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Round 3: Castor V. Strife vs. Khristain Keller


The Godfather
Staff member
Mar 17, 1988
Roleplay begins Thursday and ends next Thursday. 3 RP maximum.

You may submit a card segment for use on the card by private messaging it to the following usernames: Chad; Ford; User Poets Not all segments may be used (i.e. we might only include winners, just depends on the amount of craziness).


League Member
Sep 9, 2004
The scene opened with brash streams of sound before a dark and blurry picture filled the screen. The sound of a projector could be heard whirling in the background as a bright light against a white sheet began to take focus. As the picture cleared, sound began to flood out of the tin like speakers on either side of the screen, featuring the noise which made any true entertainer weak at the knees.

Screaming fans.

“I’ve never had that.”

A sharp pan to the right showed Khristain Keller sitting on a wooden chair, elbows resting on his knees with his chin in his large hands, watching the action.

“I’ve never had that.”

As the picture panned to the left it became clear was the film was.

Osyrus© vs. Alias. ACW World Heavyweight Title. LEGENDS I. 2003.

The final moments of a dramatic match which would see an ACW legend born, the Original Pulp Hero won his first ACW World Title on that fate full night, and his stock has been on the rise ever since.

“I’ve never had that moment of jubilation where you can feel the whole Universe punch the air all in that exact same moment. I’ve never had that moment because I’ve never been the man anywhere.”

The King S*it of F*ck Mountain switched the projector movie off, but kept the bulb on, giving an eerie picture as he sat back deep into the chair.

“I’ve never been the guy that the people root for and I’ve never been the guy that the kids come to see. I can live with that. I’m not a role model. I’m a thirty-odd year old guy who is a f*cking wreck. I’ve been everywhere and anywhere. I don’t need to reel off the places I’ve been and the things I’ve done… but I can easily tell you what I haven’t done.

Gained your respect.

Maybe I was just about to earn it in ACW before I left… maybe I’ll never know but when the ULTRATITLE was announced, I was never really considered as a threat was I?

F*ck, everyone was talking about Dan Ryan. Everyone was talking about Blaine Hollywood. Everyone was talking about Joe the Plumber. Everyone was talking about everyone else apart from the B*stard.”

Keller smirked.

“Look at us now… but still; I haven’t quite gained your respect have I? Two matches and two wins later I’m probably seen as one of the guys going home in the final 32. Why?

Because I’m going against one of your guys?”

K2 got to his feet and stretched out his neck a little before pacing the room.

“Why do I say he is one of yours you ask? Obviously isn’t it? You can usually tell because of the amount of perched lips these guys have attached to their ass… makes it difficult to get about. Maybe that’s why he’s had an easy walk into the last 32?”

A chuckle.

“Only kidding Castor. Isn’t your fault that you made two guys before me piss their pants in fear is it? Of course not… you are just going about your business and beating what is in front of you. Well you want to know something? You’re my business now Strife and I mean f*cking business.”

Keller stood and for some reason started flailing his arms about… maybe he wanted to break up the pipe bomb a little for the viewer?

“Castor. Let me tell you something. You need me c*ckbreath and I’ll tell you why.

Manson, Nova and Melton are all names which will be chiselled in f*cking stone one day because of this tournament and because of the things they have done. You really think you would be with them after receiving two walks so far? Surely you know how tainted titles feel? Tell me, how was that epic win against Joe the Plumber? Oh wait.”

Keller was now in the mood.

“In this whole tournament so far you’ve not even had anyone say a bad word about you! So I would like to thank Sammy Brown and Jaguar for this honour.”

Keller made sure he had plenty of space so he could make his big announcement before dropping down to the floor with his right hand and pulling out a megaphone.


After placing the device in its original resting place, Keller continued his tirade.

“You haven’t been tested… you haven’t even broken sweat yet for Christ sake. Whiskey may have been a total goon of a man but at least he could throw a fist in anger. Jaguar and Sammy Brown are still posted missing from when you faced them, where are they? Hello? HELLO! CASTOR I’M RIGHT HERE COME AND TALK TO ME!

This isn’t a trick. This isn’t a game plan. This is me Castor, Khristain F*cking Keller, the classic over achiever. So when the bell rings and everyone and their mother in the arena thinks you are going squash me… I’ll be the man that won’t give up. Just to annoy you.

I’ll be the guy who makes you double think your strategy.

I’ll be the guy who makes you so angry you miss your big chances.

I’ll be the guy who kills your Ultratitle dream.”

Keller strolled up to the camera, his face overloading the picture.

“Who is going to make more news when they win Castor? The former PRIME Universal, A1E World and current NFW World Championship squeaking a win into the Sweet Sixteen?


The guy without a job who beat the living hell out of him?”

Taking a step back, the King S*it seemed to have a huge smile of his face and he showed the cameras his wingspan by holding his arms out wide.

“Your move, c*nto.”


Where's my money, Chad?
Jul 3, 1997
The Silk Road
Aces to Ashes, Legends to Dust

(FADEIN: Hermosa Beach, CA – the wind is rough in the late evening, throwing waves in bunches to break before vanishing at the edge of the shore. The ocean sucks in again, like an aqua giant inhaling it’s own tongue and breathing it out in repetition. The camera pans right and finds CASTOR STRIFE from his left side, staring out into the water as his blonde hair blows back in the wind. Now the camera pulls back as he begins to speak. He is wearing white shorts, a black long-sleeve v-neck shirt, and a string-tied bag slung over his shoulder)

CASTOR: “I knew a few men who would come out here to clear their minds. They sought serenity in the ocean blue, and looked to the clouds (eyes flick upward) for guidance to a place where trouble wouldn’t follow.”


(Lets the bag down and kneels as the camera rotates around to face him. He takes a handful of sand and lets it spill from his fist like an hourglass)

“I’ve been out here a solid week, and haven’t found anything. No path. No peace.”

(Wipes his hands clean and goes to one knee)

“No escape. Not from the war drums, no…they mean to beat on for a good while, til the end of my career. What about you, Keller? What’s the music between your ears sound like?”

“I say it’s calm as a thousand grains of sand. A guy like you could find peace out here. Because you don’t know. By your own admission, you haven’t the faintest clue.”

(Castor open the bag next to him, pulls out a gold championship belt with the Canadian and American flags on both straps)

“Here’s the A1E World Heavyweight Championship. They said the previous owner was ‘undying’, unkillable, not to be conquered. I put his legend to the test, and turned his statue to dust. So much for the undying…”

(Tosses the belt to the ground, pulls another one from the drawstring bag. This one is full gold, with ‘Universal’ written at the top)

“This one is the PRIME Universal Championship. I won it from a man who, like you, had never experienced glory of golden magnitude. He spent a career chasing this title, and on his very first defense, at the biggest show of the year, I took it from him. Snapped his neck (snaps fingers) in front of 20,000 people, put his property around my waist, and he hasn’t been seen since.”

“For the rest of his life, Keller, what do you think he’ll remember most? The moment of jubilation, as you put it, when his life’s dream became reality? Or will it be my face, haunting him for a lifetime, because every time he thinks of that belt, he’ll remember how I broke him apart and took it for myself? If he could do it over again, would he have chased it in the first place? I wonder…”

(Drops the Universal Championship atop the A1E belt, reaches into the bag one more time. The third and final belt is the biggest, a solid plate of gold. He immediately brings it to his lips)

“The crown jewel. I spent my career chasing this one. The NFW World Heavyweight Championship – the very title that launched the careers of Mike Manson, Shane Southern, Joe The Plumber, and so many others.”

“It also drove them mad.”

(Lays it carefully atop the bag, stands up)

“That’s the one I went to hell and back for. Long before underdog challengers were calling me C[BLEEP] in the Ultratitle tournament, people called me something else.”

Disappointment. Lost potential. Sideshow. Carnival barker.

“You talk about Manson’s name being chiseled in stone…who do you think was holding the nail? I was with him every step of the way in earlier times; his twelfth apostle, the one who made sure the path to Ultratitle was clear. Then I watched it destroy his mind and run him out of the industry. The burden of his own legend was heavy enough that it almost broke his back.”

“As for me…”

(Turns to walk down the beach. Off in the distance, reggae music can be heard playing at a beach club. Far from lightening the mood, it sounds like a detour in paradise, one that will pass over shortly without invitation to the subject. It’s the wind chimes of a peace secluded)

“I was out of this industry for almost five years. A forgotten footnote – no…not even that relevant. Just forgotten. Drug-sick and disabled. I won’t bore you with the details of my recovery, but when I did return, I knew there wasn’t much time. I set out to bring this industry to it’s knees.”

“To win this coveted gold, I had to forget history. Had to spit on it, in fact. Pity the day they call me a legend, because legend is another word for myth. Castor Strife is no myth. He, It…is a revelation. This path I’m on was cut by ripping out pages in the history books, where the ‘legends’ of other men were written. I made my name turning legends into dust.”

“I had to WHITE OUT Troy Windham’s ‘Epitome’. Took a red marker to the ‘Marathon Man’, Impulse. Went face-to-face with the self-proclaimed ‘most cut-throat bastard in professional wrestling’ and made him say I QUIT. And when I did these things, I was rewarded with glory.”

(Stops, turns to the camera)

“Khristain Keller has never been ‘the man’. He’s never felt the ‘jubilation’ of penultimate victory. Well allow me to describe the feeling for you, Keller.”

“It’s a thirty second orgasm. You’ve deflowered the rose of your own glory, and left her naked on the floor. She’ll never bloom again, not like before. And if you can’t have her like that, no man will. She lives over your shoulder in a strap of gold, and you’ll live with one eye over it until somebody catches you sleeping.”

“The next review could be your last. Everybody’s gunning for you – friends and family most of all. Write one blank check and find yourself bankrupted.”

“I did.”

(Hocks and spits in the sand)

“There is no grand jubilation; no cinematic triumph. The higher you climb up the mountain of dreams, the further you’ve driven down a highway of nightmares. Glory is burden. Gold is pain. You’ll shoot more of it into your veins because you think it’ll bring you closer to that first high, but it won’t. Nothing will. The bloom is off the rose. You spend your life cutting daises, ‘til one of them cuts you back.”

“But not me, Keller. I won’t be cut. Won’t be satisfied until the field is clear, and all you little poppies have been eradicated. I’ll make this whole world go hungry. Starve every [BLEEP] village. And if I can’t starve you, I’ll cut the power and contaminate the water.”

“I will do these things, and you will be happy to oblige, because the truth is, Keller, that you don’t want what I’ve got.

“You don’t want to be a champion. You want to be the man who almost beat a champion. You want as much of the glory as you can glean for yourself without the responsibility that comes with victory. That’s why you’re a SMALL MAN, Keller.”

“And I…” (licks teeth and shakes head slowly)

“I inspire fear in men for going a road they only pretend to walk before turning back. One misstep, and I’m irrelevant. A wrong turn, and I’m Joe The Plumber – an icon who is worth ZERO, NOTHING. I wouldn’t give him his match now if he were on his knees and begging.”

“Welcome to the hall of legends, Joe. You’re amongst men whose stories have been written and closed.”

“As for the living, breathing revelation, his book is open, and you wouldn’t dare close it, Keller. You would sh[bleep] your pants if you thought you even had a chance.”

“No, you will be content to ‘test me’, to make me ‘break a sweat’. You will put up a fight to annoy me, by your own admission, and then you’ll do what you came to do. YOU’LL FAIL. You will shrink away with what health I allow you to have, and leave with your fantasy of what it means to be a champion in tact.”

“You might not be afraid of me, like the others were. But you are terrified of what I possess. You dream about it, but you don’t dare come after it. Because if I don’t collapse you, it will.”

“That’s alright, Keller. Fear is natural. All smart men are supposed to have fear, and you’re a smart man. I know you are.”

“I live in fear every day of my life. I’m afraid of living in the shadow of a legend that is taller than I am. Like Michael Manson, like Joey Melton, and Hornet. I won’t be content looking backwards. So I take my burden and go on to the next round…”

“And you get to go home, Keller, still King of Sh[bleep] Mountain. Still the bastard who put up a fight in the late innings. Still dreaming of the bloom on the rose. You can go on with your candy store fantasies of power and glory without knowing the depth of its burden. And that will suit you just fine.”

“Because you’re the type of man who was made for moral victories.”

“And I…”

(Camera rotates to face him from the back, looking out at the ocean)

“I was made for glory.”



League Member
Sep 9, 2004
Re: Aces to Ashes, Legends to Dust

“I think… I think I may have sold myself a little short.”

A black screen fades onto a dark hotel room, and not a very nice one at that. It’s dark, sparse of any humanity and dingy, not something that many of the competitors in the ULTRATITLE would be seen dead in given their multi million dollar contracts and high class lifestyle.

Khristain Keller on the other hand? Loved it.

“I’ll get to that in a minute.”

As K2 walked into the shot, dressed in cotton jogging pants and white socks he strolled over to the window and peeked through the blinds out into the neon skyline of whatever city he was currently in.

“Let me get one thing out the way first… I like my life Castor. I wouldn’t change anything about it and I can guarantee you that I have zero regrets about any choices I have made through my near forty years.”

Peeling himself away from the window, he stared straight into the camera.

“I can say though, that the first professional regret I will ever have is not pinning your pricky ass to the canvas for the three count!”

Sitting down now on the edge of the bed, Keller put a white singlet vest on.

“You want to lecture me about power? You want to tell me how good it is to be at the top? You want to regale me on how your back is all sore and messed up from carrying so much gold in your bag?

Castor, you really have no clue who you are squaring up with do you? So let me lecture you right now boy.

I’m the Bastard who was winning the King of Ages in 2003 when you were just a boy.

I’m the Bastard who took the Black Title from the navel of Christopher Sheffield… and that isn’t a metaphor sunshine.

I’m the Bastard who has stood in front of the inmates of the Asylum and fought for my Relentless title with the Legacy of Champions.

I’m the Bastard who has reached the Pinnicle In Wrestling before they shut that f#cker down.

I’m the Bastard who seen a lot of Action! In my time.

I’m the Bastard who watched Madison Square Garden fall with the fWo.

I’m the Bastard who held the ACW World Heavyweight Championship for 235 days and then spent the next few years making lives a living hell.”

Keller took a moment; he didn’t want to get too worked up.

“The reason I’ve never been THE man? The reason I’ve never had that jubilation moment? "

"Is because the fans of the world of professional wrestling hate my f*cking guts."

"You sit there on your sand box and you talk to me about being the top dog and you have no ****ing idea what I’ve done and who I’ve had to put in a hospital beds to get to where I am today but then again here I am… in my normal routine in my normal ****ty hotel gearing up for just another match. “

“Where are you?”

“You have, by your own admission, been on some secluded beach somewhere for a week trying to gather your thoughts and find peace? Why is that Castor? It’s because the pressure is mounting , and you know that this is your first test in the tournament?”

Pulling his training shoes from his bag, he began to loosen the laces while continuing his statement.

“I’m not here to put up a fight Castor; I’m not here to be Mr. Nearly But Never… far from it. I’m here to beat your face into pulp and show it off to the world as just another souvenir in my collection.”

“So I’m going to make you an offer Castor, I’m going to give you the peace that you seek… all you need to do is cuddle into my arms and I’ll spike your head so hard into that canvas that you will never feel f#cking a thing again.”

Shoes now on, Keller began walking around the room collecting his gym gear as he prepped for yet another workout.

“You say you’re going to starve the field and make us all go hungry. I am full Castor. I am content and I’m ready for anything you can throw at me.

Every cheap shot. I know it.

Every dirty trick. I know them.

Every thought you think. I know you.”

Bag packed and ready to go.

“You sit there and talk about your titles and your place in history. Friend let me tell you this. You won’t be remembered. You might get a cheap pop here and there but when it’s all said and done and the dust has settled and all the seats are empty your crimson on the canvas will be the only thing left in the ULTRATITLE.”

“You say your back is sore from all the gold? Well heavy is the head that wears the crown. When you come at the King ****, you best not miss.”


Where's my money, Chad?
Jul 3, 1997
The Silk Road
Castor Strife is The Flood

(FADEIN: Hotel room somewhere in Los Angeles. CASTOR STRIFE reclines back in his chair, with his boots up on the desk and a September 1996 issue of PRO WRESTLING ILLUSTRATED in front of his face. A waft of smoke emanates from the face behind the magazine, the cover of which is a diagonal lightning bolt separating two prominent wrestlers with the headline: “COLLISION COURSE: Hornet and GUNS Play For Keeps at Fish Fund XI. PLUS: RF Meloneer’s Road to Greensboro!” He turns the pages casually, and speaks)





(Castor lays the magazine down on the desk in front of him. He takes one last puff on his Cohiba cigar and puts it out on the front cover, rotating the ashes deep into the face of Hornet)

CASTOR: “Was… You know the thing about history, Keller, is that it always happens in the past. And by the time it repeats itself, as it inevitably does, the old players have been replaced by new ones. Castor Strife doesn’t talk about his place in history, because he resides in the here and now. Your place is in history, and soon enough, when you make your trip to the present time, I’m going to erase what little pride is left in that shell of an almost-was they call Khristain Keller.”

(He reaches down and pulls a Fiji water bottle from the mini-fridge. After taking a sip, he swishes the water around his mouth and squirts the ashy water from his mouth to the rug)

“Now… (takes another swig) I must apologize to the viewer. On account of Keller changing his tune, pulling a 180, and becoming a completely different person in his second promo, my wonderful rose-bloom-of-jubilation analogy is due for an update. (Shrugs) I guess this is what happens when your opponent stumbles upon his own Wiki page and realizes he wasn’t a loser after all. So allow me to alter what I said…”

“Khristain Keller is no virgin to the glory of gold. He may not have fully penetrated Lady Glory for all she’s worth, but it appears he has played ‘Just The Tip’ once or twice.”

“You were just never ‘THE MAN’, is that right? Never were on top anywhere but ‘F[BLEEP] MOUNTAIN’ because the fans didn’t buy your t-shirt. Am I understanding you, finally?”

(Leans forward with his arms on the desk, curls his finger at the camera which immediately zooms in)

“I’m not sure who you think I am, what you’ve heard, but winning the hearts and minds of the normals is… (shakes head disappointingly) an unpredictable talent for me at best. They drink me hot and cold, never lukewarm. Loved by the people, hated…that pendulum swings to it’s own rhythm, but I am the indisputably peer-reviewed, reference-checked, double-bolted, screen-tested MAN. No amount of love or loathing from that crowd can change it.”

“Some in the locker room, some NAMES, Keller, have confided in me. They told me, ‘Castor, I’m not sure if I can claim stardom in this tournament. There are too many names from too many places. People might not believe me. My star is white noise in the galaxy at-large!’ They’re right to be timid – many among us have carved out a niche of convenience, a SMALL POND, with no conception of where they really stand when all things are equal.”

(Swipes the magazine and cigar off the table, leans back, and puts his feet up again. Castor folds his hands behind his head and looks up to the ceiling, jogging his mind)

“I was around when ULTRATITLE was brought back the first time in 2003. I was young, (points finger to head, squints eyes) but I remember the insecurities it bred amongst such a large field of competitors. So it was then, as it is now. I see the poison of a second guess destroying so many of you as it destroyed me once. I destroyed me. Because I didn’t have the GUTS to put the pressure of victory on myself. I took the easy road, and it led me astray.”

“This year, there isn’t a man in the Ultratitle bracket with more pressure on him than me. (shakes finger) You are absolutely correct – I need to win. All my dominance, my accolades, are standing at attention waiting to be forgotten if I lose to you. You are the most important match of my career…until the next round. And then it starts all over again.”

(Pulls back from chair, stands up. The camera moves, looking up at him)

“I’ve come off two draws to Dan Ryan, having lost my entire fortune to Eric Dane in a raw deal for the ages. Pressure? It’s ten-fold and magnified. In the biggest single event in the history of this business, second place is not an option for me. Not for me.

“It would have been easy, then, for a Castor Strife to vacate his place after two dominant wins and cite money issues, or the schedule in NFW which has me defending my title again in what will surely be the biggest match of the year. The out was there. I CHOSE to remain, for I know the easy road – I took it once – and now, all these years later, I will destroy the thing that almost destroyed me.”

“Pressure? I embrace it. And I embrace the mantle I’ve boldly claimed as the NUMBER ONE talent in the world today. All know it. There is…no legitimate dispute.”

(Walks toward camera, pulls it close with his hand. His green eyes are dilated and unsteady)

“All over the world, in every town, every city, every corner, my name is known, and my name is feared. There isn’t a single organization I couldn’t walk into TOMORROW and cut through like a buzz saw. That’s no talk – that’s the f[BLEEP]kng weather. Last 730 days of my career? The barometer.

(Pushes camera away, turns and walks toward the center of the room, turning again and stopping to face the camera)

“So as good as you are, Keller, and you are good, you’re in the unenviable position of facing a man, a buzz saw, who has no option of turning back.”

(Smiles, shakes head intensely)

“Nothing has to change for you. I won’t kick you off F[BLEEP] Mountain. It’s yours, every fictional crevice. The sh[BLEEP] dwarves can mine it’s sh[BLEEP] gold, for your King Sh[BLEEP] crown, put it in a mutual fund with the rest of the Ultratitle hopefuls, and it’s combined value will amount to a wheelbarrow of Weimar Republic Deutschemarks. There’s only so much credibility it can buy. A bread loaf here, a one-round victory there. And soon, the false kings, faux stars, and the sham epitomes will be swept away by the DELUGE.”

(Walks over to the window, peering out into the sunlight while speaking. On the television set next to him, Kirk Cameron is spouting off on low volume about the coming apocalypse)

“I am the terror on the horizon. I am the fire into which your history books will be THROWN and BURNED. (Turns his head to the camera, angrily) Take your mountain elsewhere. Get out while you can. Because the deeper I go, the closer I get to that real crown, the worse my desperation gets.”

“That’s when a bastard like you gets what he has coming.”

“On that night, they won’t call you a bastard. They’ll call you the son. And I am the father. You will learn what it’s like to be the lesser man, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“And you will learn that a man like me doesn’t come at King S[BLEEP]. He walks right through him, if not completely over him.”


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