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TENSION


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Any girl up for a boxing match?

Tue Jan 15, 2019 2:02 pm by headshotgunny

Hey folks, I would love to play Sasha again and she needs a worthy opponent, either another kawaii or an older boxer^^ Any takers?

Comments: 1

Yo! Looking for rivals!

Fri Jan 11, 2019 7:44 pm by Cicilia

Looking for a rival for Cici! Maybe someone she can hate, maybe a friend! Someone she can fight on the regular xb I intend to make her a better wrestler and need a true rival to battle against x3 let me know if yur interested!

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Looking for a long-term, single (or multi!) ppv storyline for GASTER or Alice (Or both!)

Fri Jan 11, 2019 6:20 pm by Vcom7418

Hoi!

So, with new PPV rules requiring more of a build to one's matches...I figured I'd try and look for at least one!

Currently enjoying the GASTER sisters way too much so let's get something with them to do Very Happy

But, to specify what I am looking for:

For GASTER, I am looking to boost her profile on AFW with a couple of, if not wins, then very very close losses. As such, looking for one of the 3 rivalries. Either a simple rivalry of technical skill, a fellow chuunibuyo gal to feud with...or a …

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Tension Rookie Tournament: Harper Williams vs Drake Fond

AFW :: Tension :: PPV

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Re: Tension Rookie Tournament: Harper Williams vs Drake Fond

Post by Tarantulust on Tue Dec 25, 2018 8:22 am

Sadly, it was Drakes business to make other fighters see red most of the time.  He knew the power a person could have over someone else when they were able to worm their way into the poor soul’s psyche, and if used properly, that bug in the brain could lead to a massive pay off. It could land a valuable deal, break a person into giving some valuable intel, or in this case, make a very capable fighter get sloppy.

Drake was well aware of his many shortcomings in the brawling area. He had an obvious blind spot, his preferred method of fighting was brutal and unfair, and he himself relied heavily on tricks and reading an opponent in order to get even the slightest bit of an advantage.  In short, he was the type that many would label “Cowardly”. He was just as likely to shake your hand as stab you in the back, and the fact that he dug deep into his targets history only made him and his tactics more effective. His clothes, his mannerisms, even the way he talked all served as a distraction, keeping his foe’s focus away from the cruelest weapon in his arsenal.

His sharp, silver tongue.

And Harper fell for it. Many often did. The young belle had thrown caution to the wind and jumped right into Drake’s web, her rage making her short sighted and impulsive. She packed much more power than he expected, even after his copious amount of research into her fighting background. The hook forced him to stumble, and she had succeeded in removing the smug smile that seemed glues to his pale face, though he quickly recovered and returned the blow. Her anger made her defense close to nonexistent, letting the punch score just fine. His punch was far from that of a trained professional, but underneath his heavy coat hid powerful muscle that helped add to the savagery of the hook. The adorable belle was caught completely unaware, and much like Drake, she stumbled after taking the hit head on. Drake was not one to pass up an opportunity, and quickly moved in looking to capitalize on Harpers stupor.

But Harper was still a rather excitable individual, and she seemed to bounce back from the attack rather quickly, lunging at Drake with a passionate fury in her eyes. The one-eyed man was in the middle of a kick, looking to stomp the once stunned brawler to the ground and mount an early offense, but his raised leg served to give him poor balance, and so Harpers spear was easily enough to take him right down to the ground.

Drake could feel Harper on top of him, even through his thick jacket. Her body was restricting his movements, and with her positioning there was no way to get inside his jacket without sacrificing an arm that would be better used defensing himself or mounting a counter offense. Drake’s face was an irritated but blank mask, but his eye seemed to light up, no longer cold or calculating, but clearly her presence on top oh him got a reaction. Drake stored quite a few of his dirty little tricks in his jacket. Having his easy access taken away from those vile contraptions easily upset the red and black attired man.

GET OFF OF ME!

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Re: Tension Rookie Tournament: Harper Williams vs Drake Fond

Post by Berial on Sun Jan 06, 2019 4:49 am

Harper couldn’t sleep. There was just something nagging her in the back of her head, playing at her ears every time she closed her eyes again. Maybe it was the sound of grasshoppers and coyotes just outside. Maybe it was the incredibly rare sound of rain beating against the roof, tapping against her window in the dark of the night. Maybe it was the way the house creaked and settled as the downpour kept coming on, making the whole place seem so unfamiliar. Or maybe it was all the chatter from downstairs.

She didn’t think much about it at first. The house was full of noise back when her brothers were still around. If anything, the silence that filled the place for the past few weeks was what felt out of place. But the voices she was hearing weren’t familiar ones. They were gruff, stern, lacking in tone or color. They echoed through the house like white noise from her television.

Then she heard someone shout, and something fall to the ground.

It forced her eyes open, but this time with a rush of adrenaline in her veins. Her heart beat inside of her chest as she sat up in her bed. She threw the covers off and stepped out of bed. Her baggy shirt draped down past her thighs, covering a little bit from the cool air that drifted between her shins as she walked to the door. She pushed it open with a creak and took careful steps forward to the top of the stairs.

“Daddy?”
The chatter stopped. She heard a bit of shuffling, then the sound of a chair screeching made against the floor. “Daddy?”

Her dad rounded the corner. He looked up the stairs, then immediately faced the floor, shaking his head with his hands on his hips. “Ah, hell…” He muttered to himself, walking slowly up the stairs to her. “Did we wake you, sweetpea?”

“Who was yellin’?”

“It was me. Stepped on a tack. Know how it is.” He kneeled down and looked up at her.

Harper sighed with a small smile. “I told you to pull that thing out. S’gonna put you in crutches one day. Wish Felix had done it before he left.”

“Yeah.”
He snickered. “But you’re tough. Maybe ya can help me with that soon, alright?”

Her face brightened at that. “Sure, pa.” She said nothing for a moment, tilting her head to the side. “Everything okay, daddy?”

He blinked. “Course. Everything’s going to be fine, sweetpea.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Why don’t you run on to bed, now? Got a long day tomorrow.”

She nodded and walked back to her door, but once she had her hand on the knob, she looked over her shoulder and noticed her dad had already gone back downstairs. She walked back into the room, but kept the door open a crack. Her hands stayed on the knob as she pressed her head against the door, keeping one ear against the opening.

“Is something the matter, Mr. Williams?”

“Nah.” The chair screeched again. “Just hurry this shit up.”

“Now, we can arrange to have your valuables moved next month, but we require a signature soon. We’ll begin by seizure of livestock, then non-essentials-”


“SHUT UP!” Harper’s voice pierced through the arena as she raised her fist high and brought down onto Drake’s face. She dispelled his words with her own, not wanting to hear a single thing that slipped free from that venomous mouth of his. The Arizonan was quick to fix the position she was in, shuffling up to straddle his waist and keep him pinned underneath her. This man was dangerous in his own way. Harper wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box, but she could piece that together at the very least. She’d like to say this was part of some grand strategy. Keep him underneath her where she could keep an eye on him.

That couldn’t be further from the truth, though. She was seeing red everywhere, unable to stop her body from moving on its own, not that she wanted it to. There wasn’t a single thing the young belle cared about tonight more than the man in the center of her gaze. His words still rang in her ear, digging up those recent memories mound by mound, spade by spade. They had to go back where they belong. He had to go back where belonged. Devils didn’t belong on Earth.

The tackle felt good, and this was going to feel even better. She raised one fist and threw a punch towards Drake’s face, not giving a damn whether or not he blocked it before she raised her other fist and threw another punch. Then another. Then another, sending a furious hail his way. “Think you can jus’ do whatever y’all please?! Think I won’t tan your damn hide?!” She doubled on her left stroke, hitting him with a furious double tap. “I’mma make the floor match yer getup, you fuckin’ snake!” Her ground and pound didn’t lose a pace, didn’t miss a beat. Her sole intention was to turn Drake’s arrogant gaze into a pile of mush on the canvas.

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Re: Tension Rookie Tournament: Harper Williams vs Drake Fond

Post by Tarantulust on Thu Jan 10, 2019 11:10 pm

Well, what rather delicious turn of fate. For the first time in a long, long time Drake had mistaken the character of his opponent. Harper had exceeded his expectations, proving to him that there was a boiling fury underneath that sweet and small exterior the likes of which could only come through years and years of simmering underneath an emotional lid. Drake had just turned up the heat and tossed that barrier away, and now it was overflowing all over him. The smiling little Harper was gone, now replaced with an emotional brat that sadly still had the cognition to scream out her stupid sayings and throw a wicked punch.

Harpers proximity was rather uncomfortable, Drake preferring to keep his foes at a distance if he could manage, and push them away when they got too close. He couldn’t escape at the moment, not with her straddled on his waist and her blows raining down on him like a mountain of hail. For the moment, he was stuck, with only his arms to protect him from the thunderous strikes meant to turn his face to mush. Naturally, his defense seemed to focus on his eye, his arms constantly shifting around to insure the blows did not reach his only instrument of sight, sacrificing other areas to the beating to insure its safety.

Though Drake’s body was essentially restrained, only a fraction of his attention was given to his defense. Harpers Rage made her punches pack power, but lack subtlety or thought. It seemed to devolve into a simple ground and pound tactic, which was not an uncommon tactic for his style of fighting. His mind was almost completely free to think and plan, looking for a way out of his current predicament. He did not dare go for any of his tricks in his jacket now. Sacrificing an arm to reach into his jacket would be suicidal, his arms stinging from every punch they took in place of his face. Harpers fists were like stone, and she would not give up anytime soon. Not until Drake was hurt, and her hatred satisfied.

The devil had many tactics to seduce a poor soul…namely giving them what they wanted most. Drake would oblige Harper in a similar way.

Ms. Williams! Stop this! His tone was sharp, harsh even. His irritation at getting trapped underneath her clawing its way to top that cold, business tone. And yet, at the end was laced with something else. Something so subtle, only ones sub-conscious would even bother to pick it up. It appeared at the first syllable and died as Drake finished his sentence.

More blows came uninterrupted. Harpers blue eyes still glaring down at him like trash as she wailed into him without a second thought. One fist slipped by, smashing into Drakes blind side completely, rocking his head the opposite direction, his defense correcting itself to continue to keep his good eye safe.

Ms. Williams! Harper, you-! Stop!

There it was again. Frustration and pain were in those words, certainly. However, something else was laced inside, bubbling about as the Arizonian continued to pound away. More punches slipped in, two hammering his blind side while another snuck underneath and nailed him clean in the jaw. One of Drake’s arms were slipping away from his good eye, like he was reasoning with himself to start defending the other areas of his face, his eye peeking out and becoming more open.

An opening defense. Something he was sure an enrage fighter would take advantage of. It would be a few more seconds that felt like minutes into the pounding before Drake decided to speak again. Right after Harper landed a bunch on the side of his good eye.

Harper!?!?

There it was. What those in power always desired to hear from there enemies. Desperation, fear, helplessness all wrapped up into a single word. The eye underneath the defensive arm was wide with fear and concern, watching each of Harpers attacks frantically, as if trying to guess which one will try and come down on it next. His business-like smile was gone, replaced with a tooth bearing frown that seemed to hide behind his arms.

The frown would no last as yet another punch smashed right against his jaw, moving his head to the side again. As discreetly as he could, he bit down on the side of his lip, drawing a fresh stream of blood to roll down his lip before moving his head back to face Harper. His arms were getting bruised and sore, but he needed to keep going a while longer.

The arm that began to slip away from his good eye seemed focused on defending his blind spot, whatever good that did. More punches flew in, his defense taking more of a beating and yet another blow smacking his blindside.

Harper! Please! Don’t-! I-ah-I was wrong! I shouldn’t have said that! I went too far! Please…DON’T-!!!

There it was, the punch he was looking for. Specifically, Harpers incoming right. It didn’t matter if it was as forceful s the other punches or weaker. Drake had purposefully moved his arm aside, as if to appeal to the Arizonian, his expression one of a poor, pleading man.

Time slowed down. At least, that’s how it felt. Drake’s eye, which had seen the blow coming since she lifted her arm, turned slowly towards the fist, acting out surprise as it came cascading towards it. Drake’s arms, which were put in front of him as if to both protect himself and plead mercy from harper, retracted back, his left hand open, obscuring Harpers vision…his right hand closed. All the could be inferred was that Harpers fist was about to make contact with Drake’s face, on the side of his good eye and then…

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"


Drake let out a blood curdling scream that seemed primal in its pain. His hands quickly clasped around his eye as he thrashed about violently underneath Harper. As he thrashed, something rolled away from the fighters about a foot away.

“Holy shit.” The referee could hardly be heard over Drakes whimpers of pain, but she turned a dead white as she stared at what had rolled away.

Staring at Harper and her downed foe was an eye. Cold, lifeless, and familiar, it was small, but immediately recognizable for what it was. It could be nothing else but Drake’s eye.

I…I-I can’t see?….it’s so black…I can’t see…

Or…was it really?

The referee turned around, presumably to vomit elsewhere. Hardly anyone outside the ring could see what was going on, and were confused by what exactly just happened. Some audience members Jeered Drake for crying over something like a punch, while others cheered the Arizonian for making a jerk like him holler like that.

But what happened next was quick, fast enough that if one looked away for a second, they would have missed it.

Drake sat up, his eye still very much in his skull, and fired off a powerful cross aimed right for the scar on the bridge of Harper’s nose. His other arm moved to grasp her shoulder and toss her off of him, the eye that was on the floor still staring at both of them as the sudden attack transpired.

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