Crimson Sands

[Ithric 70]

OOC:

((Here's the link to the previous part for convenience. ))

IC:

The biting wind rushed through the barren desert, scattering sand across the two orcs’ skin, scratching against it but they paid no mind to it, staring each other down as they both approached the crimson marker imbedded in the ground. They were surrounded by sandstone walling, atop of these were iron railing to keep back the masses that gathered to watch the event. They gave their typical jeers and yells, raising their fists and letting out various, jumbled cries that were undecipherable to even the finest of ears. The two combatants didn’t care though, they simply eyed each other as they approached and time seemed the slow, they could each see the beads of sweat rolling down their skin, the muscles tightening under their flesh, and the blood rushing in their veins as the midday heat began to bear down its heavy weight upon the two. They then stood still, gripping their weapons and simply watching each other, observing and testing to see who would be the predator and who would be the prey.

The orc on the left side of the sanguine square was of a fairly pale green color, sweating more than the other, brown orc. His pale skin was truly an awful sight, as the poison he contracted from the caverns has taken a serious toll, for his veins have blackened ever so slightly and his eyes are deep with pain. His breathing seemed heavy but stable, chest going in and out at an average rate but contortions on his face showed strain, a strain that he could not deal with for much longer in this heat. His fingernails also took on an ebon color, some fallen off and others still decaying right on his hand. He was bare-chested, except for bandages wrapped around his upper chest to protect his wound from the sand, and he wore a leather loincloth, tied with a thick, woolen chord. He gripped his iron blade fiercely as he nodded his head, his tense, pale face twisting into a grin and regaining its color for a split second. The brown orc nodded as well, stepping forward and onto the rubicund square imprinted upon the sand.

The brown orc wore a dark purple, crimson, and golden robe, with several chains dangling from different parts but the most noticeable one was the chain wrapped around his waist, with an ornate, steel skull as its centerpiece. The brown orc spat to the side, heaving his heavy iron axe onto his shoulder and ruffling his already dirty robes that seemed to shorten around the legs to allow easier movement. This orc was much more well built than the pale, green one with muscle visible through the robes, a thick neck, an undeniable stench of blood. The orc was healthier as well, sporting none of the defects of the green orc beyond maybe a cut or two on his flesh that seemed nothing more than superficial. The heavy iron axe, the cruel grin, and the stench of blood gave the opposer a chill up his spine, and he would have been fine if he hadn’t looked down towards the skull that laid upon the brown orc’s waist. Its eyes were as black as night, deep wells of despair that seemed to show him his fate. They showed him there would be pain ahead, blood, the ripping of muscle and flesh, but it did not show him who’s blood it was. It did not show him who would fall to the sands in the end, and this was worse than him knowing, for now he had a glimpse of the future and he was even more confused now than he had been before.

The green orc shook his head with distaste, spitting to the side with a grunt, passing this vision off as nothing more than delirium from the heat and venom. The two orcs gave each other one last silent nod, not saying a word and the crowd rose to an uproar, the entertainment had begun. The green orc was the first to strike, gripping his blade with both hands as he charged, bellowing a fierce some cry. He ran at the brown orc with his sword held high, ready to strike down upon his head but the brown orc heaved his axe from his shoulder, bringing it up to block the downward slash with the metal shaft of his axe. He easily pushed the green orc aside with the axe, yelling forth his own war cry as he slammed his bare foot into the green orc’s chest as he stumbled back from the powerful block and push. The green orc wasn’t about to give up so easily, regaining his footing in time to parry his battle brother’s next swing, being force to take steps back from such a powerful force. The grinding of steel threw the crowds into pandemonium, some leaning over the railing and shaking their fists towards the two and yelling out jeers and jibes. There was a sudden kicking up of sand and sliding as steel as the green orc managed the deflect the axe off to his side, sending the brown orc to a stumble off to the right. The green orc let out a few heavy breaths, grip softening and then tightening around the blade repeatedly. He shook his head with growl, the sweat that saturated his flesh flying off in all direction and staining the sand. He then charged the brown orc , carrying the sword in front of him at a diagonal, cutting the air as he flung himself against the juggernaut once more.

He managed to slash down at the recovering orc, cutting the robe and leaving a nasty gash along his arm, life itself pouring from the break in the skin in a crimson, viscous form. It oozed onto the sand, soaked his robe, and all of a sudden everything grew silent to them, the crowds still in an even bigger uproar now that the scent of blood as permeated the air. The two just looked at each other, both in disbelief for what just happened, the sickened, envenomed orc actually piercing the flesh of the bigger, healthy brown one. The green orc, nodded his head and came down for another strike, this time for the neck in an attempt to sever the head, but although the world seemed to slow for him the following events seemed to happen at a hyper rate, one bloody brush stroke after another upon the canvas of this battle. As the green orc came down, the poison and heat seemed to get to him for his sluggish speed wasn’t all imaginary, the brown orc was faster and this was shown when he let out a grunt and a punch to the gut. The green orc, not expecting such a blow from an opponent on the ground, stumbled back with a groan, his stomach already in pain from the toxins flowing through his veins. The brown orc then threw himself up and with a charge, bashed the hilt of his axe against the right of the green, disoriented orc’s ribcage. This sent him into another stumble, world spinning and with much celerity, the brown orc jabbed two more times with the hilt of his axe, causing cracking noises to be heard from all about. The green orc was now a mess, deep, bloody bruises on his chest and before he could react the brown orc gave one last bash of his hilt to the green one’s nose, breaking it easily and sending him to the ground with a thunderous thump.

The green orc tightened his grip on his blade when he fell, holding it up and pointing it at the brown one in an attempt to stave and prolong his shortening life through battle. The blade was easily knocked aside by the brown orc’s axe, his stalwart grip remaining on it. The brown orc then took a step forward, pinning the green one’s blade hand against the sand. He shook his head, spitting to the side and sliding his left leg backwards while keeping the right foot upon his battle brother’s hand. He held his axe high in the air, staring down upon the green orc without a green, without a frown, but with a simple stare and a nod. The green orc so what was to come, saw the sun reflect against the axe’s metal and nodded his bloodied, sweaty head as well and with a sudden movement of the muscle, the brown orc’s axe came soaring down upon the green one from the left. The cut was clear and instantaneous, slashing through the meat, and bone, and muscle with one fatal swoop. The green orc’s head was cut, his life ended, but his grip on his blade didn’t wane. He was dead, he was destined for death, but not by a spider’s poison but by an axe and with a blade in his has hand, the way all orcs must die; in battle.

OOC:

((A short story that I wrote up recently for Rokar's death. I'll try to fix any grammatical/spelling errors I see. The story is Rokar was bitten by a spider, spider's poison's fatal, and he wants to die with a blade in his hands, hence the duel. Hopefully it's enjoyable.))

[Danny 2232]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.