Graveyard Smash! [closed]

[Hysteria]

The youth kicked his heels into the stone grave he was perched, the tip tap echoing around the empty expanse. The boy looked idly around the graveyard with annoyance. The site that had been picked for the youth’s battle fit perfectly with the boy’s persona. In the sky, between the twisted half dead tree branches that formed a haphazard canopy, was a huge full moon casting eerie white light across the surrounds. A thick milky trail of fog rested a few inches deep upon the ground, swirling around the many graves that littered the surrounds. What annoyed Talen was not this idyllic setting, but the fact that he had been waiting for nearly half an hour and no one had yet turned up to face him. The youth had read a dozen grave stones, and despite the wonderful allure of ‘Here rests Master Bates, he died playing his favourite instrument’, Talen had lost his patience.

Talen was a young boy, about thirteen in age. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt and shorts, two light shoes and a cap. Resting on the youth’s back were his two large blades, the width and length of their single sided blades taking up nearly his entire back. At his hip was holstered one of his Snake Bearer pistols, the other he was twirling in his hand, exactly the way mum told you not too.

Across the mounds dotted with grave stones a new sound echoed; the voice of one of the monks.

“Oh, sorry about the wait. We forgot you were there. Sending someone through now.”

Talen failed to suppress a loud swear into the night air. Only the sound and sight of a door opened across the bumpy graveyard pulled him back from a complete bust of anger. The youth watched as the white silhouette swung open; letting in a stream of light.

Finally…

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

The blazing white light from the Citadel's portal faded around me, and all that remained was a thick, inky darkness. The stench of death was in the air. I strained to see anything, my eyes not yet adjusting to the darkness of the arena. I listened intently--nothing but a slight breeze blowing through the trees, and the odd hooting of an owl off in the distance.

My vision finally corrected itself, and I immediately noticed that I was standing in the middle of a graveyard, ankle deep in a soupy fog that was illuminated by whatever moonlight could force itself through the canopy of dead branches above. I looked around me, subconsciously counting the granite gravestones that littered the ground; some were broken in half, others choked with vines and moss, and a few were still in pristine shape, as if the dead they stood watch over were freshly buried.

The scene reminded me of a favorite book from my childhood, Thora Valentine's "Gregory Galahad and the Ghastly Graveyard". It was a rousing adventure about a young man and his adventures in a graveyard very much like this one, on a dark and chilly night similar to the one conjured up by the Ai'Brone monks of the Citadel, during which young Gregory decided to--well, I'm rambling now. You can pick it up for yourself to read at any respectable bookstore in Radasanth, like mine.

I spun around in a slow circle, taking in my surroundings while half-heartedly looking for my opponent. Lots of gravestones and dying trees--not to mention fog--but no signs of other living things. A soft breeze sent a chill up my spine. I wrapped myself tighter in my black sifan cloak, attempting to keep the cold, dead air at bay.

"Eep," I squeaked out as I tripped over something. Nearly losing my balance, I recovered in time to notice that I had tripped over a small grave marker that was hidden by the fog. Hidden shit; good to know, I grumbled inwardly as I righted myself.

I gave myself a quick pat down, making sure I had all my gear: My twin daggers sheathed just above my ass, the six steel throwing knives were holstered in threes along each pant leg for easy access and throwing, and my wires were coiled tightly around my upper arms, hidden from plain sight by my black blouse top and cloak. Didn't have to double-check for my drakescale corset; I never entered the Citadel without it.

Perched on a gravestone a solid thirty feet away, I could make out the figure of either a young boy or a very short man. The scant amount of moonlight that peeked through the branch canopy above the graveyard wouldn't permit me to make out his exact features, but I assumed all the same that this... yes, this young boy was my opponent.

One thing I learned in my many, many battles at the Citadel was to never underestimate those the monks throw at you, no matter their appearance. Those who you are about to kill in very violent fashions are to be treated with an equal amount of respect; and it was a code that I held highly.

However, today I am in a bit of a rush, as I'm only on my lunch break. I'm expected back at the bookstore in an hour to help check in a new shipment of novels.

Hidden by my bundled-up cloak, I reached down with my right hand to unsheathe one of the throwing knives. "I'm assuming that you're my opponent today. Shall we go through the motions with meaningless introductions, or get right down to business?"

I fiddled around with the dagger, ready to whip it at a moment's notice should this boy-short-man-thing decided to spring into action.

[Hysteria]

“Your…” Talen paused for a second, looking at the woman’s gaunt pale skin and apparent love of all things purple, “Your beautiful.”

The youth pushed himself off the grave and onto the ground with a slight thump. His eyes were wide, as if attempting to absorb all the light radiating off the woman’s ivory skin. The boy walked forwards, dazed slightly and pulled along by cupid’s string; he walked into a graven broken in half by age and creeping ivory. The boy’s eyes went slightly wider than before as he toppled over and landed hard against the dirt and rolled to into another large stone.

The boy blinked slightly as his senses returned to him and he found himself staring at the stars through a gap in the canopy. The youth knew then what was happening, he had heard stories before from the older men. There was no doubt in his mind.

“Enchantress!” Yelled the youth as pushed himself up to a crouched position behind the grave, “I know all about this magic! Drop magic charm stuff and fight like you should!”

Talen screwed up his face in thought as he tried to work out how to fight such insidious magic. The facts seemed simple, the youth had only been effected when he looked at the woman’s face, and therefore he would have to fight her without looking face. Talen unclipped one of the large swords from his back and rested the flat top of its blade against the ground.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Terribly sorry about the day.

My face scrunched up into a familiar scowl. "Enchantress? Magic? Charms? I have no idea what you're talking about! Come on out and fight me!"

An awkward silence as thick as the fog below and as cold as the nighttime air above filled the graveyard, as neither I nor the boy moved or spoke.

My anger flared. "Get out here, now!" The boy shifted in his crouched position behind the moss-covered gravestone, but never broke his cover.

My mild curiosity was rapidly turning into annoyance.

"Fine," I snapped, "if you won't come out, I'll drag you out myself!"

In one swift motion, I slid the steel throwing knife back into the sheathe wrapped around my right leg, and commanded my wires to snake out from beneath my black blouse sleeves. I threw back the edges of my cloak as the wires whipped behind me and wrapped themselves around the hilts of my twin daggers. I unsheathed the two, raised them over my head, took a step forward, and hurled them through the hair in the general direction of the boy.

The delyn cables lightly chafed my arms as they uncoiled, never once causing my daggers to suddenly stop in their flight and comically drop to the carpet of dead leaves that littered the graveyard. The daggers harmlessly flew over the gravestone, and continued for about another ten feet or so before I commanded the wires to halt them. Concentrating on my actions, I held the daggers aloft and spun them back, pointed towards the boy who had me mistaken for a beautiful enchantress (when I was really nothing more than a homely telepath), and swiftly brought them down, intending on piercing and lacerating his exposed arm.