Weapons and Pugilism, Monde vs the two captains

Monde entered the immense coliseum, awed by it's size and appearance. It seemed as if one could fit a whole city in the stadium, but Monde doubted so. He was eager to begin his fight and, although inexperienced, was confident to a certain digree.

"This will be fun," he repeated to himself, rubbing his hands together rapidly. He would be fighting two opponents, so he would have to work much harder to win. That is, if he even could win.

Work on your spelling, and set up more of your surroundings. As you will be fighting NPC's, I will also use third person.


Katal and Vilkas entered the golden Colosseum, used to the large space. Above, in her observers throne, sat the queen of the country who held this stadium: Ylva. Her ice blue gace locked onto the twins as they strode through the under realm of the arena, her slit pupils betraying her amusement. Her Raven, Arondale, was sitting on her throne.

Pointing his red sword to her, Katal smirked at the Monarch.

"For you, m'lady!"

Rolling his eyes, Vilkas also unsheathed his sword, silently pointing it toward Ylva. His yellow gaze matched his brother's, marking them for what they were. Their wings were tucked against their backs, Katal's white ones in stark contrast to his red and black uniform. Vilkas's black feathers also contrasted his white uniform, and blue sword. The brothers each had the claw gauntlets on their left hands- proof of their status in Dyseria.

"For you, m'lady."

Vilkas's quiet voice was the signal, and they both strode toward the Antithues in the arena.

Monde watched carefully at the way they treeted their leader. Such respect, such honour! Monde was nearly jumping with excitement, and thus took a few moments to breathe and calm himself. As they strode towards him, he began pacing towards them, pondering on how the fight would turn out. As they both walked, a gentle breeze blew past Monde's face, lifting a patch of dust of the floor and into the sky, like a cloud.

He stopped for a moment, staring at the cloud before abruptly shaking his head and turning to face his opponents. As he turned, he noticed a table with weapons on it, particularly swords and blades. "So it's pugilism then?" He said, still facing his foes.

Pugilism is only fist-to-fist. Swords to sword is fencing, almost.

Katal and Vilkas looked at each other for a moment, before looking back at Monde

"So, you will use your fists to our swords? Or will you use one of the weapons Monarch Feleen has chosen for you?" Vilkas' question got his brother to smirk.

"Vilkas, the demon will surely use a weapon! He doesn't look as horrible as his kind, and I see God's spark in those eyes... Ironic, for a Hell-birthed."

Katal's hearty laughter filled the Colosseum, causing Ylva's lips to quirk in a smile, and Arondale to set out in flight as a spectator.

Monde joined in the laughter, always enjoying a good joke. But, it suddenly cme to him that the weapons on the table wwere the weapons they talked about.

He turned to face the table, inspecting each weapon before turning back, this time inspeccting the two beings standing before him. He was intrigued by them. Their personlities were a stark contrast to each other's, yet they seemed like the perfect duo.

"Very interesting indeed." Muttered Monde underneath his silent breath.

Slowly, he began pacing towards the weapons, thinking it would make the fight fairer. He glanced at a long-sword, picking it up with his right hand and giving it two or three swings. It was perfect.

As he returned, he replied to the man's comment about him, "God's spark? That is the first time such a comment has been made to me, the same cannot be said about me not being as horrible as my kind." he said, laughing for a moment.

Pointing out his long, glistning sword, he said, "Shall we begin?"