A lot of my miscellaneous writing recently has been related to The Arena, so I figured I’d occasionaly post from excerpts for others to read! :D
“I’ll take that trade any day!”
“No Koreig, look!” she shouted from the sidelines. “H-he’s zipping the wound closed.”
His grip on his crescent axe tightened as he felt the pain running up his thigh. When his axe had torn a deep gash into his opponent’s chest, releasing an arc of blood that speckled his grin, he didn’t mind the chunk his opponent’s pike had unexpectedly taken out of his upper thigh. For a split second it felt like success, but as his opponent ran his fingers along the edges of the gash, pulling his flesh back together as if he had just zipped a zipper shut, his grin faded.
“Leaving him unscathed and me wounded… Damn it, he fights just like an experiment, but I thought…” he cursed, finishing his query internally, I thought that Jeppetto was a respected citizen of Galindh? This thing can’t be an experiment, but then what is he?
His opponent retracted the pike into the zipper slot in the palm of his hand, leaving it open. As suddenly as his weapon had appeared, it was hidden once more. After stretching out his hand, the enemy extended an arm towards Koreig, mockingly gesturing him forward.
“You’re really starting to piss me off, freak!”
Placing his other hand on his axe, Koreig ran forward with an incredible burst of speed, ignoring the pain stabbing at his leg as he surged with rage. When he got close enough to his opponent, he braced himself just in time to spot the tip of the pike peeking through an open zipper on his opponent’s foot. With not a moment to lose, Koreig pulled his charge’s momentum backwards as the pike tore through the air less than an inch in front of his face.
“That trick isn’t going to work on me again now that I know it’s coming, you freak!”
Spinning around the pike clockwise, Koreig dodged to the left of the pike while using the added force of the swing to arc his axe across his opponent’s upper arm, severing it off cleanly. Without losing his momentum, Koreig continued to run past his opponent a good distance before turning to face him. As he turned to face his opponent, his opponent was zipping off the stub of his severed arm, stopping the rapid blood loss.
“It wasn’t that you can’t be cut, it’s just that the cut wasn’t deep enough,” Koreig sneered. “Zip it off all you like you freak, I’m winning the arm game 2-1!”
It when was when Koreig mentally tallied the score that he realized something was terribly wrong. His eyes darting across the ground around his opponent, and he realized that the arm he had cut clean off what nowhere to be found amidst the small pool of blood.
He could’ve possibly retracted it into that zipper of his, Koreig thought, but that doesn’t explain the blood. Damn it, I hate dealing with these freaks, they’re so hard to predict.
“Koreig, behind you!”
Unsure of what his teammate was shouting about, Koreig turned to look over his shoulder only to see his opponent’s hand wrap its fingers around his face. The hand at the end of the arm that was crushing his face was attached to his shoulder, flesh bound together by a metal zipper that he hadn’t even felt placed. In the moment before he had cut off his opponent’s arm, his opponent had somehow unzipped his arm, rezipping into Koreig’s flesh without him feeling it.
“Damn it!” he shouted, biting at the fingers as they tried to hold his mouth shut. “Get this freaky thing off of me!”
The fingers continued to press firmly against Koreig’s face as he gnashed at them while trying to pry them away with his offhand, a distinct chuckling emanating from his opponent. His opponent reached across his own lips, peeling back a zipper that was stifling his hearty laughter.
“Looks more like 3-1 to me,” his opponent jeered. “Oh dear, I’m losing terribly, aren’t I?”