The Protectorate and Stuff
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
THE WARRIORS [Chapter Three]
Darkness had already fallen over the rolling hills of the Ishmarin countryside, leaving no light but that of the full moon. Or so it seemed at first glance. In the distance at the apex of one of the mountains burned a beacon, a campfire. Two figures sat warming themselves with the fire and the were retelling tales of past exploits.
"So then I says to the guy, 'No, really, that was your cart that you just smashed.'"
The man telling the story laughed. High face was bathed in an orange glow, his eyes but narrow slits. The swords on his back were kept in the darkness, away from the light. He appeared short and unassuming, but any warrior would know who this man was from a merely glance at the sheathed weapons. Each narrow blade was slung across his back, one in each direction; the swords would be drawn down and away from the body. The layperson wiykd merely stare blankly at this unusual arrangement; obviously, the only way to draw these weapons is with a backhanded grip. But this was no normal warrior. He was Aurelis, the master of the Khalis blades. He had almost completely mastered his backhanded sword technique with each hand, although his left hand left much to be desired with this unusual grip. Warriors knew not to trifle with Aurelis, for this man has not patience for any who oppose him. He was bitter and impulsive, to say the best of him.
Aurelis' taller companion was slightly more amiable. This other went by the name Regalia, and was often known as a great inventor in this age of innovation. He had been able, on several accounts, to employ the newly-found potential of steam engines to any number of items, from simple vehicles to sorting devices. However, to some he was known as the Survivor. He was the only one to escape the destruction of Harcolis, his village, which was burned to the ground in a raid years ago. Regalia loathed the fact that he was the only one who made it out, and has lived for the day that he could avenge his home. Attached to each of his thin yet muscular arms was a device which he calls a "Ditralis." Each Ditralis consisted of an outer casing which is secured to the arm by several leather straps, and which houses two short blades that possessed a remarkable power. They were energized, and when in certain positions and proximities could act stronger than the steel from which they were made. These two Ditrali were Regalia's only weapons, for he needed no other.
Their supplies and other possessions sat in a few travel packs on an unoccupied side of the fire. The two warriors were still joking when Aurelis thought he heard something.
"What was that? Did you hear that crack?"
Regalia shot a sideways glance. "I didn't hear anything. Perhaps it's just the wind."
"No, I definitely heard something just now," Aurelis said as he reached back to grab the hilts of his swords. "I think we may have company."
"Don't be ridiculous. We're in the middle of no--"
From the shadows leapt four figures, toward the campfire. Two of them wore backpacks, each connected to the hose and nozzle. One emerged to the left of Aurelis and fired a bluish gel, which hit its target squarely at the left wrist.
"--where ... Shaka! Aurelis, are you --" Regalia's look of disbelief turned to one of sudden concern.
"-- It's only binding gel, I can't move my arm! Go!"
"Roger!"
The other gel-shooter fired at Regalia, who intercepted the gel with his left Ditralis. Regalia's weapons were in their first stage, a claw-type weapon. He used his other Ditralis to cut the gel from his left claw. He then ducked suddenly and barely managed to catch the downward swing of a sword with his claws, crossed in a scissors-block.
Aurelis was still trying to unsheath his right sword when he was forced to sidestep in in order to dodge another swordsman, apparently the fourth figure. While drawing his right blade backhanded, Aurelis was hit by yet more binding fluid, this time on the right hand. Although he could no longer fight with a traditional forehand grip, he extended his arm into a guard stance, as if to taunt the assailants.
"This is gonna be too easy! This one can't even draw his weapon to give a real fight!" exclaimed Aurelis' sword-wielding opponent.
"Fools ... they don't even know who we are." Aurelis mumbled. "I'll show you a real fight!" he yelled as he charged at the speaker, first bringing his right arm behind him and then quickly pulling it forward and upward, as if to catch the other man with an uppercut punch.
The target fell to the ground with a look of terror in his eyes. His leather breastplate split along the diagonal, as did the undershirt beneath it, exposing a thin red slash across his chest. Meanwhile, Regalia caught the other swordsman's weapon between the two blades of his right claw and quickly slashed with his left, forcing his opponent to lose hold of the sword and fall to the ground mcuh like his comrade, but with a neat pair of red lines. The remnants of the attack force, the gel-shooters, fell to their knees as they realized they have been bested.
"Who are you?" cried the one that Aurelis felled.
"I am Aurelis, and this is my companion Regalia." Aurelis' eyebrows furrowed to express his digust. "You vandals, I will spare you for now ... don't let me regret it. If I see you again, my wrath will be quick, but trust me, I can make it painful as well."
The two shooters crawled over to their wounded fights and supported them as the quartet walked off.
"Oh, and tell your other pals not to mess with us as well!" Regalia growled through gritted teeth. "Believe me, it's in their best interest!"
The defeated thieves hobbled off into the distance. Aurelis and Regalia merely exchanged glances, each only mildy impressed with the success.
"Will they ever learn?" asked Aurelis. He shook his head as he examined his Ditrali for damage.
"Probably not," sighed the swordsman as he scraped the binding gel from his wrists.
"Where were we? Oh yes, there was this one time in Kal-Sara when I ran into a gang of street punks ..."
