Revolt : DEMO

“Only one of us is leaving.”

The heavy step of a leather clad boot thumped against the dusty ground, the blood soaked walls among them standing high, the red soaked soil below them flooring the dueling ground as a sword trailed along behind them. The figure swung the double edged sword up, the flat side landing on their thick leather shoulder pad. They were dressed as casual as one could be for the occasion, a tattered shirt soaked in sweat sticking to their rather large build. A man forged by his weapon, he was built to swing it. Dressed for it too, their right side much more heavily adorned with leather and metal, with the other side barely covered by cloth, many straps crossing their torso to hang onto the shoulder pad, the leather sleeve, the half a metal tunic strapped to their side, and the plating over their right leg.

“And it’s not you.”

They took one last step, now facing directly off from their opponent, mere strides away.

The woman watching him was small in comparison, one might even liken her to a child standing before a titan. This one was dressed both heavier and lighter, body concealed under a flowing but light, solid black robe that left their entire figure to the imagination, though underneath they were dressed in leather and cloth painted and dyed black, covered in straps to secure the light armoring to her without requiring the restriction of her joints.

A pair of knives, reminiscent of moonlight stolen from the sky, rested in her hands, each dripping blood idly as they rested in her gloved hands. The cowl shaded her face, hiding the full face venetian flower masquerade mask from view as she simply stood in waiting. The previous challenger, they lay among the pile of bodies.

“Interesting proposition, let us see it to fruition, eh?” She responded, considering his threats empty. A man leaned over the slight wall to shout down into the arena.

“May the duel commence!”

The woman curtseyed, the robe she wore swallowing the ground around her in midnight for a short moment before she stood straight once more, revealing a pair of worn black boots that hugged her feet. She then lowered her stance, crouched slightly as she brought the knives up, holding them blade down as she watched her opponent who reached up with the other hand to grip the handle of his sword with such strength that the leather cried out with the friction.

With a shout, he charged, sword still resting on his shoulder.

One long step.

Another,

And the final one, bringing him close enough that with his superior range he should be able to catch her. He planted his left foot, slowing heavily before his final step with the armored right, swinging the sword off his shoulder and into a sweeping right to left slash. The woman had watched, before rather quickly hopping back, before catching herself with one foot, the other leg shooting out behind her to reverse her movement as the sword passed by.

She could still smell the iron as she passed into his personal space, not touching him with her body, only slipping by as she buried one of the daggers into the chink where his torso piece split and transferred to his shoulder’s sheath. It sunk in as he gritted his teeth, sword slowing as it came back up to rest in his hands, pointed towards the sky as he held the handle close to his body. He didn’t bother removing the knife, the base of the blade barely visible as fresh dark blood poured along it, dripping from the hilt to hit the sand below. Every drop was drunk thirstily by the dirt, leaving a slight stain as the sun stole away any that remained.

The woman whipped around, now standing approximately as far from him as she had been before, now on the other side. He stood, awaiting her approach. Attacking hadn’t worked, she was much too fast to really do any damage with such a weapon, he’d have to rely on the light, being able to see her approach would help. There was no way she could close in fast enough to beat his reflexes.

She appeared to think differently, a foot twisting in the dirt to catch as much of it as possible as she pushed in his direction, running toward him bent at the waist as he readied himself, sword pulling back and coming around. It should’ve taken her head, but she was suddenly gone.

She let gravity take her, momentum sliding her along right under the sword. She watched it pass over her, marvelling just a moment at the waste of metal before she brought an arm up, slamming the blade into his thigh. It yanked, but stayed as she came to a stop, spinning over to bury the toe of her boot into the dirt pulling herself up to stand near sideways behind him as she jumped, legs entrapping his waist as she grabbed hold of the knife still buried in the tender meat near the armpit, wrenching it from its place as he attempted to shake her off. He was moderately successful, throwing her to the dirt as he swung around, sword coming up and back down, mostly driven by his left which skewed his aim as she rolled. He only caught her robe, tearing lightly into the fabric which pulled away easily, now marred with yet another cut through the ragged cloth. She stood, rather nimbly dodging past another swing as she lunged at him. The sword was still across his body, and there was not enough time to beat her speed.

She pulled the knife back, holding it blade down as her other palm rested on the butt of the hilt. With her height, her speed, and the addition of her back having bowed and now releasing it’s tension like a rubber band, she drove the knife right between his collarbones as she came down. He had enough time to catch her rib below the arm with an elbow, throwing her aside, but the deed had been done. She hit the ground, bounced once and rolled to a stop among the cloud of dust as he dropped his sword, collapsing to his knees as he clutched at the hilt, the whole blade buried past his thick, callused skin, split by the shard of moonlight.

He couldn’t speak, his esophagus had been pierced. He simply fought and squirmed and clutched for his last breath, before slumping over to the side with a heavy pound. The woman, on the other hand, roused herself, standing with slight difficulty as she rolled her shoulder, walking over to kick him onto his back, planting a foot on his chest as she reached down, wrapping her fingers around the hilt. She then tore it from him, blood spraying with it as though trying to follow the knife. It splattered her robe, but the blood didn’t show against the black.

A cheer rang through the arena, based largely among the crowd. She smiled slightly,

“Guess it’s me after all.”