Yesterday I was typing along, thrilled with where this prompt was taking me, when – BAM! – my computer shuts down without warning -.- Fortunately WordPress is a star and had a backup saved, so I only actually lost one sentence at the very end. Thank God for autosaves! 😀 Back up your work, friends! Don’t lose all your progress!
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— Sarina Langer (@sarinalanger) March 28, 2017
As always, if the prompts inspires you feel free to use it. If you do please link back here so I can be nosy and read your interpretation ^-^
(m.; fighter, champion)
“Make us proud, Kemp. Your Brothers are watching.”
“Of course, Master.”
Kemp stood rigid as his Master and teacher put the heavy plate armour around his chest, and tightened it. It was an old tradition that the Master put the plate on the student on the day of his most important fight. Kemp had worked hard to be here. Only when the Master had handed over the armour in this fashion, and only once it was stained with the blood of his enemy, would he be able to call himself a Brother.
“I will return to the stalls.” His Master stacked his fists before his heart; Kemp copied him and bowed his head in respect. “Glory to the Brothers!”
“Glory to the Brothers.” Kemp’s heart was racing underneath the heavy plates. He was unmistakably one of them now; the black armour and shaved head left no doubt.
His Master had left a maddening silence in the room, but the muted screams of the crowd still reached him. He closed his eyes, and focused on them. It was a busy day in the arena – from the sounds of it, most of the city would see him earn his place amongst his Brothers. And once he defeated his opponent – once everyone saw him win the fight – he’d be able to take whatever he wanted without question. His Brothers wanted gold, or women. Kemp wanted vengeance.
“My, don’t you look dashing!”
Kemp turned his head to a dark corner and squinted to see better, but there was no one there.
He wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone before the fight except his Master. Was this a test? Had he failed before his battle had even begun?
Kemp recoiled when a woman with a sly smile and robes as blue as midnight stepped out of the shadows. Magii. The one thing he hated more than the target of his revenge.
She smiled. He drew his sword.
“Did I make you jump, brave warrior?”
His Master had taught him how to withstand mockery, but she wasn’t an opposing Brother come to gloat. She was everything that brought shade to the light.
“I don’t jump.”
“Truly? I could have sworn…” She tutted. “No matter. Your Master has set you up. If you step into the arena, you will die. Come with me, and you will live.”
Kemp moved so fast she didn’t have time to dodge. He pinned her against the wall, arm pressed to her throat.
“The Brothers don’t betray each other.”
But what would she know of such things? Betrayal and deception were the norm amongst their kind, from what he had heard.
The magii turned to shadow under his grip, and reappeared next to him. He spat at her feet.
“I said nothing of your Brothers. Although, if you must know, they are in on this, too. Your Master is behind it. He pits you against Daron, and you will lose.”
“Daron would never–“
“And yet it is so. Come with me, and you’ll live.” Her seductive smile set stars into her obsidian eyes. “I can make all this go away.” She stood feet apart from him, yet he could hear her whisper right by his ear. The warmth of her breath on his neck was revolting.
“Get out before I gut you.”
The magii shrugged. “I expect Daron will be the one to do the gutting today. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, hm?”
With that she was gone. A heavy gong made him grip his sword tighter; it was time. She had to be a test, sent to evaluate his resolve. Lesser men were easily tricked by magii and seductresses, but he was about to become a Brother. It would take more than one witch to make him forget his loyalties.
And yet, as he walked the corridor towards the arena, accompanied by the bloodthirsty cries of the crowd, a small smiling voice at the back of his mind was convinced that he was walking to his death.
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