Third Annual BF betleH Tournament

Third Annual BF betleH Tournament (http://www.betleh.com/cgi-bin/b3/YaBB.pl)

Day 1 - Opening Matches >> After morning rounds >> Opening Round
(Message started by: So`l Mackenzie on Feb 13^th, 2005, 10:32pm)

Title: Opening Round
Post by So`l Mackenzie on Feb 13^th, 2005, 10:32pm

So'l retrieved his batletH from the wall where it hung with the others, and made his way through the milling crowd to his first match. He was dressed in his Klingon duty pants, which were made for fighting, and a light t-shirt, which wasn't, but was fine for a no blood match. His boots were likewise Klingon issue, but he'd long since filed off the toe spikes. They kept getting caught on gratings when he was crawling through access tubes.

The weight of the blade in his hands was exciting, he felt solid, powerful. He felt a dull nausea in his gut too. With every step towards the ring the thrill in his chest rose, his body tensed up in anticipation, or dread. He couldn't tell the difference anymore. Entering the ring, he caught sight of his opponent, a medium built human with sandy hair by the name of Sam Fletcher. He reached out and they shook hands.

“Good luck.” he said cheerfully.

“Uh, yea, good luck.” responded So'l, surprised at how normal his voice sounded. He felt like a vice had clamped down inside his chest.

The ref started reading off the rules, neither fighter paid attention. It was a formality, everyone knew them already. Sam was focusing on starting So'l down. So'l's gaze wavered, but he saw Sam smile. He thought he'd intimidated the Klingon cadet.

Both fighters took their stances. Sam chose a strong aggressive one, but his blade was at too steep an angle for that form. He didn't seem to realize that, and it surprised So'l he'd been able to recognize it. QaraH's training had definitely improved his abilities. So'l chose a mostly balanced stance that slightly favored defense from the front and side. He placed his unprotected flank and rear on the other side of the defense zone, away from Sam.

The ref blew a short blast on his whistle, and the match was on. Sam dashed forwards, and struck high. So'l flinched from the blow, but his blade caught the attack and turned it away. He stepped back and around, drawing the human's momentum through where he'd just been and putting himself at Sam's back.

So'l danced back, disengaging while Sam whirled to face his opponent again. So'l could feel himself start to loosen up, his apprehension washed away. Sam was charging again, and So'l stopped the thrust dead with a hard block. The jolt of the blow up his arms, the signing of the blades, it resonated with something inside him. His blood began to flow faster, harder.

The two fighters locked with each other, but neither could find the advantage. Again So'l disengaged, but when he found enough room, he was the one to attack. Sam threw up a hasty defense, and managed to turn away the hybrid's attack, but was staggered. So'l followed his blade, whipping around in a tight circle, and renewing his attack. His blade found Sam's at a bad angle, and with a reverberating clang, almost tore the weapon from the human's hands while knocking him to his knees. Sam scrambled away on three limbs, his batletH held tight in the other, but So'l didn't peruse.

A wide grin split So'l's face, as he took up another stance, waiting for Sam to be ready. The look on Sam's face- shock, surprise- only made So'l's grin wider as he reveled in the thrill of superiority. He'd stopped thinking of anything other than the fight, and he didn't notice he was having the time of his life.

The two men came together again, trading stroke and counter-stroke. Sam's blade tried to sneak in under So'l's flank guard, but only caught air as So'l danced away. So'l counter attacked with a strong upward thrust, Sam fell for the ploy and caught it with his own blade. So'l quickly wrenched his blade over, entangling the two weapons, and twisted away from his opponent. Sam's batletH clattered to the floor.

As the ref called So'l as the winner, his soul rejoiced, jubilant with victory. Sam was stunned, then went over and retrieved his fallen weapon. He turned to face So'l, his face still slack as if it hadn't sunk in yet.

“Congratulations.” he said, then hurried away. In his victory, So'l didn't notice the disappointment and embarrassment written into Sam's movements as he left the arena.

On the walk back to the wall where the blades were hung, So'l felt as if he were gliding on clouds. Joy sung in his chest, and his face was beginning to hurt from smiling so broadly for so long, but he couldn't keep the grin off his face if he'd tried. As he stood back to admire the look of his batletH in it's new place, advanced one along the bracket, he felt swollen with pride. He'd won, and it was great.

Then, the afterglow of a fight wore off, and the blood slowed in his veins, he felt something else. He felt the bottom of his stomach fall out, and a suffocating shame settle onto him. His face stopped smiling.

“God darnit.” he mumbled.