walked into the frame, back to the camera, his face turned to the left to show his leather mask covering all but the left eye and upper cheek. His black hair wet and dangling below the jaw line like a greasy mess. The filth on his shoulder cutoff shirt extended to his massive biceps.
unknown voice: Did you expect something else?
Stepping from the other side of the frame is a smaller man in comparison. Maybe six foot three inches at best with a trucker hat that had seen better days and a shaggy beard that hadn’t seen soap in some weeks.
unknown voice: My name is Calvin Doxson, and this man to my right (thumbs over his shoulder) You may know him already -- he is my brother, Clyde.
Raising his tattooed arm up to the camera, the white beater stained with grease or some other chemical substance was all over his clothes.
Calvin Doxson: Now I don’t pretend to be an athlete, or a star like so many of these men in NPW have stated. No, this here, this is about opportunity. When my good friend called me to come get him from the hospital, Clyde and I did.
Slapping the shoulder with his left hand, Calvin gets Clyde’s attention, and he turns around to show himself holding a massive link of chain made for railroad mechanics to lift the engine out.
Calvin Doxson: We be some good ole’ boys who just like to drink and fight. There ain’t much to it other than that… but ya see, Clyde here, he ain’t all right in the head now. No, Clyde gotta little screw up their loose. Doctors don’t quite know what to do to fix him up. Sooo…. We play to our strengths. I like to scrap, he likes to slam. It ain’t nothin’ pretty, but it gets the job done ya see. This right here is me telling y’all, Calvin and Clyde Doxson are entering the Honor Royale.
Smacking his hands together in a clap, the jester of a smile through his toothless grin was a painting of a million words.
Calvin Doxson: Mix’er up and make it strong, cause the cocktails will be flowing when we come for the NPW roster. We don’t care if you’re a Pirate, a Plug, a Koala, a Time table, a tarantula, or a toaster, it’s not gonna matter when Clyde here takes your head and squeezes it like an orange. Fresh squeezed and dirty, it’s how we get down and we aint afraid of ya’lls fancy bull-shit. Nah, there's a lack of quality in the ranks who are showing up at NPW Honor - and we’re coming to set the record straight. Fighting for the fallen, it’s about getting dirty, it’s about getting bloody -- it’s about fighting for family.
Smacking the shoulder again, Clyde audibly grunts and cracks his neck. His eyes intense with their gaze, never leaving the camera until Calvin punches his open palm.
Calvin Doxson: Clyde and I are coming to settle a debt on our fallen brotha - and there aint no doubt win or lose… that debt will be settled. It aint goin’ to be pretty. But we never leave a fallen brotha behind without getting our piece of revenge pie.
Spitting on the floor, Calvin fake punches his own jaw.
Calvin Doxson: Where are my manners? It’s my HONOR to be a part of Northern Pro Wrasslin. Clyde here, while he’s more the strong and silent type, he’s got a bone to pick with a three-headed dog. We may not look like champions, but gold is not a patient man’s game - it’s for the hungry! Clyde and I, we STARVIN’! It’s time we get fed, and we aint leavin’ no scraps for the rest of y’all.
Spitting one more time, Calvin turns and Clyde snarls as he rolls his knuckles, cracking them individually on each hand.
Clyde: REVENANTS! You’re mine!
The scene zooms out to show the two new members of the NPW roster joining the ranks at the last minute for Honor: Fight for the Fallen’s Battle Royal. It’s our first time getting a taste of the monster Clyde who helped save Jesse Jamester at August on the Atlantic III. Now paired with his sharp tongued loose hillbilly looking brother Calvin Doxson; what unpredictability would this add to the Northern Pro Wrestling locker room.
