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I've tried to clear up the battle a bit and added another person who appears for a little at the end, infact it ends before anything happens with him, but I've given the scene another go.
The village fell silent. It wasnt every day you saw a friend or colleague of yours cut down within a blink of an eye. But, when you did see it, you developed two things; anger and fear. The only thing that held back your anger was the fear that built up over it. Fear of death, fear of ending up like old Andy Hobbs whod sold you that piece of meat just the other day. Thats what the village did. Quelled their angry underneath a veil of utter fear. Itd taken three men to suppress a whole village, just three. Two clad in heavy armour and wielding thick swords and shields. The soldier type, bearing the mark of the Narullian Empire, a silver dragonhead on a spike It really did inspire some fear, especially the rumours circulating about the Empire. Of course, rumours on top of these rumoured that the Narullian Empire spread the rumours that they were so terrible in order to cause fear. This confused villagers, so they didnt think about the rumours of rumours, they just though about the rumours of torture and cold hearted massacre. The third man, silver haired and pale, stood forward from the soldiers. His brown cloak slid effortless along the ground. His cheeks ran silver to the vein and eyes; silver to the iris. Shaking his hand, in order to get the oversized cloak off it, he pushed it out along with a small scrolled up piece of parchment. His fingers were noticeably capped by a silver object, which carried a wire under his fingers and to a round object in his palm. This object then ran a cable into his cloak. He stepped forward and unravelled the parchment. Clearing his throat, the man spoke, loud and clear. Citizens of Abaknor, I am Largo Halz. Largo began, staring over the crowd with cold eyes. I am here, along with my cohorts, Hardy, Largo indicated the one to the left of him, and Wilkins, Largo indicated the other, to the right of him, are here to take your village, however quaint you try to tell us it is, for the Empire. These two are here to math your women and pillage your houses, to tell the truth. Id have easily taken the village alone. Largo grinned and turned around and was unexpectedly hit by a low flying apple in the back of the head. He reeled slightly; it was a rather strange sensation to be hit in the back of the head with an apple. Especially this one, because it was rotten, it hit and splurged its juices on the back of his head. Largo ran a finger over the juice, damping down his straight, short hair and turning around. Who threw that? I demand to know who did it; so I can slice their throat from ear to ear. The crowd was silent, shuffling feet on the ground and a few shy looks at the feet indicated no one. Largo narrowed his eyes, The one who tells me, will not have their family touched nor their money taken. Largo stated boldly, the crowd suddenly flared up. They began to move out the way and one man jumped to his knees in front of the three. It was he, milord! He did it! Spare my wife and kids, please, milord! begged the man, staring at Largo with watery eyes. The crowd had begun to chant boo together, they disliked people who sneaked. Sneaked was their definition of it, they hated it. They also disliked people who really sneaked around, like assassins and thieves. The people of Abaknor really liked to see where people were and what they were doing, instead of being in the shadows to knife someone. Then again, the people of Abaknor werent too bright.
Your loyalty shows, dear fellow, Largo began, I shall not touch your wife, nor your children. Placing his hand on the mans shoulder and sliding it up to the joint between the neck and the shoulder, Largo patted. His cheeks flashed purple for a mere tenth of a second, but it was noticeable. A pztch sound came from the palm-circle on Largos hand and the man fell down, blood dripping from his mouth. An audible gasp, a few screams and mutters of rebellion began and then died down as Largo moved towards the indicated man. The soldiers were not too far behind, as they walked either side of Largo, a step behind him. Make sure you both pillage his house, and have your way with his wife and daughters. I dont want them to forget this. Oh, and kill the wife and any sons. Show dishonour will not be tolerated. Largo creaked a grin and stopped.
The offending fruit-thrower was sitting down, a sword diagonally across his back and rebellious black hair sticking everywhere. He took a bite out of a fresh apple and stared at Largo. Stare wasnt actually what he did; he more like glanced for a prolonged amount of time. Hello. The fruit-flinger flowed his voice like it just didnt care. There was no fear behind this voice; there was neither smugness nor hatred. The voice had its own way of saying I dont give a darn, even though the words were something else. It didnt scream at Largo, that wouldve gone against the voice; it politely said it to Largo. Apple?
How dare you offer an apple to our gre- Wilkins begun, his deep voice made him sound astutely stupid, which he was. Largo had raised his hand over Wilkinss mouth in order for him to be quiet. Largo started, Who are you and where do you think your bravado will get you?
The fruit-flinger stood, he stood just a few inches below Largos height, but taller than Wilkins, Hardy was taller than all of them and stupider looking than all of them. I the fruit-flinger started as he swaggered a little, trying to get his bearings. The voice was the same, just more Im on drugs-like. Am Alan Seras, oh-great Largo Halz and my bravado will get me here. Alan blinked one eye and then the next, each one delayed. Dark green irises behind each eyelid as Alan chuckles to himself, calmly.
And where is here? In the face of Death? Largo enquired with a certain gratifying, yet disgusted look on his face that only hed been able to master, which perplexed others on how he did it.
N-n-n-no! Alan stammered eagerly, his voice still smooth and calm though. Where I ask you to leave.
Largo chuckled. Wilkins chuckled. Hardy stood there and cracked his knuckles.
Five seconds later, Wilkins was on the floor clutching his groin, Hardy had run through a wall and Largo was sliding across the floor, clutching his stomach. Alan, however, was politely drawing his sword from its scabbard. The blade gleamed 4 feet long, polished steel with small red stains. The hilt held a dragons head with a gaping maw as the top, the blade extending from the sharp-toothed mouth. Two balancers shaped like dragon wings and a red ruby where the Dragon heart would be. The sunlight reflected off the blade and into Hardys eyes, which caused him to cover his eyes and run into the wooden post of the same wall. Alan swung his arm to the left, with a diagonal curve in order to effortlessly decapitate Wilkins.
Largo had gotten up and removed his heavy cloak. A lithe body covered in well-kept silver clothing, though just trousers and shirt. Across his hip, a leather-belt with a silver buckle and a sheathe attached to it, on the left side. Largo withdrew the ordinary looking sword and waggled it in front of himself; the only thing striking about the sword was the glass-tube that was in-built into the blade. The only thing striking about Largo was that the circle in his palm actually went under his skin and into the veins, then all the way to a extruding spinal column made of metal, which separated off into cables that inserted through the shirt and into Largos body. Sir Seras, I take it? Largo raised a bow and enquired with pleasantries.
A keen knowledge, Mr. Halz of Necros. Alan bows. Meanwhile, Hardy had found himself being mobbed by a few of his would-be math-victims.
Largo bows. Alan bows. The village on-look as each one moves into position. Alan adopts a stance that allowed him to move, his left foot, covered by a steel-tipped boot, forward, knee bent into position. His sword held at a horizontal angle in his right hand, just above the eye-line, while his other hand held the ring finger and the middle finger close together. Largo adopted a more defensive stance, sword vertically downwards in front of him, free hand behind the sword and feet shoulder-width. Alan was the first to assault, he scuffled forwards over the dust-ridden ground, his right-foot leading the assault as he stepped quickly forward, doing so twice and then jabbing downward towards Largos feet. A quick parry and Largo swiped at Alans belly. The sword edge just touched the baggy-like shirt of Alan as he tucked his body backwards, but none-the-less Alan prevailed, slicing fully at Largos chest, which took quick action of Largo to dodge. Left on one foot, Largo rolled around in order to keep balance, which was also necessary to swiftly avoid a jab from Alan. Spinning elegantly, Largo locked his sword to Alans with a clang and a few sparks, Largo kicked towards Alans shin. A strong push and a dusty-yet-slide-like floor were enough for Alan to avoid a shinning. The swords clashed again, sending each one spinning around to clash their swords again. Largo stabbed up and Alan kicked down, narrowly missing the blade above his head as he knocked Largos balance away and quickly missed the edge of the blade again. Alan stood on Largos sword arm with the full force of his body till the sword was released. Teasing the blade with his own, Alan knocked it away and the warriors had come to a stop. The sharpened tip dangled just over Largos throat, as the battle had ended, Not much of an epic, to be sure. Alan grinned, though he was not proud of winning, he was proud of his lack-of-humour. But, a worthwhile assault.
Largo closed his eyes, he cursed himself internally and then reopened his eyes. The tip of the blade hovered, No battle is won through strength of arms. Battles are won through courage.
Alan wasnt expecting to be hit on the side of the head by a pair of size 11s. Its not something one normally expects. Especially from an opponent who was supposed to be down and out, but none-the-less, Largo had mustered skill and strength to kick Alan in the side of the head. Alan reeled as he rolled to a stance. He shook his head and grinned, this was something good he could tell. He bought his sword to a diagonal point in front of his torso and nodded. If neither wins, then it is left to skill to decide. Alan nods the lesson and Largo drags up his sword with ease.
So be it. Largo growls, stepping in speed and jumping, thrusting his sword at Alan with a single battle cry and a flash of a purple cheek.
The ground crackled with an after-pulse of the purple electric-like emissions of Largos sword, which stuck effortlessly from the ground, in the hands of its owner. Alan had moved with enough grace to upstage a cat. His feet had moved with great speed and his body as though a feather, in order to diagonal step the actual strike and back-flip the oncoming spell. Alan held his sword diagonal to the ground; tip almost touching as it whispered on the air. Fascinating. A mage hunter with a versatile knowledge of astral spells, which I must say are overlooked by many. Grinned Alan with glee as he stepped forward, bought his sword arm back lightly and prepared for another assault.
I always find it best to study a range of arts. Largo muttered, then took to action. Liberating his sword from the imprisoning dust, he swung it at his opponent, who bravely parried with one-handed expertise. The next stab was pushed away, as was the cleaving strike. Eithers feet were moving all the time, shuffling to each others rhythm, keeping a keen distance. Alan started an assault; a stab to the left, then to the right and with an astute kick towards the stomach was all avoided with perfect grace from the defendant. The two swords clashed once again as each had tried the same attack at the same time, yet Alan took it further and kicked at Largos left arm. The foot was promptly caught and Alan twisted from standing to a crawling position. His feet sprang out again and caught Largo in the stomach; cramping the mans rather lean posture. Alan sprang his feet over his body and stood up with a quick manoeuvre of his hips. Slicing his sword through the air to block Largos attack, Alan dragged the blade along its offender and stabbed at Largos exposed ribs. Largo slipped backwards, the move was sudden and skilfully pulled off as it grazed along the soft skin of the belly. Largo rolled away and stood prone. By Lucifer! Largo growled as he ran a finger along the area. Will this just be to the end? There is a balanced footing I se- Largo was cut short by a very large metallic flat surface hitting him over the head with a clang. A very large man had taken it into his own hands to shut Largo up, which was greeted with a round of applause from the crowd. Largo, however, did not share their triumphant admiration. He growled and stood up with his sword, turning to this man and opened his mouth Bloody hell, youre huge.
Horan Sylia was huge. In fact, he was 2 feet over huge. Huge to most people was 8 feet tall with muscles. Horan stood 10 feet tall with large muscles and a sword that increased his reach to 11 feet. His hand grabbed Largos shirt. The hand was, actually, about as big as Largos head. Wow, you need a wash. Largo coughs as Horan held him 4 feet off the ground. Face to face; Horan growled. He was particularly good at growling. He had the right teeth for it, his two canine teeth were slightly pointer than normal. Black eyes glared at Largo, black hair waved in the still air and Horan spoke. Chaos demands you two dead. The beast of, possibly, a man bellowed. He didnt mean to, but Horans lungs were pretty big and his voice was so deep that it made it seem like he was always bellowing.
Alan had done the intelligent thing, hed hidden on top of a roof, petting his sword.
I only value the opinions of people who can type correctly.
Boy let me tell you what:
I bet you didn't know it, but I'm a fiddle player too.
And if you'd care to take a dare, I'll make a bet with you.
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Thats actually quite good
Presenting the Prinny dance.
Take this dood! Huh doood!!! HUH DOOOOD!?!? DOOD HUH!!!!!! DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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its to long i couldn't be botherd reading it
People don't notice whether it's winter or summer when they're happy.
~ Anton Chekhov
Cheer up, emo kid.
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It's only like.... 3 A4 pages long or something.
Boy let me tell you what:
I bet you didn't know it, but I'm a fiddle player too.
And if you'd care to take a dare, I'll make a bet with you.
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see what i mean
People don't notice whether it's winter or summer when they're happy.
~ Anton Chekhov
Cheer up, emo kid.
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As in both sides of the paper?
Presenting the Prinny dance.
Take this dood! Huh doood!!! HUH DOOOOD!?!? DOOD HUH!!!!!! DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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No, only one side.
Boy let me tell you what:
I bet you didn't know it, but I'm a fiddle player too.
And if you'd care to take a dare, I'll make a bet with you.
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Thank god.If that filled 6 a4 sides I would die of boredom.I have a very short attention span.
Presenting the Prinny dance.
Take this dood! Huh doood!!! HUH DOOOOD!?!? DOOD HUH!!!!!! DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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i have a extereamly short attention span thats why i didn't bother reading it
People don't notice whether it's winter or summer when they're happy.
~ Anton Chekhov
Cheer up, emo kid.
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Ha. I am no Stephen King. I can't write 6 A4 pages just about that.
Well, I probably could, but I'd be boring myself.
Boy let me tell you what:
I bet you didn't know it, but I'm a fiddle player too.
And if you'd care to take a dare, I'll make a bet with you.
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Thats what I thought...
Presenting the Prinny dance.
Take this dood! Huh doood!!! HUH DOOOOD!?!? DOOD HUH!!!!!! DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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yes very boring like the writing.
i saw how long it was and fainted.
like this!
Chaos is found in greatest abundance wherever order is being saught. It always defeats order, because it is better organized.
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