Post by SwitchKun on Dec 31, 2008 11:17:05 GMT -6
Rival versus Accain
The arena was a coliseum, with spectators lining the standing staring down at the sand filled pit below, in which there was a good forty feet from the front row seats in the circular dome, to the fight pit in which two warriors circled each other carefully eying each other. Such it was, victims of the Galgoras Empire, were imprisoned, and the weak were executed, and the strong were pitted against each other. Winners were allowed to join the army, and losers added to blood stains in the pit. There were no ties... just winners and losers. Yet, in the loud cantor of the gladiator battle, even before the first blow was taken, this match...would go down into history forever...the battle between Rival and Accain.
Accain, was a medium sized man, more on the large end of the scale, and his black hair fell across his right eye, and spiked in the back. His eyes were wild, wizened from battled, and lusted, by the blood he had split in past battles. He wielded a great long sword, which was slightly thicker than that of a normal brand. The sharp steel felt comfortable in his hand, and the brunt of the blade rested on a leather shoulder pad, that crossed his chest. Other than the leather strap, was the black, tattered undershirt that wrapped around his body loosely, flowing in the odd gusts of wind that occupied the battlefield. A cruel smile crossed his face as he faced his opponent.
Rival, unlike Accain, was just induced into the gladiator prisons, and he was not too fond of the entire mess that he had landed himself into, yet not for his sake, but for the fact that he would have to kill again. He eyed Accain from the brown sandals that covered his feet to the tip of his spiky black hair, he was definitely cocky, yet who wouldn't? Accain had been here for fifteen years, and had battled once, every single week...he had been the king of this dome for years...yet when they let him join the army he killed half of his platoon before they threw him back in the dome for life. He was not fighting for freedom anymore... yet Rival was, yet he was calm and relaxed. His long, unkempt sandy hair was kept clean from his face, yet there was one feature about Rival that made him seem like a strange demon, going against Accain that was; an eye patch was secured across his left eye, giving him half of his visibility. He held a longsword in his right hand, which was slim and yet it looked sharper than anything--the blade glistened in the bright sunlight, which filtered in from the top of the ceiling.
"Prepare yourself, Accain...for a battle you wont soon forget...or remember..." Rival said nonchalantly, spinning the blade, and then the sound of the bell came. His bare foot came down quickly onto the sand as he darted forward, for someone who had never been in sand in his life, he did a might good job of appearing right in Accain's face. He swiped his blade up from underneath, slashing upward, hoping to catch Accain in the chin, in which his enemy spun to the left, right into Rival's blind spot. "It is already over, eye-patch kid!" the man yelled slashing his sword downward onto Rival. Steel hit steel as Rival twisted his foot propelling him away blocking the attack with his own sword. Then he landed on his hand, and entered a crouch. Indeed, the attack had allowed him to survey Accain's strength and agility. He then jumped from where he was crouched and launched an attack from the air, which Accain used to block with his own sword. Using perfect balance, Rival spun on Accain's sword, using his own blade, jumping down behind his opponent, and grabbing a special place on Accain's neck, however he's aim was slightly off and a back hand attack struck him in the stomach as he was propelled backwards...
This is when Accain charged, smashing his blade into the ground, but Rival was already out of the way, still trying to recover from the attack on his stomach. The crowd was going wild, they did not think Accain could loose. Rival reached the wall, and the massive blade came crashing down hitting the stone, and then, Rival got behind his opponent again, he was close to the ground. "Furry blade!" he spoke sternly, and the ground exploded sending a furious sandstorm into the air, in which Accain could only defend himself by raising his blade for protection. "Cheap tricks!" he screamed, charging forward blindly slashing about. He also managed to dispel the sand with drafts coming from his attack, then he saw that Rival was charging him again. A furious frenzy of blade attacks came...
[to be continued]
The arena was a coliseum, with spectators lining the standing staring down at the sand filled pit below, in which there was a good forty feet from the front row seats in the circular dome, to the fight pit in which two warriors circled each other carefully eying each other. Such it was, victims of the Galgoras Empire, were imprisoned, and the weak were executed, and the strong were pitted against each other. Winners were allowed to join the army, and losers added to blood stains in the pit. There were no ties... just winners and losers. Yet, in the loud cantor of the gladiator battle, even before the first blow was taken, this match...would go down into history forever...the battle between Rival and Accain.
Accain, was a medium sized man, more on the large end of the scale, and his black hair fell across his right eye, and spiked in the back. His eyes were wild, wizened from battled, and lusted, by the blood he had split in past battles. He wielded a great long sword, which was slightly thicker than that of a normal brand. The sharp steel felt comfortable in his hand, and the brunt of the blade rested on a leather shoulder pad, that crossed his chest. Other than the leather strap, was the black, tattered undershirt that wrapped around his body loosely, flowing in the odd gusts of wind that occupied the battlefield. A cruel smile crossed his face as he faced his opponent.
Rival, unlike Accain, was just induced into the gladiator prisons, and he was not too fond of the entire mess that he had landed himself into, yet not for his sake, but for the fact that he would have to kill again. He eyed Accain from the brown sandals that covered his feet to the tip of his spiky black hair, he was definitely cocky, yet who wouldn't? Accain had been here for fifteen years, and had battled once, every single week...he had been the king of this dome for years...yet when they let him join the army he killed half of his platoon before they threw him back in the dome for life. He was not fighting for freedom anymore... yet Rival was, yet he was calm and relaxed. His long, unkempt sandy hair was kept clean from his face, yet there was one feature about Rival that made him seem like a strange demon, going against Accain that was; an eye patch was secured across his left eye, giving him half of his visibility. He held a longsword in his right hand, which was slim and yet it looked sharper than anything--the blade glistened in the bright sunlight, which filtered in from the top of the ceiling.
"Prepare yourself, Accain...for a battle you wont soon forget...or remember..." Rival said nonchalantly, spinning the blade, and then the sound of the bell came. His bare foot came down quickly onto the sand as he darted forward, for someone who had never been in sand in his life, he did a might good job of appearing right in Accain's face. He swiped his blade up from underneath, slashing upward, hoping to catch Accain in the chin, in which his enemy spun to the left, right into Rival's blind spot. "It is already over, eye-patch kid!" the man yelled slashing his sword downward onto Rival. Steel hit steel as Rival twisted his foot propelling him away blocking the attack with his own sword. Then he landed on his hand, and entered a crouch. Indeed, the attack had allowed him to survey Accain's strength and agility. He then jumped from where he was crouched and launched an attack from the air, which Accain used to block with his own sword. Using perfect balance, Rival spun on Accain's sword, using his own blade, jumping down behind his opponent, and grabbing a special place on Accain's neck, however he's aim was slightly off and a back hand attack struck him in the stomach as he was propelled backwards...
This is when Accain charged, smashing his blade into the ground, but Rival was already out of the way, still trying to recover from the attack on his stomach. The crowd was going wild, they did not think Accain could loose. Rival reached the wall, and the massive blade came crashing down hitting the stone, and then, Rival got behind his opponent again, he was close to the ground. "Furry blade!" he spoke sternly, and the ground exploded sending a furious sandstorm into the air, in which Accain could only defend himself by raising his blade for protection. "Cheap tricks!" he screamed, charging forward blindly slashing about. He also managed to dispel the sand with drafts coming from his attack, then he saw that Rival was charging him again. A furious frenzy of blade attacks came...
[to be continued]