10-08-2015, 09:25 PM
It had been a while since Gildarts had felt inspired to battle. And the ‘means’ of this one -particularly his unwillingness to be put in it- didn’t exactly make him feel like he was participating in an event that was in any way righteous or worthy. However, the competitors -him specifically- deserved the right to test themselves of their strength. And he was ready.
Two fists became balls as his body squared at the sight of his opponent. A man, mid twenties, with a cunning look in his eye, stood before Gildarts. The Prime stood tall in the colosseum, and presumed a wide stance as he prepared for the worst to come.
“Come now mate, aren’tcha going tae pick up a sword or somethin’?” The man taunted.
Gildarts shook his head with a quiet, “No, I’m ready.”
“Suit yourself.” The man prepared his spear and readied his shield. A fresh grin coiled on the lines of his face.
The announcers’ concluded their assumptions and made their evaluations before a bell -much like the kind used in wrestling- signaled the start of the match. Immediately, the spearman too off. He hastily made his way around the dirt ground that made up the stadium, his sandals stomping into the ground as he flung daggers all in Gildarts’ direction.
The Prime simply dodged, and asked if the spearman was taking this seriously. This withered his opponent’s expression and the man moved in with his shield raised, and his spear aimed at the Prime’s heart, his grip was poised and ready to throw as he waited for the right time to pounce.
Meanwhile, Gildarts narrowed his eyes with determination. A backhand of his metallic limb flung the knife away from it’s target. Gildarts saw this technique as a weaker one, meant to disorient the foe, and at the same time, give the spearman an adequate approximation for the Prime’s next move, when the spear would surely come flying at him. But there was only one spear, and the Prime hadn’t expected the man to use his shield as a weapon.
It smashed into Gildarts, who’s feet swayed at the last moment, moving the force of the blow and setting the momentum free. Next, Gildarts gripped the shield’s edges, managed to tear it free fom the spearman and threw it away with ease. The spearman grew angry, and prepared his trump card.
The crowd began to boo. Harsh jeers came from above as popcorn, garbage, and tomatoes splattered into the ground. “BOOOOOO!” Low tones echoed.
“Where’s the action!?!” A member of the audience shouted.
“I want to see something cool!” Another plead.
“Where’s the lion?!” One retaliated, and then slurped on their giant refreshment fresh from the condiment stand.
A piece of corn landed in the ginger’s hair, Gildarts scowled as he took the time to pick it out. His expression wrinkled into one of disgust. It was sticky. “Tch.” Gross. He flicked it away, and the spearman carried on.
Trajectory aimed and the man’s muscles poised to throw it in the air. Meanwhile, around it’s point, a strange purple hue began to resonate.
A sickeningly evil grin spread wide across the man’s face, as Gildarts only tuned his attention finely on where the spear would be aimed on his body. The moment hung on the arid wind. Finally, the man’s stance hardened, strengthened with the lines of his bulging muscles, and then the spear was launched forward.
At the same time, a beefy lion took the stage, and came at them, snarling with froth in its ajar maw. Gildarts couldn’t dodge both. At that moment, he also noted he could dodge neither. His stiff posture became loose, as with a mere backstep, he lead the lion into the spear’s range. A howl of pain consumed their ears as the lion was shrouded in a black cloud, and immediate death came to the creature. After it was certified-deceased, the spearman shouted in defiance. “That wasn’t fair.”
“You shouldn’t place all your bets on one move. Also, for future reference, I’ll fight you two against one, gladly.” Gildarts looked at the spearman’s lion companion, and then winked at him before throwing a single punch in the man’s face. He was knocked out cold, and Gildarts had won the match.
Two fists became balls as his body squared at the sight of his opponent. A man, mid twenties, with a cunning look in his eye, stood before Gildarts. The Prime stood tall in the colosseum, and presumed a wide stance as he prepared for the worst to come.
“Come now mate, aren’tcha going tae pick up a sword or somethin’?” The man taunted.
Gildarts shook his head with a quiet, “No, I’m ready.”
“Suit yourself.” The man prepared his spear and readied his shield. A fresh grin coiled on the lines of his face.
The announcers’ concluded their assumptions and made their evaluations before a bell -much like the kind used in wrestling- signaled the start of the match. Immediately, the spearman too off. He hastily made his way around the dirt ground that made up the stadium, his sandals stomping into the ground as he flung daggers all in Gildarts’ direction.
The Prime simply dodged, and asked if the spearman was taking this seriously. This withered his opponent’s expression and the man moved in with his shield raised, and his spear aimed at the Prime’s heart, his grip was poised and ready to throw as he waited for the right time to pounce.
Meanwhile, Gildarts narrowed his eyes with determination. A backhand of his metallic limb flung the knife away from it’s target. Gildarts saw this technique as a weaker one, meant to disorient the foe, and at the same time, give the spearman an adequate approximation for the Prime’s next move, when the spear would surely come flying at him. But there was only one spear, and the Prime hadn’t expected the man to use his shield as a weapon.
It smashed into Gildarts, who’s feet swayed at the last moment, moving the force of the blow and setting the momentum free. Next, Gildarts gripped the shield’s edges, managed to tear it free fom the spearman and threw it away with ease. The spearman grew angry, and prepared his trump card.
The crowd began to boo. Harsh jeers came from above as popcorn, garbage, and tomatoes splattered into the ground. “BOOOOOO!” Low tones echoed.
“Where’s the action!?!” A member of the audience shouted.
“I want to see something cool!” Another plead.
“Where’s the lion?!” One retaliated, and then slurped on their giant refreshment fresh from the condiment stand.
A piece of corn landed in the ginger’s hair, Gildarts scowled as he took the time to pick it out. His expression wrinkled into one of disgust. It was sticky. “Tch.” Gross. He flicked it away, and the spearman carried on.
Trajectory aimed and the man’s muscles poised to throw it in the air. Meanwhile, around it’s point, a strange purple hue began to resonate.
A sickeningly evil grin spread wide across the man’s face, as Gildarts only tuned his attention finely on where the spear would be aimed on his body. The moment hung on the arid wind. Finally, the man’s stance hardened, strengthened with the lines of his bulging muscles, and then the spear was launched forward.
At the same time, a beefy lion took the stage, and came at them, snarling with froth in its ajar maw. Gildarts couldn’t dodge both. At that moment, he also noted he could dodge neither. His stiff posture became loose, as with a mere backstep, he lead the lion into the spear’s range. A howl of pain consumed their ears as the lion was shrouded in a black cloud, and immediate death came to the creature. After it was certified-deceased, the spearman shouted in defiance. “That wasn’t fair.”
“You shouldn’t place all your bets on one move. Also, for future reference, I’ll fight you two against one, gladly.” Gildarts looked at the spearman’s lion companion, and then winked at him before throwing a single punch in the man’s face. He was knocked out cold, and Gildarts had won the match.
![[Image: -Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif]](http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/35600000/-Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif)
"I have never met a strong person with an easy past." -Atticus