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tamingthemuseTitle: Pyrrhic Victory
Prompt #422 Pyrrhic Victory
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 642
Summary: It is definitey the worst way to win a duel.
A/N: that's probably the dumbest thing I've ever written, and the ending is horrible.
I am not going to fool myself. The fight had begun quite badly for me, and it didn't improve afterwards.
Maybe I should have taken a squire with me to help with my armor and all that thing. It would certainly have improved the odds of my survival. It's not that I didn't win – I did; I have won my duel against Sir Errol. I am the first one to have drawn blood. But I now find myself in a most incomfortable position, and I doubt Sir Errol will be of any help – even if he could, I doubt he would want to be of any help.
I was confident I could handle the matter of that duel on my own; Sir Errol had offended me (or, more accurately, I had offended him and he had sought revenge in a way that offended me in return), and I deemed that I should take care of that business without involving an innocent person. It was my first mistake, and all the others come from this one.
I didn't think that I would still need a squire to get ready to fight, and it was only when I was faced with the necessity to put on my armor by myself that I realized my mistake. By then, it was too late to ask for more time to go and fetch some help with my attire. I did as best as I could, and it didn't end up too badly. Except that I didn't have the freedom of movement I normally enjoyed with a well-put armor. But I was confident in my abilities, and the lack of them in my opponent, and decided to proceed into the duel. I think that, at this point, Sir Errol noticed something was wrong, but he didn't call off the duel. That coward knew his best chance was for me to be handicaped.
It became clear early in the fight that I woud need a miracle to actually win. I missed my two first strokes, easily blocked by my opponent. When he saw an opening for making a blow of his own, he didn't hesitate, and I couldn't avoid it. That first knock broke my left leg, but it didn't draw blood. Yet, things didn't look for me. They became worse afterwards.
With one unreliable leg, I was an easy target. It didn't take much time for Sir Errol to break my other leg, and then my fighting arm. How come no blood came through my skin, I don't know; fate was on my side today, it only faintly. Yet I was on the ground, with one arm left working, and an opponent ready to make the blow that would draw blood – and to make it the deadliest possible.
Fate was on my side indeed, for as he was preparing for his final strike, Sir Errol bumped his foot against a tree root, and fell on the ground, hitting his head against a rock. I waited for him to get on his feet and finish this business, but after a few minutes, it seemed obvious he wasn't going to stand up any time soon. I saw my chance and I took it.
He hadn't fall far from me, luckily, and after a few crawls only caused by my good arm, I reached him. I took his helmet off and, after having dragged a deep breath, I bit him. I gnawed at him a few times before blood escape his torn flesh, and without him waking up. I had won. I have won.
Though I have the feeling that victory would feel a lot better if I wasn't stranded in the middle of nowhere, unable to move, with a maybe-dead opponent I could barely reach. At least, if it comes to that, I could still eat him.
Prompt #422 Pyrrhic Victory
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 642
Summary: It is definitey the worst way to win a duel.
A/N: that's probably the dumbest thing I've ever written, and the ending is horrible.
I am not going to fool myself. The fight had begun quite badly for me, and it didn't improve afterwards.
Maybe I should have taken a squire with me to help with my armor and all that thing. It would certainly have improved the odds of my survival. It's not that I didn't win – I did; I have won my duel against Sir Errol. I am the first one to have drawn blood. But I now find myself in a most incomfortable position, and I doubt Sir Errol will be of any help – even if he could, I doubt he would want to be of any help.
I was confident I could handle the matter of that duel on my own; Sir Errol had offended me (or, more accurately, I had offended him and he had sought revenge in a way that offended me in return), and I deemed that I should take care of that business without involving an innocent person. It was my first mistake, and all the others come from this one.
I didn't think that I would still need a squire to get ready to fight, and it was only when I was faced with the necessity to put on my armor by myself that I realized my mistake. By then, it was too late to ask for more time to go and fetch some help with my attire. I did as best as I could, and it didn't end up too badly. Except that I didn't have the freedom of movement I normally enjoyed with a well-put armor. But I was confident in my abilities, and the lack of them in my opponent, and decided to proceed into the duel. I think that, at this point, Sir Errol noticed something was wrong, but he didn't call off the duel. That coward knew his best chance was for me to be handicaped.
It became clear early in the fight that I woud need a miracle to actually win. I missed my two first strokes, easily blocked by my opponent. When he saw an opening for making a blow of his own, he didn't hesitate, and I couldn't avoid it. That first knock broke my left leg, but it didn't draw blood. Yet, things didn't look for me. They became worse afterwards.
With one unreliable leg, I was an easy target. It didn't take much time for Sir Errol to break my other leg, and then my fighting arm. How come no blood came through my skin, I don't know; fate was on my side today, it only faintly. Yet I was on the ground, with one arm left working, and an opponent ready to make the blow that would draw blood – and to make it the deadliest possible.
Fate was on my side indeed, for as he was preparing for his final strike, Sir Errol bumped his foot against a tree root, and fell on the ground, hitting his head against a rock. I waited for him to get on his feet and finish this business, but after a few minutes, it seemed obvious he wasn't going to stand up any time soon. I saw my chance and I took it.
He hadn't fall far from me, luckily, and after a few crawls only caused by my good arm, I reached him. I took his helmet off and, after having dragged a deep breath, I bit him. I gnawed at him a few times before blood escape his torn flesh, and without him waking up. I had won. I have won.
Though I have the feeling that victory would feel a lot better if I wasn't stranded in the middle of nowhere, unable to move, with a maybe-dead opponent I could barely reach. At least, if it comes to that, I could still eat him.
