sparkymat

The guard paused to stifle a yawn. He thought it ironic that someone like his master would need guarding, and in the several years of his service, there has been no major disturbances. Yet, he maintained contsant vigil.

He nodded to his partner as they passed each other on the patrol. There was plenty of time left on their shift and it would be a while before he could rest. Pushing away tantalising thoughts of home, he continued patrolling. A long night lay ahead of him. Or so he thought.

An intense, piercing pain shot through his neck for a moment, before he blacked out.

One by one, the guards were dropped by arrows. A dark figure ran through the shadows towards the backdoor. A few deft movements with his lock pick and he was inside. Without making any noise, he crept through the room and paused at the door. From the voices, he could make out atleast 5 security guards, and possibly more. He was at the doors of the barracks. He waited for a few moments, picturising the room, positioning each guard mentally from their voices. He readied 3 arrows on his bow. Checking that his dirk was accessible on his belt, he kicked open the door.

The events of the next few moments were a blur of arrows and blades. The first 3 guards dropped instantly, with arrows sticking out of their chests. The next one got full eight inches of blade in his gut, and in a flowing motion, he pulled out the knife and slashed the next one’s neck. Two guard were sleeping in the bunks. Hearing the commotion, they jumped out of their cots and reached for their swords, only to be felled by two more arrows in rapid succession. In under a minute, the room lay still as he observed the scene with dispassionate eyes. All his mercy had died the day they took his father.

He made his way through the house, backstabbing and slitting the throats of any patrolling guards until he reached his destination - the trophy room. It took some amount of trying before he was able to pick the lock and enter. The trophy room was huge with countless glass cases on either side stretching into the distance. He knew he had very little time before reinforcements arrived. Even he couldn’t take down an entire army on his own. He ran down one side, quickly scanning through the items, until he found it, the glass case labelled with his father’s name.

The sight of it sickened him. His father’s mask was placed on the velvet floor of the case. Beside it was his father’s lucky bow and several arrow heads - the trick arrows. Moments later, he was on his way out, sneaking through the shadows, running, climbing walls. He had got what he had come for. Vengeance will have to wait for another day.

It was the smoke that led him to that place. His view was blocked by the towering trees, but the acrid smell of burning flesh told him that something was terribly wrong. He broke into a run.

The sight that met his eyes was ghastly. The long, serpentile form of a majestic, green dragon lay crashed through the trees, smoke billowing from several places, its shiny, green hide spotted with bruises and cuts.

He approached it cautiously. The dragon had apparently passed on, leaving behind its mortal husk. The magical energies contained in its body were already escaping to the heavens. Even as he walked around the body of the mighty beast, a human gasp sounded nearby and he realized, with a start, that the dragon was a manned one.

The broken form of a tall, thin person lay a few feet away, in a pool of blood. His shiny, green robe was soaked in blood and his painful moans foretold impending death.

He knelt beside the dying rider and examined him for signs of life. The heart beat was faint. Suddenly, the rider’s eyes flickered open. His breath was long and drawn.

“They will be here soon. You have to run away.“

“Who are you? Who is coming?“

“They will kill you, and they will take the Ring. It must not fall into their hands. You have to take it.“

The rider nodded to his right hand. A large, emerald ring shone on his finger.

“Take it. Take it and run away.“

The boy took it from the rider’s fingers. Even as he was removing it, the air grew dark and heavy. Terror-struck, he looked up at the rider, but he had breathed his last. He could hear movement behind him in the woods. Fearful, he clutched the Ring in his hand and ran into the darkness of the woods.

The magical energies crackled around him, tearing into the very fiber of his being. The pain was unbearable, beyond all human limits, and with every passing moment, his mortality slipped away as the magical energies reformed his body.

Solid white energy flowed from the twin diamonds, impaling his body, and then diffusing into it, hardening it.

Yellow energy flowed from the topaz, dancing around his body, and fading to form an invisible shield around his body.

Red energy flowed from the ruby, searing through everything in its path. It gathered around his body, infusing him with the power of fire.

Blue energy flowed from the sapphire, leaving a icy mist in its wake. As the energy crackled around his body, the mist rose to obscure him from vision.

They were too busy playing with their wooden swords to notice the thundering hooves. In their childish make-believe world, they were valiant knights fighting for the hand of the fair lady. A feint, a parry, a thrust - the battle raged on. They were evenly matched, with skills disproportionate to their age. Until one of them made a mistake.

“Yield! You have lost!“

It is in that moment of triump, when fierce concentration was replaced with triumphant joy, that he saw the riders. The fire. The ashes. The dead. Even as horror dawned on them, their vision was obscured by several dark shapes. The riders. They had surrounded them, observing them with barely concealed amusement. Their leader came forward.

“Your game has amused us. You children have some skill. I am sure the master would like to see you.“

They looked at each other in fear. Two children in a childhood that had suddenly gone wrong. Very wrong.

I have to put the tournament on hold since I do not yet have a clear “bigger picture” for the story. Also, the pressure of having to concentrate on this is causing all my blogging to suffer. Hence, I shall put this on the “thinking rack” till I have a credible story to build this upon. This will also give me the freedom to pursue other trains of thought without having to worry about finishing the tournament.

Don’t worry, this isn’t the end. Until we meet again.

Finally, my blog goes multi-lingual! Well, not truly, but atleast non-English people can get a rough translation using Google Translations using the buttons on the right sidebar.

Please find the final matchup below:

Name: The Phantom

Aliases: The Ghost Who Walks, The Man Who Cannot Die, Mr. Walker

Style: Unknown

Weapon of choice: Unknown

Finishing Move: Unknown

Summary: In the jungles of the African country Bangalla, there is a myth about “The Ghost Who Walks”, “The Man Who Cannot Die”, The Phantom. It is rumoured that he has been around for generations, protecting the people from the evil in the world. It is yet to established whether the Phantom is an urban legend or a real person.

Name: Pai Mei

Aliases: None

Style: Eagle Claw Kung Fu

Weapon of choice: None

Finishing Move: Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique

Summary: Pai Mei was a White Lotus Priest who was famed to be one of the greatest martial artists. Once upon a time in China, head priest of the White Lotus Clan, Pai Mei was walking down the road, contemplating whatever it is that a man of Pai Mei’s infinite power contemplates - which is another way of saying “who knows” - when a Shaolin monk appeared, traveling in the opposite direction. As the monk and the priest crossed paths, Pai Mei, in a practically unfathomable display of generosity, gave the monk the slightest of nods. The nod was not returned. Now, was it the intention of the Shaolin monk to insult Pai Mei, or did he just fail to see the generous social gesture? The motives of the monk remain unknown. What is known are the consequences: The next morning Pai Mei appeared at the Shaolin Temple and demanded of the Temple’s head abbot that he offer Pai Mei his neck to repay the insult. The Abbot at first tried to console Pai Mei, only to find Pai Mei was…inconsolable. So began the massacre of the Shaolin Temple and all 60 of the monks inside at the fists of the White Lotus.

Name: Liu Kang

Aliases: None

Style: Jun Fan Gung Fu, Monkey Kung Fu, Dragon Kung Fu, Choy Lee Fut, Sān Huáng Pào Chuí, Jun Fan Jeet Kune Do

Weapon of choice: Dragon sword, Nunchaku

Finishing Move: None

Summary: Liu Kang is a Chinese Shaolin fighting monk, but his style and manners are more westernised. He moves quickly and possesses formidable fighting skills. Liu Kang follows the teachings of the shaolin White Lotus Society. He was sent by the Temple of Light to defeat Shang Tsung in Mortal Kombat. He desired to defeat Shang Tsung and bring the tournament back to its Shaolin owners. Liu Kang was trained by Master Bo’ Rai Cho, who taught him the Flying Kick. As he made his way to the tournament, he met and became friends with Johnny Cage and Sonya Blade. At the time of Liu Kang’s entry, Outworld had won nine Mortal Kombat tournaments in a row. Eventually, Liu Kang earned the right to challenge Goro to Mortal Kombat. By exploiting the Shokan’s overconfidence, Liu Kang defeated Goro and became the new Champion of Mortal Kombat. Upon hearing of Goro’s defeat, Shang Tsung challenged Liu Kang. After an epic battle, Liu Kang defeated Shang Tsung with his Flying Kick, emerging as the new champion of Mortal Kombat.