01-21-2018, 01:56 AM
The cacophony of clashing blades and armour alike rang across the battlefield as the skies above burned crimson. The sun bled in the horizon, blood staining the mud-ridden ground. Screams of agony and pain echoed from one falling soldier to the next as their lives ended, limbs flayed and infections laid one strike of spear after another.
Gawain glanced toward the top of the hill where his king held adamant against the aggressors, spear and sword alike eliciting screams that sang an aria of gruesome death. They said King Arthur was beyond his knights - that he was no mere incarnation of the red dragon.
They were right.
His gaze returned to his would be opponent. “Traitor!” he called out as he brandished the holy sword in his hands. He would end this battle, once and for all. For his King would flourish for years beyond this day - they’d conquer Camelot and save Britain once and for all.
“Tch. You’re in no position to judge me, Gawain!” answered the armoured figure, their silvery armour touched by crimson red, a helm adorned by two devil-like horns on the sides. Truly, this knight was an incarnation of treachery, a demon. Without hesitation, the blood-touched knight charged forth, blade in tow.
Gawain’s leg swept low as the knight dropped into a lower stance, his blonde locks swaying with the motion, the fur atop his armour following suite. They pair had fought countless times before, training. Yet this time? It would be for death.
Gawain’s lips uttered forth but a single pair of words. “Excalibur Galatine!”
And as such, the diamond-shaped blade awoke, it’s core shining a gentle blue light. The holy blade had served the knight through many battles alike this one, and it wouldn’t be the last.
“No you don’t! Clarent...” the crimson knight responded in kind, a monstrous swing of the blade brought from above her head. It lacked any trace of technique and finesse alike, housing naught but pure, raw rage behind its power. “...Blood Arthur!” the beast howled as the sanguine blade’s locks slid back, releasing forth power which was naught but violated. Red as blood, yet stained and twisted by darkness, the power surged forth as the pair of blades clashed.
Trampled by thousands before them, softened by their blood, the ground gave in beneath the power of the howling crimson blade, Gawain’s boots slowly sinking deeper into the unforgiving earth.
“Enou--!” the knight’s shout cut short as their interlocked blades slid free of their confines. The crimson knight swung again, her strike parried in time by the man whom was known for his precision.
A retaliation in naught as the blade whistled by the hell-knight’s helm, her own seeking to find a gap in Gawain’s peerless defence.
A swing from the Knight of the Sun parried, as her blade sank into the mud from the strike, a swift duck avoiding a strike where her head had been moments before. He truly was peerless in chaining together his attacks and leaving no openings to his defence.
Rage flared in Mordred’s eyes as she witnessed his prowess. They were all the same.
Gawain swung, his strike catching the side of her helm as the holy sword pierced, shattering the metal like it was naught but brittle porcelain. Mordred yanked back on her own blade, a clump of mud launched by the motion as Gawain moved to prevent the projectile from blinding him.
“Got you.” she muttered as her blade swung from below, seeking for the gap that would be there in his armour - the blindspot that his retaliation to the mud would’ve left there. And Clarent rang true. Her blade ran the man through, his scream more of surprise than agony.
“You...fight with no honor…!” the man cried as his blade’s glow vaned and the once mighty weapon was claimed by the all-encompassing mud.
“You got that right.” she answered coldly, her blade retracted as she allowed the once proud knight to simply splat into the sludge.
As she stepped over his soon-to-be rotting corpse, the battlefield echoed of Gawain’s cries as the battle grew to a halt - those still alive enough to brandish their blades turning toward the knight who met their demise.
Even king Arthur himself turned toward Gawain and the treacherous knight whom now approached her, climbing the hill step by step.
It was the beginning of the end, some said.
Gawain glanced toward the top of the hill where his king held adamant against the aggressors, spear and sword alike eliciting screams that sang an aria of gruesome death. They said King Arthur was beyond his knights - that he was no mere incarnation of the red dragon.
They were right.
His gaze returned to his would be opponent. “Traitor!” he called out as he brandished the holy sword in his hands. He would end this battle, once and for all. For his King would flourish for years beyond this day - they’d conquer Camelot and save Britain once and for all.
“Tch. You’re in no position to judge me, Gawain!” answered the armoured figure, their silvery armour touched by crimson red, a helm adorned by two devil-like horns on the sides. Truly, this knight was an incarnation of treachery, a demon. Without hesitation, the blood-touched knight charged forth, blade in tow.
Gawain’s leg swept low as the knight dropped into a lower stance, his blonde locks swaying with the motion, the fur atop his armour following suite. They pair had fought countless times before, training. Yet this time? It would be for death.
Gawain’s lips uttered forth but a single pair of words. “Excalibur Galatine!”
And as such, the diamond-shaped blade awoke, it’s core shining a gentle blue light. The holy blade had served the knight through many battles alike this one, and it wouldn’t be the last.
“No you don’t! Clarent...” the crimson knight responded in kind, a monstrous swing of the blade brought from above her head. It lacked any trace of technique and finesse alike, housing naught but pure, raw rage behind its power. “...Blood Arthur!” the beast howled as the sanguine blade’s locks slid back, releasing forth power which was naught but violated. Red as blood, yet stained and twisted by darkness, the power surged forth as the pair of blades clashed.
Trampled by thousands before them, softened by their blood, the ground gave in beneath the power of the howling crimson blade, Gawain’s boots slowly sinking deeper into the unforgiving earth.
“Enou--!” the knight’s shout cut short as their interlocked blades slid free of their confines. The crimson knight swung again, her strike parried in time by the man whom was known for his precision.
A retaliation in naught as the blade whistled by the hell-knight’s helm, her own seeking to find a gap in Gawain’s peerless defence.
A swing from the Knight of the Sun parried, as her blade sank into the mud from the strike, a swift duck avoiding a strike where her head had been moments before. He truly was peerless in chaining together his attacks and leaving no openings to his defence.
Rage flared in Mordred’s eyes as she witnessed his prowess. They were all the same.
Gawain swung, his strike catching the side of her helm as the holy sword pierced, shattering the metal like it was naught but brittle porcelain. Mordred yanked back on her own blade, a clump of mud launched by the motion as Gawain moved to prevent the projectile from blinding him.
“Got you.” she muttered as her blade swung from below, seeking for the gap that would be there in his armour - the blindspot that his retaliation to the mud would’ve left there. And Clarent rang true. Her blade ran the man through, his scream more of surprise than agony.
“You...fight with no honor…!” the man cried as his blade’s glow vaned and the once mighty weapon was claimed by the all-encompassing mud.
“You got that right.” she answered coldly, her blade retracted as she allowed the once proud knight to simply splat into the sludge.
As she stepped over his soon-to-be rotting corpse, the battlefield echoed of Gawain’s cries as the battle grew to a halt - those still alive enough to brandish their blades turning toward the knight who met their demise.
Even king Arthur himself turned toward Gawain and the treacherous knight whom now approached her, climbing the hill step by step.
It was the beginning of the end, some said.
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