literature

Bitter Defeat Part 1

Deviation Actions

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August 23, 2009.  "Tell me why we're 'ere, again?" Scarnfix groaned, his hat pulled down to keep the sun out of his blue eyes.  He looked around the new surroundings, a forest of tall trees and various natural fixtures.  "This sunlight is unbearable."

"We are still undermanned," Machelix replied.  "One of my sources told me that this is a good place to find strong-hearted beings perfect for becoming Nobodies."

Scarnfix growled and retorted, "Couldn't we 'ave started at night?  It wouldn't 'ave made much o' a difference."

Machelix shook his head.  "This place is dangerous at night.  No one knows everything that could possibly be in these woods.  Many secrets are hidden in this battlefield."

At that time a shout of a battle cry sounded.  Both of them turned towards it.  "There's our first victim."  A smile curled Scarnfix's lips and exposed his vampire fangs.  One of his cutlasses appeared in his hand.

Machelix drew his Keyblade from thin air as well, but he used it to hold Scarnfix back.  "Remember; we're here for recruits, not recreation."

"Aye, aye, captain," jeered Scarnfix with a scowl.

A shout of pain alerted them to their true objective, one that wasn't bickering.  Machelix led on as they continued down the dirt road at a more hurried pace.

The wide trail passed by a grass field.  Two warriors stood facing each other, one with black hair, face paint (most likely a signature of the tribe), and a red headband, and the other with a bronze full-face helm hiding his features.  The black-haired fighter was adorned in animal skin with an arrow quiver on his back.  The other was more adorned in his weapons; a net was slung over his shoulder pads, an arrow-pierced shield was slung across his back, and a sword sheath traced his leg.  Other than these and his helm, he was only dressed in ragged waist garments and boots with armor up to his knee.  A sling and projectile were in his hands.

These two warriors, apache and gladiator, were armed to the teeth but still in a sort of boxing configuration.  A ridge formed the boundary alongside them while the trail Machelix and Scarnfix traveled acted as the ropes behind the apache.

"Who do we go after first?" asked Scarnfix.

"Keep patient," Machelix hissed.  "It's rude to interrupt a fight in progress."  He pointed to the trees hanging over the trail and led Scarnfix into the boughs.

Their detour from the road was an intelligent, almost instinctive move.  As the gladiator readied another projectile in his sling, the apache moved to the road and behind a fallen branch from their tree.  While the part they were sitting in was foliaged, the apache's branch was barren.

Both warriors had their eyes on each other as the gladiator loosed his volley.  The Apache didn't flinch as it came near, and with good reason; it struck a part of the branch system and harmlessly bounced up into the air.  Scarnfix managed to catch it before it fell back down to the ground.  "Look, Mac," he said, holding up the lump of metal, "a souvenir."

"Pipe down and keep your eyes on the fight."  Machelix pointed towards the gladiator still in the field.  He had ditched the sling and drawn his shield and a trident.  With a cry of anger the gladiator gave chase to the apache.  His target moved from under the tree farther down the trail.

All of a sudden the apache turned on the pursuing gladiator, a small hide shield in one hand and a tomahawk in the other.  The gladiator was unfazed and promptly stabbed the shield and ripped it out of the apache's hand.  The apache caught the trident on the blade, worked the trident out of its alignment, and brought the tomahawk down on the gladiator.  But, in a motion that neither Machelix, Scarnfix, nor the apache could see, the gladiator exchanged his shield for the net on his back and caught the tomahawk in its snare.  The apache grabbed the gladiator's other arm, and a struggle ensued.  Neither man was willing to give up even an inch of ground.

"Ye be right," Scarnfix remarked.  "This is a fight worth seein'."

As if reacting to his words, the gladiator delivered a kick to the apache's chest to knock him away.  The tomahawk fell to the ground in front of the gladiator.  Neither fighter was giving up now.  Scrambling to his feet the apache found another hiding place in an even thicker tangle of hanging tree branches.  The gladiator followed and thrust his trident through the boughs.  The apache was just out of reach.  He tried a few more times, egged on by the apache's whooping taunts.  After his third strike failure, the gladiator withdrew his trident from the branch and strode around the cover.  The Apache was already fleeing farther down the trail.

He didn't get far.  The gladiator threw his net almost like a projectile from his sling.  His aim was better this time and caused the net to wrap around the apache's legs.  The apache fell face-first into the dust.  With his opponent helpless, the gladiator threw his trident javelin-style at the apache.  The barbed points would prove a lethal hit.

At least, that would have been the case if the apache didn't roll out of the way.  The trident landed and lodged itself into the ground.  The apache responded to this by throwing a tomahawk.  The gladiator dodged it by leaning forward, the small axe sailing over his shoulder.  The momentary distraction did allow the apache to regain his feet, though.

"Either one of these warriors would be worthy of our ranks," Machelix noted aloud.

Scarnfix was getting antsy.  "Aye, so which one do we capture?"

Machelix held up his empty hand and said, "Patience, they're still engaged in combat."

But it wouldn't be long.  Both warriors brought out a new weapon, the gladiator drawing his sword and the apache grabbing his club.  The sword was a bent but elegant piece of steel with a sharp tip known as a sica.  The club was an earthen ball fastened onto the end of a stick, decorated with feathers and other "treasures".

"Har, 'dis be no contest," snickered Scarnfix.
"
Never underestimate your opponent," Machelix warned, "even when you're not fighting."

Both warriors rushed each other, weapons brandished but neither one backing down.  The gladiator slashed at the apache with two vicious horizontal strikes, but the Apache leapt out of range both times.  Before a third could be attempted, the apache knocked the sica out of the gladiator's hand and followed up by striking the helm off of the gladiator's fuzzed and scruffy head with a strike of the club.  The gladiator staggered backwards with the blow.

"Sometimes you are surprised."  Machelix's tone was far from pleased.

The apache rushed forward as the gladiator struggled to grab his shield.  He had regained his senses enough so, when the apache leapt into the air with a battle cry, he could give the airborne apache a powerful body blow that sent him to the ground again.

"And sometimes the best offense be a good defense," Scarnfix added cheerfully.

The gladiator knelt down beside the apache and gave him two punches right to the face.  
Sunlight gleamed from the spikes of the cestus.  The apache was left battered and slightly bloodied, but he was still conscious.

"Alright, finish 'im!"

The gladiator turned to look into the trees with a grin on his face.  He now realized he had an audience.  Turning to the apache and leaping into the air, he set up for one final punch.  The apache perceived this and rolled out of the way.  The gladiator only hit dirt.

Both fighters reclaimed battle stances, the apache crouched with a knife drawn and the gladiator standing straight with shield in one hand and cestus on the other.  The standoff was broken when the gladiator took a swing with his shield.  The apache ducked it and slashed at the gladiator's legs.  A stripe of red appeared above the knee.  The apache took another slash; the wounds became symmetrical.  Another slash traced the ribcage on the right, blood oozing in its wake.  The gladiator sank to his knees with the burden of these successive strikes; but the apache wasn't finished.  He ran up behind the gladiator and stabbed him in the back of the neck before dragging the knife across.  The gladiator's arms quivered as they attempted to grip the knife hand; but the damage was dealt, the battle was over.

The gladiator fell forward, collapsing into the dust.  Even with no sign of life, the apache still wasn't finished.  He bent down over the gladiator and stabbed the fallen fighter with strikes clearly emphasizing overkill.  The stabs kept coming until the apache stood up and licked the blood off of the knife.  With a shriek of a war cry, the apache fled the scene.

"We act now," Machelix called.  He and Scarnfix dropped from the trees right in front of the apache.  The fleeing fighter stopped in his tracks before them, unsure of what to do.

The two Nobodies had a clear set of objectives.  "You take this guy into custody as I take care of another possible recruit," Machelix commanded.

"Aye, cap'n," Scarnfix replied, drawing his cutlasses.

Sensing a fight, the apache drew a tomahawk to go along with his knife.

"I'll leave it to you, then."  Machelix summoned his staff and launched himself with a Twilight Pulse over the apache.  He took off back down the road.

The apache turned and attempted to throw one of the two weapons at Machelix, but Scarnfix's twin swords pinned the apache's arms to his sides.  "Ye be dealin' with me, now," hissed Scarnfix.  He kicked the apache in the rear to bring him to his knees, keeping a cutlass to his neck as he tore off the various armaments.  Scarnfix summoned one of his Traitor Nobodies and handed it the apache's weapons.

As the apache was hastily and hurriedly disarmed, Machelix stood over the gladiator.  He could just tell some slight traces of life within it, almost extinguished.  "We have to act fast."  Twilight energy flared up faintly around Machelix's empty hand like a sharp blade edge.  He knelt down by the gladiator and swiftly stabbed him in the back.  One small cough with a blood spatter confirmed the unfinished kill.  Machelix's fingers curled around a familiar object and ripped it out.  The heart was still intact but dimly shining.  The operation had occurred just in time.  Machelix summoned one of his Ninja Nobodies, to whom he gave the heart.

The Ninja looked down at the gladiator's body.  'Is he a recruit or a minion?' he asked in his telepathic language.

"I don't know, Captain," Machelix replied, standing up.  "His heart was dim, but that is never an absolute factor."

Both Nobodies, master and underling, looked down at the gladiator to await the results.

The wait wasn't long.  A wave of yellow energy rose up within the body, flowing into an aura all around him.  Before their eyes, the body began to push from the ground and stand up straight!  The wounds partially healed, sealing up but leaving scars.  Machelix heard the clenching of fists when the body became fully erect.  The gladiator was almost a foot taller than Machelix, leering down at him with hard brown eyes.  A sneer crossed his reanimated lips.  Without even a word of introduction or even anger, the gladiator delivered an uppercut into Machelix's chest!

The Mysterious Mage was sent flying backwards to the edge of the dirt road.  Captain retreated from the gladiator to aid his master.  'My liege, are you alright?'

Machelix got up and dusted himself off.  "Yeah, I'm okay."  He picked up his Keyblade and muttered, "Why are all of these recent Nobody recruits so violent?"  His thoughts and empty hand went to the area attacked by the gladiator.  Only his garments were rent, pinprick blood wounds leaking close to the base of the scratches.  The extra padding had been a worthwhile investment.

The gladiator didn't give him much time to recover.  He rushed forward with a shout and swung his shield at the Mysterious Mage.  Machelix countered with his Keyblade, deflecting the strike to rise above his head.  He rushed in on his attacker.  With the strike still wide, Machelix was able to hook the arm right under the shoulder with the weapon's square guard and hold the other arm, the one with the cestus, to the gladiator's side with the crystal ball hook.  His heels weighing down on the boots kept a surprise kick from occurring.  The gladiator's struggling proved little avail.

"Calm down," Machelix said.  "I'm not your enemy.  I merely wish to talk."

"You disrupted my concentration," he growled in reply.  "You will fall by my hand!"

Machelix tightened his constraints on the gladiator.  "That wasn't me, it was my associate."  He nudged his head towards Scarnfix, who was walking towards them with the apache and Traitor in toe.  Scarnfix had the bloody dagger between his teeth.

When the two former combatants saw each other again, they immediately started to struggle against their respective captor.  The gladiator dropped his shield, but another weapon formed around his arm and encased it up to the elbow.  Brown and red metal formed the casement, while a gray attachment with a curved red edge stuck out from it.

Machelix snapped his fingers with his empty hand.  Captain reacted immediately, curling his arms around the casement of the summoned weapon and planting his spiked feet into the ground to anchor himself.  "I told you, we just want to talk.  Calm down before we get rough."

"Aye," Scarnfix added, roughly shoving the apache forward.  "'Dat goes fer ye as well, Mr. Indian."

Machelix could feel the resistance of the gladiator being quelled by reason and smiled.  "That's better." He removed the Keyblade and allowed the gladiator to sit down.  Machelix took a seat as well, holding the Keyblade across his folded legs.  "Why don't we start by you telling me about yourself?"

The gladiator took a deep breath to calm himself down.  "I was a gladiator, as fierce a fighter of the Coliseum as any if not fiercer."  He looked to the weapon on his arm.  "I once wielded a weapon like this amongst the others you must have seen me use.  I was a crowd pleaser, a fighter who could drain a pint of blood per swing of my scissor.

"That's what this is, if you were wondering," he added, angling his weapon arm towards Machelix.

Without waiting for a reply, he continued.  "My most pleasing finishers dealt with these weapons on my fists.  The first was the one you saw me nearly land on the 'Indian', as you called it:  my one-two death punch combo.  The second is my signature move, where I dig the scissor into my opponent, lift them over my head, and hammer them into the ground.  I was known by the name of that attack:  the Spike Hammer."

"And what is your name now?" Machelix asked.

The gladiator closed his eyes and perked up his ears.  "I don't know what it is," he mused, "but something keeps telling me that I am to be called Kespix Merxahm."

Machelix smirked.  He could remember the sound of his own name calling him, the drive that separated human Nobodies like himself and Scarnfix from lesser like the Traitors and Ninjas.  Power was close on either level, but that drive provided a little boost to keep the shape and memories the same.  "Kespix it is, then.  My name is Machelix Mexilhann."  As a sign of friendship he extended a hand.

Kespix stared at it, a confused frown on his face.  "What is this?"

"It's just a handshake," Machelix matter-of-factly replied.  Confusion was evident in the answer as much as the question, but it was due to the lack of ignorance more than ignorance itself.  "It's a sign of friendship."

Kespix was still confused.  "What is 'friendship'?"

Machelix raised an eyebrow.  "You must be kidding.  Surely someone in your life showed you a bit of kindness?  Your parents, a fellow gladiator?"

"My mother was a criminal by moonlight, my father a Spartan captain," Kespix spat.  "Neither of them really gave a damn about me.  I was always too good for my mother but not good enough for my father.  When my mother was arrested and my father was off fighting some war, I ran away.  I never wanted to see them again.  I was about your age, then."

"I guess I ain't 'de only one wit' a diverse 'eritage," Scarnfix piped up, bringing the apache into a sitting position.  He took a seat behind his prisoner to better appreciate the story.

"I was caught a month later by a man sponsoring gladiators at the Coliseum.  My body had been hardened from my weeks on the streets, so he kept me as a gladiator.  His hospitality was short-lived.  The other gladiators-to-be put me through Hades for my 'initiation' ceremony as my 'master' watched.  'Gladiators are only for spectacle'.

"When I was deemed appropriately trained after another month, they released me into the field of battle in front of a real crowd.  The stands were packed and very active.  The Emperor even showed up for my Coliseum debut.  I can recall the fight well.  I was armed with only a cestus and a shield.  My armor was little different from what I wore into this battle.  As for my opponent…"  (His stern features became even more serious and rigid)  "…it was my mother."

"Ye went up against yer own mother?"

Kespix nodded.  "It was a recreated battle of gods.  She was meant to be the goddess of wisdom, Athena.  I cannot remember the name of the god I was supposed to be representing.  She was carrying a spear and a much more durable shield than mine.  A sword was at her side.  Her helmet and armor left only half of her face, the lower half, open.  Needless to say, I was at as large a disadvantage as a newborn babe against a wolf.

"When the fight began, the heat of summer was already beating down.  My helm was humid, sweat and other moisture mixing with the blood from my bleeding nose (it was almost a daily thing for the other gladiators, since I was still the new man).  The mess cascaded down my neck like a waterfall and clothed me as thickly as any armor.  The battle would only make the flood flow all the more freely.  I struck a pose, she did likewise; the heat of the crowd intensified.

"She made the first move, rushing me with spear extended.  I rushed forward as well; 'when the fight is brought, you must bring your own'.  We collided heavily, her spear piercing deep into my shield but missing my arm.  That left the advantage with me.  With my cestus-covered hand I took away her spear and broke it, throwing her away with my useless shield.

"She recovered quickly, drawing her sword and rushing me again.  I was defenseless except for the spikes and leather of the cestus.  But both of our steel weapons were on our rights."

"So what did you do?"

"The only thing that any self-respecting gladiator would do:  I kept fighting.  I threw a powerful right hook, forcing her to stop and block with her shield.  My punch scratched the shield's surface but slid along to the edge.  That was my true ploy.  I took hold of the shield with both hands and wrenched it to injure her arm and knock the sword from the other one at the same time.  A few more jerks and I wrestled the shield itself away from her.  She scrambled away from me to reclaim her sword; this gave me ample time to apply the shield to my arm.

"This was the final standoff; both of us could feel it.  In a last-ditch attempt to finish me, she attempted an all-out charge.  It was suicide.  I gave her a whack with my shield that sent her into a standing reel.  The sword slipped from her fingers.  Halfway to unconsciousness, another right hook to her under-guarded jaw sent her to the ground.

"The crowd loved it; they eat up bloody matches, but an underdog winning was like honey to them.  Their bloodlust was enough to rival us, if it wasn't so dulled by their pompous feelings of superiority.  I looked to the most insatiable of them for the verdict, but my eyes were too hazy from the intensity of the fight to see through the sweat dripping over them.  I was forced to remove my helm.  I looked through the fog of war around me for the Emperor; he was easy enough to spot, in the most prestigious spot in the Coliseum.  The rings on his hands shining in the sunlight indicated the popular consensus:  finish her."

"And did ye?"  Scarnfix's fangs were practically dripping with anticipation.

Kespix didn't answer his question but continued on with his story as before.  "I looked down at her, her bloody face a shadow of its former self.  Now it reflected how I pictured her.  But it still disturbed me how she was meant to represent Wisdom.  That mask was unfit for her, so I decided to remove it quickly.  I reached down, picked up the sword, and used it to slice her head clean off.  I didn't think it was possible, but the crowd roared even louder.  I had just become a popular figure in their eyes, a true gladiator baptized in blood and sweat.  Tears were a sign of weakness among the others, so none were shed even in this case.  I threw her head into the stands and left the rest leaking there."

"Talk about brutal," added Machelix.

"What a waste," Scarnfix groaned.  "All that good blood.  Still, it sounds like she got what she deserved in spades."

"And now you know how I stood with my parents.  As for the other gladiators, I became the man to beat after that.  I developed my shield technique as well as my skills with an array of other weapons.  Those who didn't call me Spike Hammer from my finishing blows called me Neptune because of my skills with the trident and net.  No man could stand against me, until now."  Kespix glared at the apache, but Scarnfix quelled his prisoner's attempt to flee.

"A warrior of your caliber…" Machelix mused.  "No wonder you became an unchanged Nobody.  It makes me wonder what element you control."  (This last bit he murmured under his breath.)  "We could certainly use your assistance.  Care to join up with us?"  He extended his hand to Kespix again.  "We're a more respectable and respecting Organization than your old master."

Kespix was still suspect, but he took Machelix's hand in the handshake to seal the deal.

A strange searing sensation raced up Machelix's arm.  Something about Kespix's grip revealed something else about his character.  It wasn't the strength of Kespix's grip that was causing it, but it definitely felt to Machelix like someone was sending it through a series of tenderizers.  All movement was lost to him in that arm; it was all just a solid mass of pain.

It was only when Scarnfix drew a cutlass and unlocked the handshake did the pain leave.  It fled all at once, like a burglar scared out of one's house.

Both Machelix and Kespix were confused at what had happened.  "What was that?" the gladiator veteran asked.

"I don't know," answered the Mysterious Mage.  "But, judging from the symptoms (and keeping an open mind about your new, unknown powers), I would say that you can control pain."

"Pain?"  Kespix looked at his own hand.  "You mean that I can perform magic?  Is that my 'power'?"

Machelix couldn't help but smile there.  "Welcome to being one of the Nobodies.  All of us have a weapon to match our personality and an element to match our history."

Kespix looked at his hands, shifting from the scissor on his right to the cestus on his left.  A grimace appeared on his face, as if not believing completely in the information that he was told but instead believing that it could be true.

Machelix had a theory about how accepting Nobodies were to their condition:  only those who were close to total acceptance became Nobodies of unchanged shape.  Those who would have panicked and run around screaming after realizing what had happened wouldn't have formed a Nobody of any caliber.  Anyone of moderate understanding became either a Creeper, a Dusk, or a higher-ranking minion Nobody based on the strength of their heart.

A few other questions were on Kespix's mind, but Captain interrupted the group with urgent news.  'There's another set of movements further down the trail, my liege.'

Both the Mysterious Mage and the Turncoat Privateer reacted to the news.  "Already?  How far?"

The Traitor was the one to reply.  'Little ways past 'de ridge.  Maybe 'alf a mile.'

"'Tank ye, Mr. Majesty," Scarnfix answered, standing up with the apache again.  He summoned a second Traitor to whom he handed his prisoner.  "Mr. Deceit, constrain 'de prisoner."

'Wit' pleasure.'  Mr. Deceit's hands shot out from his sleeves, his arms stretching like ropes.  Snakelike he wrapped them around the apache two times.  To seal the wrapping, Mr. Deceit hooked his hands together like a pair of grappling hooks.  'All packed up an' ready to go,' he announced.

Scarnfix acknowledged with a nod and turned to Machelix, saying, "We're ready to move on our end."

"Alright, then."  Turning to Kespix he asked, "You ready?"

Kespix looked down the trail that was almost his last battlefield.  His eyes went to the weapons at the intervals of heated combat, the trident, net, and sica in particular.

Machelix knew what he was thinking; he too knew the bond of warrior and weapon.  "Alright, you can collect your weapons.  We're heading down that way, anyway."

Kespix gave a nod.  "Thank you."  He went to go and collect his weapons as Machelix, Scarnfix, and their minions started down the trail.

Machelix noticed that Scarnfix still had the apache's dagger.  "Why are you holding onto that?" he asked his accomplice.

"I'm keepin' 'dis," he replied with a mischievous grin.  "It 'as 'de taste o' blood on it an' seems like a good enough weapon fer a pirate like me."

"Good enough for me," Machelix admitted with a shrug.  "Just don't stab me with that thing; it's unsanitary to say the least."

Scarnfix snickered once before replying, "Will do."  He held it before him and licked the blade like a lollipop.  The apache wrestled in Mr. Deceit's bind, but a kick to the rear signaled by a tilt of Scarnfix's head settled him down.

The stop of one set of footprints behind him brought Machelix to a halt.  He turned around to see Kespix looking down at the helm that he recently picked up.  It was shining with a pale yellow light, almost golden with the added glow, and slightly changing in his hand.  "What kind of magic is this?" he heard Kespix quietly say.

"That would be your official ticket into the Organization," Machelix answered, voice heightened to bridge the distance between them.  "If I'm seeing it correctly, it now bears the Organization's symbol across the faceplate.  Don't worry, you'll soon learn all that the Organization has come to know and cherish about us Nobodies."  He turned on his heels and calmly continued his trek.

Kespix was not far behind, running briskly to catch up but still scooping up his weapons on his way by.  He soon caught up with the other two and slowed his pace.
It is my firm belief that each of my characters deserves a decent origin story; here's the first part of Kespix's.

For those of you that haven't guessed, these are the exact fighters that fought for the first episode of Deadliest Warrior.

second part: [link]

Machelix Mexilhann, Ninjas (Captain), Scarnfix, Traitors (Mr. Majesty & Mr. Deceit), and Kespix Merxahm: :iconpumpkinapprentice431:
© 2009 - 2024 PumpkinApprentice431
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amazon211's avatar
what the hell?
Nobodies and Deadliest warriors?
I thought this was about the perspective of one of the warriors!