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Ally

5 years ago
So, this's just me messing around with a different writing style and trying to improve my ability to not suck at fight scenes. I liked it. Maybe I'll use it. Who knows? ZZZZZZZ Twelve cloaked heads bow before the young prince. He nods back to them as his breath turns into misty puffs. He dressed warm for the cold autumn night. Even in the castle’s lower halls, the air remains frigid and lifeless. The flickering torches in the room provide no warmth, for they instead dance like shadows just as the twelve assassins can so easily do. The prince strokes his smooth chin, as he has seen his elders do when inspecting men. All are average height, and he’s willing to bet all have average looking faces under their cloth masks. These men are meant to blend in if necessary, both in shadows and in public. Men… No, they’re still boys. “How many use magic?” His voice rings calm and clear, the result of a demanding royal education. Calm words diffuse more situations than pointed blades, but there’s a slight inflection to his words, a driven force that betrays his utter resolve. Those without determination die. The gruff man standing behind him, cloaked but with his hood down, clears his throat. “Seven, my prince.” He has a scar starting at his left eye and ending at what used to be his left ear, a burn from a fiery sorcerer. All his weight rests on his right foot, not wishing to favor the hunk of wood that replaced his left. Still, every person in the room knows this man is blessed. Too injured to continue his service as bodyguard, he became an instructor. He will live a long life, unlike the twelve candidates awaiting command. “The other five can leave.” He turns his gaze and smiles to the five assassins who stood. “I don’t doubt your skills, but I need the versatility.” They bow and disappear into the shadows without a sound. The prince stretches. “Well, let’s begin. Oh, and stop all that prince stuff.” He waives his hand nonchalantly. “Forty-second in line, I’m more of a noble than royalty, for now at least.” He draws his sword, a finely crafted work of art. The beauty doesn’t come from a flamboyant handle or a shining blade, but it comes from its use, like a paintbrush in a master’s hand. The handle has chipped from when his late father slammed it into a golem’s skull and the blade is stained forevermore by the blood of a corrupt sorcerer. One of the assassins steps forward. He unsheathes two curved daggers, the standard weapon of choice. The prince raises his eyebrow but bows in the customary exchange before duels. “You may be bound not to harm any royalty,” he says. “But, I want to see all you’ve got. Okay?” “Yes, my prince.” His voice sounds measured, as if every syllable was considered. “Next,” he sighs. The prince sheathes his sword. The assassins glance at one another before the one steps back and another takes his place. They bow. “Are you ready?” “Yes, my prince.” Before the man could brandish his weapons, the prince groans and raises his voice. “By the gods, do any of you have common sense?” A third assassin takes a step forward. His voice sounds cool, like the nobles who train themselves to mask their words’ emotions. “I apologize for my brethren’s disrespect, Niclas.” The peg-legged assassin stiffens. They cannot help but show the slightest indication of their horror. Such blatant disrespect betrays all that they stand for, and to call a prince by his name is all but a death sentence. An unclaimed assassin doesn’t posses the right to that honor. “You understand what you did, eh?” He draws his sword once more. His face remains stoic. “I was following your orders, Niclas. Thus, I shall not address you as a prince.” He draws his blade, a cruciform sword. The weapon type doesn’t see much use anymore. Most prefer longer, average swords or daggers. The prince cannot read the man’s face due to the cloth mask. However, he can see the eyes. The assassin’s tone and eyes seem sincere. Prince Niclas smiles. “Then, I order you to knock me over with your skills.” They bow. The moment the prince takes a step forward, the assassin drops his sword. The noble tilts his head in confusion. As the sword clangs on the stone floor, the opponent springs forward and flings his cloak at the prince. Understanding the tactic, the prince jumps off the floor just before the assassin swipes where his feet would have been. Flipping back, the prince sees the figure of his opponent. This person seems shorter than the rest, at his shoulder height at most, but he makes up for the lack of height with agility. Still, his foe stayed within his sword’s reach. A mistake. The prince swings down, intending for an injury across the chest. The assassin blocks the blow with his wrists. The clank of metal divulges that his opponent isn’t without armor. Though, how much remains a mystery. With his free hand, he punches the boy with a left hook. He rolls with the punch, though Niclas follows with kneeing him between the legs. Without so much as a grunt, the assassin grabs his leg and twists unbalancing the swordsman. Liquid metal runs down his opponent’s arm, a sorcerer skilled in metal. It forms into a glove. The assassin kicks at the prince and connects. The prince falls to the ground but uses the momentum to spring back to his feet. He decides it’s time to end the duel. He swings again, but the assassin grabs the sword with his metal-covered hand. It was anticipated. Letting go of the sword, the prince body slams his adversary. He follows up with headbutting, punching his gut, and drawing out a dagger from his boot. He stabs forward, and the assassin grabs the blade. He trips his adversary, causing him to fall on his back while still holding the dagger. Using his bodyweight, Niclas presses down. The assassin does not have enough strength to hold him back. The blade inches closer and closer to his chest. “Why are we continuing?” grunts the assassin. His strained voice sounds almost confused. The prince doesn’t reply, not willing to let himself be distracted by the trickster. “I knocked you over as requested.” The prince lets go of the blade and stands. His eyes widen for a moment before he lets out a chuckle. “Literal, eh? It’s a figure of speech, but…” He extends his hand to the heaving boy. The man accepts the offer, and the prince pulls him to his feet. It took less effort than he expected. “You’ll do. Give me your hand.” The assassin outstretches his arm. The prince gives a shallow cut across the palm before doing the same to his. He presses his hand into the assassins. He recites the ancient saying, “Your blood and mine intermingle. You are bound to me. Protect my life as your own.” Their hands glow bright, a result of the magic within the assassin. The prince feels his body tingling, almost excited. Within a moment, he withdrawals his hand and inspects it. The wound healed, yet another good use of magic. Niclas looks around the room. All but the scarred assassin had left. That man does all he can to not chuckle. What was a glorious duel to the prince was a sloppy brawl to the expert. The young assassin, forever bound by both magic an honor as his bodyguard, heals his own wound. The scarred man clears his throat. “Well, I did not expect you to choose this one, my lord.” “How so?” He looks back at the assassin, scanning him for anything out of the ordinary. He merely stands there now, chest huffing from the battle… Chest… Blood rushes to the young man’s cheeks. That should’ve been obvious, especially after what happened during the battle. He swallows and looks at his bodyguard. The assassin takes off her mask. Short, dark hair falls just past her ears. She bows. “I’m Hana, your loyal bodyguard.” She’s not a boy, but she’s not a woman either. “Nice to meet you.” He sheathes his sword. “Um, pack your things. We’re going home.” “As you wish.” She picks up her sword and sheathes it as well.

Ally

5 years ago

This is certainly something you could use; combat isn't that easy to write and it's usually either too straightforward and dull or overcomplicated and confusing to read. This time you managed to give a clear description while also listing a variety of moves. I don't know if the dynamic of the fight is 100% technically correct but it felt realistic enough to not make me question it. I also liked that the scarred assassin scoffed at their technique, it added to the realism of the scene.

As for the rest, I don't know if I'd choose an assassin to be my bodyguard; that's a detail that you figure out later if you add this to a story though. I also found the other assassins to be a bit retarded when they kept referring to him as "my prince" but it's not that annoying, you probably just wanted to make the dynamic extra clear for the reader.