Chapter Four Light spills out from the room, illuminating the puddle of silvery blood that has formed underneath my hand. I quickly enter the room, hoping that I’ve chosen correctly. The room appears to be a small chamber, the gold walls coated with glowing yellow-green moss. The uncovered sections of wall are covered with ancient etchings, which are too faded for me to make out properly. A design of multicolored gems embellishes the ceiling. But none of that is what immediately catches my eye. What I notice first is the sword in the center of the room. As soon as I spot the sword, I have no doubt that it’s Cataclysm. Cataclysm has a bronze hilt with a gold triangle in the center, and it has a golden blade. However, the blade actually …show more content…
Once the sword is completely in, the two blades are vibrating violently, as if they’re magnets with the same pole. Each sword refuses to touch the other, as if the swords themselves dislike each other. One of swords will occasionally slam into my leg, which is beginning to get sore. I have no idea how I’m going to fly with the swords acting like …show more content…
Trinity and Cataclysm’s sheaths swing around wildly on my belt. They’ll sometimes hit each other, as if they’re engaged in a sword fight. I can feel that a bruise is starting to form on my thigh, which both of them have banged into multiple times. I’ll have to be sure to put them far away from each other when I get back to my room. I shakily take flight, the swords throwing me off balance. After wobbling for a few seconds, I crash to the ground, the jets unable to support my unstable weight. Maybe that was just because I haven’t adjusted to the swords’ shaking. Going with that thought, I take off again, kicking off of the ground this time. Suddenly, Trinity slams against Cataclysm much harder than it usually does. The shock, combined with the impact, shuts off my jets, which can only stay running when I concentrate enough. The ground starts quickly growing closer as I plummet towards it. Panicking, I fumble for the ignition
notices that there is a huge sword on the wall of the battle hall where he was dragged to.
fighting and bloodshed could continue, A. . . ill sheathed knife . . . @
"Put your swords back in its place. All draw the sword will die by the
The handle is the smallest part of any weapon. The handle of the metalwork Sword and Scabbard is no different. The artist uses garnets at the hilt of the weapon and sheath to allow the audience to see the metalwork as a complete composition instead of the weapon being broken down into segments that only yield viewers divided segments of authenticity. The Pianist, by Lyubov, Papova uses color at the bottom of the work to keep its audience omnipotent of the work in its entirety instead of drawn to a central focal point. The irony of the artwork in the artist use of emphasis allow the work to exude a central statement that balances beauty in totality without
I looked up at Gabriel from the grass. I never actually got to inspect the full extent of his features. His dark brown hair was tussled and looked as if he had been running his fingers through it from stress. His green eyes resembled emeralds. He had a bit of muscle on him, but he wasn’t too broad shouldered. You could see a small rose tattoo on his upper bicep. He wore a dark green t-shirt and jeans. He was definitely handsome, and all his features complimented each other.
sword and a woman looking out of a window with a very concerned look on
Swords in the Middle Ages had many uses. One of these uses was to knock enemy riders off their horses. Once they were off, their long riding weapons were of no use to defend them. They were bombarded by soldiers and killed easily.
One rather beautiful day I head down to the building fields of Uruk with my only son Urnabe. He is 14 and he is turning out to be a skilled mason or at least better than his old man. When we get there I see that Binfem was already waiting for me.
I land a bit shaky, and I fight to keep standing. Turning the corner, I freeze at the sight before me. The entire Imperial Party stands right in front of me in the tunnel. The Imperial Guard draw their swords and prepare to kill me. My hand slides to grab the hilt of my sword, but I remember its still back in the Den’s armory. I find my dagger instead, and pull it out. The Imperial Guard start walking towards me when a man comes running in-between them and grabs me. Father.
No one had expected such an out of the ordinary day. I was standing on the lengthy flight deck, just like any other day, trimming out a plane: checking to make sure the wings, engine, and everything else was working correctly. I heard a loud roar, for it was a terrible explosion. As I turned around, and it was like the
Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I duck under my opponent’s sword. The blow nearly misses my head. I bash him with my shield and go for a powerful overhead blow with my weapon. He blocks my strike, and quickly counters with a piercing stab at my stomach. I block the attack just in time, but hear a harsh crack coming from my shield. I absorb the blow and parry his sword and attempt to counter with a backhand slash. I hit the enemy’s arm, but no permanent damage is done. I am immediately smacked by the shield of my opponent and slammed to the ground. An overhead strike of my adversary’s sword approaches me at a furious speed. I block the blow in a futile attempt to stifle my opponent. My shield explosively splits in two
...ove the ground, I yanked down on the parachute control straps with all of my strength. The parachute got more air, and I slowed, almost to a standstill, and gently touched the ground. As my feet touched the Earth, I went into my roll and then stood back up. No broken bones or bruises.
The Creature That Opened My Eyes Sympathy, anger, hate, and empathy, these are just a few of the emotions that came over me while getting to know and trying to understand the creature created by victor frankenstein in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. For the first time I became completely enthralled in a novel and learned to appreciate literature not only for the great stories they tell but also for the affect it could have on someones life as cliché as that might sound, if that weren’t enough it also gave me a greater appreciation and understanding of the idiom “never judge a book by its cover.” As a pimply faced, insecure, loner, and at most times self absorbed sophomore in high school I was never one to put anytime or focus when it came time
It was a dark, cold, cloudy day. The clouds covered the sky like a big black sheet, nothing to be seen except darkness that seemed to go on forever. This was the third day in a row that there had been complete darkness, there was no getting rid of it. This was because of ‘the meteorite.’