Fantasy Addictions

Gladiator

 The Cyclops let out a earth shattering wail, as it swung its bulbous club in the air. The earth felt like was about to split in two as the monstrous, one eyed giant, forced his club though the air and towards my head. I raised my sword braced for impact, as the weapon jumped though the air. Half expecting the sharpened blade to pierce the wood and remain embedded in the club. I watched as our two weapons collided. A glittering sword, against a thick petrified piece of wood. The surrounding crowd announced their presence with a roar of delight to rival the volume of the cyclops. Finally they connected. The sword shattered. Falling like rain as the bits of sparkling metal fell into the dust, leaving me with only one small jagged piece of metal connected to the hilt. My eyes glued onto the pathetic defense, and my courage flattered releasing that I had no shield to hide behind.

My eyes were then drawn to the half open mouth dripping with saliva, as it turned for something new to crush between the sharpened teeth. It's thick leathery hide, shook loosely as the rhythmic laugh ricocheted off the walls of the arena. The triangular shaped cyclops stopped, and let his mouth hang for a moment. Everything went silent. Then all at once, sound leaped into my ears, pounding like a drum and my opponent snapped and began to charge.

Leaping into action I raced towards the booming feet of the monster, with what was left of my sword. With a split second decision I leaped to the ground, sliding beneath its legs, sending dusting into the air. As it passed under it, I leaped from the earth, leaving my cloud of dust behind, and jumped towards his hunched back, open for the taking. Twisting to get the right shot, long brown hair spread like a fan around me, exposing the pointed ears that were once revered, as a lineage of honor, and grace, and now nothing but an uncommon appearance. The crowd roared, finally able to drowned out the wailing beast, and giving a signal for it to turn around. Dust seemed to leap from the earth, hiding the final moment of battle, as the monster raised its club to strike down me down. A finally yell burst through my lips as I pointed my only deference, and fell though the blinding cover of dust.

The crowd went silent, knowing that the battle was over, by not who survived. It felt like hours before the dust finally settled, lowering one grain of sand at a time, until the carnage was visible. The crowd roared once they could see me again, kneeling on the back of their monster; the remaining piece of my weapon forced deep into the chest of the cyclops. I ignored the disgusting slurp as I pulled it from the stone colored flesh, and raised it in the air. The crowded volume doubled, as did my own.

Let me introduce myself, I am Geymand Umirah. I am an elf. The elves used to be noble, eternal, and revered for skills and knowledge that no other creature could hope to obtain. That was before the war. Before the war that almost ended every civilization. Now elves are uncommon, and unnatural to the prevailing human species. I grew up an orphan, and was forced to fight in the ring, as a gladiator. I was good and because of that, life was good. I will admit things got a bit violent at times, but I was successful. Killing cyclops, was a normal part of my life. My life that never changed, until now.

The ring masters, as they like to call themselves, found a new peace to their collection, a young girl. Her hair was long, orange, and covered with dirt. Her features were soft and delicate. Her stunning golden eyes were filled with emotion. Similar to her hair, her clothes and skin were smeared with dirt, and tears, telling a piece of her story. Even with the scars that were scattered across her skin, it was evident that she was beautiful above most standards. With her ears covered I could not tell; she was either a very beautiful human, or an ugly elf. Either way her appearance command attention, and drew the eyes into captivity. The ring masters showed her to us saying that someone wanted her. This someone so happened to be a wicked man that commanded a large army of trolls, cyclops, ogres, and more. They only way that she would be allowed her freedom from his chains, would be if one of us beat his best warrior in the stadiums. They they told us why they wouldn't make us fight. He pulled back her hair with the end of his wip to reel her ears. They reached for a point, but would never make it. She was neither elf or human. He was what most would call a disgrace, and an abomination, a half breed.

When the other gladiators saw, they stepped back, unwilling to fight for her because they knew that others would gladly feed them to the wolves after. She lowered her head, hiding her intense eyes, and accepting her fate. I don't know what happened at that point. All I know is that the two of us are now standing in the ring, about to take on the general of the man's army, a fifteen foot monster, bred to kill.