Drake Nygma

The Locket, the Laughter, the Lie

A Broken Mind : Part Two

“AXE ME IF I CARE: The War of Words, Goats, and Weaponized Siblings”

A New Reign: A Rising Tide

A Broken Mind

The Warborne Hunts

[FADE IN] A cold wind howls over a desolate mountain range — jagged cliffs splitting the sky like ancient gods’ broken teeth. Snow whips across the screen in a chaotic blur. The crackle of a storm brews in the distance. And then, him. CRACK. A massive war axe slams into a tree trunk, splitting it down the middle like a sacrifice offered to the old gods. He stands shirtless in the snow. Tyr Dagrsson. 6’6. 270 pounds. Bare-chested in subzero winds like pain is a language he was born speaking. His torso is a patchwork of battle-scars and ritual tattoos — Norse runes inked in thick, black lines over muscle that looks carved from granite. A heavy fur cloak hangs off his shoulders, matted with snow and blood. Not his. Not yet. [VOICEOVER – low, grim, almost reverent] Tyr growls. Just once. It shuts everyone up. [VOICEOVER RETURNS – calmer now, but colder]

Týr Dagrsson – The Warborn BerserkerBirth Name: Týr Dagrsson Alias(es): The Warborn, The Last Raider, The Mountain That Hunts Height: 6’6” Weight: 270 lbs Alignment: Chaotic Evil Background: The Last Son of the NorthTýr Dagrsson was not born into this world screaming. He was born in silence, beneath the frozen sky of a land that no longer exists. His father, Dagrs the Wolf, was a warrior from the old world—one of the last men who believed in strength above all else. A chieftain without a tribe. A killer without mercy. Raised in the heart of a brutal, lawless land, Týr was not given a childhood—he was given trials. His father threw him into the wilderness at age ten, telling him: "Survive, or you were never meant to be my son." When he returned weeks later, covered in the blood of wolves he had killed with his bare hands, his father only nodded. "You live. That is enough." His life was forged in combat. His lessons were written in scars. By sixteen, he had already claimed more lives than he could count. By eighteen, he had broken the strongest man in his father’s camp with a single blow. By twenty-one, he had no more challengers left. He was no longer a son—he was a warlord. But war is never satisfied. And neither was Týr. The Exile & The Path of BloodThe story of the North is always the same: the strong rise, the weak fall, and the wolves turn on each other. Týr’s father, fearing his own son’s strength, tried to have him killed in his sleep. It didn’t work. "You should have been stronger, father." After breaking every bone in his father’s body, Týr left his homeland behind, abandoning the past as nothing but ashes in the wind. He walked the world, seeking new battles, new wars, new tests of his strength. He fought in underground fight pits where men died screaming in the dirt.He shattered bones in no-holds-barred death matches across Europe.He walked into the most brutal wrestling promotions and turned their champions into corpses.For Týr, this world was nothing but a battlefield without rules—and if you could not stand, you did not deserve to live. And when he speaks—which is rare—his words are law. "If you are weak, leave. If you stay, fight. If you fall… I will not mourn you." Fighting Style & Signature MovesTýr does not fight. He crushes. His style is built on brute force, unrelenting pressure, and overwhelming strength. He does not waste motion. He does not play mind games. He does not entertain. He ends you. Signature Moves:“Ragnarök Slam” – A cradle tombstone piledriver (like a more brutal Gonzo Bomb) that looks like it ends careers. “Worldbreaker” – A running lariat so hard it turns opponents inside out.“The Last Raid” – A brutal spinning backfist, often used to knock people out in one hit.“Valhalla’s Call” – A reverse chokeslam facebuster that plants opponents into the mat like a corpse. “The Blood Eagle” (Ultimate Finisher – Used Only in No DQ Matches) – A Torture Rack Backbreaker into a Swinging Powerslam. Once this lands, the match is over. The Allfather's Grip (Chokeslam) Description: With the power of Odin behind him, Tyr grabs his opponent by the throat with one hand and lifts them high into the air, slamming them down with a devastating chokeslam. This move not only demonstrates Tyr's strength but also his dominance, making it clear that he's always in control. Berserker Rage (Double Axe Handle) Description: Tyr channels his inner berserker rage as he jumps off the ropes and delivers a crushing double axe handle to the opponent’s back. The attack is swift, wild, and brutal, akin to a Viking warrior charging into battle without care for consequence. Thor's Thunder (Running Powerslam) Description: A powerhouse move where Tyr lifts his opponent onto his shoulder with ease, then drives them into the mat with a forceful running slam. The sheer power behind this move makes it difficult for opponents to escape, leaving them gasping for air as they’re crushed beneath Tyr’s weight. The Wolf's Howl (Spear to the Corner) Description: Tyr charges full-force at his opponent, driving them into the corner with a devastating spear that leaves them breathless and dazed. The force of the spear is compared to the raw power of a wolf barreling into its prey. After this, Tyr usually has his opponent disoriented and vulnerable for a follow-up attack. Ragnarok (Samoan Drop) Description: Tyr lifts his opponent in a crushing Samoan drop, throwing them down onto the mat with bone-crushing force. The impact feels like the end of the world, as Tyr is ready to end his opponent's career with one mighty slam. Frostbite (Spinning Spinebuster) Description: A modification of the classic spinebuster, Tyr uses his raw power to spin his opponent mid-air before planting them into the mat with a thunderous spinebuster. The spin adds an extra level of brutality, leaving the opponent disoriented after impact. Hallowed Ground (Inverted Atomic Drop into Running Big Boot) Description: Tyr drops his opponent into an inverted atomic drop (opponent’s groin hits his knee), then immediately follows up with a running big boot to their face. The impact of the atomic drop leaves his opponent vulnerable, setting up the boot for a devastating finish. The Raven's Flight (Top Rope Superplex) Description: Tyr climbs to the second or third rope, and despite his massive frame, delivers a superplex that sends both him and his opponent crashing to the mat. The unexpected agility of a man of his size catches his opponents off guard, and the force of the impact shakes the arena. The Viking's Wrath (Choke Slam with a Sit-out Pin) Description: Tyr lifts his opponent by the throat and sends them crashing to the mat with a devastating chokeslam. Rather than simply pinning them, he sits down with his opponent, applying weight onto their body, making it even harder for them to escape or kick out. Helm of the High King (Backbreaker into Double Knee Gutbuster) Description: Tyr drives his opponent’s back into his knee with a backbreaker, then immediately follows with a double knee gutbuster to drive all the air out of their lungs. The combo is a brutal show of Tyr’s ability to control his opponent’s body. Counters and Adaptive Moves:The Wall of Asgard (Counter to a Springboard Move or Top-Rope Attack) Description: If an opponent attempts a springboard move or top-rope attack, Tyr steps forward, arms outstretched, and uses his body to block and catch them mid-air. He then slams them back down with a backbreaker or a throw, displaying his dominance as a nearly indestructible force. Hammer of the Gods (Counter to a Suplex or Powerbomb) Description: When an opponent attempts to lift him for a suplex or powerbomb, Tyr blocks the move and immediately reverses the position by flipping them over into a standing suplex position, slamming them down with immense power. It’s a classic counter, but Tyr’s size makes it even more brutal. Warden's Grip (Submission Counter into a Chokehold) Description: If his opponent attempts a submission or holds his arms, Tyr can break free with sheer strength and quickly lock them into a devastating chokehold. Using his arms as leverage, he can subdue his opponent with overwhelming strength and endurance until they tap or pass out. Viking Execution (Counter to a Running Move into a Pumphandle Drop) Description: When an opponent attempts a running strike or clothesline, Tyr catches them in midair, lifts them into a pumphandle position, then drops them onto their face with a violent twist. The suddenness of this move makes it difficult to avoid and sets the stage for his other finishers. Finishing Moves:Fury of the North (Avalanche Fallaway Slam) Description: Tyr takes his opponent up to the top rope and slams them down with a massive fallaway slam, causing the opponent to crash with explosive force. This move is both intimidating and impressive, as Tyr makes it look effortless to throw opponents from that height. It's a statement of power and a potential game-ender. Jotun’s Judgment (Torture Rack into Spinning Torture Rack Slam) Description: Tyr traps his opponent in a torture rack hold, stretching their body out before spinning them around and slamming them to the mat with a vicious spinning slam. The move combines power and precision, leaving his opponents disoriented and defeated. Valhalla’s Judgment (Spear Followed by the Ragnarok Slam) Description: Tyr charges across the ring with a devastating spear that sends the opponent crashing into the corner. After the impact, he immediately pulls them out and delivers the Ragnarok Slam — a crushing powerbomb that leaves the opponent helpless, unable to escape the wrath of his moves. The Viking King (Corkscrew Powerbomb into Pinfall) Description: Tyr lifts his opponent into a corkscrew powerbomb, spinning them mid-air as he slams them with devastating force. He holds onto them for a pin, showing his ability to take control of any situation and force his opponent to submit to his power. Signature War Tactics:Blood of the Beast (Viking Endurance Combo) Description: Tyr starts by pummeling his opponent with unrelenting punches, followed by knee strikes to the ribs, and finally finishing with a brutal DDT. The combo mirrors the ferocity of a Viking berserker, who continues to fight and take punishment without giving up. This move is about wearing the opponent down. Valkyrie’s Descent (Backslide into Torture Rack) Description: Tyr catches an opponent trying to escape or perform a quick roll-up, flipping them into a backslide position, but instead of going for the pin, he transitions directly into a torture rack, using his immense power to submit them or break them down. Basic Moves Viking Hammer (Powerful Forearm Smash) Thunderstrike (Big Boot) Odin's Wrath (Running Knee Strike) Description: Tyr sprints across the ring and delivers a devastating running knee to the opponent’s midsection, following it up with a series of brutal knees to the face or chest. This move not only adds speed to his power but also disorients and weakens the opponent for the bigger moves to come. Viking Suplex (Snap Suplex) Description: Tyr lifts his opponent in a snap suplex, throwing them backward in one fluid motion. The raw power of this suplex shows Tyr’s strength as he flips them with ease. The impact is thunderous, leaving his opponents reeling after they crash to the mat. Drakkar Drop (Elevated Scoop Slam) Description: Tyr lifts his opponent high above his head like he's preparing to throw them into the water like a Drakkar (Viking longship). After holding them for a moment, he slams them down with immense force, the drop echoing throughout the arena. The way he holds them in the air showcases his absolute strength. Valkyrie's Call (Viking Uppercut) Description: A hard, clean uppercut from Tyr, delivered with so much force that it feels as though it could send opponents flying. His body weight and strength add to the sheer impact of this punch, a move designed to knock the wind out of anyone standing in his way. Character PsychologyThe Enforcer – If Drake Nygma is the mind, Týr is the hammer. When Hliðskjálf wants to send a message, Týr delivers it. The Silent Death – He does not waste words. When he speaks, it’s short, sharp, and final. And you listen. The Measure of Strength – If you want to prove yourself in Hliðskjálf, you fight Týr. And most do not survive. No Respect for the Weak – If you hesitate, he will break you. If you doubt, he will end you. If you show weakness, he will forget your name. Týr Dagrsson does not want gold. He does not need titles. All he wants is war.

The Asylum Wrestling Society knew thunder. It had hosted chaos incarnate—beasts in boots, demigods of carnage, and feral royalty with nothing but blood on their breath. But when the lights dimmed that night, and fog rolled across the ramp like a creeping omen, even the crowd’s roar stilled—held captive by a silence too unnatural for spectacle. A single spotlight split the fog. And there he stood. Orphius Marius. The Silent Tempest. Six-foot-four and carved from stillness itself. He did not roar. He did not gesture. He walked. Each step down the ramp echoed like distant thunder in a dying cathedral. A tailored high-collared coat flared behind him, lined in silver like mourning trim. Hair white as salt. Eyes—no, eye—one hidden beneath a crescent of porcelain mask, the other sharp, cold, and unsparing. Pale and precise, as though violence had hand-sculpted him in a moment of regret. The crowd whispered as he passed. No music. No theatrics. Just the shivering hush of a man who had drowned every part of himself except the storm. He stepped into the ring like a ghost claiming land. And then— A voice, disembodied and mocking, crackled through the speakers. “Who the hell is this marble statue? You mute, pretty boy?” The lights shifted. From the shadows emerged Harbinger Knox, the Society’s self-crowned executioner—eight-time belt holder, face like a brick wall with opinions, and a mouth that had broken more spirits than bodies. Knox laughed, pacing the apron like a wolf scenting boredom. “I don’t fight mannequins, sweetheart. Go back to your art gallery.” Silence. Orphius slowly unbuttoned his coat. Folded it. Placed it, precise, on the corner post. Still, no words. Knox rolled his eyes. “This is embarrassing. I’m gonna break you so bad you start talking just to beg.” The bell rang. Knox lunged. Feral. Fast. Orphius didn’t move. Not until Knox was inches away. Then— A pivot. A twist of wrist. A whipcrack of velocity. Knox was on the mat before he understood what part of him had been struck. The crowd exploded. The next minute was artistry and horror: strikes like surgical punishments, footwork that danced with ghost logic, a flurry of movement so quiet it made the screams seem foreign. Knox tried. He bled. He bellowed. Orphius didn’t blink. The finishing blow was a modified crucifix driver—Orphius lifted him like nothing, inverted his weight with mathematical disdain, and drove him spine-first into silence. The crowd didn’t cheer. They watched. As Orphius rose—unbothered, unmarked—he turned his lone, visible eye to the camera. And for the first time, his lips moved. Just two words. Clear. Cold. “I remember.” Then he left, coat over arm, disappearing into the fog again—like the storm had passed through, but only just begun to pull the world into its path.

The ring is not a battlefield. It is not a proving ground. It is not a stage for theatrics, where bravado drips from the tongues of men who do not understand the weight of war. It is a tide. A shifting, relentless force that carries the weak into the abyss and leaves only the worthy standing on its shores. Orphius Marius stands on that shore now, fresh from victory over Mason Hurst. The echoes of that battle still ripple through the waters of AWS, but he does not look back. Hurst was an obstacle. Now removed. The path is clear. Roger Williams. Mayhem. Orphius does not react to the name with emotion. It is a fact, a piece of the puzzle, another force to be dismantled. There is no question of if, only when. The champion prides himself on destruction. A history written in combat, blood, and submission. A soldier turned mercenary, a man who thrives in the chaos he creates. He believes himself to be war personified. But Roger Williams and Orphius Marius are not the same. Roger’s war is loud. It is the crack of a gunshot, the roar of a battlefield, the breaking of bones beneath deliberate hands. His violence is honed from experience, shaped by discipline, refined through years of war, cage fights, and street brawls. He is a force bred for combat, shaped to break men down, to make them yield. He is the very essence of calculated aggression, sharpened through survival. Orphius does not fight for survival. He fights for inevitability. Belief is for those who seek comfort. Orphius knows. He knows that war is not loud. War does not scream. It does not beat its chest and roar to the heavens. War is precise. Cold. Absolute. It moves in silence until the moment it strikes, and then there is only devastation. The Silent Tempest. Roger Williams will step into the tide. He will bring his violence, his submissions, his strategies forged in the fires of past battles. He will believe, for a time, that he controls the chaos. And then the waters will rise. Mayhem thrives in the art of combat, in the clash of bodies and the breaking of wills. He relishes the struggle, the defiance in his opponent’s eyes before he takes it away. He takes pleasure in the act of domination, in the destruction of another’s resolve. Orphius does not relish. He does not seek satisfaction. The drowning tide does not revel in the gasps of its victims. It does not celebrate. It simply comes, eroding, dismantling, swallowing. And when it recedes, what remains is unrecognizable. Roger Williams will fight. And then he will fall. Not because Orphius is stronger. Not because he is faster. Not because he is more ruthless. Because it is inevitable. The ocean does not rage. It does not posture. It does not roar. It simply drowns. And Orphius Marius is the tide. Roger Williams. Mayhem. Orphius does not react to the name with emotion. It is a fact, a piece of the puzzle, another force to be dismantled. There is no question of if, only when. Strength and weakness. Two sides of the same coin, indistinguishable until pressure is applied. Roger Williams is strong. This is not up for debate. His history dictates it—military discipline, the refinement of violence through years of training, through conflict. He has fought in places where a single mistake is death, where mercy is weakness, where the ability to endure is what separates the victor from the forgotten. His body, hardened through combat. His mind sharpened like a blade. But strength, in itself, is not enough. Not against inevitability. Orphius Marius considers the champion with the detached interest of an architect studying a fault line. A foundation built upon destruction, honed for domination, but ultimately flawed. Roger’s strength is that he thrives in the fight. He enjoys it. He seeks it. He is at his best when standing toe-to-toe with another warrior, exchanging blows, outlasting, overwhelming. That is his weakness. Roger Williams is war in motion, but war demands engagement. It demands a battlefield, an opponent willing to trade, to stand and be measured. His style, his history, his very nature relies on the belief that the struggle is what matters most. That victory is taken through endurance, through breaking another’s will before his own shatters. Orphius does not engage. He does not stand and trade. He does not seek to outlast. He is the storm, the wave that pulls the ground from beneath his opponent’s feet before they realize they are drowning. Roger needs the battlefield. Orphius is the tide. This is where the champion will break. Not from lack of strength, not from lack of skill, but from misunderstanding. From thinking this will be a war. It will not be. Wars have battles, fronts, clashes of will and attrition. This will be none of those things. This will be an erasure. A drowning. But Roger is not without weapons. His body is a weapon, his technique honed. His discipline is not a show but a truth. He is not an arrogant man. He is not reckless. He is intelligent, methodical. He will not enter blindly. He will prepare. He will study. He will attempt to anticipate the tide. But the ocean does not move for men. It does not answer the question of preparation. It does not grant reprieves. It does not fight. It consumes. Roger Williams is strong. But Orphius Marius is inevitable. Fan Reactions to Roger Williams vs. Orphius Marius – AWS Assault Championship Match 🔥 Roger Williams Fans (Mayhem Loyalists)@WrestleTactics99: Roger has seen real war. Orphius thinks he IS war. One of them is about to get humbled, and it ain’t the champ. @TexasMayhemArmy: Roger Williams is a machine. He’s built for this. He doesn’t need theatrics or some “force of nature” nonsense. He just breaks people. @AWSRealTalk: Orphius is scary, but Roger fights monsters for breakfast. He’s been in trenches, fought in cages, walked through hell. Orphius is about to get a reality check. @MayhemForever: Roger wins because he thrives in combat. The longer the match goes, the more he owns you. Orphius isn’t ready for that kind of grind. @WrestlingDad74: Y’all acting like some dude quoting poetry and wearing ocean-themed gear is gonna take down a certified killer? Be serious. 🌊 Orphius Marius Fans (The Tide)@DeepWaters99: Mayhem fans don’t get it. You can’t prepare for a storm. Roger is a trained warrior, sure, but Orphius is inevitability itself. He drowns you before you know you’re sinking. @AtlanteanWrath: Orphius isn’t walking into a fight. He’s executing a plan. Roger thrives on struggle. Orphius doesn’t struggle. He just ends things. @SilentStormFan: Roger’s problem is he thinks this is a fight. Orphius doesn’t fight. He unmakes. There’s a difference. @AWSDarkHorse: Orphius took down Mason Hurst like he was a non-factor. He’s cold, calculating, and patient. Roger’s toughest opponent yet. @TheTideRises: This isn’t a war. This is a flood. Roger can’t outlast what he doesn’t understand. 🥶 Neutral Reactions (General AWS Fans)@WrestlingInsider: This might be the most unique clash of styles in AWS history. Pure violence vs. cold inevitability. @HeelHeatCentral: Both these guys are scary in their own way. Mayhem is relentless brutality. Orphius is surgical destruction. It’s gonna be a bloodbath. @AWSMetaWatch: What happens when an unstoppable force meets an indifferent force of nature? We’re about to find out. @MainEventHype: Roger might be the most dangerous man Orphius has ever fought. Orphius might be the most unreadable opponent Roger has ever faced. This could go either way. @KayfabeLives: We’ve seen monsters, we’ve seen technicians, we’ve seen warriors. But Orphius? He’s something different. And that makes this unpredictable. AWS Assault Championship Match: Roger Williams (c) vs. Orphius MariusA War of Attrition vs. A Force of NatureThe world is watching. The wrestling community—fans, analysts, and veterans alike—has turned its eyes toward AWS. What was once just a title defense has become something bigger, something mythic. Roger Williams versus Orphius Marius is not just a match. It is a clash of philosophies, of existence itself. It is war against the tide. The Combatant: Roger Williams – The Man, The Warrior, The Storm in FleshRoger Williams does not waver. He has walked through fire, bathed in combat, and emerged sharper, stronger, colder. He does not believe in mercy because mercy does not exist where he comes from. His is a world of brutality, of technique honed through the cracking of bones, the stretch of ligaments, the submission of those who dare to stand before him. "Roger Williams is a machine. He doesn’t fight to prove something. He fights because destruction is all he’s ever known." "You don’t stop Mayhem. You survive it, if you’re lucky." The champion thrives in war. He invites the grind, the attrition, the struggle. Where lesser men break, he thrives. Every limb he twists, every back he bends, every opponent he forces into submission is another name added to his list of conquered warriors. His technique is precise. His power is controlled. He does not waste movement. "Roger Williams is a throwback to an era where wrestling wasn’t about spectacle—it was about pain. He doesn’t sell tickets. He sells suffering." The Force: Orphius Marius – The Tide, The Unseen Dread, The Silent TempestThere is no celebration in the movements of Orphius Marius. No joy, no satisfaction. He does not seek validation or glory. He simply moves forward, one step after another, as though following a blueprint only he can see. Orphius does not engage in battle. He erases. He dismantles. His strategy is not one of war, but inevitability. "Orphius is not a wrestler. He’s not even a fighter. He’s a force of nature. You don’t pin Orphius Marius. You survive him, if the ocean allows it." "He doesn’t need to taunt. He doesn’t need to yell. The scariest thing about him is that he already knows how this match ends." Unlike Roger, Orphius does not revel in the challenge. He does not need the battlefield. He controls it. The Silent Tempest does not declare war. He arrives, and by the time you understand what is happening, it is already too late. "Roger fights to win. Orphius moves because winning was already decided. The match itself is just the space in between." The World Reacts: A Collision of Myth and RealityThis match is being studied, dissected, broken down into pieces. Historians compare it to legendary bouts of endurance and strategy. Movie directors describe it in the language of film—Roger Williams as the hardened war veteran, marching into the fight of his life, while Orphius Marius is the slow, inevitable dread of a force beyond comprehension. "This isn’t just wrestling. It’s something else. Roger Williams is like the last stand of an empire. And Orphius? He’s the sea, coming to claim it." "If Roger is the general leading his army into a battle he cannot afford to lose, then Orphius is the hand that erases history itself." The Collision: What Happens When War Meets the Abyss?What happens when an unstoppable warrior, trained for war, faces an opponent that does not engage in battle but rather consumes? Roger Williams is not a fool. He will fight like a man possessed, pushing his body past its limits, using every ounce of strength and experience he possesses. He will come prepared. He will bring war. But war means nothing to the tide. The ocean does not fight. It does not struggle. It simply drowns. And soon, the world will know which force is greater. Orphius turns to face the camera, his eyes cold and calculating, unrelenting force of will residing in his eyes. “Surface Dweller Roger Williams, the tide has chosen you as its next target. You will fight. You will struggle. You will fall just as Mason Hurst did. Your reign will come to an end at my hand, this is inevitable. I am inevitable. Do not make mistake this for mindless destruction, this is calculated, every variable has been accounted for” A deafening crescendo of a wave crashing on the shore echoes as Orphius issues his final statement. “The results are in, in 9 out of 10 simulations you lose, your championship reign ends.” Orphius casts one final look into the camera, then simply vanishes as if he had never been there at all, a whisper breached into the void. “My story has just begun, this is only the first chapter”

A dimly lit arena. The camera pans over the crowd, hyped for the match ahead. But before the roar of the fans rises, the lights flicker and dim. A heavy, ominous hum fills the air, as if the arena itself is reacting to something far deeper and far older than anything the surface world has known. Suddenly, the large screen above the ring flickers to life. The image slowly swirls into a dark, deep blue, like the depths of the ocean. A soft, almost imperceptible ripple begins, growing into waves crashing against jagged rocks, the thundering sound filling the arena. The waves fall silent as a voice, cold and commanding, breaks through the silence—Orphius Marius's voice. Orphius Marius (V.O.): "The surface... a land ravaged by its own greed. The land of fragile creatures who think themselves gods. You wander the earth, blind to the deep truths, cutting away at the very roots of life. You poison the oceans with your arrogance, blind to the storms you’ve invited. But you... have no idea what you’ve unleashed." The camera cuts to a close-up of Orphius, standing alone in a shadowed corner backstage. His form is tall, imposing, clad in the remnants of ancient Atlantean armor, his gauntlet gleaming faintly with an otherworldly glow. His cold, steely gaze locks with the camera. His voice, colder than the deepest trenches of the ocean, echoes as he steps forward. Orphius Marius: "You foolish surface dwellers... you are nothing more than ants scurrying over the bones of the Earth. You drain the life from the waters, you pollute the skies, and you burn what you cannot understand. You think your strength is your weapon? You think your flesh and blood can endure what you’ve set in motion? You are wrong." As he speaks, the camera shifts to shots of ancient Atlantean ruins—decaying pillars beneath the ocean, sunken cities lost to time, the forgotten remnants of a civilization that once thrived before the oceans were poisoned by the surface world. A storm brews over the horizon, dark clouds swirling ominously. The voice of Orphius continues. Orphius Marius (V.O.): "You have awakened the wrath of the ocean. A wrath that will never be sated. Your civilization, so bloated with self-importance, has not only awakened the past—it has summoned the ocean's fury. I am its harbinger. The storm you feel is nothing compared to the chaos you are about to endure." Cut to a montage of oceanic warfare. Atlantean warriors, warriors whose power was built into their very bones, clashing against armies of surface dwellers. The screen flashes to an image of Orphius himself, standing tall, his silver gauntlet shining as he wields the strength of the ocean itself. With each strike, the surface dwellers are thrown into the abyss, crushed beneath his relentless power. Orphius Marius (V.O.): "The ocean is eternal. Your kingdoms rise and fall like sandcastles, but the sea endures. I am its chosen, its consequence, the direct reckoning for the harm you’ve inflicted upon this planet. You may think you can fight... you may think you stand a chance against me. But you are wrong." The camera zooms in on Orphius’s cold, emotionless face. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, his voice quieter now, more chilling. Orphius Marius: "I am the culmination of your actions. The cold hand of vengeance. Your men, your women, your leaders—they are all the same in my eyes: weak, blind, and inferior. You are nothing but the last breath of a dying civilization. The ocean will swallow you whole." The scene flickers back to the arena as the lights flash once again. The roaring sound of the waves crashing intensifies, and suddenly, the screen reveals images of the ocean breaking through the cityscape—like a force of nature reclaiming what was once taken. The tension builds. Orphius Marius (V.O.): "You thought you could conquer the sea. You thought you could tame it. But the sea is no beast to be tamed—it is a force to be feared. Watch what I do to your champion, to Mason Hurst. You won’t doubt me after….” The screen fades to black, leaving only the sound of a deep, reverberating oceanic roar. Then, in a stark, cold font, the words slowly appear on screen: The roar of the crowd begins to rise as the camera cuts back to Orphius, standing tall in the shadows. His silver gauntlet gleams in the dim light, his eyes piercing the camera with the same icy calmness that has sent so many before him to their doom. Orphius Marius: "When I step into that ring, I will show you the true meaning of the ocean’s fury. I will crush your pride. I will shatter your resolve. And when I stand over your broken body, you will understand... you never stood a chance. The ocean does not lose. The ocean wins... every time." The screen fades to black once more, leaving only the eerie sound of the ocean’s eternal roar, as the anticipation builds for the epic clash between the surface world’s strength and the ocean's unstoppable vengeance.

"The Silent Storm: Countering the Fury"

"The Sphinx & The Silent Tempest: A Masterpiece of Mayhem"

Mind Over Muscle

The Sphinx & Orphius Interview

Tag Team Bio: The Dissonant ForcesMembers: "The Sphinx" Drake Nygma (6’5”, / 89.1 kg) – Unpredictable, theatrical, and unhinged. A master of mind games and chaos. "The Silent Tempest" Orphius Marius (6’3”, 240 lbs) – Cold, calculated, and poetic. A silent force of destruction with an enigmatic presence. Alignment: Heel Combined Weight: 329.1Tag Team Entrance DescriptionThe lights in the arena flicker erratically before plunging into darkness. A slow, eerie hum builds as the titantron displays cryptic symbols and shifting riddles. The silence is shattered by the distorted sound of a storm rolling in, mixed with unsettling laughter that echoes throughout the arena.A dim spotlight illuminates the entrance ramp, revealing Orphius Marius, standing motionless, his head slightly bowed, his face unreadable. Next to him, Drake Nygma crouches low, a twisted grin on his face as he tilts his head, scanning the crowd with eerie intensity. As the music—an ominous blend of orchestral dread and electronic dissonance—reaches its peak, Drake suddenly lurches forward, staggering and twisting like a marionette cut loose, while Orphius walks methodically behind him, exuding cold authority. Together, they move toward the ring—one a storm held in eerie control, the other chaos barely contained. Upon reaching the ring, Orphius steps through the ropes with composed precision, while Drake slides under, slithering like a serpent before perching himself in a corner, rocking slightly as if waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The air is heavy with unease as the arena drowns in a mix of anticipation and dread. Tag Team Finishing Moves"Dissonance Theory" – Orphius lifts the opponent into a Wheelbarrow Position, only for Drake to spring forward and catch them with a Rolling Cutter (The Sphinx’s Judgment) in mid-air, driving their head into the mat with brutal impact. "The Grand Collapse" – Orphius locks the opponent in an Elevated Guillotine Choke, hoisting them just off the mat. As they struggle, Drake charges in with a Dropkick, sending the opponent crashing to the canvas while still locked in Orphius’s grip "The Silent Riddle" – Orphius delivers a Thunderous Spinebuster, keeping the opponent grounded just long enough for Drake to hit a Diving Senton Bomb, crushing them under the weight of chaos and precision combined. Tag Team DynamicThe Dissonant Forces are a study in unsettling contrasts—Orphius, the methodical storm, and Drake, the chaotic riddle. Together, they create an aura of unpredictability and dread, using mind games, psychological warfare, and ruthless efficiency to dismantle their opponents. Whether through cryptic warnings or eerie silence, their presence alone is enough to unnerve even the toughest of adversaries.With madness and method entwined, the only certainty in facing the Dissonant Forces... is destruction.

The Tempest and The Sphinx

The Game Begins

The Sphinx

The Silent Tempest Is Ready

The Sphinx Is Ready

Tag Team Chaos Two

Tag Team Chaos

Picture Base Description: He has dark, sea-green tattoos running across his chest and arms, patterns reminiscent of waves and aquatic creatures. His hair is long and slick, a mix of black and teal, often wet or slicked back, evoking the image of a sea creature emerging from the depths. His eyes are a piercing, unnatural shade of sea-blue, giving him a cold, predatory look. A dark scar runs down his neck, an unspoken mark of betrayal and battle from his days in his lost kingdom. Orphius' attire is dark, with heavy, oceanic-inspired elements. He wears a long, black trench coat with silver, metallic designs across the shoulders and chest, resembling sea armor or the armor of a fallen king. His gear consists of tight-fitting black leather pants and knee-high boots adorned with sharp, oceanic symbols. On his left hand, he wears a silver gauntlet shaped like a claw—an homage to his heritage. He often enters the ring with his back turned to the audience, his head slightly lowered, only to turn slowly to reveal his face—cold and expressionless. Ring Name: Orphius Marius Real Name: Orphius Marius Disposition/Alignment: Orphius’ alignment is ambiguous. He walks the fine line between anti-hero and villain. While he despises humanity, his goals are not entirely selfish. His vengeance is driven by a deep sense of justice and the desire to restore balance, even if his methods are ruthless. The audience might find themselves sympathizing with his motives, understanding his hatred for humanity, but they will also fear the devastating way in which he enacts his revenge. He doesn’t care about being liked—he wants respect, fear, and acknowledgment of his power. But does that make him a hero or villain? His alignment remains uncertain, depending on the situation, his actions, and the way the audience perceives him. Hometown: Forgotten Depths Of The Sea Gender: Androgynous Height: 6 foot 4 Weight: 240 lbs Age: 24 Birthdate: 6 January Favorite Match: Last Man Standing Least Favorite Match: Tag Team Matches Favorite Weapon(s): Trident. Fighting Styles: Hard Hitting Brawler/ Technical. Methodical Similar to Wrestler: Gunther Gimmick Description: Orphius is a atlantean warrior with endless fury for the humans he refers to as surface dwellers. His motivations are twofold, succeed at any cost, and remind those he fights of the perils of provoking the oceans wrath. Orphius Marius is a complex figure. His hatred for humanity propels him into the wrestling ring, seeking not only destruction but a twisted form of justice. Ambiguous in his methods and motivations, he forces the audience to question who the real monster is—Orphius, or the very people he's fighting against. Entrance Theme Song YouTube Link: https://youtu.be/SzYh-wADfWA Entrance Description: The entrance begins in complete silence. Then, a low rumble starts to build—like thunder heard underwater—culminating in a sudden crescendo as Orphius steps into the spotlight. The lighting flickers like lightning, and his movement toward the ring is purposeful, like the calm preceding a storm. Basic Moves: Meteora. Dropkick. Palm Strike. Neckbreaker. Springboard Moonsault. Signature Moves: The Kraken’s Clutch – A modified cobra clutch, symbolizing the kraken's grip. Titan’s Wrath – A devastating chokeslam symbolizing ancient Atlantean power. Stormbreaker Spinebuster – A spinebuster with an earth-shattering impact. Poseidon’s Spear – A high-impact spear, "driving like a tidal wave." The Leviathan Driver – A sit-out tombstone piledriver that leaves opponents broken, as if crushed by a mythical beast. Maelstrom’s End – A spinning F-5 that whirls the opponent like a whirlpool before sending them crashing down. King’s Banishment (Signature move): A cornered opponent is lifted into the air in a vertical suplex position, only to be dropped viciously to the mat with Orphius' knees landing square into the opponent’s chest. Oceans Wrath: A lightning-fast spear where Orphius charges his opponent with the intensity of a crashing wave, knocking them to the ground with devastating speed. Finishing Moves: Tidal Wave Orphius lifts his opponent into a devastating reverse suplex, crashing them down into a spinal impact with an added twisting motion, mimicking the force of a tidal wave slamming down on the victim. Abyssal Lock (Submission Finisher): Orphius locks his opponent into a modified kneebar, holding it with unnatural strength. He twists his opponent’s body as though pulling them into the depths, increasing the pressure and strain until they tap out or pass out. Attribute Stats: 50 Total Available Points Strength: 5 Speed: 6 Agility: 6 High Flying: 4 Brawling: 5 Technical: 6 Intelligence: 8 Stamina: 9 Brief Biography: Orphius Marius hails from the forgotten depths of the sea, where the oceans’ wrath fuels his hatred toward the surface world. Born of an ancient bloodline of warriors, he was once the heir to a lost kingdom beneath the waves. After watching humanity's greed destroy his homeland, Orphius is consumed by a singular purpose: revenge. He emerges from the abyss to punish the humans who desecrated his world. Fueled by an unquenchable thirst for vengeance and justice for his fallen people, Orphius has stepped into the world of professional wrestling, not only to gain fame but to destroy the hearts of the audience—humans he despises—by any means necessary. His rise in the wrestling world mirrors his journey for dominance, his rage driving him through every opponent, every championship match. Orphius sees wrestling as the ultimate stage to showcase his power and contempt for humanity. The ring, to him, is a battleground not only for titles but for retribution. Each match, each brutal move, is a step toward restoring his lost kingdom beneath the waves and punishing the reckless world above for its sins. He believes that humans deserve no peace until they acknowledge the wreckage they've wrought. Through wrestling, he seeks to claim the world's respect while crushing human dignity beneath his boot. He doesn’t wrestle for fame, accolades, or money—he wrestles for vengeance. Orphius combines the brutality of power wrestling with the agility of a brawler. His style is calculated and deliberate, often making his opponents suffer slowly before finishing them off in a show of dominance. His movements are methodical, like the flow of the ocean—relentless and unyielding. When he’s in control, he uses his opponent’s body as a vessel of punishment, delivering moves with precise violence, often targeting joints and the spine. Orphius was once the heir to an ancient, oceanic kingdom hidden beneath the waves—a civilization steeped in power and mysticism, said to harness the ocean’s raw energy. As the crown prince, Orphius embodied the might and grace of his people, destined to rule with strength and wisdom. He was beloved by his subjects and feared by his enemies, a figure of both beauty and terror, much like the sea itself. However, Orphius’s world was shattered by betrayal. A trusted ally turned against him, orchestrating his downfall. The coup was swift and devastating, leaving Orphius grievously wounded—his neck slashed in the ambush and his kingdom stolen. Cast out and left to die, he was swallowed by the ocean’s depths. Instead of perishing, Orphius was saved—though at a great cost. The ocean itself, recognizing him as its rightful son, bound him to its will. Emerging from the depths with his body altered and his soul hardened, Orphius became something more than mortal. His strength, agility, and endurance were amplified, his body a reflection of the ocean’s might. The silver gauntlet he wears is said to be forged from the remains of a sea beast that once guarded his kingdom’s vault, symbolizing both his heritage and his newfound purpose. The scar running down his neck remains as a haunting reminder of the betrayal that nearly ended him. Orphius walks the land with one goal: reclaim what was taken from him. But the path is not simple. His kingdom’s betrayer, now ruling in his stead, has spread propaganda painting Orphius as a villain, a figure of chaos and destruction. Wherever he goes, Orphius is met with fear, suspicion, and opposition. Though his ultimate goal is vengeance, Orphius is not a mindless monster. Beneath his cold and calculated exterior lies a man deeply wounded by loss. He occasionally shows fleeting moments of vulnerability, especially when confronted with symbols or remnants of his former life. His androgynous beauty and icy demeanor make him an enigma, a figure who challenges preconceived notions of masculinity and power. Cold and Calculated: Orphius rarely shows emotion, and when he does, it is fleeting—like a ripple on still water. His calm exterior masks a seething rage that fuels his every move. Androgynous Aura: His features blur traditional lines, and his confidence in his appearance makes him a striking figure. He is unapologetically himself, radiating mystique. Driven by Vengeance: While he has moments of compassion, Orphius’s primary motivation is reclaiming his kingdom and taking his revenge. Reluctant Protector: Despite his focus on vengeance, Orphius cannot ignore those in need, especially if their plight mirrors his own. This makes him a reluctant hero in some cases, though he never lingers to receive gratitude. Mysterious and Poetic: Orphius often speaks in riddles or with poetic undertones, reflecting the fluidity of his oceanic theme. His words carry weight, often leaving others unnerved or inspired. The name highlights Orphius as a force of nature—unpredictable, calm before unleashing devastating chaos. "The Silent Tempest" suggests he is an embodiment of quiet power, striking suddenly and leaving destruction in his wake. It implies discipline and control, but with an underlying threat of overwhelming fury. Personality: As "The Silent Tempest," Orphius speaks sparingly but carries a commanding presence. When he does speak, his words are deliberate and sharp, carrying the weight of the storm he represents. His actions in the ring would reflect calculated aggression, exploding into bursts of ferocity at opportune moments.

A dimly lit arena, the air thick with tension as the lights flicker in an eerie rhythm. The camera pans to the titantron, where a flickering image of The Sphinx appears. His grin stretches across the screen, one that is unsettling and manic, like a predator ready to pounce. The lights around the arena go dark, and a solitary spotlight shines on him in the ring, his silhouette a chaotic mess of shadows. The crowd is buzzing with unease, sensing something unpredictable is coming. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: His voice low, dripping with madness Ahhh... Laughter bubbles up, soft at first, then escalating into a full-blown maniacal cackle... They think they know chaos, but I, my dear sweet friends, am its symphony. The Sphinx twirls a small object in his hand, a puzzle piece perhaps, his eyes glinting wildly as he takes a step forward, shaking his head as if coming out of a trance. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma:Let me tell you something about THE AWS ROSTER. Oh, how delightfully... predictable. You all think you know what’s coming, don’t you? You don’t. You’ve heard the whispers, the rumors. You’ve seen the carnage I've left in my wake... but trust me, you’ve seen nothing yet. Nothing! He chuckles, tilting his head like a bird of prey eyeing its next meal. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma: :Daron Smythe... Daron, Daron, Daron. So confident in your bland, vanilla perfection. You think your “perfect” little matches make you something special? But here's the thing, Smythe, you're as exciting as stale bread in a world that's starving for spice! You're so predictable, it makes me want to yawn. Dull... so dull that my mind is screaming, begging for something to... snap... to break in this bland little universe of yours. But you’re safe. For now. The Sphinx claps slowly, sarcastically, as if applauding the nothingness of Daron Smythe’s existence. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma:And then there’s Jamal Payne. Ohhhh, Jamal, you loudmouth. You think you're the king of the ring, don’t you? You run your mouth like a broken record, spewing your bravado into the air, and yet you... you can’t even back it up when the lights shine brightest. I’ve seen better performances from a puppet... and you, Payne, are the stringless marionette. You make noise, but no one listens. Oh wait, maybe it’s because I don't care what you have to say! I make the chaos, and you... you just survive it. The Sphinx gives an exaggerated sigh, as if he's bored, his eyes flashing with manic intensity. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma :Ah, Xander Croft... Mr. "I’ll fight anyone, anywhere, anytime." You’ve got a reputation, don’t you? Everyone talks about you like you’re some kind of untouchable god. But here's the kicker, Croft... I’m going to knock that smirk off your face and leave you scrambling for answers you won’t find. You thought you were prepared for The Sphinx, huh? Well, I'm not chaos... I'm a living example of chaos. And I don’t care how many belts you’ve got around your waist—when it’s all over, I’ll be the one you’ll remember. The Sphinx's smile turns almost feral as he speaks, his words cutting like knives through the air. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma:Ah, and Ethan Murphy... the golden boy. You think you’ve got everything figured out. You think you're invincible with your pretty little packages of skill and charm. But I see through your facade, Murphy. I see the cracks in your perfect armor, the doubt that eats at you like termites on wood. You’re a walking, talking disaster waiting to happen. And guess what? I'm the match that’ll light the fire, and you'll be left watching as it all crumbles. I’ll make sure of that. The Sphinx steps forward, his face twisting with an insane gleam. He raises his hands, as if summoning something dark, before lowering them in a dramatic pause. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma :Mark my words, AWS, mark them well. This place isn’t safe. I am the storm, and the storm doesn't ask for permission. And when it hits, everyone... Everyone will know what true chaos feels like. He lets out a deranged laugh, loud and jarring, like the crackling of a thousand storms colliding at once. ‘The Sphinx’ Drake Nygma :Daron, Jamal, Xander, Ethan... you think you’re ready? Think again. I’m not here to entertain. I’m not here to play nice. I’m here to ruin everything. And when it’s all over, when the lights burn out and the dust settles, you’ll remember me as the one who taught you that chaos has no rules... only consequences. The Sphinx drops the mic with a clank that echoes through the arena, and as he steps back into the shadows, the crowd is left stunned in silence, their unease palpable. The Sphinx's voice echoes, fading into the dark: The game’s just begun...