Lannister - The Final Arc

Ladies and gentlemen... your hero has returned again.

Lannister has seen the ruse in his foes, and while they speak of a different tone - they are no different from prior conquests of war. Lannister has been aligned with The Underworld, but it is only that of a bastard's blood he desires. Yes, let it ring true - Lannister will ensure Claudia Michaels sees to her ambitions. Just this once. A debt to be paid in full. Lannister once called upon the Goddess of War... the Heart Break Gal when she was deprived, hiding from the light. But as the bells begin to chime, it is Lannister that is called to solve this crooked rhyme, in return. For The Emperium. Claudia. Lannister. Lannister appreciates the entrance to the shrine, but Lannister's eyes will solely be to the attrition of war. Lannister needs not to speak upon the elephant in the room, as Lannister's only de jure claim to this here land, is the vulture himself. Back to the basics, Lannister supposes, but how Lannister can seldom lose himself in the choir of his own entity. It is Lannister's pleasure to partake in this business transaction, and yes - Wrestleworld - that is all you are. You are nothing but a mere playground, a mere surveillance system to the Lannister decree. Vengeance upon the vulture is a monument worth its own capsule, to be sure. Even if you are not a willing participant to the show - you all will serve as one nonetheless. The populace is left to the better unknown of what Lannister's dominance truly predicates, being caught in the dangerous transition of what surveillance captivates. The future fate is all that matters now - as Lannister will not even comment on the heresy muttered by the mouth of Nobi and the rest of those fallen idols. The attempt falls upon the worst set of ears, as Lannister will not be lead astray. Trying to create a rift between Lannister's supposed allies. For here you are - feeding yourself to the structure in which Lannister maintains. Lannister has survived much harsher storms than the one The Professional Pizza Boy Man rained upon he. Once upon a time, sure - The Pizza Man and Lannister were warped in their own sanctity. But that time has since passed, after The Pizza Man successfully conquered. That's all there is to that story - sorry to say. There is no greater essence, no further strings to puppet the fable along.

There is a burden that casts when looped into a battle of this magnitude. But luckily, Lannister is experienced in its shade. Molded by these conquests, he has become. Lannister knows not of April June, knows not of Stephy Matsui, knows not of Hakuna Matada, and whomever deems the rest. Lannister need not, either. This is a one-sided affair, where the only consolation is that Lannister's lack of empathy is a historically well-served quality. Lannister only asks for these forgotten names to fulfill their alignment amongst the stars. To remain an enigma in this territorial invasion. Let the invader take what he wants, and this makeshift operation can be had without any blood being spilled in vain. It is just the bastard Lannister desires. So steer clear, and perhaps the filtered radiance of Lannister's presence can prove to be obsolete. Do not tread upon the path Lannister embarks, for your inclusion will bare a new burden.

To those deeming themselves worthy of being in the way - Lannister assures you that you are not. Lannister is not just a shell, as desire refines what is left of this soul. While Lannister is void of prior ambitions, do remember that modesty only exists in memory. Lannister is not a modest man, just one whose landscape has been terraformed and shifted. To be in denial of that, well - you are just simply condoning your own eradication. Lannister, once upon a time, thrived in the midst of creating his own folk tales. But alas, those were simpler times - when Lannister had the frame to play with his food before the act to devour. Now, Lannister has no such time to entertain your unfortunate circumstance of a false sense of security. Only in past reason, would Lannister let the sheep prove themselves as such. So take a word to the wise. Embrace the absolution in which Lannister speaks. No matter the rust, it always pays to be Lannister. So do adhere to Lannister's final plea of warning. Do not succumb to the reckless abandon. For one final time, Lannister's regards have been sent. And may the sacrificial lambs serve as witness to the Angel of Debt's will. So power be dare, World's Finest. Power be dare, Underworld. Let it be determined, let it be manifested, even - that Lannister cares not for your trivial ambitions. Lannister has a resounding list of accolades attached to his fame, a clique of titles that have been coined, and a trial of torment that has ended careers. While Lannister has no qualms with the names attached to the rest of the field, dare not to tempt fate. Trying to press your own means only invites Lannister to let Wrestleworld see their fabled stars are nothing more than a successor of circumstance. Leeches whose only claim on the empire are that of a weakened state. You won't be paving a road with Lannister's mark, that much is certain. The Eagle has landed... and may you cherish his glaze stands over a vulture instead.

So, bastard. The period of renaissance is over. This is the dawn of the day, the dawn it forever will be. The waning moments wan no more, as time is of the essence. We had it all - but what about now? It's lost in the fall. You've already managed the difficult part - surviving the lie that indefinitely spins. Keeping your mind at peace like you're some kind of self-sufficient parasite. Lannister will always admire your ignorance of authenticity - it is a trait that was once shared. To the contrary of your polluted mind, it is just the Vulture and the Eagle now. Nobody is watching. And everybody has stopped listening. Lannister has been waiting on you, bastard. Simply waiting, for you to show yourself. Lannister knows why you've chosen Wrestleworld of all places, to end your pathetic hiatus. No, Lannister won't take credit for your disappearance, as the contingency of consequences has never stopped you in your tracks before. No, you always wanted Lannister to meet you at the alter. Just a matter of when. Time. Place. You must think that this is all apart of the blueprint, the master scheme to lull Lannister into a void. But how you overestimate yourself, bastard. Time and time again. While it is true, this clash of the former divine was inevitable - it is just isn't the spectacle you desire. This isn't the Land of Elite. Nor is it the Land of Extreme. Even if it were - life moves on. Vendetta vs. Lannister is nothing but a folk tale now. The lore isn't lost on a single soul, but much akin to the tale of Red Riding Hood - the morals have already been drawn out, and 'tis onto another legend. Only Lannister writes this story now.

Soon, bastard. Soon, you will be choking on your past obsessions. As will Lannister on his. Lannister is void of reason now - just consequence. Consequence must follow this pit that has been made. This world has passed us by, bastard. You will deny this token of truth, much like you've held yourself in higher regard every swing of the pendulum thus far. But what is there left for you to do, bastard? Continue to reside in your land of make believe? You may be a sociopath to the rest of this industry - but unfortunately for you, Lannister understands you more than just that single description. Lannister knows you crave an audience, Lannister knows you desire yourself to be the ultimate antagonist. But who are you - when nobody is watching? Who are you - when it's just the Lannister emblem who came to entrench himself in the battle. Nothing. Just like a vulture, you cannot feed without the flesh of another. Lannister has since accepted his role on this - the mortality that comes with it. But have you, bastard? No... of course not. Wrestleworld will not be your sanctuary. Much akin to it not being Lannister's salvation or redemption. This is our atonement, bastard. This is the last dance. And for that...

Our time in the limelight... is OVER. You designated Wrestleworld as the last arc. But how you missed the ultimate ingredient - affinity. It must hurt your soul, bastard - to know that the only person left in this world that cares what happens to you, is Lannister himself. Welcome to Ragnarok, bastard. You know what you've done. You will gloat. You will even reference its shade. You've taken Lannister's life indulgence. You've taught Lannister the ultimate moral lesson of them all. Some mistakes... you never stop paying for. Lannister has paid the iron price for his extravagance. But you, bastard... you will pay for so much more.

A debt written via bastard blood. For that's the price that wills, in this power to be dare...

ALLES FUR...

ATHENA...

Athena.