Through blurred vision the blue sky was a sight to be relished. It was vast and littered with small white cotton balls drifting aimlessly in their journeys. Not however to be relished for very long when a hole was hit in the road and his body jerked sending his head to collide with the hard oak that the trailer was made out of. The sky was moving and it wasn't the wind. From his toes to his hairs he was too sore to move a muscle. His entire body felt like lead and as he struggled to adjust his head, as his vision came into more view of those around him his plight became far more serious.
Stragglers, nomads; they had been all clearly acquired against their own wills. As he had, but where was he? He could remember holding a sickle and the taste of dry leather against his tongue like a burnt steak that held no moisture. The bright sun blotted his still adapting pupils and blinded him before they descended under a bridge and out of the light. The sound of hooves against a more solid surface was echoing now around them in the tunnel as they slowed down in pace. Cobblestone, or at least some kind of stone was leading them through a torch-lit cavern now. He could hear a discussion in the distance though the words were unclear, hazy to his ears and his eyes shut once more.
"Alright just drop him over there." The words came in crystal clear before he was tossed into a pile of old hay. It was thin and the collision had him wheezing as he spun over on his knees and forehead and then on to his back, gasping for breaths.
It was a dim lit cell with thick iron bars separating him from those that he could see. The sound of rats scurrying about was disheartening and honestly tempted his stomach to spill its contents, if it had any. Drip, drip, drip. The water droplets that fell from the stone above smacked him square in the forehead. They were underground. He wanted to move but even now it was a bit difficult. He managed to squirm his way back some so he was just able to use the hay as a pillow and elevate his head some.
How long had it been since he and Mista had departed? Since that night with the tomes aplenty and the smell of aged scriptures with the smile that faded far too quickly. The pain of salt in the eyes and slaying the curiosity and wonder in someone's heart and replacing it with uncertainty and fear. He could recall the words easily that he had spoken at that time and now they rang as the entire structure shook with the force of a massive quake. The rats were no longer to be heard and dust began to fall from the ceiling overhead. Arches that looked to be well aged expressed signs of strain under the shaking and the iron bars vibrated from the force. I will not die. It was not long before the quakes ceased and his eyes fell heavy once more.
"You must drink friend." The voice was accompanied by a helpful hand on the back of his head. In front of him was a light saucer containing water that was pressed just short of his lips. He didn't know the voice, he didn't recognize the face but he had not had a drink in quite some time. He leaned forward and graciously drank as if it were the last source of water on Rhy'Din. Heavy wheezing followed and the hands helped press him more upright with his back to the wall.
"Good, you looked to be in a little bit of rough shape." He gestured to the many scars that lined the elf's upper body. When had he lost track of his armor? He had been wearing it prior to passing out, he knew that much.
"W-where am I?" A little direct but necessary as his eyes struggled to fully adapt to the lack of any consistent light in the cellar which they were held captive.
"You my friend are in the stockades." The man brushed himself off and took a seat to the right of the elf after clearing some hay from the spot. He began to rummage within his pocket and pulled out a pipe before he began striking some flint against the wall. Soon enough he found enough friction to begin puffing and voila. O's were formed. "You look like hell."
The stranger couldn't have been more blunt because did he feel like hell? Yes, yes he did. The right arm twitched a little as did his legs but he must have been really sore on his left side. "I must have been laying on my side because I can't feel my arm." He said with a laugh. "T'alathian, thank you for the water." His introduction was short and sweet and what came next left tremors in his heart.
"Well T'alathian, I guess this might not be the news you want to wake up to ever in your life- but now's as good a time as any I guess." The man took a few more puffs on the pipe's contents and released it from his mouth and gestured towards T'alathian. "That's because you no longer have your left arm."
What happened next was a mixture of panic, depression and utter pain as T'alathian's head shifted on a pivot from the right, the stranger to the left where there was nothing but a cauterized stump just below his shoulder. His right arm slowly extended across until the fingertips traced along the skin and he felt more pain in the absence, the phantom sensation psychological than physical, and began to weep.
"I don't know how that must feel son but you better get that out of your system as soon as you can. They already think you're weak, worst thing you can do now is prove them right. There's only one real rule here: the weak die and the strong survive. But since y'er kind enough to give me your name, T'alathian, I guess I'll give you mine back. Ajax or as everyone around here calls me, Quake. You're lucky to have gotten here so late, you won't have to worry about that today." Ajax gestured to the ceiling and what T'alathian could surmise, the mystery that lied above it. He reached over to pat T'alathian on the shoulder before rolling over and curling up. "Best thing you can do for yourself now is get some rest, y'er going to be needing it."
It wasn't immediate that the realization set in but over some time the tears began to dry from their twin wells in his eyes. His whole life he had been royalty, he had been praised for his style, his grace. When he had shed that mold and abandoned it, he had been known for his prowess on the battlefield. His men followed him because of his strength and his presence. Now he was a gimp rotting in the stockades. How the mighty had fallen he jested at his own predicament with another sob and a laugh before he too shut his eyes. He could not predict in his wildest dreams what was next to come.
Broken Hilt
Moderators: Talathian, Kenzi, Rayvinn
The sound of tides washing ashore with their foamy embrace helped soothe the phantom ebb as he tossed and turned at night. A faint voice that wasn't able to penetrate the cocoon of sleep was heard as a muffle in the distance.
"Stop thrashing about you elf!" The voice was burly and not quite descriptive enough to make out, but a smile did form in the response.
Not long after the idle threat passed T'alathian was back on the coast with the warm sun above to accompany him . Overhead the gulls flew on by with their lazy songs and the ocean tides washed on in filling the spaces between his toes with a cool splash of life. There were no battles, there were no screams and there was no blood to be shed. Only the salty air in his lungs and the clouds littered in the sky, blocking some of that bright glare from his eyes.
"T'alathian!" From behind he could hear his voice being called. He turned with his hand above his brow to block the sun and as he began to recognize the face to the voice a frigid splash smacked his face.
"Get up you lazy bum. Today we're going to see what you're worth." A guard snarled as he emptied a full bucket onto the elf.
Deep breaths of the damp cellar air brought him back to reality as he looked around at the barred cell. The stones were unforgiving in their weight and did not allow any of the sunlight to shine on in. A hand was offered to him and as he looked up it was the man with peppered white in his five oclock shadow and hair. A pair of brown eyes that seemed cold and shut but certainly harbored some warmth. He took a hold of the hand and drew up with a hop, trying to find some balance in his asymmetrical form.
"Y'ell dry off before we even get out to the training ring. Let's get ye something to eat." Ajax, as T'alathian preferred to think the man spoke with ease and a smile at nearly all times.
As they marched single file down the corridor the elf could feel the eyes upon his back boreing holes into his form. It wasn't like he was new to negative attention; his companions and he had managed to disrupt the flow of war more than he could count. Whether it was the wealthy aristocratic coup or the relentless landowner, there had only been one case where he betrayed his contract. Only once had he soiled what he'd built. Before he could fall prey to the tides of nostalgia a larger man had carefully stepped right into the left shoulder of T'alathian and easily sent him to the ground. Momentarily the line stopped to get into the dining hall and a guard came to help 'motivate' T'alathian to his feet.
"Get up you elf. Aren't you supposed to be better than the rest of us? Thousands of years and you still can't even walk straight." He bellowed a hoarse laugh with a kick to the ribs before he moved on ahead.
Three rows of heavy oak benches lined the dining hall. At each entrance of said hall armed guards stood on their watch with spears in their hands and shields prepared for any rogue fool daring enough to make his escape. With their trays in hand they proceeded down the row of various interesting choices of what to eat. There was the blue, the orange, the green and the unsure color with chunks which was apparently 'chicken'. None of the options truly appealead to T'alathian so he just went with what Ajax was having, some of the green and some of the 'chicken'. A bowl at the end had white mush and that didn't look so bad so he'd try some of that as well. From the food line they took their seat at the end of the middle row of benches. What caught T'alathian's attention with ease was the way that everyone else in the room managed to avoid them. As they walked, as they sat and even now as they ate in solitude every other living and breathing soul managed to avoid them like the Bubonic Plague.
"You're a real hit around here aren't you?" T'alathian spoke with his more liberal use of sarcasm since quite some time ago.
A man of simple dialogue, Ajax only responded with a hearty laugh at first before helping himself to the gruel before him. That was the only appropriate word for the meal that T'alathian let slip from his wooden spoon with intrigue and disgust. They should design a new word for it, a new form of matter that was neither a solid nor a liquid but something else completely in between.
"I could say the same about you, you know? We don't see many elves around here and we certainly don't find them laying out for dead. They want me dead for reasons completely different than why they want you dead. Honestly? I think I'd sooner be you right about now. They view you as someone they can dispose of with ease." He continued to demolish the pile of mixed matter before him without raising his eyes.
"Oh, I'm very privileged to be thought of as the weaskest link. I assure you I will send them all a wonderful fluffy elven-style gift basket as a sign of gratitude." He smirked and began to try out some of the 'chicken'. His immediate urge was to vomit and cast the tray, with bowl, as far as he could at the kitchen. As he sat though he knew well enough even a young boy could cause him enough issues. Begrudgingly he retired his animosity and pride and began attempting to ingest and digest the food.
"Well they view me as scraps, but what about you Ajax? Why do they hate you?" It had been something he considered since the difference was more than obvious. They would go out of their way to give T'alathian a hard time, not that he cared since he spent every moment concocting different theories on how to end their lives. However not a soul spoke a breath to Ajax or even came within a yard of him. In fact, they all did their best to steer clear the man.
The question left him smiling as he straightened up in his seat and stretched out with his arms overhead. He was a man of average build, a little thick with the arms and neck but by no means a man of gargantuan size. He took a drink and set the cup down before looking at T'alathian and easing his smile into something more casual, less superficial. For the first time it felt like they'd be speaking as completely equals on their deserted island.
"They want to kill me for the same reason I've managed to stay alive and the pricks running this have kept me alive. I've got the power they want but don't have. You felt the rumbling on the day that you arrived right? The imbeciles within our ranks, the slaves since that's what we really are, they've come up with their own ideas and absurdities revolving them. They've dubbed it, 'The Hand of God'. Now, I claim to be in posession of no such thing and I'm not going to sit here and tell you anything different that I have told them. The rumors that I could decimate this structure and city are just crazy talk. I'm no god and I don't have any 'powers' to destroy anything. That is why they are here T'alathian and that is why they will always remain here until they die. All that they can comprehend and conceive is in the form of power- destruction. Tell me about you." He gestured to the now missing limb on the left of T'alathian's body.
"I had to tie up loose ends." Intentionally ambiguous as he shrugged the more direct answer off but paid enough attention to the matter at hand.
"I took a life and paid for it. I've taken many lives before but I was too weak to get away from this one clean. It was the least that I deserved though." He wasn't one to believe in atonement but it to him was no coincidence that this story that had come to an end had left him lying in the sun, bleeding out in what should have been certain death.
"Stop thrashing about you elf!" The voice was burly and not quite descriptive enough to make out, but a smile did form in the response.
Not long after the idle threat passed T'alathian was back on the coast with the warm sun above to accompany him . Overhead the gulls flew on by with their lazy songs and the ocean tides washed on in filling the spaces between his toes with a cool splash of life. There were no battles, there were no screams and there was no blood to be shed. Only the salty air in his lungs and the clouds littered in the sky, blocking some of that bright glare from his eyes.
"T'alathian!" From behind he could hear his voice being called. He turned with his hand above his brow to block the sun and as he began to recognize the face to the voice a frigid splash smacked his face.
"Get up you lazy bum. Today we're going to see what you're worth." A guard snarled as he emptied a full bucket onto the elf.
Deep breaths of the damp cellar air brought him back to reality as he looked around at the barred cell. The stones were unforgiving in their weight and did not allow any of the sunlight to shine on in. A hand was offered to him and as he looked up it was the man with peppered white in his five oclock shadow and hair. A pair of brown eyes that seemed cold and shut but certainly harbored some warmth. He took a hold of the hand and drew up with a hop, trying to find some balance in his asymmetrical form.
"Y'ell dry off before we even get out to the training ring. Let's get ye something to eat." Ajax, as T'alathian preferred to think the man spoke with ease and a smile at nearly all times.
As they marched single file down the corridor the elf could feel the eyes upon his back boreing holes into his form. It wasn't like he was new to negative attention; his companions and he had managed to disrupt the flow of war more than he could count. Whether it was the wealthy aristocratic coup or the relentless landowner, there had only been one case where he betrayed his contract. Only once had he soiled what he'd built. Before he could fall prey to the tides of nostalgia a larger man had carefully stepped right into the left shoulder of T'alathian and easily sent him to the ground. Momentarily the line stopped to get into the dining hall and a guard came to help 'motivate' T'alathian to his feet.
"Get up you elf. Aren't you supposed to be better than the rest of us? Thousands of years and you still can't even walk straight." He bellowed a hoarse laugh with a kick to the ribs before he moved on ahead.
Three rows of heavy oak benches lined the dining hall. At each entrance of said hall armed guards stood on their watch with spears in their hands and shields prepared for any rogue fool daring enough to make his escape. With their trays in hand they proceeded down the row of various interesting choices of what to eat. There was the blue, the orange, the green and the unsure color with chunks which was apparently 'chicken'. None of the options truly appealead to T'alathian so he just went with what Ajax was having, some of the green and some of the 'chicken'. A bowl at the end had white mush and that didn't look so bad so he'd try some of that as well. From the food line they took their seat at the end of the middle row of benches. What caught T'alathian's attention with ease was the way that everyone else in the room managed to avoid them. As they walked, as they sat and even now as they ate in solitude every other living and breathing soul managed to avoid them like the Bubonic Plague.
"You're a real hit around here aren't you?" T'alathian spoke with his more liberal use of sarcasm since quite some time ago.
A man of simple dialogue, Ajax only responded with a hearty laugh at first before helping himself to the gruel before him. That was the only appropriate word for the meal that T'alathian let slip from his wooden spoon with intrigue and disgust. They should design a new word for it, a new form of matter that was neither a solid nor a liquid but something else completely in between.
"I could say the same about you, you know? We don't see many elves around here and we certainly don't find them laying out for dead. They want me dead for reasons completely different than why they want you dead. Honestly? I think I'd sooner be you right about now. They view you as someone they can dispose of with ease." He continued to demolish the pile of mixed matter before him without raising his eyes.
"Oh, I'm very privileged to be thought of as the weaskest link. I assure you I will send them all a wonderful fluffy elven-style gift basket as a sign of gratitude." He smirked and began to try out some of the 'chicken'. His immediate urge was to vomit and cast the tray, with bowl, as far as he could at the kitchen. As he sat though he knew well enough even a young boy could cause him enough issues. Begrudgingly he retired his animosity and pride and began attempting to ingest and digest the food.
"Well they view me as scraps, but what about you Ajax? Why do they hate you?" It had been something he considered since the difference was more than obvious. They would go out of their way to give T'alathian a hard time, not that he cared since he spent every moment concocting different theories on how to end their lives. However not a soul spoke a breath to Ajax or even came within a yard of him. In fact, they all did their best to steer clear the man.
The question left him smiling as he straightened up in his seat and stretched out with his arms overhead. He was a man of average build, a little thick with the arms and neck but by no means a man of gargantuan size. He took a drink and set the cup down before looking at T'alathian and easing his smile into something more casual, less superficial. For the first time it felt like they'd be speaking as completely equals on their deserted island.
"They want to kill me for the same reason I've managed to stay alive and the pricks running this have kept me alive. I've got the power they want but don't have. You felt the rumbling on the day that you arrived right? The imbeciles within our ranks, the slaves since that's what we really are, they've come up with their own ideas and absurdities revolving them. They've dubbed it, 'The Hand of God'. Now, I claim to be in posession of no such thing and I'm not going to sit here and tell you anything different that I have told them. The rumors that I could decimate this structure and city are just crazy talk. I'm no god and I don't have any 'powers' to destroy anything. That is why they are here T'alathian and that is why they will always remain here until they die. All that they can comprehend and conceive is in the form of power- destruction. Tell me about you." He gestured to the now missing limb on the left of T'alathian's body.
"I had to tie up loose ends." Intentionally ambiguous as he shrugged the more direct answer off but paid enough attention to the matter at hand.
"I took a life and paid for it. I've taken many lives before but I was too weak to get away from this one clean. It was the least that I deserved though." He wasn't one to believe in atonement but it to him was no coincidence that this story that had come to an end had left him lying in the sun, bleeding out in what should have been certain death.
Rain fell from the monochrome clouds overhead and turned the dirt beneath their feet into a gelatinous wonderland. It sounded a lot better in the head than it felt. One by one they filtered out into the oblong arena of limestone. Before them was the main venue, an oval that housed multiple devices like posts, ropes, boulders and instruments like wooden swords. A wall surrounded the space of the arena floor that rose roughly fifteen feet high by any man's guess and divided the participants from the general sitting room. Currently the tarps were down and the stands were vacant like a ghost town. The men began to filter to the varied parts of the floor while Ajax and T'alathian found themselves a pair of wooden swords, neither longer than a meter and clearly marred from abuse.
It only took a few rotations of the wrist for T'alathian to get the weight down on the 'weapon'. His discontent was visible with how his face was painted and Ajax couldn't help but laugh as he stood readying himself.
"Jeez you love it that much don't you?" He spun the weapon once or twice within his own grip before swinging out in the rain, getting an accurate read on the water-logged nature.
"Don't tell me they expect us to defend ourselves with just these?" His eyes remained on the rough draft of a child's play thing before raising back up to Ajax who finished settling in his steps and gave the nod for the approach. T'alathian did not need another notice before he stepped into the direction of the man and swung a high strike, colliding with the man's own blade overhead. A second swing was offered to the opposite side of the body around the waist which was easily parried. Disgruntled, T'alathian picked up the pace and spun swinging the wooden soggy tool low, aimed nearer the ankles. With ease Ajax pressed forward and delivered the face of his own wooden blade to the left shoulder of T'alathian sending him over and into the mud with ease.
"Just because you have slowed down does not mean the world will. If you bring that half-assed attitude onto the battlefield you know where you'll end up. Exactly where you are now." He laughed and threw the weapon to his off-hand and taunted freely with his right.
Pain was something he had wore on his shoulders and could push through. The embarassment of what he was now? A new beast entirely. The shame of failure was what he carried with him now and the mud only accented it with pity. He rose clumsily and spun the sword within his hand. Faster now he approached in the same pattern: high, medium, low. Each time he was countered but with the counters he adjusted and watched carefully for the riposte. When it came this time he shifted his weight and sidestepped. Balance was a lot more difficult without his left wing but it was not impossible. The brute force he had commanded to pave his roads was no longer at his disposal.
"Were you there when they found me?" They continued in stride this time now with T'alathian backpeddaling from the agressor Ajax. Each strike left his right arm shaking in the resonating force. It was immense and he was unsure his grip would suffice.
"I was." Briefly spoken between his strikes, Ajax was throwing in different utilities for T'alathian to adjust to. A kick low to the calf, a punch high to the face, each were close to connecting but neither as potent as that first strike had been.
"Was there anyone else present? A woman?" T'alathian found the space between evasions to offer the question while their ballad of two ensued.
At the question Ajax paused and lowered his arm with the weapon gesturing for a brief break. "No, I don't believe there was anyone else around. Just your sorry ass bleeding out like a stuck pig in the forest. A real piece of work you were, laying there like that. Almost put you out of your misery myself, heh." He flicked his nose while signaling the end of their cease-fire.
"Then why didn't you?" His curiosity had admittedly gotten the better of him as he circled with the larger man in their space. Others began to watch from their own positions and had taken the time to catch their breaths while viewing the two.
"I'm an attraction. People come from neighboring cities to watch these games that they put on. To them? I'm the Hand of God. Politicians, businessmen, entrepeneurs, slavers; they all come around to see what the big fuss is about. They get drunk and they gamble and before you know it they're forgetting about their actual problems. Violence is the opium of the people, T'alathian. But you? You're a real sideshow freak. Elves are born noble and high and you know how they die? They die the exact same way. With their noses tipped in the air and their boots clean of our shit. But you? You're just like the rest of us now aren't you? A gimp elf is harder to come by than a thousand unicorns." He laughed out heavily and lowered his arms once the rain stopped. "That's all for today. They only allow us out at night for the games and during the rain. They feel letting us out in the sun will instill some desire to revolt and leave. Hell maybe they're right." He smiled and set the wooden sword down.
T'alathian stared at the wooden hilt in his hand. His red, scabbed hand that had been bleeding from the malnurished weapon. He looked up and dropped the weapon into the mud.
Sideshow freak.
It only took a few rotations of the wrist for T'alathian to get the weight down on the 'weapon'. His discontent was visible with how his face was painted and Ajax couldn't help but laugh as he stood readying himself.
"Jeez you love it that much don't you?" He spun the weapon once or twice within his own grip before swinging out in the rain, getting an accurate read on the water-logged nature.
"Don't tell me they expect us to defend ourselves with just these?" His eyes remained on the rough draft of a child's play thing before raising back up to Ajax who finished settling in his steps and gave the nod for the approach. T'alathian did not need another notice before he stepped into the direction of the man and swung a high strike, colliding with the man's own blade overhead. A second swing was offered to the opposite side of the body around the waist which was easily parried. Disgruntled, T'alathian picked up the pace and spun swinging the wooden soggy tool low, aimed nearer the ankles. With ease Ajax pressed forward and delivered the face of his own wooden blade to the left shoulder of T'alathian sending him over and into the mud with ease.
"Just because you have slowed down does not mean the world will. If you bring that half-assed attitude onto the battlefield you know where you'll end up. Exactly where you are now." He laughed and threw the weapon to his off-hand and taunted freely with his right.
Pain was something he had wore on his shoulders and could push through. The embarassment of what he was now? A new beast entirely. The shame of failure was what he carried with him now and the mud only accented it with pity. He rose clumsily and spun the sword within his hand. Faster now he approached in the same pattern: high, medium, low. Each time he was countered but with the counters he adjusted and watched carefully for the riposte. When it came this time he shifted his weight and sidestepped. Balance was a lot more difficult without his left wing but it was not impossible. The brute force he had commanded to pave his roads was no longer at his disposal.
"Were you there when they found me?" They continued in stride this time now with T'alathian backpeddaling from the agressor Ajax. Each strike left his right arm shaking in the resonating force. It was immense and he was unsure his grip would suffice.
"I was." Briefly spoken between his strikes, Ajax was throwing in different utilities for T'alathian to adjust to. A kick low to the calf, a punch high to the face, each were close to connecting but neither as potent as that first strike had been.
"Was there anyone else present? A woman?" T'alathian found the space between evasions to offer the question while their ballad of two ensued.
At the question Ajax paused and lowered his arm with the weapon gesturing for a brief break. "No, I don't believe there was anyone else around. Just your sorry ass bleeding out like a stuck pig in the forest. A real piece of work you were, laying there like that. Almost put you out of your misery myself, heh." He flicked his nose while signaling the end of their cease-fire.
"Then why didn't you?" His curiosity had admittedly gotten the better of him as he circled with the larger man in their space. Others began to watch from their own positions and had taken the time to catch their breaths while viewing the two.
"I'm an attraction. People come from neighboring cities to watch these games that they put on. To them? I'm the Hand of God. Politicians, businessmen, entrepeneurs, slavers; they all come around to see what the big fuss is about. They get drunk and they gamble and before you know it they're forgetting about their actual problems. Violence is the opium of the people, T'alathian. But you? You're a real sideshow freak. Elves are born noble and high and you know how they die? They die the exact same way. With their noses tipped in the air and their boots clean of our shit. But you? You're just like the rest of us now aren't you? A gimp elf is harder to come by than a thousand unicorns." He laughed out heavily and lowered his arms once the rain stopped. "That's all for today. They only allow us out at night for the games and during the rain. They feel letting us out in the sun will instill some desire to revolt and leave. Hell maybe they're right." He smiled and set the wooden sword down.
T'alathian stared at the wooden hilt in his hand. His red, scabbed hand that had been bleeding from the malnurished weapon. He looked up and dropped the weapon into the mud.
Sideshow freak.
Cheers and chants flooded the arena shaking dust from the feeble wooden planks loosely strung together, T'alathian refused to disgrace the term 'door', that stood between the men and elf from the blood-soaked arena. T'alathian stood with Ajax at the door not out of choice but simply because none of the others stepped within approximately fifteen feet of them. As T'alathian looked over his shoulder he saw a man smaller than he shaking violently with a stream of urine passing down his leg onto the earth beneath him. At such a repugnant sight T'alathian felt a swelling of pity for the man while he wished he had a spare hand from the one gripping the hilt, if not to pinch his nostrils from that foul odor.
"I would like to sleep at night ignorant to how their fear controls their waste." Thrown off-hand to Ajax before turning his attention back to the weakened barrier between that stood barely on its hinges.
"It will probably be his last time so I cannot fault him for the display." Ajax was checking every last article on his being to a t multiple times over in what looked like some pre-battle ritual.
"Well I don't plan on killing anyone if I don't have to", T'alathian took a look over his shoulder once more and could see the fear in the man's eyes before turning back a little less comfortable himself. "And I don't think that guy's aiming to take mine by the looks of it."
"It's not you or me that he's afraid of. I guess now's as good a time as any to fill you in." Ajax's voice was a shade of Baritone but lacked any life, any humor or color to its shade. "It doesn't take much to kill a man. Any coward can kill a man in his sleep, any man with a sword can kill any man without one. What lies between man and beast however is another scenario entirely. Men are predictable, unskilled warriors and cowards even moreso. Tell me T'alathian, one-armed elf, can you predict natural bloodthirst?" He looked over to the elf who was slightly shorter without the slightest flicker in his eyes. "They were men once but...."
Thundering roars came from the crowd which sent ripples through the mud visible under the fragile door frame when it came forth like a grinding saw gutting everyone who had the unfortunate grace to hear it. A ghastly whistle threatened to churn your intestines as you sat and empty your bowels with force from the cold it brought upon your spine. T'alathian could feel his shoulders rise and fall, growing slightly tense at the uncertain air that quickly fell over the stadium, hushed within that grotesque noise.
"What is that?" Spoken briefly and without any hesitation, T'alathian did not avert his eyes from what little shuffling he could see outside the cracks of the boards.
"Berserkers. At some point in time they were men like us: no choice and forced into these forsaken skirmishes. Somewhere along the line the violence and the blood got to them." The wrenching noise grew in volume as more whistles flooded the arena, which remained deathly quiet, as it flooded through the cracks of the board before them. "Animals, T'alathian. They are feral now and they do not speak or hear. They do not know fear and they do not know pain. Occasionally a battle ends with us barricading until the time is up and you can hear those left behind being dragged in the other direction. You can hear them screaming T'alathian. I've seen it with my own eyes. They take you and they bash your teeth in. All of them that obscure your tongue. They always scream when they're being dragged but when we see them next. They just ain't human anymore man. They're something less. You can see it in their eyes man. They've had the man ripped out of 'em and they're just... they're bloodthirsty animals. When that door opens you watch your ass T'alathian. These men want to see us die but not even they're going to take their chances. This is what we've been fighting for. That door opens and you'll see them and you'll know in one look: nothing you've ever fought will have tested you like this. Live T'alathian. Live and meet me after it all. I need to-" Before Ajax could finish his sentence the wooden plank door swung open and...
"I would like to sleep at night ignorant to how their fear controls their waste." Thrown off-hand to Ajax before turning his attention back to the weakened barrier between that stood barely on its hinges.
"It will probably be his last time so I cannot fault him for the display." Ajax was checking every last article on his being to a t multiple times over in what looked like some pre-battle ritual.
"Well I don't plan on killing anyone if I don't have to", T'alathian took a look over his shoulder once more and could see the fear in the man's eyes before turning back a little less comfortable himself. "And I don't think that guy's aiming to take mine by the looks of it."
"It's not you or me that he's afraid of. I guess now's as good a time as any to fill you in." Ajax's voice was a shade of Baritone but lacked any life, any humor or color to its shade. "It doesn't take much to kill a man. Any coward can kill a man in his sleep, any man with a sword can kill any man without one. What lies between man and beast however is another scenario entirely. Men are predictable, unskilled warriors and cowards even moreso. Tell me T'alathian, one-armed elf, can you predict natural bloodthirst?" He looked over to the elf who was slightly shorter without the slightest flicker in his eyes. "They were men once but...."
Thundering roars came from the crowd which sent ripples through the mud visible under the fragile door frame when it came forth like a grinding saw gutting everyone who had the unfortunate grace to hear it. A ghastly whistle threatened to churn your intestines as you sat and empty your bowels with force from the cold it brought upon your spine. T'alathian could feel his shoulders rise and fall, growing slightly tense at the uncertain air that quickly fell over the stadium, hushed within that grotesque noise.
"What is that?" Spoken briefly and without any hesitation, T'alathian did not avert his eyes from what little shuffling he could see outside the cracks of the boards.
"Berserkers. At some point in time they were men like us: no choice and forced into these forsaken skirmishes. Somewhere along the line the violence and the blood got to them." The wrenching noise grew in volume as more whistles flooded the arena, which remained deathly quiet, as it flooded through the cracks of the board before them. "Animals, T'alathian. They are feral now and they do not speak or hear. They do not know fear and they do not know pain. Occasionally a battle ends with us barricading until the time is up and you can hear those left behind being dragged in the other direction. You can hear them screaming T'alathian. I've seen it with my own eyes. They take you and they bash your teeth in. All of them that obscure your tongue. They always scream when they're being dragged but when we see them next. They just ain't human anymore man. They're something less. You can see it in their eyes man. They've had the man ripped out of 'em and they're just... they're bloodthirsty animals. When that door opens you watch your ass T'alathian. These men want to see us die but not even they're going to take their chances. This is what we've been fighting for. That door opens and you'll see them and you'll know in one look: nothing you've ever fought will have tested you like this. Live T'alathian. Live and meet me after it all. I need to-" Before Ajax could finish his sentence the wooden plank door swung open and...
Bedlam broke out in the arena. A tidal force approached with the magnitude of endless tempests. It was not a face T'alathian had ever seen before; furs and bones adorned with grotesque honor flooded through the opposing gate. Monochrome brown and black of aged leathers forged the ghastly appearance of the gelatinous horde; skulls could be seen suspended on the belts and limbs of various men, no doubt trophies of the previous battles fought, some however were smaller indicating children or youth. Overhead rain clouds hovered as the contorted circus's tent as the artists and performers took the stage. Each wore a deformed guise of war paint assorted in black, white and red. Twisted smiles of broken teeth, yellow and rotting to the core matched with wide and empty eyes entranced T'alathian as he stood. There was a noise distinct and clear through the thunderous clash of metal and will.
"T'alathian!" Ajax yelled at the top of his lungs over the noise of the swirling monstrosity.
A sharp whistle flirted with the elf's ears when the blade swung just short of his neck. Dodged well, T'alathian lunged forth with the sword and was able to pierce the shoulder of the unnamed assailant but was faced with the unnerving look in his eyes. Fearless, unabashed by the fact that he had been impaled the man delivered a fierce headbutt to the elf.
He slung the sword once more. T'alathian relied on his lithe form and agility to dodge backwards in a handspring. A second approached from the right and thrusted for the elf's rib cage. Skillfully T'alathian parried the blade and pierced the heart with his own.
Swinging the blade within his right hand he began to circle with the behemoth before him. Within his guess the man was well over six foot with legs and arms the size of T'alathian's torso. Each blow that the man ushered would have been enough to cleave through the elf's neck and chest. The destructive power wielded in each of the swords the man commanded could be felt in the very gust that T'alathian felt as she evaded, carefully and calculated with each step. Surreal must have been the sight of this David and Goliath duo as the raging war spiraled around them. T'alathian bid his time well delivering minor annoyances to the gargantuan limbs as they were presented. All had been going well until a pain shot through the elf in his side.
"Aghh!" T'alathian cried out as the man he had struck before lodged his sword within the right foot of the elf, pinning him in place.
He turned and with one crescent swing of the blade severed the man's head, smiling and laughing with hysterical pleasure from its body. Only a moment of this hell passed like an eternity as the elf turned to the larger man before him who delivered a massive kick to the chest knocking the elf on his back. The sword was dislodged and cast over in the mud far out of reach. His foot felt like it had been set afire and as he let out another raucous scream he looked up to the massive man overhead, casting his shadow over him. A look of feral emptiness was in those eyes, a look T'alathian would not soon forget. Devoid of any reason, any awareness the man salivated as he took a reverse grip on both blades and was prepared to skewer the elf.
A tensing of breaths, a pain in the temples and suddenly here in the eye of the storm T'alathian could see through the man quite clearly. Tunnel vision overcame him and as he squinted he could see a source in the man's chest. It looked like a vortex, pulling T'alathian in. He dared not close his eyes for as he feared that this might have been his last sight, how wrong he was, he had witnessed the act itself.
The man's eyes ruptured within their sockets. A vortex of wind surged from behind T'alathian and gnawed through the skin, muscles and eventually tendons and bones of the man. His face peeled backwards and like a rag doll he was jettisoned from where the elf laid, his many pieces scattered into the mud.
A blank stare was all T'alathian could afford. Adrenaline took place of the pain and heavy breaths were all he could hear. The ringing that rendered him temporarily deaf filled the visible carnage around him as the only soundtrack. His heart collided with his chest in its vigorous beats. That man was no more.
Sharp and quick the blade in his foot was removed. A muffled sound could be heard knocking on the cocoon around him. He looked up and under the dreary sky filled with clouds and lightning he squinted to see the man that scooped him under each arm pit and eased him to his feet.
"You saw it didn't you? I knew you would." Ajax spoke as he turned to face T'alathian and tossed him the blade that he'd dropped.
"You have it in you, you elf bastard. I knew it from the first time I saw you. Everyone in this hell hole wants it except you." He laughed to himself at the irony of the situation. "I call it the Half-Counter. You take someone's attack and you amplify it and send it back." He spoke without any sense of urgency in his voice. Yet it was not hidden, the blotted red that filled his chest and seeped down his body.
"We need to get you help! If we can get out of here my camp's not three days on horse back, hell we could make it in two and--" T'alathian was cut off with the blade drawn to his face, the point just short of scraping his nose right off.
"Come on, you're not an idiot. We both know I wouldn't make it one day from here in my condition." He laughed again spurting some blood over and into the mud. It was the truth and T'alathian knew it.
"You think that injury made you weak. You couldn't have been more wrong elf. Hell for the first time in your life you know what life's like for the rest of us. You're god's chosen people with your long lives, your beauty and your wealth." He shook his head, the nasty cough returning once more.
"I believe everything happens for a reason, T'alathian. You didn't come here to die. I'm going to come at you now and I'm not going to hold back. Think of what drives you, what gives the sun its warmth and your days their worth; then pull that trigger and don't look back." He stood in his stance and in their eye of the storm, T'alathian could see that vortex forming in Ajax. What he felt in his chest was a mixture of pain and knowing that this was what he had to do.
Around them the egregious violence became entropic. Frozen was the world outside their sphere and on the silent count at the stroke of three both men lunged towards one another. A violent ray of white light filled the arena and surged into the sky piercing even the heavens above. T'alathian had done just as Ajax instructed. He saw it before his eyes, he pulled the trigger and he didn't look back.
"T'alathian!" Ajax yelled at the top of his lungs over the noise of the swirling monstrosity.
A sharp whistle flirted with the elf's ears when the blade swung just short of his neck. Dodged well, T'alathian lunged forth with the sword and was able to pierce the shoulder of the unnamed assailant but was faced with the unnerving look in his eyes. Fearless, unabashed by the fact that he had been impaled the man delivered a fierce headbutt to the elf.
He slung the sword once more. T'alathian relied on his lithe form and agility to dodge backwards in a handspring. A second approached from the right and thrusted for the elf's rib cage. Skillfully T'alathian parried the blade and pierced the heart with his own.
Swinging the blade within his right hand he began to circle with the behemoth before him. Within his guess the man was well over six foot with legs and arms the size of T'alathian's torso. Each blow that the man ushered would have been enough to cleave through the elf's neck and chest. The destructive power wielded in each of the swords the man commanded could be felt in the very gust that T'alathian felt as she evaded, carefully and calculated with each step. Surreal must have been the sight of this David and Goliath duo as the raging war spiraled around them. T'alathian bid his time well delivering minor annoyances to the gargantuan limbs as they were presented. All had been going well until a pain shot through the elf in his side.
"Aghh!" T'alathian cried out as the man he had struck before lodged his sword within the right foot of the elf, pinning him in place.
He turned and with one crescent swing of the blade severed the man's head, smiling and laughing with hysterical pleasure from its body. Only a moment of this hell passed like an eternity as the elf turned to the larger man before him who delivered a massive kick to the chest knocking the elf on his back. The sword was dislodged and cast over in the mud far out of reach. His foot felt like it had been set afire and as he let out another raucous scream he looked up to the massive man overhead, casting his shadow over him. A look of feral emptiness was in those eyes, a look T'alathian would not soon forget. Devoid of any reason, any awareness the man salivated as he took a reverse grip on both blades and was prepared to skewer the elf.
A tensing of breaths, a pain in the temples and suddenly here in the eye of the storm T'alathian could see through the man quite clearly. Tunnel vision overcame him and as he squinted he could see a source in the man's chest. It looked like a vortex, pulling T'alathian in. He dared not close his eyes for as he feared that this might have been his last sight, how wrong he was, he had witnessed the act itself.
The man's eyes ruptured within their sockets. A vortex of wind surged from behind T'alathian and gnawed through the skin, muscles and eventually tendons and bones of the man. His face peeled backwards and like a rag doll he was jettisoned from where the elf laid, his many pieces scattered into the mud.
A blank stare was all T'alathian could afford. Adrenaline took place of the pain and heavy breaths were all he could hear. The ringing that rendered him temporarily deaf filled the visible carnage around him as the only soundtrack. His heart collided with his chest in its vigorous beats. That man was no more.
Sharp and quick the blade in his foot was removed. A muffled sound could be heard knocking on the cocoon around him. He looked up and under the dreary sky filled with clouds and lightning he squinted to see the man that scooped him under each arm pit and eased him to his feet.
"You saw it didn't you? I knew you would." Ajax spoke as he turned to face T'alathian and tossed him the blade that he'd dropped.
"You have it in you, you elf bastard. I knew it from the first time I saw you. Everyone in this hell hole wants it except you." He laughed to himself at the irony of the situation. "I call it the Half-Counter. You take someone's attack and you amplify it and send it back." He spoke without any sense of urgency in his voice. Yet it was not hidden, the blotted red that filled his chest and seeped down his body.
"We need to get you help! If we can get out of here my camp's not three days on horse back, hell we could make it in two and--" T'alathian was cut off with the blade drawn to his face, the point just short of scraping his nose right off.
"Come on, you're not an idiot. We both know I wouldn't make it one day from here in my condition." He laughed again spurting some blood over and into the mud. It was the truth and T'alathian knew it.
"You think that injury made you weak. You couldn't have been more wrong elf. Hell for the first time in your life you know what life's like for the rest of us. You're god's chosen people with your long lives, your beauty and your wealth." He shook his head, the nasty cough returning once more.
"I believe everything happens for a reason, T'alathian. You didn't come here to die. I'm going to come at you now and I'm not going to hold back. Think of what drives you, what gives the sun its warmth and your days their worth; then pull that trigger and don't look back." He stood in his stance and in their eye of the storm, T'alathian could see that vortex forming in Ajax. What he felt in his chest was a mixture of pain and knowing that this was what he had to do.
Around them the egregious violence became entropic. Frozen was the world outside their sphere and on the silent count at the stroke of three both men lunged towards one another. A violent ray of white light filled the arena and surged into the sky piercing even the heavens above. T'alathian had done just as Ajax instructed. He saw it before his eyes, he pulled the trigger and he didn't look back.
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