Post by roguesquadron11 on Oct 21, 2024 23:03:34 GMT
Character name: Ryan St. James
Height: 6'1
Weight: 240 lbs
Age or D.O.B.: 26
Billed From: Las Vegas, NV
Face/heel/tweener: Face
Non-FWA accomplishments: N/A
FWA accomplishments: N/A
FWA win-loss record:
Singles 0-0
Tag 1-0
Style of wrestling: Technical Powerhouse, combine Chad Gable and Bron Breakker
Moveset:
Powerbomb
Spine Buster
Ripcord Lariat
German Suplex
Moonsault
Shoulder Block
Pounce
Alabama Slam
Spear
Snap Scoop Powerslam
Signature:
Stays in Vegas or S.I.V. - One Arm Powerbomb (Tejana Bomb)
Finishing Moves:
Original Sin - TKO
Repentance - Bridging Arm Triangle Choke (Last Chancery)
Attire:
R.J. wears black and silver patterned mma style shorts and gloves along with a black, sleeveless compression shirt when wrestling.
If seen backstage or not wrestling he typically has a hoodie and sweatpants over his gear, most likely merch for his tag team The Sin City Renegades.
Base pic for your character (please include the name of the base pic and refer to our taken base pic thread):
RSJ.jfif (91.36 KB)
Theme music: The Past is Dead - Beartooth
Introduction promo:
The scene opens on a flyer barely clinging to a telephone pole as it flutters in the wind. It reads "FWA: Open Tryouts." The brief sound of paper tearing is heard as the notice loses its fight with a gust and flies away. At that same a moment a man steps out of the nearby El Cortez Hotel and Casino into the brisk night air. He takes a deep breath and stretches, really testing the buttons of the white dress shirt he wears under a gray and red vest.
He pulls out his phone and unlocks it, "7 p.m.? Plenty of time." He pulls off his bow tie and shoves it into the duffle hanging from his shoulder before taking off down the pavement. Along the way he see's the usual revolving door of characters: musicians, magicians, street artists of all kinds. It's Sin City after all, everyone owes someone something and they'll do whatever it takes to pay their tabs. He'd like to say he's above it all, but even he will sit outside Pop's with a beat up acoustic guitar and play covers for pennies. Everyone owes someone, even him.
It doesn't take long before he's standing in front of an old, worn down, brick building with a sign that reads "Pop's House" with a punching bag placed as if it's an exclamation mark. He smiles softly to himself as he looks at his home away for home, his place of respite, his iron church, his local gym. But that smile quickly fades when he walks in. All the weight racks and mats had been pushed the the side, the boxing ring was missing its ropes, and all his gym friends were setting up chairs on the floor and speakers in the ring.
"Ah there you are R.J.! Mind helping me set this table up just over here?" Ryan turned towards the voice and found Pop, a dark skinned statue of man with a white beard in his mid sixties.
"Sure Pop, but...what's happening here? Gunna be hard to get a sweat going with this set up." Said Ryan. Pop raised his eyebrow at him and replied.
"What? I'm sure I told you, I've rented the place out tonight. Charity concert or some nonsense, doesn't matter, they made a decent offer and Lord knows I can't pass up an opportunity. Might have to make this a regular thing if I can."
"Are things that difficult? I hadn't realized..." Guilt started to fill Ryan's chest, how had he not realized that Pop was struggling to make ends meet? He's always been like a second father to him and everyone that frequents Pop's House. Memberships weren't really a thing here, instead everyone pooled whatever extra money they had each week and left it for Pop. Hell, nearly every tip Ryan made dealing cards went straight to Pop.
Seeing Ryan retreat into his thoughts Pop spoke up, " It's nothing you need to worry yourself over R.J. I'll make sure the roof stays where it is. You and the boys do more than enough for me. Now do you have any idea how to set up these fog machines the band dropped off?"
Not long after a small crowd started pouring in, turned out the band in question actually belonged to a buddy of his. How did this event slip his mind? On top of that he couldn't stop thinking about how Pop was struggling to make ends meet. It shouldn't be surprising, that was true of everyone there including himself. But this place had given a lot to him and he wanted to do more, being a card dealer at a casino for low rollers didn't exactly give him a lot of options though.
He decided to call it early, usually he'd stay and support his friend but there was too much weighting on his mind and if he's honest he knew the set a little too well anyway. On his way towards the door a rustling of paper caught his attention. He looked down and saw a flyer on the floor under the bulletin board.
"Huh, must've fallen.." He muttered to himself. He bent down to retrieve it and hang it back up. But the heading caught his eye, it read "FWA: Open Tryouts"
He gave a quick glance around and then stuffed the flyer in his duffle bag before stepping out once more into the brisk night air.
Height: 6'1
Weight: 240 lbs
Age or D.O.B.: 26
Billed From: Las Vegas, NV
Face/heel/tweener: Face
Non-FWA accomplishments: N/A
FWA accomplishments: N/A
FWA win-loss record:
Singles 0-0
Tag 1-0
Style of wrestling: Technical Powerhouse, combine Chad Gable and Bron Breakker
Moveset:
Powerbomb
Spine Buster
Ripcord Lariat
German Suplex
Moonsault
Shoulder Block
Pounce
Alabama Slam
Spear
Snap Scoop Powerslam
Signature:
Stays in Vegas or S.I.V. - One Arm Powerbomb (Tejana Bomb)
Finishing Moves:
Original Sin - TKO
Repentance - Bridging Arm Triangle Choke (Last Chancery)
Attire:
R.J. wears black and silver patterned mma style shorts and gloves along with a black, sleeveless compression shirt when wrestling.
If seen backstage or not wrestling he typically has a hoodie and sweatpants over his gear, most likely merch for his tag team The Sin City Renegades.
Base pic for your character (please include the name of the base pic and refer to our taken base pic thread):
RSJ.jfif (91.36 KB)
Theme music: The Past is Dead - Beartooth
Introduction promo:
The scene opens on a flyer barely clinging to a telephone pole as it flutters in the wind. It reads "FWA: Open Tryouts." The brief sound of paper tearing is heard as the notice loses its fight with a gust and flies away. At that same a moment a man steps out of the nearby El Cortez Hotel and Casino into the brisk night air. He takes a deep breath and stretches, really testing the buttons of the white dress shirt he wears under a gray and red vest.
He pulls out his phone and unlocks it, "7 p.m.? Plenty of time." He pulls off his bow tie and shoves it into the duffle hanging from his shoulder before taking off down the pavement. Along the way he see's the usual revolving door of characters: musicians, magicians, street artists of all kinds. It's Sin City after all, everyone owes someone something and they'll do whatever it takes to pay their tabs. He'd like to say he's above it all, but even he will sit outside Pop's with a beat up acoustic guitar and play covers for pennies. Everyone owes someone, even him.
It doesn't take long before he's standing in front of an old, worn down, brick building with a sign that reads "Pop's House" with a punching bag placed as if it's an exclamation mark. He smiles softly to himself as he looks at his home away for home, his place of respite, his iron church, his local gym. But that smile quickly fades when he walks in. All the weight racks and mats had been pushed the the side, the boxing ring was missing its ropes, and all his gym friends were setting up chairs on the floor and speakers in the ring.
"Ah there you are R.J.! Mind helping me set this table up just over here?" Ryan turned towards the voice and found Pop, a dark skinned statue of man with a white beard in his mid sixties.
"Sure Pop, but...what's happening here? Gunna be hard to get a sweat going with this set up." Said Ryan. Pop raised his eyebrow at him and replied.
"What? I'm sure I told you, I've rented the place out tonight. Charity concert or some nonsense, doesn't matter, they made a decent offer and Lord knows I can't pass up an opportunity. Might have to make this a regular thing if I can."
"Are things that difficult? I hadn't realized..." Guilt started to fill Ryan's chest, how had he not realized that Pop was struggling to make ends meet? He's always been like a second father to him and everyone that frequents Pop's House. Memberships weren't really a thing here, instead everyone pooled whatever extra money they had each week and left it for Pop. Hell, nearly every tip Ryan made dealing cards went straight to Pop.
Seeing Ryan retreat into his thoughts Pop spoke up, " It's nothing you need to worry yourself over R.J. I'll make sure the roof stays where it is. You and the boys do more than enough for me. Now do you have any idea how to set up these fog machines the band dropped off?"
Not long after a small crowd started pouring in, turned out the band in question actually belonged to a buddy of his. How did this event slip his mind? On top of that he couldn't stop thinking about how Pop was struggling to make ends meet. It shouldn't be surprising, that was true of everyone there including himself. But this place had given a lot to him and he wanted to do more, being a card dealer at a casino for low rollers didn't exactly give him a lot of options though.
He decided to call it early, usually he'd stay and support his friend but there was too much weighting on his mind and if he's honest he knew the set a little too well anyway. On his way towards the door a rustling of paper caught his attention. He looked down and saw a flyer on the floor under the bulletin board.
"Huh, must've fallen.." He muttered to himself. He bent down to retrieve it and hang it back up. But the heading caught his eye, it read "FWA: Open Tryouts"
He gave a quick glance around and then stuffed the flyer in his duffle bag before stepping out once more into the brisk night air.
