05-06-2008, 11:49 AM
The following is a fight scene between two friends. The protagonist (Klik) has defected sides in the civil war plaguing their country, while his best friend (Goil) has remained loyal.
There's no real reason I'm writing this, I just have an urge to write and I decided to just let it all spill out. I'm basically making this up as I go along.
============
"So this is what's is come down, huh?" The spikey-haired rebel asked as he trodded into the cathedral, the blood on his left blade still fresh from his scuffle getting in. The battle outside was still raging loudly, bringing the sounds of metal clashing and painful shrieks carrying inside. "I guess you're not just gonna let me get past you, huh?"
The main that Klik was speaking to stood atop the altar's podium, his revolver in one hand and his longsword in the other, both pointed diagonally down. His long hair had grown since the last time Klik had seen him, now down past his shoulders. He gave no response to the man who was once considered his brother.
This was the final stand-off in what would go down in history as the Battle of Astaroth. The rebels had won back their city from the loyalists of the corrupted King, but the main base of operations for the loyalists was still standing: the church. "I don't want to go through you, Goil," Klik warned. "Please...don't make me."
"That was always your problem," Goil said, finally speaking out loud. "You could never be a real solder of the King...you don't have the loyalty to put your friendships, feelings, and petty rivalries aside. That's why you defected. That's where you turned traitor."
Klik stepped forward, both of his swords now pointed downwards, his spikey blonde hair curling in his movement. "I defected because I saw the real side of your King, the side that abuses his subjects and takes advantage of loyal people like us! He knows that no matter how much you disagree with his methods, you'll never betray him, and that's why he's still the King and you're still his puppet!"
The Battle of Asteroth was always destined to end this way. With the two best friends turned bitter rivals leading both troops on the battlefield, everyone involved spoke of the clash for days prior to the combat. Now, here they were, in the church they had grown up in, ready to end everything they had built.
"You've already lost," Klik said, "I'm asking you, as a friend, not as your enemy...put your weapons down. We've won this city."
"I will never," Goil lept down from the podium, off of the railing and down onto the ground level of the church, "EVER, surrender to a traitor!"
Klik didn't have any choice but to put up one of his duel swords as Goil's pistol raised up. The long-haired loyalist was running forward at full speed, aiming his pistol with amazing precision. Despite his accuracy, the three bullets deflected off of the red blade, ricocheting off to the side. By the way the third shot had fired, he was in range for close combat.
Thanks to the fact that Klik had mastered using two swords, he had the perfect defense against Goil's single blade, which came down from above his head and was halted by a blue streak of metal, clanging above the two. However, with both of his hands occupied, he couldn't use his pistol, something Goil took advantage of by firing off a shot, missing Klik by a centimeter thanks to a well-timed backflip.
Klik deflected a slash from his former friend and lept to the side, jumping up onto a pew's top and running along the upper rims towards the center of the church. Goil emptied the last two bullets of his pistol, shattering the pots behind Klik as he missed the moving target. With a grunt, he pocketed the pistol and gave chase, sword drawn.
By the time he reached him, Klik had jumped expertly from the pews up to the balcony where the podium lay. He used his red blade to block another slash, this time going offensive and jabbing the blue sword forward, missing his friend by an inch and then taking a headbutt, causing him to roll backwards. Thinking quick, Klik stabbed both swords in the ground and stood up, his hand now holding the thick-barreled revolver, aimed point blank at Goil's furry head.
As the bullets unloaded, Goil lept off of the balcony, down onto the fountain below. He landed on the rim, just missing the water, then stabbing his sword into the marble structure of the church. By the time Klik had moved to the railing to fire again, Goil had his gun reloaded. Klik forward, firing in the air and backflipping to avoid the bullets Goil shot with. Both missed and landed firmly in the center aisle, swords down and guns aimed at the opposite head.
"There comes a time when you have to throw your pride away, Goil," Klik told his friend, his hand starting to shake with the very idea he would have to shoot to kill. "There's no shame in doing what's right for you. You don't want to die here."
He could see Goil's eyes, weighing out the choice he had to make. "I'd rather die here, then live a traitor," Goil finally spat out. "There's no life for me outside of this."
Klik could see there was no swaying his friend from the blind loyalty he was veering towards. With a sudden flurry of movement, he spun around and threw his leg up in a roundhouse kick, missing the quick-acting hand of Goil which brought his pistol back.
Goil held his pistol with both hands, aiming the barrel at his spikey-haired friend who was now on one knee, his own thick pistol sticking up. The two guns were practically touching despite the nervous shakes of their owners.
"Goil!" Klik shouted up at him, "Don't push this further! Please!"
A single bullet fired in the middle of the church, piercing the friendship of the two sworn brothers and tearing it apart forever.
There's no real reason I'm writing this, I just have an urge to write and I decided to just let it all spill out. I'm basically making this up as I go along.
============
"So this is what's is come down, huh?" The spikey-haired rebel asked as he trodded into the cathedral, the blood on his left blade still fresh from his scuffle getting in. The battle outside was still raging loudly, bringing the sounds of metal clashing and painful shrieks carrying inside. "I guess you're not just gonna let me get past you, huh?"
The main that Klik was speaking to stood atop the altar's podium, his revolver in one hand and his longsword in the other, both pointed diagonally down. His long hair had grown since the last time Klik had seen him, now down past his shoulders. He gave no response to the man who was once considered his brother.
This was the final stand-off in what would go down in history as the Battle of Astaroth. The rebels had won back their city from the loyalists of the corrupted King, but the main base of operations for the loyalists was still standing: the church. "I don't want to go through you, Goil," Klik warned. "Please...don't make me."
"That was always your problem," Goil said, finally speaking out loud. "You could never be a real solder of the King...you don't have the loyalty to put your friendships, feelings, and petty rivalries aside. That's why you defected. That's where you turned traitor."
Klik stepped forward, both of his swords now pointed downwards, his spikey blonde hair curling in his movement. "I defected because I saw the real side of your King, the side that abuses his subjects and takes advantage of loyal people like us! He knows that no matter how much you disagree with his methods, you'll never betray him, and that's why he's still the King and you're still his puppet!"
The Battle of Asteroth was always destined to end this way. With the two best friends turned bitter rivals leading both troops on the battlefield, everyone involved spoke of the clash for days prior to the combat. Now, here they were, in the church they had grown up in, ready to end everything they had built.
"You've already lost," Klik said, "I'm asking you, as a friend, not as your enemy...put your weapons down. We've won this city."
"I will never," Goil lept down from the podium, off of the railing and down onto the ground level of the church, "EVER, surrender to a traitor!"
Klik didn't have any choice but to put up one of his duel swords as Goil's pistol raised up. The long-haired loyalist was running forward at full speed, aiming his pistol with amazing precision. Despite his accuracy, the three bullets deflected off of the red blade, ricocheting off to the side. By the way the third shot had fired, he was in range for close combat.
Thanks to the fact that Klik had mastered using two swords, he had the perfect defense against Goil's single blade, which came down from above his head and was halted by a blue streak of metal, clanging above the two. However, with both of his hands occupied, he couldn't use his pistol, something Goil took advantage of by firing off a shot, missing Klik by a centimeter thanks to a well-timed backflip.
Klik deflected a slash from his former friend and lept to the side, jumping up onto a pew's top and running along the upper rims towards the center of the church. Goil emptied the last two bullets of his pistol, shattering the pots behind Klik as he missed the moving target. With a grunt, he pocketed the pistol and gave chase, sword drawn.
By the time he reached him, Klik had jumped expertly from the pews up to the balcony where the podium lay. He used his red blade to block another slash, this time going offensive and jabbing the blue sword forward, missing his friend by an inch and then taking a headbutt, causing him to roll backwards. Thinking quick, Klik stabbed both swords in the ground and stood up, his hand now holding the thick-barreled revolver, aimed point blank at Goil's furry head.
As the bullets unloaded, Goil lept off of the balcony, down onto the fountain below. He landed on the rim, just missing the water, then stabbing his sword into the marble structure of the church. By the time Klik had moved to the railing to fire again, Goil had his gun reloaded. Klik forward, firing in the air and backflipping to avoid the bullets Goil shot with. Both missed and landed firmly in the center aisle, swords down and guns aimed at the opposite head.
"There comes a time when you have to throw your pride away, Goil," Klik told his friend, his hand starting to shake with the very idea he would have to shoot to kill. "There's no shame in doing what's right for you. You don't want to die here."
He could see Goil's eyes, weighing out the choice he had to make. "I'd rather die here, then live a traitor," Goil finally spat out. "There's no life for me outside of this."
Klik could see there was no swaying his friend from the blind loyalty he was veering towards. With a sudden flurry of movement, he spun around and threw his leg up in a roundhouse kick, missing the quick-acting hand of Goil which brought his pistol back.
Goil held his pistol with both hands, aiming the barrel at his spikey-haired friend who was now on one knee, his own thick pistol sticking up. The two guns were practically touching despite the nervous shakes of their owners.
"Goil!" Klik shouted up at him, "Don't push this further! Please!"
A single bullet fired in the middle of the church, piercing the friendship of the two sworn brothers and tearing it apart forever.
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