Tales of a Soldier

WWE's Renaissance Man. Friends know me as Claude or Claudio. You my dear, will know me as Cesaro. Remember that name, for it will be destined for greatness.

[swinging-swiss-sergeant]

Mercenary Men

Be that it may the ledger of red that Seth Rollins carried around these days, Cesaro wasn't one to hold too many grudges more so if it involved in-ring work which in his books more often than not remained in-ring work and work was left behind in the arenas where it belonged the moment the curtains fell over the end of yet another successful show.

Outside of it? He found the man's company relatively amenable whenever said man wasn't feeling particularly snipy about burning bridges on a good day---he simply took his leave politely as he could whenever he saw the warning signs--- and if it was something they could both agree on, it was the one topic that never failed to bring out a chorus of long-suffering groans, mock retching and the occasional high-pitched horror movie EEE-EEE-EEE from backstage the very second it was mentioned.

Crossfit.

There weren’t many who particular enjoyed the Opus Dei of workout routines more so this early in the morning but there was something incredibly cathartic about laying flat out on his back after a particularly intense session, feeling the burn in his limbs and the adrenaline high as though his soul was about to leave his body.  Which, in retrospect would explain why he had been careless enough to make a wild grab for the coffee cups on the table without paying heed to which one belonged to him though the first long swig of its contents was enough to tell him his mistake.  A mistake that tasted like raw gasoline. 

Cesaro forced the mouthful of coffee---a term he was using very loosely at the moment----down, knowing he’d already breached etiquette once and wasn’t about to do so again by spitting everything out. 

“Good god man, what on earth did you put in this and how did your sense of taste survive this atrocity intact?”  The Swissman gasped, placing the cup back on the table and grabbing his own to wash down what remained of the hell’s brew lingering in the back of his throat. 

“Just tell me what the contents were and I shall be obliged to whip you up a new batch.” 

soldoutboughtin

[swinging-swiss-sergeant]

Starter Call!

Time to get this Swiss Supersoldier on track with some good writing. Feel free to like this post for a starter and comment for a verse for it to take place in! No comments will place these starters automatically in the Main Verse. Also feel free to this Starter-In-Waiting if it’s your cup of tea!

[wandajnr]

There’s a Storm Coming [Paige&Cesaro]

How do any of them actually sleep, isn’t that the real question? Of course, Paige rarely ever slept save for when she needed the energy. Most of her dreams consisting of visions that would actually happen soon. But, this time? This time it was so vivid and so nerve wracking for her. Sweat beaded porcelain skin and she tossed back and forth curled up on the floor with a blanket made of raven’s feathers. Not taken from a raven, but just feathers that either fell from them. Visions flashed behind her eyes, visions of darkness. Visions of Bray and Sister Abigail. They were winning, as much as they had tried to fight. Bray had killed nearly all of them. Why was he keeping her alive? What did he want from her? His army was growing and the army he had? They looked just like them. The army fighting against Bray. The army rebelling against him. They were clones, they were so much stronger than them.

Sitting up with a flustered look, her cheeks were tinted with a flush and Paige ran her fingers through raven hair. A few of her own raven’s coming to flock around her as she gently reached a hand out to pet each one. How did she go about telling the others? Who did she start with telling in the first place? There was only one person she knew she had to seek out. He would help them be prepared. But, how long would it take? She never knew when, she only knew soon. Pushing herself to her feet with her blanket wrapped around her, she set out on a search for the former Swiss Army man.

Dragging herself from the floor, she sought out the Swiss man… Or at least, whatever was left of him. It hadn’t taken her long, of course. Just a few minutes of walking about before she had found him. Clearing her throat, she popped her head into the room. “Mister Cesaro, do you have a moment to spare?” Her English accent was thick as she spoke, one raven on each shoulder as per usual. If anyone could help her, it would be him. She just knew it.

swinging-swiss-sergeant

[swinging-swiss-sergeant]

The stately gentleman within the small but immaculately-maintained quarters looked as though he hadn't slept all night with a thick tome resting in his lap as he sat cross-legged on a crate that served as a makeshift chair and it was several seconds before he raised his gaze to the source of the disruption, bemused and just the slightest bit annoyed at having his reading time interrupted.

When he saw who it was however, the reading glasses were folded up and tucked away into his pocket and book was immediately closed with a snap as he beckoned for her to come inside while standing up to offer the crate to her to sit upon as he went about the small area next to his cot which served as a personal pantry.

"Of course. Close the door behind you if you please." said the Swissman in crisp, cultured tones as he heated up a small kettle and the soft whistling roused the German Shepherd who had been asleep at the foot of the cot. Her ears perked up curiously at the sight of the Ravenskeeper, her master's nickname for the young woman who was always accompaned by one of the blackbirds who rather than being a symbol of death for them was a symbol of hope.

"Have a seat madam, I'll make some coffee."

The calmness belied experience that not many in their team had been blessed....or cursed with. Both on some occasions though Cesaro or Claudio to his friends had always managed a smile even in the darkest situations and now wasn’t any different.  On the wall rested his Sig Sauer 550 and underneath it dog tags, rings, gauntlets and other various trinkets from old friends; some whose bodies were gone and whose souls had been corrupted by Bray, some missing like a macabre board full of reminders of why he still kept fighting. 

“How can I be of service to you this evening?”  Claudio inquired as he strode over and offered her a cup of homemade brew. 

“A penny for your thoughts that has been keeping rest at bay no doubt?” 

ravenqueenpcige

[lannasroleplaymemes]

Send me a (•⊙ω⊙•) if you want to interact with me but have no idea how to start.

[swinging-swiss-sergeant]

ColdSteel

There was a rare comfort to the feel of cold steel pressed into his hand that his colleagues might have found unnerving had he ever the mind to tell them. He had seen the seeds of suspicion sown months ago when they had visited an army barrack as part of a public relations tour and the eyebrows of everyone in the armory had shot up when he kindly declined the offer of a cadet to show him how to put together a rifle and assembled it himself. 

The serene smile as the rest of them struggled with the task and stared at him curiously had not betrayed anything to them save an ease around weaponry that was rare among them altogether and Cesaro didn’t mind whatever it was that they thought of him or the assumptions made then as long as they never got between him and his job. 

The firing range was a favored haunt of his however in between their constant travels and gym time. It helped him focus beyond pumping iron and the thrill of crowd and as the last of the shots rang from his rifle, he took off his mufflers to examine the target as it was brought closer to him.  Headshots. every single one of them.  Some things never left a soldier even almost a decade away from the battlefield.  Grinning self-assuredly, he clicked on the safety lock on the rifle before placing it on a nearby table where his coffee had gone stone cold but the caffeine addict in him slugged down the noxious concoction regardless, rejoining in the silence and solitude.  The sound of something clattering in the distance however immediately made him stand a little straighter. There was next to no one here this time of the night save the owners of the place. 

“Who goes there?” 

[swinging-swiss-sergeant]

An independent Antonio Cesaro roleplay blog with an AU twist!

Multiverse

Multiship

Semi-Selective & Para to Multi-Para. 

A novice to to the indie scene but not roleplaying itself, I’m looking for possible ship partners, bash brothers, frenemies, plotbunnies, the whole works. I’m a creative sort of creature and would love partners who drafts out sagas with. Feel free to go through the verses, wishlist and don’t be a stranger about dropping me a message or asking about plots and starters!

[Disclaimer: All art used is mine]

[dakotakai]

Kevin Owens and Cesaro on Miz TV