true, I do own Smash Bro. Melee. You don't believe me? Well, you can see my name whizz past in the final credits. Yeah. Honestly.
Ok, so that's not true. But how many of you went and checked? Just to recap, I don't own smash bro melee.
Okay, another short chapter to keep the story going. Not too happy with it myself, but enjoy! Oh and I apologise about the sardine cans. I have no idea where that came from, and I'm not too sure I want to find out.
Chapter 4
Marth felt the impact of the blow run up his arm. The pommel struck home, knocking out the wannabe ninja. The boy fell the rest of the way to the ground, various hidden weapons slipping from their holdings, clattering to the ground like a rain of sardine cans.
Marth rose to his feet, and looked down at the almost pitiful form at his feet, the boy's chest rising and falling slowly. He looked at his own hand. What had stopped him? He had intended to cut the boy's head off, but his own hand had betrayed him, shifting the sword slightly so the pommel would hit the boy's head. Lately the killing blow was all he sought for, especially since the war.
But as he looked back at the fight in his memory he saw so many places where a subtle change in his stance would have him killing the boy with relative ease. He surprised himself; he did not know this person, even if their voice was vaguely familiar. Why was his sub-conscious protecting him?
He shrugged it off. No-matter. Now there was no one to stand in his way, his goal to obtain the power that lay behind whatever gate there was left. He kicked away all of the weapons that the boy had dropped, making sure that if the fighter did wake up, he would not be sending any excess violence down his way. Marth strode up to the plinth that held the sword.
The temple was completely black now, a lone sprite flitting around the roof providing the only illumination. Marth's eyes, accustomed to the relative gloom saw the sword, glinting slightly in the darkness. Unlike Falchion, which radiated a sense of tempered strength, this sword seemed to feel old. It was heavy with eons of life, a sword that told you it had seen it all, and was still willing to learn. It filled you with the confidence of millennia old experience.
As Marth brought his hand closer to the grip, Falchion began to glow slightly. Swords were jealous objects, never liking to be replaced. This is why very few people fight with two at one time, both swords are constantly competing for the killing blow, each showing the user that it was best. This of course dos not apply to other blades, such as knives or daggers. Those weren't proud enough. They love nothing more than to congregate in back alleys and snigger at the other more arrogant blades. But a sword's jealousy was merely compounded by the fact it was magical. It gave it a sort of sentience, and so it knew about the fickle nature of humans, and consequently wanted his human to stay away from any other sword.
This was all lost on Marth who felt the sword beckon to him. But, it did not feel like the sword was calling him. Something darker, more sinister was telling him to pull that sword from the stone. Marth did not care. He would have pulled without the beckoning.
He reached out for the sword.
He gripped.
And pulled.
There was surprisingly little resistance.
The world held it's breathe.
.
.
.
.
Then, the temple became full of excitement.
-------------------------------------------
Link rode along the forest tracks. Epona whinnied in complaint against his frequent kicks. He patted her on the neck, whilst keeping a close eye on the forest ground. "I'm sorry girl, but we have to find that ocarina. Zelda would kill me if I lost that thing."
So intent was he on the ground, he did not notice the low branch.
-----------------------------------------
Marth was surrounded by blue light.
Light steaming past him like a river that was so powerful it could move mountains. He tried to fight the current, but it was no use.
He was hurled back like a rag doll, slamming into the ancient temple wall, stress fractures running from his impact.
---------------------------------------
Link rose from the ground and dusted himself off. Bloody stupid branch. Whose bright bloody idea was it to put trees in a damn forest anyway? He looked up to see Epona giving him one of her horse looks. Most horse will look at a human like this. It is a look which tries to tell you that if you are going to ride me, at least have the decency to stay on so we don't have to keep stopping, I mean *really*.
Link glared at his 'faithful' steed and was about to threaten her with immediate withdrawal of all sugar cubes, when a bright blue flash caught his eyes.
Now Link was not the greatest of thinkers, he would never be able to tell you how to integrate an exponential curve and then show you the area underneath the graph, for example. But years of being the Hylain Army's sole member had taught him that bright blue flashes in the middle of the night were not to be ignored.
He hopped on Epona, and set of at a gallop to the source of the light.
He got about two yards before knocking himself out on the same low branch again.
--------------------------------
Marth awoke to the laughter of a mad man. You could tell he was mad. No other kind of person laughed like that. It was the kind of laugh that made you feel like the joke, and the person laughing wanted you, and the people a few miles away, to know it. It is not the kind of laugh you want to hear when you have a semi-concussion from flying into a wall at high speed.
He was on the cool stone floor of the temple. His training took over, and his hand flicked down to check Falchion was still in its sheath, and checking all the straps of his armour were still tightly on. Then, the fact he was a human male took over, and his hand shot down to check his other sword. "Oh thank god," he mumbled.
He rose to his knees to find the source of the laughter. It was a tall man. Scratch that. Big man. Scratch that. Very big man. And he was holding the fallen Sheik in one hand. And he was still laughing.
Marth rose to his feet, the ringing in his head subsiding. "You..., who are you?" he said gaining a little more consciousness with each word.
The man paused his laughter. He looked down at the blue haired teenager, formerly known as a prince. He smiled a cat's smile, the one the common household predator uses when it has just been shown a new toy with a pulse. "I want to thank you, my friend." The way he said friend made you wish you weren't. "You helped release me from my imprisonment, AND brought me the ruler of this realm, on a virtual silver platter. Very commendable."
Marth thought he was still concussed, "What?" The large man lifted the boy in his hands. "But, he's just some assassin sent to kill me.... isn't he?"
The large man laughed. He delicately lifted a finger to the cloth wrapped around the boy's face, and tugged it away. Marth felt his blood run cold. The man then tugged away the rest of the cloth around the 'boy's' head. Golden locks fell from her head.
The man seemed to take some perverse pleasure in the blue haired prince's sudden shock and self-loathing.
"Please, ... put her down..." Marth was sick with guilt. True she had been capable fighter, and probably would have killed him if given the chance, but Marth's upbringing had been to NOT hit girls, no matter how hard they hit you. This had been sensible in the palace. Most of the little girls Marth had met when he was young were princesses, and his father did not particularly want an incident on his hands. As such, Marth tended to treat women as porcelain dolls, easily breakable, like a delicate trade agreement.
The man laughed again. Marth was really beginning to hate that laugh, "'Put her down' he asks. And why would I do that?"
Marth said nothing. He slid Falchion from his sheath, letting the blade scrape along, creating a threatening metallic sound. This was more familiar territory. The guilt had now melted into white-hot anger.
The man laughed again. "So the little man likes to fight does he? Well, don't worry. See? I'll put her down."
She was thrown to one side. Marth watched her fly away with shock. He turned back to see the man had drew a huge blade, which fanned out at the tip. It was almost as long as Marth was tall.
"And now little man? Shall we play?"
"Nothing would please me more, save perhaps your head on a spike." The large man laughed again. "And your laugh really gets on my nerves."
There was no going back now, no backing down. The one-liners had been said.
The man laughed again just to spite him, and charged. Marth knew that he could never win a straight fight with this man. He ran straight towards him as well. Before they hit each other, Marth fell to the ground, and skidded under the man like a baseball player heading for home base. On the other side, he jumped up off his leading foot, slashing down. The large man's blade was already blocking the strike, and both blades crackled with the magical energy released.
They parted, the larger man, spinning around, his large sword, which he wielded with the apparent ease of a willow wand, slashing around at Marth's neck height. Marth ducked under the blow, and watched as the blades momentum carried his opponent arms within striking range. He slashed upwards, aiming to disable one of his enemy's arms. As he closed in a scorcerous blast sent him flying, crashing once again into the opposite wall.
Marth rose to his knees, leaning on Falchion for support. Purple smoke and static discharges still flickered off his body. Marth could feel a few off his ribs break from the force of the blow. He spat out blood. Each breath was painful to take in.
"Who are you!" he shouted from his knees.
The man smiled, and narrowed his eyes. "I am Ganondorf. Future ruler of the world. Although you will not live long enough to see that..."
TO BE CONTINUED.....
Author's notes: Bwah ha ha ha ha!! Fear my incredibly bad on liner fightin' talk!! Anyway, told you I wasn't particularly happy with this chapter.
Still looking for a pre-reader though, applicants must notify me via review, e-mail or MSN messenger, or if you really want you can try psychic projection, but my receiver for that has been on the fritz lately.
Let's reply to some reviews now. Ok, just the one then.
Raikou. You really think I'd kill off one of the smash bro characters this early on? I have more imagination than Link riding in on Epona and saving her though, give me some credit. And not Fox just yet. It doesn't seem right to leap from medieval stylie Hyrule to sci-fi adventure Lylat system.
Best review wins a cookie.
Ok, so that's not true. But how many of you went and checked? Just to recap, I don't own smash bro melee.
Okay, another short chapter to keep the story going. Not too happy with it myself, but enjoy! Oh and I apologise about the sardine cans. I have no idea where that came from, and I'm not too sure I want to find out.
Chapter 4
Marth felt the impact of the blow run up his arm. The pommel struck home, knocking out the wannabe ninja. The boy fell the rest of the way to the ground, various hidden weapons slipping from their holdings, clattering to the ground like a rain of sardine cans.
Marth rose to his feet, and looked down at the almost pitiful form at his feet, the boy's chest rising and falling slowly. He looked at his own hand. What had stopped him? He had intended to cut the boy's head off, but his own hand had betrayed him, shifting the sword slightly so the pommel would hit the boy's head. Lately the killing blow was all he sought for, especially since the war.
But as he looked back at the fight in his memory he saw so many places where a subtle change in his stance would have him killing the boy with relative ease. He surprised himself; he did not know this person, even if their voice was vaguely familiar. Why was his sub-conscious protecting him?
He shrugged it off. No-matter. Now there was no one to stand in his way, his goal to obtain the power that lay behind whatever gate there was left. He kicked away all of the weapons that the boy had dropped, making sure that if the fighter did wake up, he would not be sending any excess violence down his way. Marth strode up to the plinth that held the sword.
The temple was completely black now, a lone sprite flitting around the roof providing the only illumination. Marth's eyes, accustomed to the relative gloom saw the sword, glinting slightly in the darkness. Unlike Falchion, which radiated a sense of tempered strength, this sword seemed to feel old. It was heavy with eons of life, a sword that told you it had seen it all, and was still willing to learn. It filled you with the confidence of millennia old experience.
As Marth brought his hand closer to the grip, Falchion began to glow slightly. Swords were jealous objects, never liking to be replaced. This is why very few people fight with two at one time, both swords are constantly competing for the killing blow, each showing the user that it was best. This of course dos not apply to other blades, such as knives or daggers. Those weren't proud enough. They love nothing more than to congregate in back alleys and snigger at the other more arrogant blades. But a sword's jealousy was merely compounded by the fact it was magical. It gave it a sort of sentience, and so it knew about the fickle nature of humans, and consequently wanted his human to stay away from any other sword.
This was all lost on Marth who felt the sword beckon to him. But, it did not feel like the sword was calling him. Something darker, more sinister was telling him to pull that sword from the stone. Marth did not care. He would have pulled without the beckoning.
He reached out for the sword.
He gripped.
And pulled.
There was surprisingly little resistance.
The world held it's breathe.
.
.
.
.
Then, the temple became full of excitement.
-------------------------------------------
Link rode along the forest tracks. Epona whinnied in complaint against his frequent kicks. He patted her on the neck, whilst keeping a close eye on the forest ground. "I'm sorry girl, but we have to find that ocarina. Zelda would kill me if I lost that thing."
So intent was he on the ground, he did not notice the low branch.
-----------------------------------------
Marth was surrounded by blue light.
Light steaming past him like a river that was so powerful it could move mountains. He tried to fight the current, but it was no use.
He was hurled back like a rag doll, slamming into the ancient temple wall, stress fractures running from his impact.
---------------------------------------
Link rose from the ground and dusted himself off. Bloody stupid branch. Whose bright bloody idea was it to put trees in a damn forest anyway? He looked up to see Epona giving him one of her horse looks. Most horse will look at a human like this. It is a look which tries to tell you that if you are going to ride me, at least have the decency to stay on so we don't have to keep stopping, I mean *really*.
Link glared at his 'faithful' steed and was about to threaten her with immediate withdrawal of all sugar cubes, when a bright blue flash caught his eyes.
Now Link was not the greatest of thinkers, he would never be able to tell you how to integrate an exponential curve and then show you the area underneath the graph, for example. But years of being the Hylain Army's sole member had taught him that bright blue flashes in the middle of the night were not to be ignored.
He hopped on Epona, and set of at a gallop to the source of the light.
He got about two yards before knocking himself out on the same low branch again.
--------------------------------
Marth awoke to the laughter of a mad man. You could tell he was mad. No other kind of person laughed like that. It was the kind of laugh that made you feel like the joke, and the person laughing wanted you, and the people a few miles away, to know it. It is not the kind of laugh you want to hear when you have a semi-concussion from flying into a wall at high speed.
He was on the cool stone floor of the temple. His training took over, and his hand flicked down to check Falchion was still in its sheath, and checking all the straps of his armour were still tightly on. Then, the fact he was a human male took over, and his hand shot down to check his other sword. "Oh thank god," he mumbled.
He rose to his knees to find the source of the laughter. It was a tall man. Scratch that. Big man. Scratch that. Very big man. And he was holding the fallen Sheik in one hand. And he was still laughing.
Marth rose to his feet, the ringing in his head subsiding. "You..., who are you?" he said gaining a little more consciousness with each word.
The man paused his laughter. He looked down at the blue haired teenager, formerly known as a prince. He smiled a cat's smile, the one the common household predator uses when it has just been shown a new toy with a pulse. "I want to thank you, my friend." The way he said friend made you wish you weren't. "You helped release me from my imprisonment, AND brought me the ruler of this realm, on a virtual silver platter. Very commendable."
Marth thought he was still concussed, "What?" The large man lifted the boy in his hands. "But, he's just some assassin sent to kill me.... isn't he?"
The large man laughed. He delicately lifted a finger to the cloth wrapped around the boy's face, and tugged it away. Marth felt his blood run cold. The man then tugged away the rest of the cloth around the 'boy's' head. Golden locks fell from her head.
The man seemed to take some perverse pleasure in the blue haired prince's sudden shock and self-loathing.
"Please, ... put her down..." Marth was sick with guilt. True she had been capable fighter, and probably would have killed him if given the chance, but Marth's upbringing had been to NOT hit girls, no matter how hard they hit you. This had been sensible in the palace. Most of the little girls Marth had met when he was young were princesses, and his father did not particularly want an incident on his hands. As such, Marth tended to treat women as porcelain dolls, easily breakable, like a delicate trade agreement.
The man laughed again. Marth was really beginning to hate that laugh, "'Put her down' he asks. And why would I do that?"
Marth said nothing. He slid Falchion from his sheath, letting the blade scrape along, creating a threatening metallic sound. This was more familiar territory. The guilt had now melted into white-hot anger.
The man laughed again. "So the little man likes to fight does he? Well, don't worry. See? I'll put her down."
She was thrown to one side. Marth watched her fly away with shock. He turned back to see the man had drew a huge blade, which fanned out at the tip. It was almost as long as Marth was tall.
"And now little man? Shall we play?"
"Nothing would please me more, save perhaps your head on a spike." The large man laughed again. "And your laugh really gets on my nerves."
There was no going back now, no backing down. The one-liners had been said.
The man laughed again just to spite him, and charged. Marth knew that he could never win a straight fight with this man. He ran straight towards him as well. Before they hit each other, Marth fell to the ground, and skidded under the man like a baseball player heading for home base. On the other side, he jumped up off his leading foot, slashing down. The large man's blade was already blocking the strike, and both blades crackled with the magical energy released.
They parted, the larger man, spinning around, his large sword, which he wielded with the apparent ease of a willow wand, slashing around at Marth's neck height. Marth ducked under the blow, and watched as the blades momentum carried his opponent arms within striking range. He slashed upwards, aiming to disable one of his enemy's arms. As he closed in a scorcerous blast sent him flying, crashing once again into the opposite wall.
Marth rose to his knees, leaning on Falchion for support. Purple smoke and static discharges still flickered off his body. Marth could feel a few off his ribs break from the force of the blow. He spat out blood. Each breath was painful to take in.
"Who are you!" he shouted from his knees.
The man smiled, and narrowed his eyes. "I am Ganondorf. Future ruler of the world. Although you will not live long enough to see that..."
TO BE CONTINUED.....
Author's notes: Bwah ha ha ha ha!! Fear my incredibly bad on liner fightin' talk!! Anyway, told you I wasn't particularly happy with this chapter.
Still looking for a pre-reader though, applicants must notify me via review, e-mail or MSN messenger, or if you really want you can try psychic projection, but my receiver for that has been on the fritz lately.
Let's reply to some reviews now. Ok, just the one then.
Raikou. You really think I'd kill off one of the smash bro characters this early on? I have more imagination than Link riding in on Epona and saving her though, give me some credit. And not Fox just yet. It doesn't seem right to leap from medieval stylie Hyrule to sci-fi adventure Lylat system.
Best review wins a cookie.