- Writers Week Challenge #2 -

So for this weeks entry lets do something I know you're all familiar with, but probably have never spent time describing:

This challenge is getting your second-wind in a fight! - Basically you have just taken a severe beating in a one on one bout against an opponent you can't afford to lose to. Get up, and while doing so describe what's causing you to rise back to your feet. Your emotions, your pain (both emotional and physical), the variants of sensations, and possibly even your hate, disgust, sincerity, or plans for victory.

This is it! Your last chance! Show your opponent that you won't quit.

HINT: Don't feel limited, indicate this scene however you see fit. Take the role of whatever and whoever you want.

(OOC: Very different Bow... I just want to try this... :P )

This was it. Her last chance. She couldn't afford to lose this time. It was a battle against herself. She had to prove to everyone that she was more than what meets the eye. And he was the perfect opponent to show that. The most despicable man she had ever had the unfortunate fate in meeting. A demon in all meanings of the word.

Rain was already down, gasping for air. He walked to her as though the fight was concluded. He was the victor and strutted towards her to claim his prize. A swift kick to her gut sent through the air and she hit the opposite wall with a sickening thud. The sound alone would be painful to anyone's ears. A blood curdling scream sang through the howling wind in the cave as Rain struck the ground. Tears ran down her cheeks, steam rolling up in tiny tendrils off her face as her passion grew inside of her. Face down on the ground was where she began the transformation. It wasn't over. His ugly voice washed over her body but never touched her ears. The stinging pain of her body was no match for the excruciating torture in her own mind. Telling her she wouldn't get up. Telling her that she would never be good enough. No matter what she did she always would fail. There was no escape from this hell she was in. It was an ongoing circle of losing and she would never be free. She wasn't a hero. She was just a little girl in over her head.

Finally, that little girl snapped. A dome of fire encircled her body and she rose to her feet with a screech. The pain in her body was real, but soon it became numb through the rush of adrenaline through her veins. Her eyes were staring down the giant that she was facing until he became a dwarf in her vision. They switched places. She was now towering over him. Her hair was standing on end and the flames licked up her body, starting to set even her clothes on fire. It was out of her hands. This was a battle of her will, not of herself. Her hands raised themselves above her head, her mind now clear of everything except one thought. I am a hero. And she would prove that in the fight to come.

Bloodmoon fell to the ground he couldn't believe it he was going to die he lay there watching as the army of wolves fought against hades army of rock golems around his leg was broken along with several ribs and had a steady stream of blood forming a pool of around his upper body thanks to the two stone spikes that piercied his shoulders his vision was becoming hazy and dark. He watched through clouded vision as Hades slowly made his over to him killing any wolf that got in his way just as a white wolf pounced on him form behind and to the sideknocking him back as the wolf quickly ran over to him. The wolf nuzzled his cheek before staring him in the eyes the wolfs eyes where misty blue of his best friend artemis he blinked and then the wolf was gone. Hades was slowly standing up as he had the wind knocked out of him by the wolf and hitting a tree.

But it had done its job it showed him that artemis had been reborn and that she was with him Bloodmoon rolled over and struggled to stand as the man that took everything he cared about away. Shawn felt a the anger in him burn in him stronger than ever before bloodmoon knew that he wouldn't live for much longer but that didn't matter as his wolf cloak flared to life, but it began to take on a sickly purple color as he finally let go of all emotion accept the rage he felt and in doing so giving in to both the wolf and demon in him. Shawn felt the stone spikes become molten as his body burned with demonic energy it would be the thing that killed him he knew as his body was to badly hurt and he was making it worse but he didn't care his eye's where locked on to only one thing his enemy. Hades did even have time to look up before shawn's clawed hand periced his heart coughing up blood he raised his dagger that he had been holding tried to stab shawn in the neck only to truely die just as the tip touched shawn's neck. Ripping his hand free of Hades body Shawn stumbled as his adrenaline faded with his rage now that his target was dead as he fell to his knees Shawn smiled with as his heart beat it's last and his body fell lifeless to the forest floor.

Author's note: I'd like to put in a disclaimer for some mild gore.


How did this happen? We had the Emperor with us... The thoughts of a dying man. The thoughts of a man slumped against the bottom of a trench, staring out at the scene before him with eyes already long since dead to the endless cycle of slaughter. He coughed, and vivid red spurted from his lips, spraying across his fatigues and flakk jacket, the once proud blue of his uniform now smeared with the filth of war. He clenched his teeth behind the maze of scars that was his face. He was certain he had broken a few ribs when he had been thrown against the back wall of the trench, but that wasn't why he grimaced. Here he was, a Sergeant, a veteran of more than twenty brutal conflicts, proud servant of the Emperor, bleeding to death in a hole on some distant ball of dirt. He closed his eyes as he thought of home: The majestic marble and adamantium buildings, as beautifully sculpted as the statues. The endless fields of wheat, like seas of flowing gold. The mountains, awe inspiring in their powerful presence. The lush forests where he played as a boy, learning to hunt from his father. The thought of seeing Elysia only filled him with sorrow, as he knew it would never be. A massive explosion forced him back to the present, showering him with debris. His ears ringing, he lowered his hand – thrown up in reflex – and his eyes fell upon the face of a young man nearby. He was lying on his back, his chest a bloody crater and his face twisted into a horrible silent scream as his lifeless eyes stared into the bloody sky. At the sight a spear of pain lanced the dying man's heart. He remembered when he had first met that boy, roughly three years before. He was a new recruit in the Elysian 61rst Drop Troop Regiment, and while every Elysian Drop Trooper was already a veteran of a year's worth of conflict by the time they were considered as applicants, the Sergeant had always seen them as rookies until they made their first jump. The grizzled Sergeant would never admit it, but he truly cared for his squad. He took pride in their accomplishments and through his stern guidance they became true examples of the Emperor’s finest. He had always tried to remain impartial, but  he had found himself drawn to this one recruit in particular. He was talented but overly cocky, much like the Sergeant had been at his age. Though he refused to show it, in the time they had fought together the Sergeant had come to love that boy like the son that he and his wife had never been able to conceive. Merciful Emperor... He bit down on his lip, ignoring the salty copper that filled his mouth and the vibrant crimson than ran down his chin. Another of your children has completed his service... Fighting the pain, he leaned over and dragged himself towards his fallen comrade. I pray that you take his soul unto your bosom... Upon reaching the boy he forced himself to his knees and reached for the pouch on the young Corporal’s right hip. His heart skipped a beat, frozen in horror: The pouch was gone, likely shredded in the volley that had felled the young man. Without the golden coins within, he wouldn't be able to pay the ferryman and his soul would be lost within the Empyrean forever, unable to return to the Emperor's side. A single tear welled from the old veteran's eye, slowly tracking along the mask of dust and caked blood before falling from his chin. Without hesitation, his hand went to his own side, pulling a pair of ancient golden coins from within his pouch. He stared at them for a long moment, remembering the day his father had been returned home so that his body may be buried with full honor and that these coins, his birthright, could be passed on to him as they had been passed to every firstborn son before him for countless generations. Merciful Emperor, please forgive me. I shall serve you in life, but I will not be able to be with you in glory... Please watch over this young man and guide his soul to your side. With that thought he gently passed a hand over the Corporal’s eyes, closing them before pressing beneath his jaw to close his mouth. He placed his coins over the young man's eyes and crossed his hands over his chest. As he watched the young man, his sorrow slowly turned to anger. With each breath his hatred for the enemy grew. He heard them growing closer, chattering amongst each other in their dark language. He turned his gaze from the serene face of the Corporal to the twisted abominations advancing upon him. They had once been men, but they had fallen prey to the machinations of Chaos – worshiping the Dark Gods. Their allegiance showed upon their bodies as they had slowly twisted into foul parodies of the proud race they had betrayed.”Let my chest burn with His glory.” Like a vengeful phoenix the Sergeant rose from the ashes of blood and bone and dust as his power sword crackled with fiery lightning as the blazing symbol of judgment. “Let my feet burn with His righteousness!” As he rose from the broken remains of his butchered squad his plasma pistol whined and its scream grew into the primal shriek of the unavenged, howling and eager to reap a bloody toll. “Let my fists blaze with His wrath!” With a roar of pure hatred he squeezed the trigger and the barrel spat forth a sphere of plasma, a miniature sun that burned with the Emperor's brilliant glory, vaporizing the first of his assailants as his blade struck down another. “Let all before me wilt in the flames!” If he was to die here, so be it. But he would do his duty until the bitter end. He would hold the line.

Nice Silent. I felt the emotion. I felt the drama and it read like a novel. I wanted a complete story arc.