master of the puppets
05-18-2005, 21:59
Like whispers they arrived, shades creeping threw the cold moist wind. there was no moon this night, nothing to glisten. the air was thick with the smell of the new days mist and fresh cut grass. in this chosen ground, a forest dense, i searched for others.
i was there first, i carefully put my armored back to a dark oak, for my enemies are not to be trusted. my fingers drummed upon the ashen hilt of my gladius for a moment before i stayed my anxious fingers, i had not spent an hour oiling armor just to show myself. my blue pupils surveyed the clearing under shadowed eyes.
large, it was, roughly 20 yards square, ringed by tall trees which were in turn flanked by bushes. a silent rustle betrayed some one approaching to my left, i attempted to press myself closer to the shadows of the tree.
he walked slowly into the clearing, he wore no armor. from underneath his guinea-tee tattoos flowed out onto his arms, up his neck and on to his shaved head. in his hands he carried a large ax, a wood chopping ax with two heads but no real threat in battle, it would be to heavy, after a swing he's defenseless. the gang member had too be only 20, of mexican decent, probably some haughty peice of crap. i knew him to be my enemy and i decided he would not last the night .
his eyes roved much as mine had but much less cunningly, his eyes swooped over me but he did not seem to notice my presence. i decided to reveal myself, i pushed myself off the tree with only a small squeak of armor but it was enough, in the silence it sounded as if it was a freight train. in a jerky motion he turned and looked directly at me, his eyes flowing from face to armor to sword, i could see the fear in his eyes.
i looked into his eyes and moved my head nodding to the opposite end of the clearing, he caught the indication. he walked to the spot, another fatal mistake, he turned his back upon the enemy. both our heads jerked to look at a place where a racket of smashing branches announced the arrival of another presence.
this one had the physique of a line-backer, and ironically he was wearing a football jersey. he had clad his torso in a crude leather curias, in his hands he held a wooden shield and in the other a hatchet, these a bit more worrisome than that of the first. the behemoth looked around the area and took his place beside the other gang member.
over the next hour several more members arrived of both sides, a myriad of weapons were assembled by the people, scythes, cleavers, kitchen knives, switchblades, axes, katanas, clubs, maces, one ball and chain, and 6 swords. the armor was much mor sparse, only a few had decided to clad them selves in leather and only I and the rival gang leader had true battle armor, his he had received from me.
a week before after the decision to do battle i sent him an envelope with three things inside, a small single steel ring, a small rectangular slab of metal and a grooved peice of steel. there was also a note stating "choose one of these and send it back, when you do you shall receive a gift" after what i supposed was a time of deliberation i received a counter envelope. inside it had only that small rectangular slab and no more. the next day i sent him a heavy egyptian fishscale armor curias. he wore it now.
i looked around the men assembled on both sides, 52 men. in total of 2 separate gangs, months of encroaching and turfwars led to the death of a rival gangmember leader. in his death i, an obsessive history buff and my group of college buddies, moved into the area. it didn't take a week for the new supreme gang to assert there authority, drugs poured into the area via the scum. one of my close friends and allies dominique stupidly got himself hooked on the white stuff. this was unacceptable, me and my friends after deliberation took the necessary action. dominique was imprisioned by us. trapt in a small room always guarded so he could not escape. learning from the spartans we used there drug purging methods. each day at noon he was given three choices, food, water, or drugs. after a month of these decisions he learned the values of food and water and abandoned his need of drugs entirely. brutal yes, but efficient.
strings of crimes wracked the community, me and my allies were enraged by there selfishness. murders, kidnappings, they were horrid and knew no bounds. and one warm and foggy night the terrors broke into my apartment, creeping threw my home in the dark of night with gun drawn his intent was obvious. there would be no mercy. as the scum crept threw my home he felt a heavy boot strike the back of his leg, it crumpled beneath him. i drew myself back into the shadows. he lept up with pistol outstretched searching the shadows, his eyes swiveled in the darkness unseeing. he held the pistol out with one hand the other hand held limp at his side. them from the abyss i struck, my hand caught his wrist and stayed the gun, he was to slow to avoid the strike, my other hand brought the large combat knife down upon the mans forearm. it sliced threw flesh and sinue and crushed its way between the bones, he let out an auguished scream and dropped the gun. i quickly got between the man and his firearm, letting go of my knife still lodged in his arm. in a slow drawn out motion he drew the blade from his flesh, he then held it in his fist as if to make ready to fight for his life. i drew the gladius from the scabbard at my hip. in the dim light he saw the sword. with shaking fingers he let the knife drop. and then he turned and fled, wrestling with the door he let himself out into the night cradeling his ravaged arm.
and so began my personal war, to become king of the streets.
i was there first, i carefully put my armored back to a dark oak, for my enemies are not to be trusted. my fingers drummed upon the ashen hilt of my gladius for a moment before i stayed my anxious fingers, i had not spent an hour oiling armor just to show myself. my blue pupils surveyed the clearing under shadowed eyes.
large, it was, roughly 20 yards square, ringed by tall trees which were in turn flanked by bushes. a silent rustle betrayed some one approaching to my left, i attempted to press myself closer to the shadows of the tree.
he walked slowly into the clearing, he wore no armor. from underneath his guinea-tee tattoos flowed out onto his arms, up his neck and on to his shaved head. in his hands he carried a large ax, a wood chopping ax with two heads but no real threat in battle, it would be to heavy, after a swing he's defenseless. the gang member had too be only 20, of mexican decent, probably some haughty peice of crap. i knew him to be my enemy and i decided he would not last the night .
his eyes roved much as mine had but much less cunningly, his eyes swooped over me but he did not seem to notice my presence. i decided to reveal myself, i pushed myself off the tree with only a small squeak of armor but it was enough, in the silence it sounded as if it was a freight train. in a jerky motion he turned and looked directly at me, his eyes flowing from face to armor to sword, i could see the fear in his eyes.
i looked into his eyes and moved my head nodding to the opposite end of the clearing, he caught the indication. he walked to the spot, another fatal mistake, he turned his back upon the enemy. both our heads jerked to look at a place where a racket of smashing branches announced the arrival of another presence.
this one had the physique of a line-backer, and ironically he was wearing a football jersey. he had clad his torso in a crude leather curias, in his hands he held a wooden shield and in the other a hatchet, these a bit more worrisome than that of the first. the behemoth looked around the area and took his place beside the other gang member.
over the next hour several more members arrived of both sides, a myriad of weapons were assembled by the people, scythes, cleavers, kitchen knives, switchblades, axes, katanas, clubs, maces, one ball and chain, and 6 swords. the armor was much mor sparse, only a few had decided to clad them selves in leather and only I and the rival gang leader had true battle armor, his he had received from me.
a week before after the decision to do battle i sent him an envelope with three things inside, a small single steel ring, a small rectangular slab of metal and a grooved peice of steel. there was also a note stating "choose one of these and send it back, when you do you shall receive a gift" after what i supposed was a time of deliberation i received a counter envelope. inside it had only that small rectangular slab and no more. the next day i sent him a heavy egyptian fishscale armor curias. he wore it now.
i looked around the men assembled on both sides, 52 men. in total of 2 separate gangs, months of encroaching and turfwars led to the death of a rival gangmember leader. in his death i, an obsessive history buff and my group of college buddies, moved into the area. it didn't take a week for the new supreme gang to assert there authority, drugs poured into the area via the scum. one of my close friends and allies dominique stupidly got himself hooked on the white stuff. this was unacceptable, me and my friends after deliberation took the necessary action. dominique was imprisioned by us. trapt in a small room always guarded so he could not escape. learning from the spartans we used there drug purging methods. each day at noon he was given three choices, food, water, or drugs. after a month of these decisions he learned the values of food and water and abandoned his need of drugs entirely. brutal yes, but efficient.
strings of crimes wracked the community, me and my allies were enraged by there selfishness. murders, kidnappings, they were horrid and knew no bounds. and one warm and foggy night the terrors broke into my apartment, creeping threw my home in the dark of night with gun drawn his intent was obvious. there would be no mercy. as the scum crept threw my home he felt a heavy boot strike the back of his leg, it crumpled beneath him. i drew myself back into the shadows. he lept up with pistol outstretched searching the shadows, his eyes swiveled in the darkness unseeing. he held the pistol out with one hand the other hand held limp at his side. them from the abyss i struck, my hand caught his wrist and stayed the gun, he was to slow to avoid the strike, my other hand brought the large combat knife down upon the mans forearm. it sliced threw flesh and sinue and crushed its way between the bones, he let out an auguished scream and dropped the gun. i quickly got between the man and his firearm, letting go of my knife still lodged in his arm. in a slow drawn out motion he drew the blade from his flesh, he then held it in his fist as if to make ready to fight for his life. i drew the gladius from the scabbard at my hip. in the dim light he saw the sword. with shaking fingers he let the knife drop. and then he turned and fled, wrestling with the door he let himself out into the night cradeling his ravaged arm.
and so began my personal war, to become king of the streets.