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Matchbox

Matchbox

A young boy found a box of matches.

His parents warned him of the dangers, but the boy could not resist. He loved the sensation of watching that match burst into flame. The boy watched earnestly as the flame did exactly what he wanted, and when it had burnt itself down as far as it could, he extinguished the flame and discarded the match.

Tossed it aside, ready to strike another match.

Something about that dancing flame enticed him. He started by burning little pieces of paper and watching them disintegrate before his eyes. But before long, the boy had moved on to bigger and more destructive outputs.

His box of matches was his portal to a new world, where he could play god.

That was his goal, and he cared not what he burnt down along the way. He just wanted to feel the power that his box of matches brought him.

Did your parents ever tell you not to play with fire, Sigil?

Old School Wrestling is that box of matches. Within these walls are any number of souls just waiting to burn brightly like the matches in that box. Eager to shine and looking for an opportunity to strike. You’re only too happy to be the one to burn them.

Over the years of our history, there have been a few that have played with fire, but none have burned through more matches than you have. For so far back as we can remember, you have kept your trusty matchbox in your satchel, ready and eager to pull it out whenever you need a victim to draw you closer to your ultimate goal.

It began with Junkrat. Exploring the matchbox and watching him burn for you as you set him upon your quest. But you let that match burn too closely to your fingers and wound up getting burned as he took the device you sought to clone himself.

But that only fuelled your need to strike the matches of OSW.

Countless names have appeared on your list. You have used them all to achieve your goal, then cast them aside when they fulfil their duties to you.

Corvus, Deathnote, Mordecai, even the Butcher himself. The list goes on and on. They’re all just matches that you burned away to get what you wanted.

Those damned crystals.

You’re the kid obsessed with playing with fire, Sigil. You don’t care what you burn down in the process, or how many matches he discard along the way. But there comes a day when the matchbox has run out of matches.

And you’ve burned all of your bridges. You’re running out of matches and to get to that Ring King crown, you’re going to have to do things the hard way.

Now, the only path left to reach your goal goes through the Mighty Mountain, and it’s a treacherous climb.

No amount of matches are going to burn me down.

Because when you’re out of matches and have nothing left to burn…

The mountain still stands.

As it always will.