RP:The combatants Dream
Rp:The combatants dream
Hadrian jogs into the arena from the pits below, his head hung low, the Helmet of Mortality held firmly in the crook of his arm. The crowd rises up, surging with spirit and shouting all the while, cheering on one of the three Champions of Gualon's Arena. "The brooding war hero, a horror unbridled upon the sands," The throngs of people cry out in excitement, and the announcer continues in a low, rumbling voice, "Welcome a man of Gualon, welcome…. Hadrian!" The very cries of the crowd send Hadrian into a frenzied state; he yearns for the battle, for the clash of metal on metal. His mind's eye wanders, allowing him to soak, nay to revel in the flavor of mortal combat. To watch the sights and scenes of the battle ahead play out before him in the manner he seeks. He raises his arms up high, holding up his gruesome helmet, which portrays a sickening recounting of men slaughtering gods and victoriously bathing in their blood, and the crowd goes wild, screaming and hollering all the more. The roar of the din before battle is a memory never waning in his mind. It is the reason for this. It means everything to him.
Akadius marches on through the lower pits, confidence carried in every step. Never did he believe this day would come. The roaring of the crowd above him sends a shrill of excitement down his spine as he marches on. Knowing all to well who he was going to face this day. The crowd was still in an uproar as he stepped out into the sands. “In the opposite corner, I give you the spear of night! I give you another champion of the arena. Mighty Akadius!” Akadius raises his shield Mortality high, roaring as he stands in awe of it all. The shield depicting a gruesome scene of death upon it. A mountain of dead men whilst a single victor stands atop it. A mighty mortal of death! “Long have the people of Gualon waited for this day!” The announcer continues. “Let the blood bath begin!”
Hadrian ceremoniously dons his grisly helmet, now forcing the rage of the crowd out of his mind. He knows well to ignore them at this crucial time. Widowmaker and its accompanying brother, Bloodletter, are drawn with quiet, steadfast resolve. The Gladiator clashes his weapon against his banded metal sleeve, to test its fit--his trademark--before inhaling. From deep within the depths of his lungs, he bellow's ferociously, arms held out to his sides brandishing the weapons, spittle flying free, body bent forward with the sheer effort. The battle-cry is continued as Hadrian bounds forward, the sinking sand an old friend of his, and not a detriment in the slightest. Breath expelled, he inhales sharply and throws Bloodletter into the sand at his foe's feet, which sinks hilt deep into the surface. Without hesitation, Hadrian cocks back his now free left arm, and readies for a brash haymaker. Six feet of hulking mass, of raw sinew, is thrown at Akadius in the form of a banded metal fist. He had to only to break his foes guard, then crush him after.
Akadius lowers his shield and steps into his defensive position. Shield forward, spear to the side and body in a crouched position. Hadrians blood-lust cry had announced his attack, all he could do was smile at his opponents ferocity. The crowd was a dull roar within his ears as Akadius steps forward only to have to step back again at his opponents launched weapon. It thudded deep into the arena sands, but attention couldn’t be paid there. No, for his opponent was like no other. Instantly his shield raised mere inches in defense of his opponents assault, the fist soundly battering against it. The force of which, shook the shield within his grasp. The clanking was like music to his ears. The force of the blow was easily countered by his low, almost horse riding stance. In response, he shoved his spear low, aiming between the space of his foes legs with deadly precision while side stepping and pushing his body forward. The spear was acting as an agent to literally throw his opponent, by locking one knee and bending the other with its shaft. While moving forward, whether his opponent went down or not, Akadius ripped that spear back out, dragging it across his leg in hopes of a gash upon it’s inside. Ripping the weapon free, he spins to face his opponent again. Spear tip to the side of shield. His famous defensive stance.
Hadrian 's recoil from the failed haymaker is brisk, however his footwork is not nearly fast enough to avoid the quick-thrust of a spear at such close quarters. The Gladiator twists with Akadius as he turns and drops to a knee, to avoid the long-reach grapple. However, as the spear is recoiled the inside of his thigh is cut, drawing the first blood of the match thus far. Thankfully, spears are intended for thrusting and not slashing! This is just what he needs, for his opponent to move. A rock solid defense is a hard one to break, but a moving one revealed kinks in its defense. Bloodletter, now at his knee, is drawn from the red-stained sand, and held near the tip of the blade within his metal-enclosed palm. The purpose of this is yet to be known… Hadrian springs forward from his hunkered down crouch and Bloodletter, held by the blade, is swung like a club at the side of Akadius' shield. The makeshift hook-sword catches the shield, the hilt just long enough, and Hadrian's body follows the momentum of his swing, Widowmaker to swipe low at Akadius' exposed calf. This move put him on the opposite side of the wicked spear, and behind his foe's defense. A grim, sickening smile can be seen splayed out across his visage during the motions.
Akadius smiles as his opponent cleverly attacked him. Hadrian surely was worthy of the title champion. Akadius moves to defend fast, unlike many would think possible, footwork was also the core of his training. The hilt of Hadrians weapon, grabbed at the shield, yanking it forward, but Akadius reacts in an efficient way. He spun, turning his body into the shield, pressing his chest against it. Unfortunately the footwork required to keep his shield was only a partial defense to the sword coming at him beneath it. It’s tip gashed into his shin just above his boot line, spraying blood onto the arena sands. He would learn from that attack. Clenching his jaw he tore forward again, thrusting that spear for his opponents side. It’s was quick and efficient. Simple and deadly. He would use the momentum step forward and slam into his opponent shield first. A bull rush to push the man back. Akadius still kept his teeth clenched in pain. The gash upon his shin still pushing out that red liquid of life. To be honest, his heightened heart rate would probably keep it bleeding for a time. It was time to get serious.
Hadrian sees the blood spew free, feels the blade drag across the flesh of his foe, and grins sadistically all because of it. As Akadius reciprocates with a vicious spear strike, Hadrian can't do a thing to maneuver out of the way, save for squirm his body to the side. The horrid feeling of a foreign object gutting into you with a sickening squish is a feeling Hadrian has never gotten used to. He cries out in mortal pain, the blood all the while trickling down his side and lacquering his leather-plated skirt. To rid his foe of this infuriating weapon, he reacts as fast as he can before that shield bears down upon him. He steps back, whilst simultaneously dropping Bloodletter and then catching it in a backwards hold on the hilt. Now free of the spear in his side, he quickly thrusts Bloodletter straight down, to pin the spear betwixt the hilt and the sand of the arena, and hopefully catch Akadius off guard. This took longer than he had originally calculated, and the awkward position he is in suits his foe well, as it pushes him off balance. A Gladiator's footwork is everything! He curses himself for having to backpedal to maintain his footing. His side hurt something fierce; it burned ferociously with pain and the cat scratch on his thigh was beginning to sting as sweat licked it. Hadrian unleashes his ire, too stubborn to admit Akadius more than a fair match, and grabs that confounded shield by the edge, and pulls back with all of his might. His only remaining weapon, Widowmaker, is swung with reckless abandon at Akadius' head.
Akadius grins wickedly as the spear meats raw sinew. The attack had worked and he reveled in it. The fact that Hadrians back pedal left him to abandon the disarm attempt only tossed more confidence his way. However, his confidence was quickly dashed as Hadrian tried to yank that shield free of his grasp. Obviously he had become more than frustrated with the object that blocked his blood-lust. Akadius let go of the shield and let Hadrian toss it to the side. His spear thrust forward with all his might aiming directly for the head of his opponent. He cared little for defense now. Whoever struck first was obviously the victor! Both weapons screamed at their intended targets and just before final impact, he awoke. Adrenaline pounding through his veins, he cursed at the ceiling of the tavern. “Damnit!” he bellowed. It had only been a dream, one he wished was real...