Odunayomi96:
bring it on man

On the way boss of bosses

donvicky2007:
Keep it up Op

Thanks man.

[Episode four: One hell of a tournament]


King Latoosa along with his wife pranced arm-in-arm into the throne room, to the ear-splitting fanfare of the king's band and rising of all forgathered in the big room. They were dazzling and impeccably lovely in their regal sharkskin robes, which flare out at the hems, brushing across the crystalline surface of the floor in the flux motion of a snake as they neared the throne's platform.

From the king's radiant countenance and beamish smile, one could inferred he was overjoyed with the return of lady Orente from the clutches of the evil king Gaa, or otherwise high on opium.

Today marks a week since the lady was abducted by the ogre being, and the day she retained her freedom, after being freed by the king's elite circle➖the knight of the oval room. In joyance of her homecoming, the king had decreed to hold court, and had also beseeched his heralds to travel the far and wide of the kingdom, and neighboring empires, bearing his tidings for all to attend his court.

The king in his might took it easy in his throne, taking in the exquisite faces of Dukes, Barons, Earls, vassal lords, and other delegates, all of whom had journeyed from faraway lands to his kingdom. He becked them to get seated with a wave of his hand, watching as they sat back in their seats in peaceful compone.

"Now we shall begin with the court's procession." The shout of the diminutive court's host in a woolen garb rang through the room, grabbing at the attention of all. "Our noble liege lord from the Asante land will step forward to give his thanks." He added slickly.

From the orderly array of seats lined at either sides of the room, a bronzed man with close-cut, grey, fizzled hair rose gingerly to his feet, his large, full eyes swept the room as he walked to the fore, bowing ever slightly before the king, with the corner of his mouth prodded by a smile. "I am most delightsome to be here in this great Congress." He began with his mouth parting in an even widened smile. "First off, I must thank my great king, and liefsome brother, for his kind-heartedness, that brought back my sweeting daughter." He gestured to a gracile lady in form-fitting linen, seating genteelish upon a high-backed chair directly from him. "And to the gallant knights and fallen soldiers that had done that they should be rewarded for; I say to you all a huge thank you. And in return; mine family and I with mine people will present our dearly knights mares of the rarest breed." His words was drowned by a concordant cheer and applause from all within the room.

"I'll also add a meed to our very own gallant knight, sir Ogunmola." The breathless voice of lady Orente stole the attention of the room once more. In a spriteful grace, she rose full to her feet, sauntering forward with a wrapped gift in hand to the knight, who in turn, sprang to his feet to meet her headlong, with a bow amidst the cheers and laughter of the crowds.

"Thanks to thee milady." The knight said, taking the gift from her ever gently.

"I owe thee much more than this, Sir." She returned with a small smile, turned on her heels and strode back to her seat. While, the knight did just the same.

"Very well." The strong, raspy voice of the host settled on the room this time. "Now, we shall have the King's speech."

The King arose to the fanfare of his hornblowers, greasing his mouth with his own spittle as he watched the uniform rising of the court.

"I'm of gladden heart to see the rise of this day, to witness the return of my niece from the lair of evil, and valleys of death. Also, I thank my beloved knights, and the men-at-arms of this great kingdom; those alive and fallen, who had laid their lives to see to the safety of the fair lady." He watched the room applauded his speech, and continued. "In honor of her homecoming, I say to you dear nobles and dignitaries of the kingdom and faraway londs present here, that a tournament will commence here come a fortnight. And here to-day, I present to you all my champion, Sir Ogunmola." The room boomed with riotous chants and hails of the knight's name as he rose to make a showing to the court for the second time that day. "Let the news travel nigh and far, let it be conveyed over the seas and far far hills. Tell this to the hearing of old and young, that this one is an all-open contest."

Something new just landed good people... Kindly drop your review please

Interesting,expecting the tournament

Harchoredey:

wow,that is nice waiting

Aight man

Sir Ogunmola watched the hatching of a new day, like that of a chick from its own shell, through his window. His gaze travelled as far to the eastern sky, where the about rising sun, haloed the sky with the roseate glow of its burning head, that's almost popping to sight. He trained his gaze beyond that, to the vasty riches of the kingdom's milieu; his mind minutely obsessing over the green fields, the tree-canopied stretch of land, widewhere copses, fatty meadows, greening willows, cluster of buildings all through the sprawly kingdom, and also, the looming hills afar, palisading the land.

What beauty! He couldn't help but wonder at the sight of the abounding luxury nature bestow upon the kingdom.

He removed his gaze from the bewitching hold of nature, tracing a finger over the scabbard at his side, which housed the newest weapon in his armory➖the brand he had received from Lady Orente as a gift for his meedful labor, and has been bearing ever since then. With quick-silver dexterity, he unsheathed the sword, to reveal its finespun, broad, lustrous blade, intricately alloyed with zinc and iron, to put to shame the fine artistry of old Toledo's smithing. He gave it a sure handling by the pommel, incrusted with gem of rarest substance, swaying it from side to side in fighting imitation. Its broadness and tapering could well be liken to his former blade, though, it want a little in lightness to its predecessor.

He'd had little training session with it, but rather than be sated, he still felt he needed more time to understand every bit of science in handling his new weapon of choice.

The distant betimes crow of cocks abbreviated his examination of the blade, and he quickly sheathe the blade into the scabbard, before ranging in his gaze back at the window. Outside, in the young foggy morn, a man on horseback, slow-gaited into the sett-paved premises of the castle. On the face of it, he could tell the man of considerable build, clad in smock was, one of the many champions here to partake in the king's contest.

'tis exactly a fortnight today, since the king's decree of hosting a contest in honor of the homecoming of his niece. And there's been a major turn out, in response to his invitation to the open contest. Full many a men, all champions of Kings, nobles and dignitaries had arrived the city from distant lands to take up the gauntlet and receive the king's handsome reward.

Being a part of the many to partake in the tournament, he knew he had to be full ready, for in about few hours, the tournament will begin. Hence, he walked away from the window, to get at the ready ahead of the day, that perhaps, might be the devil to come through.

Have you any review on this piece yet?

Harchoredey:
Interesting,expecting the tournament

Be advice, you should hold on tight and awaits the cliff-hanging updates

Dust cloud amassed in the air as the beats of stamping feet intensified amongst the crowds. The myriad of spectators gathered in the arena went into a splurge of cheering as the champions➖all sixteen in numbers were led from the gated tunnel onto the arena ground. They had come in troops and swarms to see the sights, filling the stands to brimful with as little breathing margin left.

At last, the hour long yearn by the lots is finally here, and they couldn't be more than happy to be blessed with the eye-catching sight about to unfurl before them.

Through the chirm of the unruly onlookers, and susurrus whisper shared by the creams of the kingdom and neighboring empires boxed in a space overlooking the sandy ground, the stumpy announcer inched to the midmost of the arena, bowing before the king reverently.

"Patient yourselves, people." He began in his husky tone of voice, waited for the sizzling crowds to hush up, and continued. "To you all good people, I present this valiant champions, all of whom had been pitted against the other to fight for honor, through the tournament and be crowned as champ➖" The crowds boomed yet again, stopping him midway in his speech. "Before we forge any further, we shall have the king's speech." He added after getting a hiatus of total silence from the roaring crowds.

The king robed in violet chambray, skirting from his midsection rose to the booming applause and shouts of all. He beamed a smile, shading his face with a hand, from the fiercely ray of the yellow eye of the sky that burns at the hour. "I welcome you all from allwhere you have journeyed to be a part of this grand tournament, which holds the promise to be full of actions and thrills. Also, I'll like to say my thanks to our friends that has sent in their champions to grace this our great contest. Whilst, I do this, I must also enjoin our champions to fight in the good spirit of sportsmanship, as this promises to be a fair contest for all." He loosed a breath, and added. "Let the contest begin in the interest of all!" His last statement was punctuated with a loud ringing yell and flailing arms from the crowd of spectators.

"So be it milord." The announcer said. "Beat the drums and let this begin at once!"

At his bidden, the big drum etched out of a wall started out a throbbing cadence, from the thorough beating driven in on its face by a huge man in a long cloak.

While the throb of the drum rang thru the arena, the ground was vacated by other champions, leaving only the twain assigned to the curtain raising to themselves.

Both men glored hard at each other for minute, took measured steps to retrieve their weapon of choice from the armory, fraught with an assortment of arms, and made their way back to the middlemost point of the arena.

They stood there, heart thumping heavily within its enclosure; that was their chest, face beaded with involuntary sweat, born of accoupled dread and anticipation, awaiting the go-ahead from the king. Though brief, every seconds of the wait, count has a decade in their own sandglass measure.

With a smile denoting his derived pleasure from their anticipation and building impatience, King Latoosa grabbed a small sackcloth off a silver tray, and wagged it vigorously, to signal the start of the long awaited tournament.

At the King's signal call, their was a rustle amidst the eager onlookers, a budge here and there, prompted by the urge to have a perfect view of the action as both men charged at each other.

The clang of clashing metals replaced the stentorian shouts of the crowds at once. Both sides began the campaign on a flying start, doing a lot of parrying, thrusting and glancing blows on the other.

"Thou ever see'st their kind ere now?" Asked one of the champions trying to engage Sir Ogunmola in a backchat.

The other man far-about from the center of attraction, that was the ongoing fight, shifted his gaze from his very own attraction, to meet that of the inquirer. Though, it was quite hard for him to remove his attention from the sights that held him spell-bound, he forced through the hold of that one thing, so pleasing to him as the air he breathe, to give him a response.

"Of whom do you ask of me?" He returned a question.

"Who else, but that thing?" He asked deridingly, indicating the shaggy-haired, hulk of a man, with a single eye in his forehead, engaged in a heated fight with his tall muscular adversary.

"Oho, Now I see!" The knight said, ignoring the contemptuous note in his voice. "Cyclops. They're cavemen from the far end of our world." He added curtly, having no interest in their line of discourse.

"Astound me, that you wotest that much about his kind."

"'tis but a smatter I stumble upon long years ago."

"I see," the long-nosed man said roundly, turning his full attention to the knight. "Have you any take on any of the twain?"

"Am afeard not, please." Sir Ogunmola answered flatly, bringing his attention back to his object of attraction➖his lief lover, Moremi, who was seated amongst the thronged stands.

While he was obsessing over her, the fight on the other hand, was in full swing, with the riveted spectators following each blow thrown by the fighting duo with their heads.

In between the loose of a breath and the intake of another, the bulky man struck his opponent a dead aim blow, which sent the fellow's forked-blade nosing into the ground twenty paces away.

In reaction to this, the crowd gave a wild shout, pressing him to dealt his opponent the deathblow.

He took a fast glance at the hapless man, who stood with his arms splayed before him, and, in spite the spurring from the crowd, did the most daring, by tossing his broadax away.

I say unto you good people, that the best reward you can give me is your remarks;caustic or pleasing... Pleaseth thee, drop your comments to enrage the fire inwith me.

Let see how much comment I get, before any other updates

His action was greeted with snorts and curses from the crowd, but as soon as he edged forward to engage his adversary in a fistfight, their volatile nature got the better of them, and they cheered the once curst man again.

Seeing the chance granted him by his adversary as the only choice to redeem his name, the other man rose to the occasion, skirting around each precise lunges of the hulky man.

His acute eyes puppeteered by his reflex response, darted around in sheer concentration, in order, to register the pelt of punches and boots sluiced down on him.

All at once, he found it dead hard to drive his mind into focusing on the present, as countless slugs and kicks rammed into every topical area of him.

Through his torturous fate that has his vision coming in a blur, and his auditory apparatus, picking wispy voices, which for certes must be the shouts of the crowds. Only a thing was as clear as day to him, through the rain buckets of thrashing that has blighted his senses. He must have missed the tiniest moment, to be at the receiving end of such horror, of that he was sure all along.

Benumbed even to the very wired fibre of nerves in him, he tasted dirt, without as much a hunch of falling off his feet. Insentient as a stone, he hasn't the feel of being heft clean from the ground, like a barbell, and crashing against something hard, perchance a knee. The only thing he was conscious of, being the parting of his lips in a shrill, if alone, a wail could be counted as that.

It was over, not only because he had be trounced to near death, but rather, it was due to the fact that, for him to rise all hale again, he had to be dipped in a foment in no less than a week span.

These are the thoughts that flashed through Sir Ogunmola's mind, as he watched the Cyclops's hands thrust in the air in worthful victory, in accompaniment with the deafening cheers of the crowds to his triumph.

Be kind to leave a comment good people...

Guy,you are good.

tunjilomo:
Guy,you are good.

Oh really? I must say I'm really flattered bro... Thanks so very much for your kind words

Let the comments sluice in, please

I'm assuming the title of this piece of art is not that alluring... Guess, that's due to the singly fact, that I had no mind of foraying into this world, not until... Anyways, anyone with an advice on how to change the name of the work of fiction should signify.

Go to your first on the topic and click the modify button below it.

tunjilomo:
Go to your first on the topic and click the modify button below it.

Thanks bro, I found this useful... Though, I couldn't modify my first topic.

I meant your first post on this topic.

tunjilomo:
I meant your first post on this topic.

Yeah, got it the first time sire

tunjilomo:


This one,just click the modify under it.

I have given several trials, but I couldn't modify the post

Ok,I think you should mail the mods

tunjilomo:
Ok,I think you should mail the mods

I'll do just that bro... Thanks for your undivided attention.

Updated

Obinnau:
Updated

Thanks so very much sir.

I see you got your title change. Hope our valiant knight Ogunmola gets a chance to show his mettle in this tournament. Still as entertaining as ever.

The threatening stygian sky profusely bled, not in crimson red, but in sheeting beads of grey, turning the earth under into a mixture of powdery sand and water. The woolen dark-grey nimbus roving its surface corralled in a swirl, but rather than staunch the gush from its gored surface, it lend a hand to the outpour, like any tower of strength would.

Loud shouts from the insatiable spectators rent the air thru yet another duel in the tournament. While the shouts fill out everywhere, still one could hear; the constant thrashing of rainwater against the muddy ground, in sync with the clash of weapons in the background.

The cuirassed fighters under the dark overhanging sky fought viciously, paying little mind to their soaked through clothing, and the slippery ground beneath them.

In smooth precise footwork, the slender dusky-skinned man circled parry the swings of his goateed adversary's scimitar with his spiked flail, and went for a high line riposte aimed at the fellow's chest, which he in turn, dealt with in fluent ease, with a pivot of his waist the other way.

By the minutes, every otherwise moves of the duo was cheered by the enthralled crowds, all moved by their showing swordsman skills.

Somewhere along the exchange of blows, the other man found an opening with the slip of his opponent, and tucked away the chance with a compound blow of his scimitar.

The thin man felt the draw of blow before the keen edge of the blade against his right shoulder. And afterward, the pull of an unseen force at the slam of a booted feet upon his midriff, which sent him staggering backward and butt-first into the marshy ground.

To save his face, he picked himself off the ground in the second that follows, pouncing yet again on his adversary like a wounded dog, in a perfect combo of the swings and hurls of his flail.

In response to the hails of powerful strokes thrown by his opponent, the long haired man step-danced backwards with measured steps as not to trip, but wasn't so lucky as the flexile chain of the flail swung round his parry and home into his jaw.

Once he was blindsided with the teeth shattering blow. An unusual ringing set off in his ear➖possibly, the music of the spheres, as it was inaudible to all but him, along with the giddy feel that has the ground queachy under him.

His sight registered several more on its tail, but his feel sense failed where his sight starred. Dazed, he spilled off his feet and fell into the waiting embrace of the soggy ground.

On the other hand, the crowds cheered the thin man in victory, even as he tossed his hands in hard-fought triumph.

just2day:
I see you got your title change. Hope our valiant knight Ogunmola gets a chance to show his mettle in this tournament. Still as entertaining as ever.

Mayhap he will sir... But anyways, it's gonna be a hell of a tournament as its title read