Post by Akrista on Nov 24, 2009 17:31:00 GMT -6
Pic Base Name: It's me! Akrista Walsh
Name: Akrista O'Hare
In Ring Name: Mistress of Punk Rock, Gray Angel
Entrance Theme: "Nice N Sleazy" by The Stranglers
Manager: None
Home Town: Boston, MA
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 148 pounds
Top 10 Moves(describe if needed)
1: Rolling Legbar (Opponent on the ground, Akrista charges, grabs their leg and jumps over them with their leg trapped between her arms, and locks in a standard legbar. The speed simply helps weaken the leg.)
2: Dragon Sleeper
3: Crossface
4: Tornado DDT
5: Dragon Screw Legwhip
6: Cobra Clutch Bulldog
7: Tilt-a-whirl headscissors (from the top rop, only way she can get enough air)
8: Over-the-top rope Suicide Dive
9: Hanging Neck Breaker
10: Shining Wizard
Finishers:(Describe If Needed)
1:(Primary Finisher, as she is a submissions style wrestler)
Holy Trinity (Akrista kicks her opponent in the stomach so they are doubled over. She jumps and locks in a triangle choke, so the opponent is still bent in half, with Akrista's back on the ground, putting pressure on the neck and spine.)
2: Darkness Falls (Acid Drop/Dudley Dog)
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OOC
Name: Akrista Walsh
Age: 20
Staff Experience: some writing experience.
Rping Experience: 3 years, off and on
As the cleaning crews are mopping down the floor, wiping the walls and making the arena presentable for tomorrow's show, the roar of a Detroit engine fills the space. It grows louder, slowly, until it sounds like the car is right inside the arena. Most of the crew shrug, and continue their duties.
The sound of the engine is soon overtaken by squealing tires, and one janitor, new to the federation, sticks his head out of the hallway he is in, looking into the garage. An older car, some kind of cnvertible, is idling in the parking lot, punk rock blaring out of the speakers. Its not an old Mustang or Camaro, or any other typical muscle car. Its a dark ebony, with a hint of sunburst down near the trunk. The paint job is amazingly detailed, showing a sunset by the ocean. A silhouette of a castle appears near the wheel well, with a flock of birds flying away over the water.
The young girl behind the wheels stands up, and hops over the door, her combat boots *thunking* against the concrete floor of the garage. She is wearing an open white trench coat over a Bad Religion t-shirt and urban camo pants. Her hair is dyed dark blue fading to black, and is blended so well it looks almost natural. Standing at about 5'4" and curvy, the young girl looks around and notices the janitor then smiles, but says nothing. The maintenance man is admiring the car and a small smile crosses the girl's face, accustomed to this reaction. When she speaks, it's with a thick South Boston accent.
Girl: Oldsmobile 4-4-2. I know, not the most popular muscle car. It gets me from hear to there. Speaking of hear....where's the manager's office, and is he in right now? Not likely, I know...if you could just point the way, that'd be wicked pissah...
Janitor: Sure thing girl. Head inside through these doors, follow the hallway and take your first right. Its the door that says Angel on it. He's the guy to talk to...
Girl: Yeah? Thanks for the info. See ya around
The janitor nods as the girl walks inside. The tired old man admires her backside for a little, before sighing and getting back to work. The girl follows the instructions, and finds her new boss's office pretty easily. After memorizing the location, and noting the light is off, she decides to wander around. Her eyes dart everywhere, taking in everything. Every turn, every dark corner, every pipe and table, the young girl sees it, and continues wander until she finds herself at the entrance ramp to the main stage.
She stands at the top of the ramp and slowly exhales, in the darkness, her trench coat providing a stark contrast. A short laugh, cold and harsh, echoes through the empty arena, before the girl heads back to the office.
She looks around furtively, slides something out of her coat sleeve, and quickly jimmies the lock. Inside, she pulls a small Mag light out and looks around the office quickly. Heading over to the big desk, the prowler curses, obviously not finding what she's looking for on top of the desk. Undaunted, the young girl tries opening some of the drawers, but finds that they are all locked, and none of them yield to her pick. Sighing in frustration, the girl looks around for pen and paper. She quickly writes out her proposal on company letter head, leaving it on Angel's desk with her signature on the bottom left side. Three Xs underneath make it clear what she expects. Done with her work, the girl heads back out, checking the hallway first to make sure she is alone. She leaves the office, closes and locks the door behind her and heads back to the garage. The same janitor is packing up for the night, and waves as the girl walks to her car.
Janitor: So, you find what you were looking for? Was the boss in? Don't suppose you suggested a raise for us working stiffs, huh? Name's Flynn, by the way.
The man laughs, a raspy sound that belies a two pack a day smoking habit. The young girl grins wickedly, and shakes her head.
Girl: Not this time, maybe in a couple weeks I'll have somethin' for ya killah. You should quite smoking, its a bad habit. But here ya go. Flynn eh? You from Boston? My cousin's name is Flynn. Funny guy, always throws the best keggers. Anyways, I gotta run. Seeyaround!
The young girl tosses a pack of Marlboro Reds at the man, chuckling. The custodian catches the pack awkwardly and laughs again, nodding his thanks before getting in his own beat-up truck and leaving the garage. The young girl stands in the garage for a few minutes, eyes closed. Then she gets in the Olds, revs the engines and peels out of the garage, blasting Black Flag over the stereo. As she drives away, she's confident that her proposal will be approved...
This contract is between Southern Championship Wrestling and Akrista "Gray Angel" O'Hare. She has one dark match at a show of Angel's choosing, to prove that she will be a good addition to this federation. Once she proves herself, this constitutes a binding legal contract between her and the federation.
PS: You won't regret it, I promise you that.
Akrista O'Hare
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Akrista O'Hare
11/25/09