Duel of Fate

[Guest Lord Cullyn]

“There is but one weapon that can defeat your opponent,” said the Archangel in his booming, echoey voice, who was serving as the mediator for this duel. “I am not allowed to tell you what it is—and you may very well be here for the rest of your lives. Regardless, you may begin,” he finished, and sat in his chair as umpire.

 

He looked at her… She is beautiful, he thought to himself… but I can’t let that get to me… only one weapon? That’s certainly untraditional.

 

She stared back, and they began to circle each other. Her hatred for him was obvious… she snarled periodically, and if eyes could shoot daggers (if that were the weapon, of course) he would’ve been dead by now. Thinks women are inferior, does he? I’ll show him… no man can beat me, just as no man may have me!

 

Suddenly, it began; both raised their hands, palm out, and a jet of light shot at the other at exactly the same time. His was golden; hers, violet. The two jets collided in a shower of sparks, and both participants staggered backward an equal number of steps. In the middle, the two jets fused, creating a ball of grayish power, seething, and growing outward. The archangel gasped and stood up, and raised his hands… only too late. Both of the duelers had nodded to each other in a brief truce, and both shot a dispelling aura towards the ball of power; quickly, it was gone.

 

Immediately after the threat was neutralized, they began again, each with added respect for the other. She’s really not as bad as I thought, though she is a woman, thought the man to himself, though he dare not express his feelings.

 

Hmm, she thought… men do have some talents after-

 

But her thought was cut off by another attack. He flung a dagger at her head, and she performed a back flip to avoid it. Off-Balance, she teetered on the brink of going out of bounds, in which case she would lose. He sent another dagger at her, hoping to get her to ring out.

 

But she deflected it another way—before the dagger reached its mark, she cast disintegrate on the projectile, and it crumpled into a pile of silver ashes at her feet. Having regained her balance, the stepped forward, performed a quick spin, and as she was coming out of it, hurled a throwing star at the man. Immediately, he spun out of the way and countered with a star of his own, while the woman did the same… it was as if they were performing the intricate moves of a dance—a deadly dance.

 

Eventually, they both ran out of throwing stars, and started circling each other again. Suddenly, the woman stepped forward and high-kicked at the man’s head—only to be blocked as he laced his fingers together and caught her foot and attempted to flip her. She slipped through his fingers, and drew her dagger. With her back to him now, she thrust under her left shoulder. He saw the move coming, and kicked the dagger from her hand when it was within range.

 

With her back still to him, he tackled her, and they fell to the ground in a flailing heap. In his umpire’s chair, the Archangel merely shook his head in disdain. When will they learn? He thought to himself… I hope this one doesn’t last more than a decade… last time was bad enough.

 

While he had been thinking, the pair had been rolling and twisting, and now they were face to face. They stopped for a moment, and looked at one another.

 

“You fight well, for a woman,” said the man, who was on top at the moment.

 

“Yes, the only woman that can even compare to my skills is you,” replied the woman on the bottom, and spat in his eye. Quickly, she rolled so that she was on top of him and drew the knife from her boot sheath. She took it in her right hand, raised it above her head, and brought it downward like lightning… but too late.

 

The man had seen it coming, and caught her wrist. He twisted, as if to break it, but he only succeeded in disarming the damsel. They rolled again, and he was on top of her. Again his respect for her improved—she had seen through him like glass.

 

“I would know the name of my enemy,” said the man, curious now.

 

“I will only give you that courtesy because your enemy shall also be your slayer; I am Narysa,” she said, and with that she heaved herself up, tossing him onto the ground. She sprinted to where he lay, and moved as if to stomp on his head. Quickly, he rolled, stopped, and launched a successful kick at the back of her knees. Her knees buckled, and he shoved the web of his hand into the left one, and she fell. He rolled again, and was atop this mystery woman called Narysa once again.

 

The Archangel stirred… the man seemed to be learning faster than the woman—that was something new. Always, in his experience, the woman had discovered the key to victory first… this was strange… and soon, too. He resumed watching with renewed interest.

 

The man leaned down, and said “Galrion,” before kissing her deeply and passionately.

 

What?!? What is he doing?!? Oh… thought the woman, who struggled at first, then gave in to the kiss, and wrapped her arms around him.

 

By the hells, though the angel… they’ve done it.

 

The man stood up, and held out his hand to Narysa, offering to help her up. She accepted gratefully, and muttered “Thank you,” shyly. They clasped hands, and strode over to the umpire’s chair.

 

“Your Holiness… I think we’ve done it. We know the key. It is love… though it would not defeat the other—the key is to call a truce. We understand,” said the pair, each alternating speaking, one waiting for the other to continue.

 

Amazed, the Archangel smiled, nodded, and escorted them out of the heavenly arena… If only you knew, he thought, before going back to his post to wait for another pair.

 

OOC: Sorry about the cliche message, everybody, but I was in that kind of mood when I wrote this... was a sorta warm-up to get into writing style for Legend.

 

 

Edited by: Lord Cullyn at: 7/14/02 8:33:53 pm

[Nyyark]

Though the message may be old, I found this a very unique way to portay it. Please M'Lord in no means apologize. You write well and I look forward to "Legend".