Despite the king's hesitancy to engage in combat with Troy's finest, it seems Ares willed him on. Single-handed gladius glimmered, the steel blade dripping crimson upon the poorly lit stone tiles beneath him. The bronze shine of the Greeks' renowned aspis shield masked the opposite forearm, raised at an angle of which covered a majority of the lowered frame's core. The body of a homeowner, desiccated and stained, laid strung upon a number of broken vases and wooden dresser parts. Across the room from the king stood two Trojan men, dressed in their respective war gowns, striking a sort of fear into the heart of the king.
"Drop your weapon, intruder! Lay down your life at the feet of us mighty Trojans, for cowards of your kind deserve nay the luxury of life!" Despite being outnumbered, the two didn't have the room to pounce upon the king simultaneously, leaving the loud-mouthed man to meet his unfortunate end alone, skin peeled apart at the neck. A gurgle punctured the air, followed by a wheezy-gasp as the body stumbled and slammed into the seating arrangements of the room.
"Get out of my way, Trojan scum. Or you'll meet an end much like your fellow man!" Beneath the Corinthian helm, enamel gritted. Sweat collected upon the king's brow, the anxiety of a slip up stealing away much of his patience. "Bow down and beg to become an Achaean slave, or perish!. . Now!-" In an attempt to intimidate the opponent, gladius slapped its broadside against the stained bronze of the shield, ringing out a metallic bang through the room.
"Gives Hades my best of wishes, you fool!" The Trojan snarled, casting a well sharpened pugio (a dagger of sorts) at the king, before charging forward. The gleaming shield of Ithaca raised, deflecting the blade. Falling into his opponent's ploy, the shield had been grappled and snatched from Odysseus' grasp, casting to the side and the king stumbled back in confusion. A sandaled foot met his shin, dropping the ruler's stature to a kneel. Despite the tactic having stunned the king, an armored wrist rose just in time to deflect a second attack. Bronze bracer shrieked in the terror of metallic pressure, optics widening as our hero watched the sword glide across his armor. Another kick, this time connecting with his chin, left the king sprawled supine upon the ground. A nimble strike at the attacker's shin spared the man of his untimely demise, halting the swing of his opponent's blade just long enough for the figure to roll to his feet. Liquids of crimson red pooled within the lip, tinkling down in a slow march towards chin. Gladius rose, ready to face the other once again. And so they fought. A strike was deflected, a punch scored. A kick was captured in a grapple, leaving both men unarmed upon the ground. A shattered vase, and a porcelain shard connected with the opposing force. The blunt side of a table leg smashed against the weaker bronze of the king's helm. A grunt, a kick, and a stumble. The collapse of a candle stand, and the tackle of a royal man. The two figures, both lacking helms, wrestled and fought upon the dirtied ground of the abode, each fighting to earn the right of survival. The opponent managed his way atop our hero, striking at toned skin with calloused and tempered fists. A tooth fragment spat, detached from its roots, scoring a slice through the other's pupil. A roll and a clamber, the two stood, Odyseuss' back to the house's door. The Trojan held his bleeding eye, snarling and groaning in pain. "I will kill you, Greek bastard!-"
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With a roar, the bruised and beaten frame charged. Despite the well tempered reaction time of the king, fatigue and injuries weighed him down. The tackle connected, shattering the shoddy wooden door from beneath the two's weight. The collapsed candle rested beneath a fragment, spreading its flame to the dried wood. And thus their fiery arena grew. The two recuperated, huffing and glaring at his respective enemy. The dim light of the war torn city provided a gentle, yet menacing gleam upon the figures, the elevated catwalk just narrow enough for the two to fight. Another enraged scream left the rightfully pissed Trojan, limbs hoisting the broken frame forward until he was just within Odyseuss' reach. Sand is a funny thing, for it both provides traction and deters grip. The weathered and sanded catwalk, despite regular cleaning, had decided this man's fate was at the hands of his footwork. A spin and a shove left the Trojan stumbling, lower appendage slipping out from under him. A blood curdling scream ensued, the full weight of the man toppling off the edge. The crisp, stomach-churning crack of a strong man against stronger ground echoed into the battle filled night. The king stood, heaving, petals sputtering up a wheezy cough of bloodied phlegm. Legs gave out, leaving the crumpled man with his back to the rampart of the catwalk. Digits grazed at his pendant, seeking comfort in Athena's gift. Heavy breaths slowed, a waterskin slowly being fetched from its latch upon the man's belt. Wine poured smoothly down the king's throat, weeps of sorrow and pain piercing the cold wind of the night. Cranium turned, chin tilted to wipe bloodied lips upon his pauldron, before optics locked with the blue-ish fog, seemingly glowing in the night. The pendant proves its worth yet, for the gods stalk amongst mortal warfare.
