[closed/complete] Characters: Hades (ofshadows), Menelaus (avaliantman), and Persephone (anironqueen) Date/Time: 28 May Location: Coliseum Rating: Med Warnings: Violence and death. Summary: The Spartan king and the chthonic king duke it out as the latter's queen watches on.
She had arrived early enough to find a decent place to seat herself. Though there were other matches, there was only one she cared the most about, the one she was deeply selfish over.
A small breeze ruffles the thin, gauzy layers of her clothing, blowing back some free strands of her dark hair out of her face. One of her slaves hovered near by, shading her from the sun's rays. Persephone wondered then how Hades would fair and whether she could go down and fuss over him when the match was over. It was severely unlikely they would let anyone down there but she could always try. And, with some luck, he would have his freedom after this.
He had to win.
Menelaus stood out on the stand already, sword in hand, shield up. The light armour felt almost meaningless but he wouldn't deny himself it. He didn't know who this Andrus fellow was but he suspected he would find out shortly if he was a worth fighter.
Briefly, he scanned the crowds for his wife and wondered if she had attended the matches of her other...acquired men. His jaw tightened at the thought of that and then looked toward where his opponent was, disregarding whatever the dominus of the ludus was saying. It didn't matter, not until the man gave the sign for them to start.
Menelaus, perhaps, had been looking for the wrong wife. Lena was quite clearly in the crowd, her retinue of servants holding colorful shades and fans over her head. But that was neither here nor there as Hades stepped into the coliseum.
His choice of armor was startlingly bare, but it allowed him to move with a speed and uncanny grace denied most gladiators. A sword - though more dagger than true blade - rested against his hip, the main weapon being a long spear clasped in his hands. The tip was bifurcated, as close as the lord of the Underworld could come to his bident. But it would suit.
Hades met Menelaus's eyes evenly, so passive he looked almost bored. But under that facade, the former god was already thinking - Menelaus was far too strong for Hades to take close-range, but relatively too slow to manage the teenager at a distance. This strategy would have to hold. He stood, poise relaxed and ready to flit away, as quick and evasive as the shadows he'd held dominion over.
Persephone bit the skin at the tip of her thumb, pale eyes following the shadow Hades made in the sand, moving from it to the flesh-n-blood figure. Though she never thought him a small man, he was, in ways, the smaller one between himself and his opponent. A small prayer fluttered up from her heart to her lips, whispered to any deities merciful enough to listen. Spare him for I need him.
And then she heard the dominus give the signal for the battle to begin.
The command had been given and Menelaus did not wait but moved in almost immediately, sword pulled back to be brought down against Hades' spear, a loud, heavy battle cry having left his throat the moment he left his spot in the sand. It didn't have to be short and quick, not if he wanted his freedom. Bloody and harsh would probably get him what he wanted.
Hades found the move ill thought out as he danced away, grip on his spear renewed as he allowed Menelaus to charge on. He kept his range far and his spear weaving in and out of reach. The moment Menelaus came within even a few feet of him, Hades would be a goner.
So distance was maintained, and the spear thrust into whatever weak spots could be reached through the armor. He aimed for all the joints, striking true on some occasions yet unable to penetrate the barriers of steel on others. Still, he avoided the Spartan's brutal blow, at several points being lucky to have gotten free with slashes on his arms. Despite the pain, his adroitness with the spear did not yield.
But for all the distance, Menelaus was no easy prey, giving the god hell at every parry of the spear.
Blood would end up on the tip of Hades' bident from strikes that were true enough to offer Menelaus unpleasant gashes along his arms and legs. But he didn't stop, he didn't hesitate to lash out with his shield, his sword and even his feet (aimed at Hades' own or even his chest in an attempt to knock him down). Each strike he attempted, each one he landed through some good fortunate were all born from power that rivaled the other man's swiftness.
There was something far too beautiful about this, something that reminded him why he was who he was. That reminded him of victory, of the protection he offered his loved ones by being able to do this. The sounds of the crowds meant nothing, there were a dull noise in the background as the scent of blood and sweat mingled, at least one of those dripping down his face for the time being.
The Spartan's renewed fervor threw off most of Hades's parries. But the god remained cool, becoming even more daring with his thrusts, aiming for areas far more fatal than mere joints. Though Hades's strikes had indeed met their mark, slowing the Spartan down and debilitating him, they had not been placed well enough to truly rid Menelaus of his crushing strength.
The fight was so well-matched, Hades had to admit. Menelaus's brutal strength and instinctive aggression rang in perfect harmony with Hades's cool strategy and breakneck speed. It would only take one wrong move...
And then Hades lost his footing on a misplaced pebble, his spear arm rolling out for balance, staying suspended in mid-air just a second too long.
Triumph blazed in his eyes and Menelaus reached out with an arm burning in pain (his shield having been lost some time ago) to grasp the man's spear (gods above, this really was dirty business). And with an adrenaline-fueled tug, he dragged the other man close enough to end the matter. To give the rambunctious crowd what they wanted. What he wanted.
Without ceremony, he drove his blade into the slighter man's belly, blood-stained teeth bared as he did so, twisting the blade when he felt it deep enough.
And Persephone screamed.
Yet even then Hades was calm, his hand moving to the blade at his hip, drawing it out of its scabbard and plunging it into Menelaus's abdomen.
He thought he could hear Persephone's voice amidst the bloodthirsty cries, but even this faded away as Hades greeted the Underworld like an old friend.