Disclaimer: "The Duel" (the poem) was written by Eugene Field and I don't
have any writes to it hehe ( it just sounds cool.
____________________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
i The gingham dog and the calico cat, Side by side on the table sat; 'Twas half-past twelve, and (what do you think!) Nor one nor t' other had slept a wink! /i
Drenseth sat moodily at a small round table in the smoky tavern known as the "Grogs Joy". He sniffed and took a sip of some unidentified brew from a large and scuffed mug, glancing out the frosted window into the crisp winter afternoon. The constant hum of ambient conversation filled the tavern, mixing with a scratchy sounding fiddle and the clinking of dishes.
The fox pulled his dark blue cloak around himself, shifting the shabby looking rapier at his waste. It had been a dull day, and the corsair fox was down on his luck, his ship having been wrecked a few days ago.
With a flurry of snow and a bang, the tavern doors swung open to admit a wildcat. He was pure black and was dressed in a fine black jacket and complimenting cloak, buckled down with a supple black belt. The dull sheen of steel glinted of the buckles and the hilt of his fencing saber. Suddenly, the who tavern fell silent and looked away from the door frame. It was Waveder, the Black Cat, terror of the sea and known as the master of fencing. Un-equaled and unchallenged, none dared look at him for more than a second. Except Drenseth.
The black cat glanced carelessly around the tavern; he did not need guards, his reputation worked just as well and for less pay. His flat obsidian eyes caught sight of the ragged fox and he turned on his polished sea boots, their soles clicking lightly against the rough wood of the ale house floor. Deftly he swept his cloak to the side and sat down in a disheveled chair opposite of the fox, and watched him carefully as the stool creaked and groaned with the weight it received.
Slowly, the conversation in the tavern came back to life and Dren looked up at the Wildcat, feeling the ambient sound returned to his ears.
"Yes?"
The Black Cat smiled grimly. He brought both black gloved paws onto the table top and spoke with a low whispering growl.
"I have heard of your sword skill. Are you as good as they say?
Dren took a gulp from his stone mug, glancing at the ceiling as if contemplating his answer. The granite drinking vessel made a light clunk as it hit the scratched surface of the wood table.
"Some say I am the best."
The cats eyes narrowed, and he pawed his saber hilt thoughtfully, resting his chin upon his spare paw.
"And you would be willing to defend that title?"
"Only if I am challenged."
"Then you are challenged."
Dren looked up slightly with surprise, but he nodded and stood, stepping away from the table and sliding his rapier from its sheath. Despite the shabby and dirty appearance of the sheath, the blade was extremely well kept and finely balanced. He did not wave it, twirl it, our any such nonsense but stood silently, his eyes locked on his enemy.
The Black Cat stood up fluidly and drew is saber, it was a masterwork. Not gaudy, no gems or gold, but extremely well balanced and stronger and more supple than a green willow branch. Both creatures stood eight feet apart and watched impassively, stances at ease, one paw at their side, the other, holding the blade half way out.
The room fell silent and creatures backed away, knowing this duel was going to be one to remember.
i The Gingham dog went "bow-wow-wow!" And the calico cat replied "Mee-ow!" The air was littered an hour or so, With bits of gingham and calico, /i
Clang Clash Swipe! The two blades met twice in a blinding momentum and Dren let his steel swipe through mid air. Neither masters moved their footings or their postures, using only their sword arms. It was a quick and swift check of speed and reflex for Dren and this was followed by the same pattern, only this time the Black Cats saber swiped through the air on the third strike. The weaving steel edges returned to their places and the duelers took a few steps to the right, and a few steps to the left, all the while matching each other casually move for move. The blades cut brief and flowing patterns through the dense and quiet air, disturbing it with noise and motion.
Suddenly they met. The swords slashed and weaved, slid and sliced here and there, their owners dodging and lunging, back and forth, round and round, not one hitting the other, as they danced about the tables and around chairs. The Black cat laughed as he commented to the fencing fox.
"You are excellent!"
The fox countered a swipe and a slash, retaliating with a twist and a lunge.
"Thank you, you are excellent as well."
i And the Gingham dog and the Calico cat, Wallowed this way and tumbled that, Employing every tooth and claw, In the awfullest way you ever saw. /i
The blades weaved about the tables, not disturbing a single glass of wine or mug of port, all the while still striking and seeking, blocking and twisting. Suddenly the Black Cat grunted in pain as the keen, razor sharp rapier tip bit into his arm, trailing a thin stripe of crimson blood through the air in its wake that glittered in the lantern light. Dren grinned slightly and countered the Cats retaliation, but he failed to recognize the wildcat's next move. With a resounding clang the rapier was wrenched from the fox's well trained and powerful fingers and he gasped in shock as the sleek form of the saber blade whipped neatly through his chest, slicing ribs like butter and penetrating his heart. Whith one deft movement the Black Cat sheathed his blade and looked down at the fox captain who had fallen to the floor.
"There is something you should know fox. No one defeats the Black Cat."
Dren groaned in pain, the life ebbing swiftly from his punctured body, but he smiled. The black cat cast him a quizzical glance.
"Why do you smile foolish corsair?"
"Because I know something you don't."
The cat laughed scornfully. "And what is that?"
"My blade was poisoned."
The wildcats charcoal eyes widened in surprise and he looked down at his slashed arm. Dizziness filled his head, and the saber slid from his grasp as he collapsed in a heap on top of the dead fox.
i Next morning where the two had sat They found no trace of dog or cat. And some folks think unto this day That buglers stole the pair away. But the truth about the cat and pup Is this: They ate each other up. /i
i The gingham dog and the calico cat, Side by side on the table sat; 'Twas half-past twelve, and (what do you think!) Nor one nor t' other had slept a wink! /i
Drenseth sat moodily at a small round table in the smoky tavern known as the "Grogs Joy". He sniffed and took a sip of some unidentified brew from a large and scuffed mug, glancing out the frosted window into the crisp winter afternoon. The constant hum of ambient conversation filled the tavern, mixing with a scratchy sounding fiddle and the clinking of dishes.
The fox pulled his dark blue cloak around himself, shifting the shabby looking rapier at his waste. It had been a dull day, and the corsair fox was down on his luck, his ship having been wrecked a few days ago.
With a flurry of snow and a bang, the tavern doors swung open to admit a wildcat. He was pure black and was dressed in a fine black jacket and complimenting cloak, buckled down with a supple black belt. The dull sheen of steel glinted of the buckles and the hilt of his fencing saber. Suddenly, the who tavern fell silent and looked away from the door frame. It was Waveder, the Black Cat, terror of the sea and known as the master of fencing. Un-equaled and unchallenged, none dared look at him for more than a second. Except Drenseth.
The black cat glanced carelessly around the tavern; he did not need guards, his reputation worked just as well and for less pay. His flat obsidian eyes caught sight of the ragged fox and he turned on his polished sea boots, their soles clicking lightly against the rough wood of the ale house floor. Deftly he swept his cloak to the side and sat down in a disheveled chair opposite of the fox, and watched him carefully as the stool creaked and groaned with the weight it received.
Slowly, the conversation in the tavern came back to life and Dren looked up at the Wildcat, feeling the ambient sound returned to his ears.
"Yes?"
The Black Cat smiled grimly. He brought both black gloved paws onto the table top and spoke with a low whispering growl.
"I have heard of your sword skill. Are you as good as they say?
Dren took a gulp from his stone mug, glancing at the ceiling as if contemplating his answer. The granite drinking vessel made a light clunk as it hit the scratched surface of the wood table.
"Some say I am the best."
The cats eyes narrowed, and he pawed his saber hilt thoughtfully, resting his chin upon his spare paw.
"And you would be willing to defend that title?"
"Only if I am challenged."
"Then you are challenged."
Dren looked up slightly with surprise, but he nodded and stood, stepping away from the table and sliding his rapier from its sheath. Despite the shabby and dirty appearance of the sheath, the blade was extremely well kept and finely balanced. He did not wave it, twirl it, our any such nonsense but stood silently, his eyes locked on his enemy.
The Black Cat stood up fluidly and drew is saber, it was a masterwork. Not gaudy, no gems or gold, but extremely well balanced and stronger and more supple than a green willow branch. Both creatures stood eight feet apart and watched impassively, stances at ease, one paw at their side, the other, holding the blade half way out.
The room fell silent and creatures backed away, knowing this duel was going to be one to remember.
i The Gingham dog went "bow-wow-wow!" And the calico cat replied "Mee-ow!" The air was littered an hour or so, With bits of gingham and calico, /i
Clang Clash Swipe! The two blades met twice in a blinding momentum and Dren let his steel swipe through mid air. Neither masters moved their footings or their postures, using only their sword arms. It was a quick and swift check of speed and reflex for Dren and this was followed by the same pattern, only this time the Black Cats saber swiped through the air on the third strike. The weaving steel edges returned to their places and the duelers took a few steps to the right, and a few steps to the left, all the while matching each other casually move for move. The blades cut brief and flowing patterns through the dense and quiet air, disturbing it with noise and motion.
Suddenly they met. The swords slashed and weaved, slid and sliced here and there, their owners dodging and lunging, back and forth, round and round, not one hitting the other, as they danced about the tables and around chairs. The Black cat laughed as he commented to the fencing fox.
"You are excellent!"
The fox countered a swipe and a slash, retaliating with a twist and a lunge.
"Thank you, you are excellent as well."
i And the Gingham dog and the Calico cat, Wallowed this way and tumbled that, Employing every tooth and claw, In the awfullest way you ever saw. /i
The blades weaved about the tables, not disturbing a single glass of wine or mug of port, all the while still striking and seeking, blocking and twisting. Suddenly the Black Cat grunted in pain as the keen, razor sharp rapier tip bit into his arm, trailing a thin stripe of crimson blood through the air in its wake that glittered in the lantern light. Dren grinned slightly and countered the Cats retaliation, but he failed to recognize the wildcat's next move. With a resounding clang the rapier was wrenched from the fox's well trained and powerful fingers and he gasped in shock as the sleek form of the saber blade whipped neatly through his chest, slicing ribs like butter and penetrating his heart. Whith one deft movement the Black Cat sheathed his blade and looked down at the fox captain who had fallen to the floor.
"There is something you should know fox. No one defeats the Black Cat."
Dren groaned in pain, the life ebbing swiftly from his punctured body, but he smiled. The black cat cast him a quizzical glance.
"Why do you smile foolish corsair?"
"Because I know something you don't."
The cat laughed scornfully. "And what is that?"
"My blade was poisoned."
The wildcats charcoal eyes widened in surprise and he looked down at his slashed arm. Dizziness filled his head, and the saber slid from his grasp as he collapsed in a heap on top of the dead fox.
i Next morning where the two had sat They found no trace of dog or cat. And some folks think unto this day That buglers stole the pair away. But the truth about the cat and pup Is this: They ate each other up. /i