cmgaugler
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The cheering, jeering crowds washed their noise over him like the waves of a storm at sea. And he was that little boat, struggling to hold itself together against the turmoils of the world- pounding and crashing into the surf with a brave prow held upwards, like a finger toward the clouded sun. He would not falter- he would not fail; for though the match be ceded, he could never lose. All their lives depended upon him- the young children laughing gaily, though their minds be bright and clear with innocence and dull with naivety- the older individuals clutching upon their crutch with a sort of loving dependency, their wives or husbands or naught but themselves besides them in a comforting notion.
He strode through the gathering dust, eyes half-lost in emotion, half-clear with unimpeded sight. His hands tightened as he heard clearly through his advanced hearing, the murmurs running through the crowd as they saw him- a few eyes gaping, a few throats clearing, a few jaws dropping. He kept on walking.
It's James...
James...James Gardineir...it couldn't be... How many years had he been fighting in this world- not too many, but in that time he had traveled nonstop, fighting and doing justice wherever he could find it. His golden armored-boots settled into the sand with a thud and he walked on.
"James...Warrior of Light...here.." They could not believe it, but as the thought settled in a slight chant began to drive amongst them. He was a young warrior- only 24- and yet he had more recognition than men twice his age who had settled themselves complacently into dusty old tomes and forgotten libraries. He ran an armored hand through his brown hair and smiled softly, and as he passed through the crowd and read the scroll above the door, he paused and thought for a brief moment. "Good to know- I'm glad that they told me this before I entered the damn thing."
He took a step forward, and as he did so, a sound threatened his oasis of calm from behind. There was a scream, a cry far in the distance of pain and fright, and he could see far away a huge form looming from beyond where the heat of the sun wavered sight. He paused, a hand reaching forward to draw his sword, and then the thought hit him- this figure was staring right at him, or rather past him at the entrance to the arena.
The door creaked above him- began to fall down, and he made his choice. He lowered his hand and entered the arena; the door could not hold his strength anyway, if he wanted out. These walls couldn’t- the arms of his enemies couldn’t. He was going to enter this place- that decision had already been made before.
And then he did so, a golden ship passing from the storm into a darker abyss where perils slept not, but waited in the pitch and the trees.
The dim light from the torches glittered against his body. James was clad from neck down in golden armor of various grades, from the bright and shiny of his breastplate to the scuffed and dirty of his shoes, to the nonexistent golden armor of his chainmailed hands for greater mobility. An overly-large longsword was strapped to his back by way of a leather holder stretching across his chest, and a few pouches were held tight against his side along with a long, sheathed cooking knife. Otherwise, he carried nothing with him.
The warrior trod down the darkened steps, his boots clanging softly against the stone until he reached the last step and, as a result, the battlefield in which he was to combat others. He sighed as he took that last lurch off; feet heavy against the wet air, and within a moment, sped off into a dark shadow to the left of the entrance, behind the pillar which stood there- though nothing could be seen within the mist and smoke anyway. The air was heavy with a mist that clung to the skin, thought it did but invigorate him- the worry aside for the moment about fire or energy users. He would heed that need when it came.
He was not disappointed in his earlier judgment either. He continued to hear the creaking, sliding sounds of the door closing, and as the door sounds ceased a large weight crashed itself against the stone and a seven-foot tall giant entered the chamber. He had been half-wishing, half-dreading for such a thing to happen- now he need not worry for those above, for the behemoth was with him now. However, that was also the problem- now the thing was his problem to deal with, and that enormous sword was not a child’s toy. It was the same size as his own.
“Just my luck. Stuck in this dark confined space with no room to fight someone like him. Figures..” He sighed, and considered for a moment drawing his sword, but he let his hand drop instead. Forget the need for surprise he-
…Let’s just say that for one with heightened hearing akin to that of an animal or an elf, the sound of a grating, searing war scream caught his attention right away, even if the sound was fading in and out of the audible realm. A hand came to his ear, then fell away as the sound reached its crescendo and out of his hearing range. He sighed, “That can’t be good; I really doubt the possibility at least.”
He began to summon his mana and pool it in his arms before turning back to the foe before him. He walked toward the man.
“Oi,” he called, “Perhaps you should give up now. I’m a little arrogant, and from what I judge you aren’t quite a match for me. I won’t kill you, of course; that’s just not in my blood, but I can make it so that death is preferable.”
“Of course,” he paused, a finger coming up to stroke his cheek, “That’s lying upon the idea that you aren’t stronger than I am. We shall see.” He let his mana surge about his body in an even flow, like a river running through his veins. If he needed his magic, he could draw upon it with a thought- and the true strength of his he kept locked away inside.
He wouldn’t unleash that on these people, under any circumstances. The results would be too tragic to consider.
“Let’s dance, ‘k?” Two balls of mana appeared in his hands, radiating outward as more energy was put into them. By changing the way these particles of mana acted and reacted, they began to shine brightly- light cutting muddled through the mist to shine in the dark shadows around James. His balls of light energy were ready, and his body itself began to shine with light as the energy pulsed and flowed fast.
A thought occurred. “Hmm…if you so wish, perhaps I could learn your name, to stop calling you ‘man’ or ‘person’. I do this every Elemental ‘Slaughter’-ships; (cursed things, killing others for the damn crowd’s enjoyment, may they burn), because it makes life easier for all. My name is James Gardineir; whether that means anything to you matters not. Just try to keep up,” and he turned and shot the first ball at the man’s feet, gauging his powers.
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