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Lexion
03-23-2008, 01:12 AM
The arena is big.

The Wastelands are bigger.

My opponent is big.

I'm not....

At 40 summers, I'm a bit old
for this, but I was captured
during a siege. Guess I'm
lucky to still breathe.

Leather harness and gaiter.
I discard the shield. The short
sword will do.

He has a tri-fork and net. Nice.

The cloth is dropped, the crowd
screams for blood.

Not mine. Not today.

He charges, as I plant my feet.
He's too eager. Too young.

Shame.

Feint with the fork, as he flings
the net.

I shy to the left. The net lands
behind me. I reverse my grip on
the sword, as he follows in with
the fork.

I stop the tines, inches from my
loins. He grins the grimace of the
defeated.

I up-swing my sword, throwing
his fork up and away. The tip of
it slices a thin line up his throat.

He screams. Or, tries to. His mouth
forms it, but his wind-pipe gurgles
air and blood.

He comes at me, fork swinging down.
I shy right.

The fork pierces the dirt, seconds
before his body hits it.

I look down at his twitching, young
body. Such a waste.

Once again, I'm free.

Free.


Regards,
Lex

Firestar
03-23-2008, 08:44 AM
You are getting more descriptive. I like it.
Must be the gaming influence. :wink: