Taking flak and holding ground.
Saturday, April 07, 2007
♥ Saturday, April 07, 2007
In a scene reminiscent of the movie 300, i shall compose somehting that vaguely related to the titillating experience of yesterday, and 1-2 weeks back.
The challenger stood his ground. The enemy amounted to seven times his size. One believer against another, who would win? The wise against the strong, the courageous against the insurmountable...
He drew first blood and launched a spear. The enemy ducked, but a quick slash to the arm saw the enemy surprised at what he could do.
The enemy realised it must have its assault; it withdrew the hideous blade that shattered too many soldiers and whirled the sword at him.
Shield raised in time, he felt the brunt of the blow and fell back. The enemy capitalised and plunged the blade into him.
It missed him by inches and scarred his face. Tasting his own blood, he mustered the energy to release an onslaught of blows to the enemy. He drew his own sword by masterfully smashing the scabbard against the enemy, throwing it off its feet.
The enemy was caught by surprise, and before knowing it, had the challenger's sword coming right at him at deadly and uncompromising pace.
Sword came to meet sword, and eyes were locked in a deadly showdown. The enemy moved into a strategic position and hurled itself onto the challenger, and as the challenger ducked, the enemy achieved certain momentum to plunge his knife into the challenger's thigh. Just below the belt.
As he writhed in agony, the enemy begin preparing for the death blow, swinging the blade around.
The challenger raised his shield just in time to see the shield shattered. Yet, that bought him just the time needed to severe the enemy's jugular.
Both men were worn. But one knew that another had won. They looked at each other, in utmost respect.
