Are
Almost, so close he could almost feel the cold skin whiz by. So close he knew just another inch would had meant a fox trap snapping shut with bone crushing force. Callused hands clamping down and not letting go until a victor emerged. Callused hands left grasping thin air and realizing the expected resistance was nowhere to be found, a fact that resonated through his body as he felt the balance shift a hair too far forward.
Accompanying the light thud of Wessex taking a tumble soon came a mighty crash as Are ate dirt with the force of all the explosive force he had let loose for a taste of victory. In it's stead came the chalky taste of the dry ground and warm iron seeping from his nose down over his dusty frown. A groan and a sigh as he got up on his knees, fighting through the stars to again throw himself recklessly into hopeless combat.
Hopeless.
Just as the realization set in it was only further cemented by mockery. Or that was at least what the exhausted, bleeding cobbler saw it as. A cocksure foe that could keep going all night long, while leaving Are a whimpering mess begging any god listening for just an ounce more of whatever kept him going. Stubbornness only got you so far, and in that case it got him close enough and it earned him a trip dirtwards. As he rose he realized the futility of it all. He would, as a matter of fact, only manage to get himself killed.
The bitter taste of defeat was far worse than the dirt and blood he spat out as he walked away from a chance to prove himself against the enemy. Even managing to keep himself from from spitting out some brash statement as he gathered his things and left Wessex with only one last hate-filled look before disappearing back the way he came. A better man slinking away.
Accompanying the light thud of Wessex taking a tumble soon came a mighty crash as Are ate dirt with the force of all the explosive force he had let loose for a taste of victory. In it's stead came the chalky taste of the dry ground and warm iron seeping from his nose down over his dusty frown. A groan and a sigh as he got up on his knees, fighting through the stars to again throw himself recklessly into hopeless combat.
Hopeless.
Just as the realization set in it was only further cemented by mockery. Or that was at least what the exhausted, bleeding cobbler saw it as. A cocksure foe that could keep going all night long, while leaving Are a whimpering mess begging any god listening for just an ounce more of whatever kept him going. Stubbornness only got you so far, and in that case it got him close enough and it earned him a trip dirtwards. As he rose he realized the futility of it all. He would, as a matter of fact, only manage to get himself killed.
The bitter taste of defeat was far worse than the dirt and blood he spat out as he walked away from a chance to prove himself against the enemy. Even managing to keep himself from from spitting out some brash statement as he gathered his things and left Wessex with only one last hate-filled look before disappearing back the way he came. A better man slinking away.
