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Chaosweaver Amon -> RE: A Weaver's World: A Collection of Random Writing (5/4/2014 0:05:15)
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Note: A lot of, if not all of the names used in this are names used in other works of mine. They are, however, in no way canon, so no need for any fear of spoilers of any sort.
Grimlon readied his sword in front of him, both hands tightly holding the hilt. A greatsword it was, dark grey metal with worn brown leather wrapped around the hilt. Fairly light, it was possible to use with one hand, but easier with two. It's dulled edge glinted in the setting sun, rising up and down in tune with Grimlon's heavy breathing. He wore chain mail, a chestplate, thick rounded pauldrons, heavy gauntlets and armored boots. All enameled in black, with a gleaming silver trim. He circled his opponent, examining every footstep like he had half a hundred times before today. His opponent was shorter, and slimmer, making him a smaller target, but Grimlon was faster, and considerably stronger. His enemy had seemingly better defense as well, a helm and a shield, whereas Grimlon only had his sword and armor. He was confident he would win this bout, due to the fact that he had a better reach against the fighter's short sword, and was, as far as he knew, more skilled.
Suddenly, his opponent went in for the attack, aiming a side ways cut to Grimlon's ribs, to stun him, but only met the greatsword with a loud clang. Pushing the shorter blade away, Grimlon spun around with lightning speed, and showered his opponent with blows, all of which were blocked by his shield, smashing it to splinters. He went fully offensive, not letting the clearly weaker opponent sneak a single strike in. Shoving Grimlon away, he stood stunned for a moment, giving Grimlon the opportunity to leap forward, slamming him to the ground. He flipped up the opponent's visor, and shoved his dagger in his face.
"I yield!" he gasped, rolling away from Grimlon, struggling for air.
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