Disclaimer: Normally I'd try and put something vaguely witty in this spot, but, I'm feeling lazy. So go find a disclaimer which you like for any TV show/game/movie, and replace the name with "Smash bro. Melee".
Disclaimer of disclaimer: I do not own the disclaimer which the reader chooses to use.
Well, finally got around to some action. No promises though, I'm mainly used to writing Evangelion action, and there's a BIIIIIIIIIIG difference between 200 feet tall bio-titans and smash brothers.
Chapter 3
It was night. The horse was tied up outside a tall, white church like building. He did not particularly mind being left out all alone. There was some nice grass out here to nibble on, and frankly, the ominous feeling in the air made him glad he was outside the building. Generally temples like this one do have a sense of foreboding but this was different. This was like there was something really building up, something that had really been building up for quite some time. It was barely contained in the stone of the temple walls.
Marth had been in the temple for some time now. He was looking at the small altar at one end of the empty hall. Three glowing jewels hovered above it, spinning gently, light particles fountaning down and disappearing as they touched the altar. He was slightly worried. Glowing spinning things were never high on the list of things he wanted to see, but he had a mission. For his people.
Link had told him about the thing behind the wall, which the altar was in front of. That object which could solve all of his problems with so much ease, and so quickly. If he could only get a hold of that kind of power, he could return to his conquered kingdom and drag his foes from his thrown room and kick them across the sea from whence they came.
He still heard the screams as the capital burned. After the last battle, he had not left immediately. The final confrontation had not been the pitched fight on the nameless plain, but it had been fought by Marth and the remnants of his bodyguard outside the capital gates. They had done what they could, and they made the enemy pay dearly to enter the gates. Hs bodyguard, his friends had all died there. The last one alive in an effort to save his prince, and to keep hope alive for Altea had told him to flee.
But Marth had refused. And the bodyguard looked on him with sad eyes as he hit him over the head, knocking him out. He had come around draped across his horse about a mile from the capital. It was night then too. When he looked at what was once a proud city, his once soft heart had turned to ice. The city was ablaze.
The besieging army had surrounded the gates with archers. Every now and then, his loyal subjects would run through the gates, trying to save themselves from the flames, only to be cut down by the cruel archers in the dark. They had no chance to survive. Either run and be shot, or be trapped like rats in a barrel in the flames of their homes. It made Marth sick to his stomach.
Now, as he watched the spinning jewels, he heard those cries of pain as the city had died. A great mournful wail that had carried on the wind and drifted all across Altea. When a city dies, the country knows. A large piece f it has gone and even the earth mourns it's passing. The people lost send shock waves across the nation, as friends die and relatives disappear. And in the end, there had been no one left in Altea to freely grieve it's passing. A conquered nation is not allowed to mourn it's dead, lest it cause the conquerors discomfort.
Now nothing would stop Marth from using any tool to save his homeland. The cries of the innocent and helpless in the cold night were enough to drive him forward. There was a time, when Link's warning of a great evil which could doom Hyrule would have forced Marth to seek help elsewhere. But the power locked behind that wall was so enticing, a quick silence to the anguished screams in his head.
Tentatively he stepped forward, walking slowly towards the altar. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a large blue ocarina. He had stolen it from Link the night he had told him of the power, and he felt no guilt. He had left his remorse with his honour in the dying city.
He stopped a few feet away from the altar, and raised the ocarina to his lips. The fool Hylaian had taught him several songs, the one to open this door being one of them. He did feel a twinge of regret for misleading such a trusting soul, but he put it to fate that there would be an idiot to tell him how to save his home.
He played a few mournful notes.
There was a rush across his body as he felt age-old power awake. He played a few more, and the air around him became electrified with the sorcery he invoked with the song.
He took a deep breath, and began to play the song that would open the gate to his dreams. He became lost in a sea of music as he played, the song gradually spinning out of his control. Age-old magic took hold of him and began to force him to play. Marth felt the exhilaration of power course through his body.
Blue light surrounded the wall before him, and the door began to shrink, before winking out of existence.
The song finished.
He was almost saddened by the departure of the power. He felt better than he had done for some time. The song seemed to have knocked down the walls to his heart, and he had felt like his old self again. For a time there had only been the music, drowning out the screams of his countrymen. And women. And... children.
The ice in his heart returned. He strode through the gap left by the removal of the wall. He saw a sword in a plinth in front of him. That damned elf had lied to him. He had promised power in the form of some talisman, not some sword left by an old warrior. But perhaps, it was the power. Perhaps the sword held some great power, which he could use. He stepped up to the sword, and gingerly reached out to grip it.
"Don't," said a soft voice behind him.
His hand jerked back. His arm still outstretched, he addressed the voice, "Why?"
"Because that does not concern you."
"But it does. You have no idea how much it does."
"Yes. I do. But if you were to pull that sword then this land will be in danger."
"And no one should do that? Hah! My own land is in danger, why should I care for some near forgotten realm?"
The voice was silent. Marth's hand dropped to Falchion at his hip, and he turned slowly to face the voice. "How long have you been watching stranger?"
"Since you entered this temple."
He looked at the figure standing in the doorway of the swords chamber. His face was covered with a mask, and blonde hair peeked out from underneath the cloth wrapped around his head. He wore a blue skin-tight suit, with a large white patch on the chest, a red eye emblazoned on the white patch. His stance indicated that he was not just prepared to move quickly should the need arise, but that he was already moving. His blue eyes watched Marth wearily, as though he was not the first fool to try this.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked warily. If this was one of his enemies assassins he would not betaken unawares.
"Yes," the figure asked, a hint of regret in his voice. Marth was slightly troubled by it. It seemed a shade too feminine. It also seemed familiar. A half forgotten memory of a royal visit. He shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind; this was no time to reminisce.
"Then do you know why I am here?"
"Yes. You seek an easy option..."
"Uh huh. Look if you're going to preach to me, could you get a move on? I've got a country to save."
The figure dropped to a fighter's crouch, one arm held in front of him, the other raised behind and above his head. "Very well."
Marth drew Falchion with a flourish, and saluted his opponent. "What is your name?"
"Sheik, of the Shiekah."
With that he flicked his wrist and produced a fistful of daggers in his backhand.
As they faced off, the world seemed to slow. A lone sprite drifted in between them, little particles of light scattering from it as it flew lazily across their path.
Marth grinned, his eyes showing a calculating look. "Impressive."
He threw the daggers at Marth who whipped his cape up from his waist, whirling it around in front of him. The daggers became caught up in the cape, some clattering to the ground, a few sticking in. Marth brought the cape back down, only to see Sheik gone from sight.
A kick in the ribs sent him flying into the stone holding the sword, back first. He heard his armour crunch the marble of the plinth as he hit, knocking the wind from him. The boy known only as Sheik lazily reached behind his waist, and produced two curved blades in each hand. Marth regained his senses and took a gulp of air in.
He jumped to his feet, and Sheik sprinted towards him. Marth held Falchion in a loose grip in front of him, keeping one eye on Sheik's feet, the other on the knives in his hands. As Sheik closed Marth saw the subtle shift in the boy's feet.
The boy leapt into the air, both knives scything down through the air, seeking Marth's head. Sparks flew as both blades hit Falchion, held high over Marth's head. Marth grunted as he forced Falchion up, unbalancing the ninja-like warrior, sending him higher in the air than he wanted to. He landed awkwardly, but rolled.
Marth took advantage of this, and chased after the downed boy, bringing Falchion in an overhead stroke. But the boy was on his knees', one blade stopping Falchion, the other slicing at Marth's abdomen. Marth jumped back, Falchion sliding of Sheik's dagger, the other dagger slicing nothing but air. Sheik lunged forward from his knees', one blade tracking Falchion as it left his personal space, the other thrusting towards Marth neck.
Marth caught the blade on Falchion near the hilt. Sheik brought the other knife around, but Marth tilted Falchion slightly, using its point to catch the blade, sending it slinking down Falchion to meet its partner on the hilt. Marth stepped forward, and brought his elbow around Sheik's arms, still holding on to the daggers. His back facing Sheik, but both the boy's arms to his front, he rammed his elbow into his throat.
The boy staggered back, choking from the blow, dropping his two daggers. Marth kicked both away from the fight, effectively removing them from the arena. He turned to face Sheik again, and was stunned to find a chain thrust at his head at high speed. Falchion glowed slightly and darted up blocking the chain, which coiled around the enchanted blade like a snake. Sheik tugged at the chain, ripping Falchion from Marth's hands.
It clattered to the ground, too far for Marth to reach before Sheik got him. He reached into his gauntlet and pulled out a dagger, his small secondary weapon. Experience had taught him it always did you well to have a spare weapon when no one expected it. For one thing, you lived longer so you could learn from experience. Sheik flicked in his wrist, recalling the chain. Another flick of his wrist produced more daggers in his hand.
Marth made a run for Falchion Sheik's daggers being sent one by one at him, pinging off the stone floor in his wake. There was the clink of metal on metal, and the chain once again darted forward aimed for Marth's legs. Marth dove forward, flying through the air. As he hit the floor, he rolled, throwing his knife at Sheik and grabbing Falchion in one smooth action as he went. But as he rose, Sheik was already on him, having batted the flying knife out of the air like an annoying bug, a long curved sword having miraculously appeared in his hands. The ninja brought the sword down in a two-handed swing, which Marth barely managed to counter.
Sheik took control of the battle, slashing from all sides, Marth desperately blocking and stepping back. But Marth, after years of battle, kept his cool. He whipped his cape up again, causing Sheik to flinch back. It was all the time Marth needed. He fell to the ground and swung his legs around, toppling Sheik. Even before he hit the ground, Marth brought the pommel of Falchion down on his head.
TO BE CONTINUED.....
Okay, I'm looking for a pre-reader for this fic, so anyone who wants the job, just say in a review or an e-mail or even on MSN messenger, and let me know.
Best review gets a cookie, by the way...
Disclaimer of disclaimer: I do not own the disclaimer which the reader chooses to use.
Well, finally got around to some action. No promises though, I'm mainly used to writing Evangelion action, and there's a BIIIIIIIIIIG difference between 200 feet tall bio-titans and smash brothers.
Chapter 3
It was night. The horse was tied up outside a tall, white church like building. He did not particularly mind being left out all alone. There was some nice grass out here to nibble on, and frankly, the ominous feeling in the air made him glad he was outside the building. Generally temples like this one do have a sense of foreboding but this was different. This was like there was something really building up, something that had really been building up for quite some time. It was barely contained in the stone of the temple walls.
Marth had been in the temple for some time now. He was looking at the small altar at one end of the empty hall. Three glowing jewels hovered above it, spinning gently, light particles fountaning down and disappearing as they touched the altar. He was slightly worried. Glowing spinning things were never high on the list of things he wanted to see, but he had a mission. For his people.
Link had told him about the thing behind the wall, which the altar was in front of. That object which could solve all of his problems with so much ease, and so quickly. If he could only get a hold of that kind of power, he could return to his conquered kingdom and drag his foes from his thrown room and kick them across the sea from whence they came.
He still heard the screams as the capital burned. After the last battle, he had not left immediately. The final confrontation had not been the pitched fight on the nameless plain, but it had been fought by Marth and the remnants of his bodyguard outside the capital gates. They had done what they could, and they made the enemy pay dearly to enter the gates. Hs bodyguard, his friends had all died there. The last one alive in an effort to save his prince, and to keep hope alive for Altea had told him to flee.
But Marth had refused. And the bodyguard looked on him with sad eyes as he hit him over the head, knocking him out. He had come around draped across his horse about a mile from the capital. It was night then too. When he looked at what was once a proud city, his once soft heart had turned to ice. The city was ablaze.
The besieging army had surrounded the gates with archers. Every now and then, his loyal subjects would run through the gates, trying to save themselves from the flames, only to be cut down by the cruel archers in the dark. They had no chance to survive. Either run and be shot, or be trapped like rats in a barrel in the flames of their homes. It made Marth sick to his stomach.
Now, as he watched the spinning jewels, he heard those cries of pain as the city had died. A great mournful wail that had carried on the wind and drifted all across Altea. When a city dies, the country knows. A large piece f it has gone and even the earth mourns it's passing. The people lost send shock waves across the nation, as friends die and relatives disappear. And in the end, there had been no one left in Altea to freely grieve it's passing. A conquered nation is not allowed to mourn it's dead, lest it cause the conquerors discomfort.
Now nothing would stop Marth from using any tool to save his homeland. The cries of the innocent and helpless in the cold night were enough to drive him forward. There was a time, when Link's warning of a great evil which could doom Hyrule would have forced Marth to seek help elsewhere. But the power locked behind that wall was so enticing, a quick silence to the anguished screams in his head.
Tentatively he stepped forward, walking slowly towards the altar. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a large blue ocarina. He had stolen it from Link the night he had told him of the power, and he felt no guilt. He had left his remorse with his honour in the dying city.
He stopped a few feet away from the altar, and raised the ocarina to his lips. The fool Hylaian had taught him several songs, the one to open this door being one of them. He did feel a twinge of regret for misleading such a trusting soul, but he put it to fate that there would be an idiot to tell him how to save his home.
He played a few mournful notes.
There was a rush across his body as he felt age-old power awake. He played a few more, and the air around him became electrified with the sorcery he invoked with the song.
He took a deep breath, and began to play the song that would open the gate to his dreams. He became lost in a sea of music as he played, the song gradually spinning out of his control. Age-old magic took hold of him and began to force him to play. Marth felt the exhilaration of power course through his body.
Blue light surrounded the wall before him, and the door began to shrink, before winking out of existence.
The song finished.
He was almost saddened by the departure of the power. He felt better than he had done for some time. The song seemed to have knocked down the walls to his heart, and he had felt like his old self again. For a time there had only been the music, drowning out the screams of his countrymen. And women. And... children.
The ice in his heart returned. He strode through the gap left by the removal of the wall. He saw a sword in a plinth in front of him. That damned elf had lied to him. He had promised power in the form of some talisman, not some sword left by an old warrior. But perhaps, it was the power. Perhaps the sword held some great power, which he could use. He stepped up to the sword, and gingerly reached out to grip it.
"Don't," said a soft voice behind him.
His hand jerked back. His arm still outstretched, he addressed the voice, "Why?"
"Because that does not concern you."
"But it does. You have no idea how much it does."
"Yes. I do. But if you were to pull that sword then this land will be in danger."
"And no one should do that? Hah! My own land is in danger, why should I care for some near forgotten realm?"
The voice was silent. Marth's hand dropped to Falchion at his hip, and he turned slowly to face the voice. "How long have you been watching stranger?"
"Since you entered this temple."
He looked at the figure standing in the doorway of the swords chamber. His face was covered with a mask, and blonde hair peeked out from underneath the cloth wrapped around his head. He wore a blue skin-tight suit, with a large white patch on the chest, a red eye emblazoned on the white patch. His stance indicated that he was not just prepared to move quickly should the need arise, but that he was already moving. His blue eyes watched Marth wearily, as though he was not the first fool to try this.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked warily. If this was one of his enemies assassins he would not betaken unawares.
"Yes," the figure asked, a hint of regret in his voice. Marth was slightly troubled by it. It seemed a shade too feminine. It also seemed familiar. A half forgotten memory of a royal visit. He shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind; this was no time to reminisce.
"Then do you know why I am here?"
"Yes. You seek an easy option..."
"Uh huh. Look if you're going to preach to me, could you get a move on? I've got a country to save."
The figure dropped to a fighter's crouch, one arm held in front of him, the other raised behind and above his head. "Very well."
Marth drew Falchion with a flourish, and saluted his opponent. "What is your name?"
"Sheik, of the Shiekah."
With that he flicked his wrist and produced a fistful of daggers in his backhand.
As they faced off, the world seemed to slow. A lone sprite drifted in between them, little particles of light scattering from it as it flew lazily across their path.
Marth grinned, his eyes showing a calculating look. "Impressive."
He threw the daggers at Marth who whipped his cape up from his waist, whirling it around in front of him. The daggers became caught up in the cape, some clattering to the ground, a few sticking in. Marth brought the cape back down, only to see Sheik gone from sight.
A kick in the ribs sent him flying into the stone holding the sword, back first. He heard his armour crunch the marble of the plinth as he hit, knocking the wind from him. The boy known only as Sheik lazily reached behind his waist, and produced two curved blades in each hand. Marth regained his senses and took a gulp of air in.
He jumped to his feet, and Sheik sprinted towards him. Marth held Falchion in a loose grip in front of him, keeping one eye on Sheik's feet, the other on the knives in his hands. As Sheik closed Marth saw the subtle shift in the boy's feet.
The boy leapt into the air, both knives scything down through the air, seeking Marth's head. Sparks flew as both blades hit Falchion, held high over Marth's head. Marth grunted as he forced Falchion up, unbalancing the ninja-like warrior, sending him higher in the air than he wanted to. He landed awkwardly, but rolled.
Marth took advantage of this, and chased after the downed boy, bringing Falchion in an overhead stroke. But the boy was on his knees', one blade stopping Falchion, the other slicing at Marth's abdomen. Marth jumped back, Falchion sliding of Sheik's dagger, the other dagger slicing nothing but air. Sheik lunged forward from his knees', one blade tracking Falchion as it left his personal space, the other thrusting towards Marth neck.
Marth caught the blade on Falchion near the hilt. Sheik brought the other knife around, but Marth tilted Falchion slightly, using its point to catch the blade, sending it slinking down Falchion to meet its partner on the hilt. Marth stepped forward, and brought his elbow around Sheik's arms, still holding on to the daggers. His back facing Sheik, but both the boy's arms to his front, he rammed his elbow into his throat.
The boy staggered back, choking from the blow, dropping his two daggers. Marth kicked both away from the fight, effectively removing them from the arena. He turned to face Sheik again, and was stunned to find a chain thrust at his head at high speed. Falchion glowed slightly and darted up blocking the chain, which coiled around the enchanted blade like a snake. Sheik tugged at the chain, ripping Falchion from Marth's hands.
It clattered to the ground, too far for Marth to reach before Sheik got him. He reached into his gauntlet and pulled out a dagger, his small secondary weapon. Experience had taught him it always did you well to have a spare weapon when no one expected it. For one thing, you lived longer so you could learn from experience. Sheik flicked in his wrist, recalling the chain. Another flick of his wrist produced more daggers in his hand.
Marth made a run for Falchion Sheik's daggers being sent one by one at him, pinging off the stone floor in his wake. There was the clink of metal on metal, and the chain once again darted forward aimed for Marth's legs. Marth dove forward, flying through the air. As he hit the floor, he rolled, throwing his knife at Sheik and grabbing Falchion in one smooth action as he went. But as he rose, Sheik was already on him, having batted the flying knife out of the air like an annoying bug, a long curved sword having miraculously appeared in his hands. The ninja brought the sword down in a two-handed swing, which Marth barely managed to counter.
Sheik took control of the battle, slashing from all sides, Marth desperately blocking and stepping back. But Marth, after years of battle, kept his cool. He whipped his cape up again, causing Sheik to flinch back. It was all the time Marth needed. He fell to the ground and swung his legs around, toppling Sheik. Even before he hit the ground, Marth brought the pommel of Falchion down on his head.
TO BE CONTINUED.....
Okay, I'm looking for a pre-reader for this fic, so anyone who wants the job, just say in a review or an e-mail or even on MSN messenger, and let me know.
Best review gets a cookie, by the way...