Post by SammieSinclair on Feb 14, 2018 18:55:34 GMT
SAMANTHA SINCLAIR
Marvela Marcille
...Marvela Marcille was far too busy spitting kittens to give a single damn about what the witless masses were chanting now, lost as she was in her own vexation. She half paced, half stumbled her way around the outside of the ring, leaning heavily against the barricades and petulantly snapping at anyone who dared to reach over and touch her, the Elegant Elitist filled with vinegar and spite.
She openly scowled as she cradled the back of her own head, ears still ringing from the pratfall she had endured on her unceremonious way down to the barely padded concrete, every inch of the red clad battler more than ready to take her ball and go home. She whipped a dismissive wave of her hand in the vague direction of the commentary team as she caught half of what they were saying, unwilling to acknowledge the lack of respect that she was being offered.
Weeks away on tour in other countries, and still the rednecks couldn’t appreciate what they had been missing, the ungrateful ingrates blind to the ‘Magnificent’ Marvel in their midst, all too eager to yap at the heels of an unworthy Upstart.
Samantha Sinclair, meanwhile, was feeling much better about the current situation, positioned as she was within the squared circle and preparing her next assault. Inhaling deeply, the People’s Princess was as equally weary as her predecessor, and yet all of the aches and pains wracking her petite proportions only willed her to perform harder, the small brunette determined to prove her worth after over a month on the shelf. A persistent injury to her shoulder had left her sidelined for longer than she would like, and she wasn’t about to be put back there due to underperforming.
Unlike her counterpart, the gold clad warrior could hear the FAWNatics loud and clear, the Loyalist Legionnaires in full voice as they brought their hands together. It was a repeating mantra, a rapid, three clap rhythm, the Upstart Nations march to war. Sammie joined in with their enthusiasm, igniting it still further, bringing her own hands up high as she clapped her hands three times, nodding as an effortless smile found her features, bracing herself before pointing at the fleeing Marcille.
Marvela was making her way to the Time Keepers desk, hassling the man who occupied that position to get out of her way, no doubt about to climb over the barricades to make a run for it. Sinclair wasn’t about to have any of that, a count out not being what people had paid for. Bracing herself, the miniature mass of the beloved young woman shot off at a sprint, ducking just before leaping into a dive between the top and middle rope, the Brit turning herself into a missile as the Little Sparrow took flight...
Marvela turned on the spot sharply, much to the horror of those watching, the Time Keepers steel chair in hand and folded up into a weapon. She HURLED the vicious projectile with a scream, flinging it into the direction of the diving Babyface and watching with delight as it CLANGED!! off the exposed noggin of the crowd favourite.
The FAWNatics gasped in despair as Sinclair’s flight was brutally ended, the young woman recoiling from the brutal collision as though she had been shot, flopping backwards into the squared circle and rolling over. The Former Lightweight Champion did not get back up, arms and legs spayed out in every direction, her eyelids fluttering closed.
Chair Shot Interruption: @2:11
www.youtube.com/watch?v=EcUi16pdDHg&t=335s
Marvela could not have looked smugger, the ‘Original’ People’s Princess spinning on the spot with arms outstretched as if welcoming the warmest of accolades, her grin as wide as a Cheshire’s. The shimmy of her hips could not have been more assured as she sauntered her way back on over to the squared circle, preparing to let herself back into her own ring.
“Alright Marvela,” the Official felt the need to admonish the crimson clad grappler, “you’re had your fun, now keep it inside.”
Marcille froze with one hand on the ropes, glaring at the zebra, one eye twitching in the face of his sheer gall. Mind made up almost immediately, she released her grasp of the coil and instead, after ducking beneath the bottom rope, reached into the ring and grasped the suddenly submissive Sinclair by her wrist. Regardless of the protests emerging from her Legion of supporters, the Elegant Elitist proceeded to YANK!! the sublime frame of the Blue Eyed Wonder across the canvas and to the outside of the squared circle!
With both young women now precisely where they were not supposed to be, the Official opened his mouth to renew his own warning, only to be ignored utterly. Marvela was far too invested in her own affairs to be rudely interrupted, so she set to work without impediment. With the shell shocked Sinclair as pliable as putty, the Marvellous One assisted the Leader of the Upstart Nation back up to her feet before slipping one arm between the girls complaint thighs and wrapping the other about her limp shoulders. Hupping her fellow Lightweight up, she carried the slowly stirring sweetheart on over to the barricades, DROPPING her down over the top of it stomach first.
Sinclair GUFFED out a great gasp of air as the unyielding fixture dug deep into her trim tummy, encouraging her to remain flaccid, the tips of her toes just barely touching the ground on one side, while the tips of her fingers did likewise on the other. Several of the Legionnaire’s closest attempted to rouse her, but such encouragement was falling on deaf ears, Sammie showing no further signs of recovering.
Marvela sauntered her way back to the squared circle, imaginary tail swishing from her firm buttocks, before she hopped up onto the apron. She stood up quickly, milking the moment for all it was worth, her indulgence only marred by the interruption of the Official.
“Come on Marvela...”
“Silence!” Marcille snapped in his direction, more than merely irritated, “I will take all of the time I desire, after all,” she smirked all the more, turning to face the audience and embrace them with all of her majesty. She brought both of her arms up, thumbs pointed to her own head as she gave voice to her own mantra.
“IT’S! MY!! TIME!!!”
She leapt without any further warning, taking flight and, at the very apex of her ascent, brought out one, magnificently athletic stem to its full extension, fully prepared to use it as a guillotine. Once gravity took hold, the FAWNatics could scarcely even watch as she successfully brought it down HARD, her wicked thigh SMACHING across the back of the suspended Sinclair’s exposed neck, earning a heartbreaking cry from the Tiny Titan before the impact itself ripped her from her perch.
Sammie puddled to the concrete, her right leg twitching, the Legionnaire’s fearing the worst.
Apron Leg Drop: @8:33
www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHtsllNDqlE
“Alright Marvela,” the Official tried his best to salvage some control as Marcille scraped what was left of the crowd favourite back off the concrete. “Back inside the ri...”
“Oh SHUT! UP!!” Marcille snapped, the ‘Perfect’ Princess filled with indignation as she half carried; half shovelled the remains of the smaller brunette back into the squared circle. “You scarcely exist, be on your way until I need you.”
Satisfied that the man had been appropriately whipped, Marvela followed the wreckage of Sinclair back into of the ring, save only under her own power. She hopped up onto the apron with a wide swish of her toosh before slipping between the ropes, quickly performing a wide circuit of the corners with her arms outstretched. Better, much better, all was as it should be.
Or just about, Marcille’s smirk now firmly in place as she came back to start, her breathing rapid as she anticipated the kill. She hunkered forwards, her grin only growing wider as she could barely control herself, Sammie slowly stirring and struggling to get up, the ever resilient Upstart Supreme signing her own death warrant.
The FAWNatics desperately tried to cry out a warning, but Sinclair was too far gone to listen, slowly rolling over onto her front before placing her palms down flat on the canvas. With a great groan of effort, the small brunette pushed herself slowly upwards, pretty peepers glassy and barely seeing. She found her knees and eventually her feet, her back fully exposed to her opponent. Scarcely aware of where she was, Sammie stumbled about in a half circle...
And Marvela struck, letting loose a gleeful cry as she spun in a rapid, beguiling three sixty spin as she snapped her right leg upwards. The divine limb had already beheaded the People’s Princess once, and now the crimson boot would kick her clean into the next worl...
Sammie DUCKED!!
Dipping clean beneath the lethal limb, the gold clad grappler just barely avoided the horrific impact, the Legionnaires elated in their own surprise. With it all happening so quickly, there was scarcely time for those watching to react, never mind those inside of the ring to do so as well.
Coming up empty, the wide eyed Marvela stumbled, panicking as her envisioned moment fell apart. Sammie was back up to vertical in an instant and, operating on little more than instinct, muscle memory took over, the Little Sparrow spinning on the spot, as if mimicking her opponent, only her intention was to unleash the astonishing Sammie Kick!!
The heel of her own, blue boot found its target and COLLIDED with the side of Marcille’s noggin, knocking the other young woman into an immediate stupor and forcibly turning her a full one eighty. Sinclair snuggled in close to the ‘Magnificent’ Marvel, wrapping her own arms snugly about the bigger brunette’s firm midriff, before inhaling sharply and taking a play out of another Former Lightweight Champions playbook, launching into a pitch perfect, Belly to Back Suplex!!
Sammie Suplex!! @3:36
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nv7WCrF8DyQ&t=4s
Forcibly hupped and over by the Blue Eyed Wonder, the ‘Original’ People’s Princess was a sack of potatoes within the arms of her beloved inheritor, and as the back of her head and shoulders SLAMMED down into the canvas, her lower body folded over itself, magnificent stems turning flaccid. With the tips of Marcille’s boots tapping the mat above her own noggin, Sammie retained her own firm grip, bridging her perfectly trim tummy skywards to secure a pin!!
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
The Official could not have been better positioned to begin his three count, and so it was to the relief of the FAWNatics that he was on point to assure the Brits triumph. Sammie released her opponent the moment her victory was confirmed, Marvela flopping to the mat sideways as a weary Sinclair slumped as well, before gradually sitting up.
Aching from button nose to tippy toes, the Leader of the Upstart Nation gave herself a moment to recover before slowly getting herself up, gratefully embracing the Legionnaires applause, her right hand held up by the Official. Smiling as much as her weariness would allow, she resolved not to linger on the pain rippling through her physique, and instead focus on being thankful for being back.
Marvela Marcille was feeling far less sanguine...
Marvela Marcille
...Marvela Marcille was far too busy spitting kittens to give a single damn about what the witless masses were chanting now, lost as she was in her own vexation. She half paced, half stumbled her way around the outside of the ring, leaning heavily against the barricades and petulantly snapping at anyone who dared to reach over and touch her, the Elegant Elitist filled with vinegar and spite.
She openly scowled as she cradled the back of her own head, ears still ringing from the pratfall she had endured on her unceremonious way down to the barely padded concrete, every inch of the red clad battler more than ready to take her ball and go home. She whipped a dismissive wave of her hand in the vague direction of the commentary team as she caught half of what they were saying, unwilling to acknowledge the lack of respect that she was being offered.
Weeks away on tour in other countries, and still the rednecks couldn’t appreciate what they had been missing, the ungrateful ingrates blind to the ‘Magnificent’ Marvel in their midst, all too eager to yap at the heels of an unworthy Upstart.
Samantha Sinclair, meanwhile, was feeling much better about the current situation, positioned as she was within the squared circle and preparing her next assault. Inhaling deeply, the People’s Princess was as equally weary as her predecessor, and yet all of the aches and pains wracking her petite proportions only willed her to perform harder, the small brunette determined to prove her worth after over a month on the shelf. A persistent injury to her shoulder had left her sidelined for longer than she would like, and she wasn’t about to be put back there due to underperforming.
Unlike her counterpart, the gold clad warrior could hear the FAWNatics loud and clear, the Loyalist Legionnaires in full voice as they brought their hands together. It was a repeating mantra, a rapid, three clap rhythm, the Upstart Nations march to war. Sammie joined in with their enthusiasm, igniting it still further, bringing her own hands up high as she clapped her hands three times, nodding as an effortless smile found her features, bracing herself before pointing at the fleeing Marcille.
Marvela was making her way to the Time Keepers desk, hassling the man who occupied that position to get out of her way, no doubt about to climb over the barricades to make a run for it. Sinclair wasn’t about to have any of that, a count out not being what people had paid for. Bracing herself, the miniature mass of the beloved young woman shot off at a sprint, ducking just before leaping into a dive between the top and middle rope, the Brit turning herself into a missile as the Little Sparrow took flight...
Marvela turned on the spot sharply, much to the horror of those watching, the Time Keepers steel chair in hand and folded up into a weapon. She HURLED the vicious projectile with a scream, flinging it into the direction of the diving Babyface and watching with delight as it CLANGED!! off the exposed noggin of the crowd favourite.
The FAWNatics gasped in despair as Sinclair’s flight was brutally ended, the young woman recoiling from the brutal collision as though she had been shot, flopping backwards into the squared circle and rolling over. The Former Lightweight Champion did not get back up, arms and legs spayed out in every direction, her eyelids fluttering closed.
Chair Shot Interruption: @2:11
www.youtube.com/watch?v=EcUi16pdDHg&t=335s
Marvela could not have looked smugger, the ‘Original’ People’s Princess spinning on the spot with arms outstretched as if welcoming the warmest of accolades, her grin as wide as a Cheshire’s. The shimmy of her hips could not have been more assured as she sauntered her way back on over to the squared circle, preparing to let herself back into her own ring.
“Alright Marvela,” the Official felt the need to admonish the crimson clad grappler, “you’re had your fun, now keep it inside.”
Marcille froze with one hand on the ropes, glaring at the zebra, one eye twitching in the face of his sheer gall. Mind made up almost immediately, she released her grasp of the coil and instead, after ducking beneath the bottom rope, reached into the ring and grasped the suddenly submissive Sinclair by her wrist. Regardless of the protests emerging from her Legion of supporters, the Elegant Elitist proceeded to YANK!! the sublime frame of the Blue Eyed Wonder across the canvas and to the outside of the squared circle!
With both young women now precisely where they were not supposed to be, the Official opened his mouth to renew his own warning, only to be ignored utterly. Marvela was far too invested in her own affairs to be rudely interrupted, so she set to work without impediment. With the shell shocked Sinclair as pliable as putty, the Marvellous One assisted the Leader of the Upstart Nation back up to her feet before slipping one arm between the girls complaint thighs and wrapping the other about her limp shoulders. Hupping her fellow Lightweight up, she carried the slowly stirring sweetheart on over to the barricades, DROPPING her down over the top of it stomach first.
Sinclair GUFFED out a great gasp of air as the unyielding fixture dug deep into her trim tummy, encouraging her to remain flaccid, the tips of her toes just barely touching the ground on one side, while the tips of her fingers did likewise on the other. Several of the Legionnaire’s closest attempted to rouse her, but such encouragement was falling on deaf ears, Sammie showing no further signs of recovering.
Marvela sauntered her way back to the squared circle, imaginary tail swishing from her firm buttocks, before she hopped up onto the apron. She stood up quickly, milking the moment for all it was worth, her indulgence only marred by the interruption of the Official.
“Come on Marvela...”
“Silence!” Marcille snapped in his direction, more than merely irritated, “I will take all of the time I desire, after all,” she smirked all the more, turning to face the audience and embrace them with all of her majesty. She brought both of her arms up, thumbs pointed to her own head as she gave voice to her own mantra.
“IT’S! MY!! TIME!!!”
She leapt without any further warning, taking flight and, at the very apex of her ascent, brought out one, magnificently athletic stem to its full extension, fully prepared to use it as a guillotine. Once gravity took hold, the FAWNatics could scarcely even watch as she successfully brought it down HARD, her wicked thigh SMACHING across the back of the suspended Sinclair’s exposed neck, earning a heartbreaking cry from the Tiny Titan before the impact itself ripped her from her perch.
Sammie puddled to the concrete, her right leg twitching, the Legionnaire’s fearing the worst.
Apron Leg Drop: @8:33
www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHtsllNDqlE
“Alright Marvela,” the Official tried his best to salvage some control as Marcille scraped what was left of the crowd favourite back off the concrete. “Back inside the ri...”
“Oh SHUT! UP!!” Marcille snapped, the ‘Perfect’ Princess filled with indignation as she half carried; half shovelled the remains of the smaller brunette back into the squared circle. “You scarcely exist, be on your way until I need you.”
Satisfied that the man had been appropriately whipped, Marvela followed the wreckage of Sinclair back into of the ring, save only under her own power. She hopped up onto the apron with a wide swish of her toosh before slipping between the ropes, quickly performing a wide circuit of the corners with her arms outstretched. Better, much better, all was as it should be.
Or just about, Marcille’s smirk now firmly in place as she came back to start, her breathing rapid as she anticipated the kill. She hunkered forwards, her grin only growing wider as she could barely control herself, Sammie slowly stirring and struggling to get up, the ever resilient Upstart Supreme signing her own death warrant.
The FAWNatics desperately tried to cry out a warning, but Sinclair was too far gone to listen, slowly rolling over onto her front before placing her palms down flat on the canvas. With a great groan of effort, the small brunette pushed herself slowly upwards, pretty peepers glassy and barely seeing. She found her knees and eventually her feet, her back fully exposed to her opponent. Scarcely aware of where she was, Sammie stumbled about in a half circle...
And Marvela struck, letting loose a gleeful cry as she spun in a rapid, beguiling three sixty spin as she snapped her right leg upwards. The divine limb had already beheaded the People’s Princess once, and now the crimson boot would kick her clean into the next worl...
Sammie DUCKED!!
Dipping clean beneath the lethal limb, the gold clad grappler just barely avoided the horrific impact, the Legionnaires elated in their own surprise. With it all happening so quickly, there was scarcely time for those watching to react, never mind those inside of the ring to do so as well.
Coming up empty, the wide eyed Marvela stumbled, panicking as her envisioned moment fell apart. Sammie was back up to vertical in an instant and, operating on little more than instinct, muscle memory took over, the Little Sparrow spinning on the spot, as if mimicking her opponent, only her intention was to unleash the astonishing Sammie Kick!!
The heel of her own, blue boot found its target and COLLIDED with the side of Marcille’s noggin, knocking the other young woman into an immediate stupor and forcibly turning her a full one eighty. Sinclair snuggled in close to the ‘Magnificent’ Marvel, wrapping her own arms snugly about the bigger brunette’s firm midriff, before inhaling sharply and taking a play out of another Former Lightweight Champions playbook, launching into a pitch perfect, Belly to Back Suplex!!
Sammie Suplex!! @3:36
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nv7WCrF8DyQ&t=4s
Forcibly hupped and over by the Blue Eyed Wonder, the ‘Original’ People’s Princess was a sack of potatoes within the arms of her beloved inheritor, and as the back of her head and shoulders SLAMMED down into the canvas, her lower body folded over itself, magnificent stems turning flaccid. With the tips of Marcille’s boots tapping the mat above her own noggin, Sammie retained her own firm grip, bridging her perfectly trim tummy skywards to secure a pin!!
ONE!
TWO!!
THREE!!!
The Official could not have been better positioned to begin his three count, and so it was to the relief of the FAWNatics that he was on point to assure the Brits triumph. Sammie released her opponent the moment her victory was confirmed, Marvela flopping to the mat sideways as a weary Sinclair slumped as well, before gradually sitting up.
Aching from button nose to tippy toes, the Leader of the Upstart Nation gave herself a moment to recover before slowly getting herself up, gratefully embracing the Legionnaires applause, her right hand held up by the Official. Smiling as much as her weariness would allow, she resolved not to linger on the pain rippling through her physique, and instead focus on being thankful for being back.
Marvela Marcille was feeling far less sanguine...