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Literature Text
Snowfall
She swung hard, her armoured right fist colliding with her opponent's chest, crushing the breastplate protecting it. He grunted in pain and attempted to ram his gladius into her neck through the gap in her armour, but she shoved him away. She took a long, slow breath and exhaled, her breath fogging. The condensation manifested into a large, rhombus shaped wall before solidifying into her heavy dual blade.
Her hands locked shut around two of the four grips and she hoisted it into the air, spinning it quickly in her hands as though it weighed nothing. His eyes went wide as he watched her display of skill, his grip on the small buckler in his left hand turned white-knuckled and he brought his sword up into a defensive stance just before she charged. He watched her approach, the blue and white-clad warrior who had defeated all her opponents without breaking a sweat; just who was she? What was she?
His train of thought was brought to an abrupt stop when, instead of the heavy weapon in the girl's hands, her heels collided with his chest, further crushing his armour before she brought the dual blade down, driving its pointed end into the middle of his faceplate, splitting his skull in two, killing him. All motion seemed to cease as she stood over him, sweat dripping from her toned muscular body.
"Winner, Icicle!" the announcer declared, drawing a deafening roar from the crowd. She exhaled again, a light fog forming front of her lips before abandoning her large dual blade. The weapon glimmered in the afternoon sun of the coliseum, reflecting light as it began to melt, dripping onto the dead man's corpse. She stalked away, heading back to the locker room to relax after her battle.
The guards pulled the doors open, holding them while she passed through. She swatted one away when he attempted to grab her arms to cuff her hands. "Don't touch me, human," she growled, continuing down the hall peacefully. Her armoured gladiatorial outfit soon phased into the ceremonial cloth outfit she often wore. She passed more guards on her way into the locker room, upon looking at the motley assortment of gladiators in the locker room; she understood why the guards were there.
They were all weaklings compared to her though, to Icicle, the demon girl that had been thrust into being a gladiator from the day she was born. She had learned to fight from the day she was born, learning the most effective way to crush her opponents. These people weren't her enemies; they were simply people she was supposed to fight. They would die at her hands eventually if they dared to fight her more than a showy battle for the crowd, which was why Barak had died. He'd tried to best her in battle, tried to kill her.
Her icy blue eyes narrowed, focusing on the only other young woman amongst the muscle-bound gladiators. She was a succubus, another demon. Part of her wondered what a demon like that was doing being a gladiator, but she didn't bother questioning it, there were already too many weird things in the coliseum to begin with.
Many of the other gladiators were demons, creatures from the hells, the void, and prisoners from all over Illinara who were fighting for their freedom. She'd never lost to anyone and rarely took lives, unless someone dared to challenge her prowess. She was growing bored with being a gladiator; she was strong, invincible even, and that made combat boring. She tried to handicap herself each time, but it was still too easy.
-----
Things had grown quiet that night in the barracks, she picked that time to escape, the opening of winter in northern Illinara. Luck had it that snow began to fall late in the afternoon, amplifying her magic in the cold environment. Her cell in the barracks was lightly guarded, the door was wooden and there was only one guard outside it at any given time.
Icicle rose from her bed and launched herself at the door, slamming into it with enough force to knock it off its hinges, throwing it out into the hallway. Her strong hands locked shut around the guard's neck, her contact freezing spell paralyzing the muscles in his neck, making him cough. He tried to cry out, his hands rising up to his head when ice-cold blood flooded everything above his neck before he died.
Discarding the dead guard, she continued her escape, leaving the barracks via the main door, which had been left unguarded. It's a trap… she thought, pausing and exhaling. Her dual blade formed and she gripped it, carrying it with her left hand, walking toward the gate. It was closed and made of wood with steel reinforcing. She could feel the cold air around her, amplifying her magic.
Drawing back, she swung, the heavy, diamond-hard dual blade ripping through the gate, forcing it from her path. On the other side was a large group of guards and the head of the arena, Alucard. He was a man in his early 60's, a former gladiator and an impressive arena record. He'd trained Icicle, however, she had surpassed him, able to force more power into her attacks than he could have ever summoned.
"Icicle, are you really unhappy enough that you want to die?" the arena head asked.
"You can't kill me, Alucard," she responded, walking toward him.
"Icicle, stop!" he ordered, but she ignored him, walking past. He yanked out his longsword, the blade ringing against its scabbard, swinging it hard at the back of her neck. She whirled around in a flash of blue and white fabric, deflecting the attack with her dual blade, shattering Alucard's sword.
"Try that again and I won't be merciful!" she hissed, dusting metal fragments from her hair, several pieces falling to the ground. "I'm through being a puppet; get out of my way," Icicle added, watching the guards part like the sea. They stood no chance against her, she knew it, Alucard knew it, and they knew it.
Continuing out into Union, she disappeared, making herself scarce in the network of buildings, warehouses, and streets. She was free now, free to work as a mercenary, even free to be a filthy sell-sword if she wished. The road ahead of her was clear, simply a path for her follow.
She swung hard, her armoured right fist colliding with her opponent's chest, crushing the breastplate protecting it. He grunted in pain and attempted to ram his gladius into her neck through the gap in her armour, but she shoved him away. She took a long, slow breath and exhaled, her breath fogging. The condensation manifested into a large, rhombus shaped wall before solidifying into her heavy dual blade.
Her hands locked shut around two of the four grips and she hoisted it into the air, spinning it quickly in her hands as though it weighed nothing. His eyes went wide as he watched her display of skill, his grip on the small buckler in his left hand turned white-knuckled and he brought his sword up into a defensive stance just before she charged. He watched her approach, the blue and white-clad warrior who had defeated all her opponents without breaking a sweat; just who was she? What was she?
His train of thought was brought to an abrupt stop when, instead of the heavy weapon in the girl's hands, her heels collided with his chest, further crushing his armour before she brought the dual blade down, driving its pointed end into the middle of his faceplate, splitting his skull in two, killing him. All motion seemed to cease as she stood over him, sweat dripping from her toned muscular body.
"Winner, Icicle!" the announcer declared, drawing a deafening roar from the crowd. She exhaled again, a light fog forming front of her lips before abandoning her large dual blade. The weapon glimmered in the afternoon sun of the coliseum, reflecting light as it began to melt, dripping onto the dead man's corpse. She stalked away, heading back to the locker room to relax after her battle.
The guards pulled the doors open, holding them while she passed through. She swatted one away when he attempted to grab her arms to cuff her hands. "Don't touch me, human," she growled, continuing down the hall peacefully. Her armoured gladiatorial outfit soon phased into the ceremonial cloth outfit she often wore. She passed more guards on her way into the locker room, upon looking at the motley assortment of gladiators in the locker room; she understood why the guards were there.
They were all weaklings compared to her though, to Icicle, the demon girl that had been thrust into being a gladiator from the day she was born. She had learned to fight from the day she was born, learning the most effective way to crush her opponents. These people weren't her enemies; they were simply people she was supposed to fight. They would die at her hands eventually if they dared to fight her more than a showy battle for the crowd, which was why Barak had died. He'd tried to best her in battle, tried to kill her.
Her icy blue eyes narrowed, focusing on the only other young woman amongst the muscle-bound gladiators. She was a succubus, another demon. Part of her wondered what a demon like that was doing being a gladiator, but she didn't bother questioning it, there were already too many weird things in the coliseum to begin with.
Many of the other gladiators were demons, creatures from the hells, the void, and prisoners from all over Illinara who were fighting for their freedom. She'd never lost to anyone and rarely took lives, unless someone dared to challenge her prowess. She was growing bored with being a gladiator; she was strong, invincible even, and that made combat boring. She tried to handicap herself each time, but it was still too easy.
-----
Things had grown quiet that night in the barracks, she picked that time to escape, the opening of winter in northern Illinara. Luck had it that snow began to fall late in the afternoon, amplifying her magic in the cold environment. Her cell in the barracks was lightly guarded, the door was wooden and there was only one guard outside it at any given time.
Icicle rose from her bed and launched herself at the door, slamming into it with enough force to knock it off its hinges, throwing it out into the hallway. Her strong hands locked shut around the guard's neck, her contact freezing spell paralyzing the muscles in his neck, making him cough. He tried to cry out, his hands rising up to his head when ice-cold blood flooded everything above his neck before he died.
Discarding the dead guard, she continued her escape, leaving the barracks via the main door, which had been left unguarded. It's a trap… she thought, pausing and exhaling. Her dual blade formed and she gripped it, carrying it with her left hand, walking toward the gate. It was closed and made of wood with steel reinforcing. She could feel the cold air around her, amplifying her magic.
Drawing back, she swung, the heavy, diamond-hard dual blade ripping through the gate, forcing it from her path. On the other side was a large group of guards and the head of the arena, Alucard. He was a man in his early 60's, a former gladiator and an impressive arena record. He'd trained Icicle, however, she had surpassed him, able to force more power into her attacks than he could have ever summoned.
"Icicle, are you really unhappy enough that you want to die?" the arena head asked.
"You can't kill me, Alucard," she responded, walking toward him.
"Icicle, stop!" he ordered, but she ignored him, walking past. He yanked out his longsword, the blade ringing against its scabbard, swinging it hard at the back of her neck. She whirled around in a flash of blue and white fabric, deflecting the attack with her dual blade, shattering Alucard's sword.
"Try that again and I won't be merciful!" she hissed, dusting metal fragments from her hair, several pieces falling to the ground. "I'm through being a puppet; get out of my way," Icicle added, watching the guards part like the sea. They stood no chance against her, she knew it, Alucard knew it, and they knew it.
Continuing out into Union, she disappeared, making herself scarce in the network of buildings, warehouses, and streets. She was free now, free to work as a mercenary, even free to be a filthy sell-sword if she wished. The road ahead of her was clear, simply a path for her follow.
Literature
WINTER OF DISCONTENT
WINTER OF DISCONTENT
In this dark season of winter,
life had completely lost reason for me,
For which or against to decide.do I live
or do I die
I am lost in a savage and endless,
rolling bleak tide
In my sadness and within my kindness
my light was switched off and in darkness.
I was left to mourn, with no thought of hope
In a winding hurricane, I was left with lies
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There was a pain in my heart, and an endless,
and colossal spear,
Piercing, slashing through my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
were the feelings pouring from me
In m
Literature
Snow
I remember that moment. Silent but for the glittered static of falling snow.
There was something strong in those seconds. Like we belong there, together.
You were angry and sick of the world.
I was lonely and scared of my mind.
We were broken and the snow filled the cracks in our porcelain skin.
Literature
The Movement
We are the stardust
Of the broken
And the damned
We are the followers
Of angels
And of sinners
We walk alone
In fields of gold
And fields of green
We are the dreams
Of all the dreamless children
But, they say
I am different
And they say
We are not the same
Look up
Watch the sky
And listen
To all the cries
Of the alone
Who shriek in vain
We are part
Of a movement
Changing the world
In a matter of words
We walk alone
In step with others
Our brothers and sisters
Though we do not know
Today
We link arms
Away, away, away
We go
Illuminating the night
With the daylight
In our souls
Today
We form reality
Today
We form the world
In a matte
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Just a short thing on my character, Icicle. She grew up as a gladiator, not as a bounty hunter as chronicled in previous stories (that I'm probably going to take down. Someone leave a comment on this topic.)
All characters (C) me
Illinara (C) me
MS Word 2007: 1068 words
All characters (C) me
Illinara (C) me
MS Word 2007: 1068 words
© 2011 - 2024 chaosshade
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