Post by High Tide on Feb 25, 2014 1:25:13 GMT -5
“Hmm. I see in your future a great deal ruin, despair, and destruction. Your future is a grim one indeed young man. I have not seen a future so bleak in quite some years,” the whispery old voice of the fortune teller whispered and it echoed at an eerily loud volume.
Tide shook his head, just as aggravated as ever. “Tell me something I don’t know old hag. I didn’t come here for a parlour trick. The tag division is gone. Now we wait in an undetermined limbo. I could have told you I had a bleak and grim future and not paid fifty dollars for an hour long session,” he spoke with a voice full of a venom that was almost unbecoming too him.
The fortune teller stretched her arms wide, the humongous sleeves of her purple robe brushing against her glass ball as she did so. It was almost as if she were shrugging Tide off, an impression that did not please him. He rose to his feet, and was halfway across the table when he composed himself. She wasn’t worth the time, he reminded himself as he dusted off dark blue jeans. It was a rare occasion that he wasn’t in full pirate dress, but his career was in crisis mode. His gods had let him down, but there were others who would take him in… and willingly.
He made to leave the shop, but the fortune teller stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “They call you High Tide but the man I’ve seen is nothing but a Low Tide. Follow the true calling of your life my friend, and you will find greatness and success again,” she whispered to him, as if she were afraid to say the words and as quick as a rabbit she was gone, disappearing behind a thin, silky curtain.
Bewildered, High Tide quickly left the small shack the fortune teller inhabited and stepped out into one of the rougher neighbourhoods in town. What had the crazy old lady meant? Follow the true calling of his life to find greatness and success? The only two things he had ever loved truly in his life were wrestling and his pirate heritage. Then suddenly it clicked in his head, and he almost bumped into a group of pre teen children. Thankfully for him, they moved out of his way, but had he bumped into them he would have found out quickly that at least one of them owned a small knife.
As he walked boot after boot over the crumbling sidewalk, he noticed the decaying, dilapidated houses, but that was not on his mind. The true calling had to mean his ascension to Viking status, but lately he had forsaken his gods. How could he once again gain their favour, their ears?
It was the other love of his life that would help him here, he thought as he turned into a less rough neighbourhood. He would step back into that ring with true purpose and show the gods that he had not given up on them, on himself. No, he cared not for the squabbles of Saniti and Q, nor how dangerous they thought they were. He was a man on a mission and if his partner Wasp, held up his end as he was capable of doing then not only would he be able to start upon the road to gaining the favour of his gods back, but they would score a win; something that hadn’t been coming to them lately.
And to hell with anyone who got in his way. He had few friends inside PCW, and if you weren’t a friend of High Tide’s, it made you an enemy by default. And an enemy of him, was not something you wanted to be.
Tide shook his head, just as aggravated as ever. “Tell me something I don’t know old hag. I didn’t come here for a parlour trick. The tag division is gone. Now we wait in an undetermined limbo. I could have told you I had a bleak and grim future and not paid fifty dollars for an hour long session,” he spoke with a voice full of a venom that was almost unbecoming too him.
The fortune teller stretched her arms wide, the humongous sleeves of her purple robe brushing against her glass ball as she did so. It was almost as if she were shrugging Tide off, an impression that did not please him. He rose to his feet, and was halfway across the table when he composed himself. She wasn’t worth the time, he reminded himself as he dusted off dark blue jeans. It was a rare occasion that he wasn’t in full pirate dress, but his career was in crisis mode. His gods had let him down, but there were others who would take him in… and willingly.
He made to leave the shop, but the fortune teller stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “They call you High Tide but the man I’ve seen is nothing but a Low Tide. Follow the true calling of your life my friend, and you will find greatness and success again,” she whispered to him, as if she were afraid to say the words and as quick as a rabbit she was gone, disappearing behind a thin, silky curtain.
Bewildered, High Tide quickly left the small shack the fortune teller inhabited and stepped out into one of the rougher neighbourhoods in town. What had the crazy old lady meant? Follow the true calling of his life to find greatness and success? The only two things he had ever loved truly in his life were wrestling and his pirate heritage. Then suddenly it clicked in his head, and he almost bumped into a group of pre teen children. Thankfully for him, they moved out of his way, but had he bumped into them he would have found out quickly that at least one of them owned a small knife.
As he walked boot after boot over the crumbling sidewalk, he noticed the decaying, dilapidated houses, but that was not on his mind. The true calling had to mean his ascension to Viking status, but lately he had forsaken his gods. How could he once again gain their favour, their ears?
It was the other love of his life that would help him here, he thought as he turned into a less rough neighbourhood. He would step back into that ring with true purpose and show the gods that he had not given up on them, on himself. No, he cared not for the squabbles of Saniti and Q, nor how dangerous they thought they were. He was a man on a mission and if his partner Wasp, held up his end as he was capable of doing then not only would he be able to start upon the road to gaining the favour of his gods back, but they would score a win; something that hadn’t been coming to them lately.
And to hell with anyone who got in his way. He had few friends inside PCW, and if you weren’t a friend of High Tide’s, it made you an enemy by default. And an enemy of him, was not something you wanted to be.
