Adventures of Bane. P1 The Duel

Written and Edited by Theodore Ramwell and Matthew Kong.

The Duel

 

Each step forward dragged Bane further down as if the weakness of fear made each step of his foot a mile longer than it was. Each thought cut through into his brain creating fear in the dark crevasses of his mind, it was here he discovered a new found emotion.

Terror... 

For fear had affected him as if it had been plague, a plague of his wilting soul. May their souls be made of sand or iron it does not matter? Fear can corrupt any man. 

All at once his palms felts sweaty, his bladder felt ready to burst and his breathing became ragged and uncontrolled.

Then finally he was there and Lertane besides him tall and powerful, his spite freezing alongside him like a winter’s night.

“Ladies and Gents! Women and children! Rodents and Peasants!” The arena master screamed to the audience and they screamed back with sounds of rolling thunder. “Welcome to the Crimson fist Arena!” 

With that the crowd rose bellowing to their feet the peasant stamping their feet in union and shouting random things that only added to the tension that was so thick that even the sharpest sword would go blunt cutting it.

The higher class and more civilised classes merely nodded and clapped quietly trying to show they were above lower society. Not that the difference was clear enough with the fact they had cushioned seats and a separate seating area in the better position to the huge indoors arena. Although they thought themselves as great as a silver spoon freshly polished by one of their supreme stiff butlers- they of course didn’t mind watching two men cut each other to bits just as long as there wasn’t any blood on them...

The arena master smiled as the peasants stopped their screaming to instead start a chant instead.

 

“RIP, CLASH, BLOCK AND CUT!”

“PUNCH, BITE, KICK AND BUTT!”

 

 They carried this on for about two minutes until it faded as certain individuals confused others by shouting the wrong words until finally they went back to the simple stamp of their feet.

Amongst the crowd of common folk, poets stood amongst them. They were not greats but had always planned to be... Delicate and mild men of refined taste, they stretched their heads high and puffed their chests. In hollow voices, they spoke their prose, themed on the glory there was of a death in the arena. Their proses fell on deaf ears... 

There were ticket holders selling tickets to anyone stupid enough to spend the little money they had. Of course it didn’t matter because if they won the holders would by accidently disappear after the fight had finished. So the old saying went well in the city of Mearnthas. “Gambling’s for idiots who have money to spend.”

Panic was running wild through Bane’s body as if it was a horse spooked by a loud Bang near its ears- only it could not bolt because it had each of its legs were shackled to the floor making it clear they had no control of their own fate. Bane was a warrior and probably the best in a thousand miles.

He had tasted the awful sensations of fear before. It was like a bitter lemon to most people and that's what made Bane different to every other person. He liked lemons...

Terror was something entirely new to the young man during in all his twenty three years he had never felt the awful gut wrenching feelings of his mental shields protecting him from the fear been torn down so easily by sharp axes of burning daemons, turning him from a stone cold killer into a heap of nerves.

“This place...” Bane muttered so wearily. His words seemed to dribble out of his lips. “It’s a death factory...” He gave a long cold sigh. “And I plan not to die here today...” A icy talon crawled down his spine.

One of the men from the crowd hurled a rotten cabbage over the fence to land a mere ten foot from where bane stood. It reminded him of what death looked like and the exact reason that Bane would spit in deaths eye, once again...

A fire boiled in the young man’s heart and a sombre calm spread over him. 

A sudden new bolt of emotion began to strike at him. The baying of the crowds making his pounding of his heart grows loud.

The seed was planted.

His eyes narrowed.

His hand closed around his sword hilt.

Hate was reborn... 

Author's Note

Theo dreamed it then wrote it - Matt edited what was wrote then added more to the end. Then Theo edited the last bit. Hope you like please feel free to comment and rate as such...

Reviews

[bluessadmood]

Yes this was good ..i am sure you have planned a well plotted plan
i liked how you told about the deep feelings in him and the roll of his thoughts
this is the beginning ,and i always judge a writing from its beginning
i was expecting to turn to the next chapter but there was not
if you keep at the present pace and keep the tension building and other thoughts
that i expect to keep flowing with it..i think it will look great
as i said the start was good ,but you will have to keep the momentum
of this ..startle me and i am your fan to the end ,ha ha
lovely write..

[Ryan Falzon - Tymon]

It was like a bitter lemon to most people, only the difference to Bane was he liked lemons..

bahaha! I too also love lemons!

This is a very beautiful read. I loved how you described the crowd. The poor peasants, throwing social norms out the window and screaming and hurling as they are used to. The higher class are more "civilized", but in the end they watch the same disgusting "sport" the lower class seem to love, if not watch it more. Bane was a great character. I love it that he's been in this arena for years, and fear was never faced at him before. Now, something just seems to shiver up his spine and create pure terror. I'm quite curious to see what that something is! Loved it!!

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

good structure~ engaing characters~ overall a very well told snippet of a tale~
Lady already covered the grammar arena~ so I'll just say it is certainly an enjoyable tale~

[B MacGregor]

Love the rodents and peasants line. Brings me into corruption.

I don't quite understand Bane's character... yet. Not gripping the motivation, premise, except reluctancy and fear. I'm somewhat curious of him because ofthe last sentence. Reborn?

What I appreciate is the crowd. Maybe that's the real story. The people gathered to mutually share the grotesque. The diveristy is fascinating. Peasant, poet, populace... but can't seem to get a chant gowing.

Good collaboration. Enticing to visualize.

Time is the fun thing to play with on this one. Contemporary or ancient. The same story could adequately describe a quaterback at a homecoming game.

[My Fair Lady]

What a fantastic read! I don't often read short stories or books because my time is limited, but I was pulled in by your invitation and profile.. What a brilliant concept may I say. You both have a way with words and thought process. I can feel the difference in your writing styles, by the way.. but they seem to compliment each other. There are a few grammer things to consider
"He had tasted fear before it was like a bitter lemon to the tongue only to Bane he liked lemons"

Sentences like this.. I know what you are trying to say.. but the flow at the end stopped me and I had to go back again.. my eyes hesitated on he last few words. I think you may consider rewording it somehow so it flows like the rest. There are a couple of these.. not terribly out of sorts, but a little catch to the eye in reading. I felt a wealth of emotion with this piece, and so long as it isn't too long.. shall love to review more of your work in the future.