::SpitFire::

There he stood, so motionless as to almost be one among the many stone gargoyles that adorned the balustrade … his vestments naught but tattered rags flapping in the sweeping gusts of wind. His features wreathed in the shadows of his hooded cloak.
The vision of his stature high above ground would have been quite chilling to any other being. But I knew him … knew him just too well, to be intimidated.
I stood back in my invisibility watching him. I knew he could sense my presence … He is one who sees through the air's density.
The druids below were taunting him … sneering at him … they are ever so arrogant of their measly powers.
And then .. it was as though one of the gargoyles had broken its taut position; He lashed out his blade almost ripping his cloak revealing his sleek personage.
The menacing move had already sent chills though the spines of the druids, whose destiny, as had already been determined the moment they had SpitFire crossing their paths … I sure could smell their fear. Pathetic arrogant fools, why even stand there.
One swift move and his self-projectile moved downward with his twin blade spread backwards, seething and waiting to lash out.
He landed right in the middle of the Druids' Circle.
He swung forward raising his blades above in an elegant trance-like move... like a swan.
His blade then uttered a low hum.
It seemed like silence … but it was a tearing silence … very uncanny.
With both his wrists stuck together, he rotated his blades in a circular pattern.
Keeping the rotation in procedure, he raised his hands and danced gracefully … smooth … extremely smooth.
His blade's hum, due to the movement seemed like a howl... No, I then felt it. It was a deep song ... You could feel the winds sing the song of eternity. And it seemed to emanate from deep within … as though the song vibrated right from your gut … as though your body was singing it … Grrr! I knew later what it was … his blade was inciting the fears within, into a song … no a trance.
He had more class than I could have imagined him to have.
Rotating Blades and impatient druids, just the perfect concoction for a blood bath. Somewhere someone flinched in the circle. Suddenly the music turned into one monotonous vibrating tone and he pranced like a drunk in his trance with the blades' still in smooth and perfect rotation. The rotation circle suddenly became wider than it initially was. The sudden surprise was not only to the Druids on the outer circle but also to those on the inside, whom the blade had already passed.
He spread his hands; no more stuck at the wrists, hence the wide circle of rotation.
The first set of druids fell to the floor not even feeling the pain. Impressive, I thought to myself.
The rotation circle was still wide. His dance became more coordinated ... Like some old tribal dance ... Body and Blade rotating at an inclined angle … With those menacing moves ... he lunged forward to every victim, before the first three fell down one more Druid had already tasted his blade. The druids started to pull out their staves and stilettos. But before they could even position themselves, they were already on the floor uttering silent cries.
The way he put fear was an ecstasy to watch … really relishing the way he instilled fear. His victims had such deep fear but his dance and the song of his sword seemed to put them into a trance that they were almost enjoying, but with fear still tearing them apart. This was exactly like an Arachnid that stings its prey putting them into a drunken stupor.
Though the prey knows it is helpless and knows it is going to be devoured anytime, it still enjoys the trance of the drunkenness… sort of a Sweet death.
By the time the song was over, there was none left standing in the Amphitheater. Even still his dance continued, as though to sneer at the no completion offered to him and prompting over the fact that his enemies had fallen much before his song was over.
He danced a bit more now as though to enjoy his minor victory, facing the ground.
He really had some class. I am beginning to relish him more… him and his impeccable style.
When the song ended, he was already above the balustrade again in less than a split second, as though he hadn’t budged from his initial position from before … even too fast for me to have noticed... well almost. His robe was back on him. This time he wasn’t looking at the druids or their dead bodies.
He was looking at me… directly into my eyes, just for a split second, which seemed like an hour. Weird he got my eyes even though I was invisible.
I dare say he smiled at me, as though I had said "Good Show boy". One more of his swift stylish back flip move and he was lost from my vicinity. There was something about him I couldn’t comprehend. I could not sense him anymore. He was much more powerful than I had imagined.
He had mastered his style and art more than, one could imagine.
SpitFire, I will be seeing you soon, no doubted in battle next. But where will you be, beside me or before me?
One way or the other...
The battle is going to be one hell of a display of Gargantuan Rage. I am looking forward to it.

May the fog clear and so will the future!


~ GhostStalker