Post by jmurrell357 on Sept 7, 2007 16:15:01 GMT -5
The morning sun was peeping through the half opened curtains and right into his eyes.
Sparda shielded his eyes as he fumbled out of the bed and over to the window to fully open the curtains.
It was 7:30 and Sparda knew what kind of day it was all to well as he looked at himself in the mirror. Running his hands through his hair, his left hand then fell to his right shoulder, were a scar made its home. He got the corresponding injury preparing for a similar event he would be a part of later that day. He remembered the crippling pain as his shoulder bone showed itself through the skin…beep…beep…be. Sparda snapped out of his nostalgic moment and turned of his alarm. Sparda set the shower running before going into the kitchen, on the counter top in a room where he kept some miscellaneous items were the components of his daily outfit consisting of the colours khaki, grey, and black.
In the shower Sparda bathed while humming the tune to ‘when we all get to heaven’ a place where he often wondered if he would reside there after death. His mother who had him at an early age, feel in love with a man in uniform. That man would be 99.99% responsible for his career in the military, the other 1% well that was left to chance.
Sparda served in two militaries his first being the Israeli and the second the boys with the red, white and blue. No not the French although he thought their women made good lovers but the United States of America. He spent 10 years in the eastern military and four years in the western. He was out of that business or so he thought. He was trained at the highest level in both governments, trained to keep secrets of those who sat behind the brash oak desks in suits flooded with starch.
In the last two years he enjoyed his quiet life in the Mediterranean. He didn’t need to work but held jobs at the local country club’s shooting range or the den of snobs as he liked to call it. The pay was ok. He took the job solely because as an instructor he could engage in harmless shooting for free. Sparda had his fair share of the other kind of shooting and this was a nice change. His father a gunnery sergeant in the U.S military had him feeling the cold embrace of weapons by the time he was 12.
He would remember this often when wading in neck high in marshes in places not on a geographical map of any kind. “I turned out just fine”, was the usual response and end to this memory.
Sparda’s shower although he was about to call it quits came to a more premature conclusion as he heard a small thud outside the bathroom door. He was humming so loud that they probably thought he wouldn’t hear it.
Sparda was now crouched in the bath, the water beating down on his head at this point.
Sparda crawled out of the bath and dried his feet completely as he would need to be able to maneuver on the tiled floors until he could come to more appropriate footwear.
Standing behind the door he continued to humming all the while so as not to let whoever was outside the door know that he was aware of them. “$500 in statue and a naked one at that”, Sparda said to himself as he eased back more against the wall as the door now was eased open. Sparda rushed, moving his fists in a circular motion, he made a straight punch landing one right in the kidneys of the intruder, and his body fell limp as his counter-part grabbed Sparda from behind.
Moving quickly as the second man whose aftershave smelled strongly tried to initiate a stranglehold. Sparda combined a swift diagonal downward elbow strike into the man’s lung cavity. The man’s grip got a bit tighter as Sparda now looked to hook his right foot into the man’s stance and pushing backwards off of his left foot pushing both he and his attacker into the wall. Thankfully there was a blunt knob situated on the wall which bludgeoned into the man’s ribs on impact loosing the chokehold. Sparda spun quickly driving his knee into the man’s gut, as he now went crashing to the floor. Sparda’s Krav Maga skills seemed as sharp as they were back in the day.
As he ducked out of the bathroom he felt a sharp sting as something grazed his right upper arm. This involuntarily shifted his initial momentum as he was now sliding on his side into the door way of his room at the same time the door trimmings were flying out in bits and pieces.
"what a day i am having; laughing out loudly. I am going to be late to the ceremony but what they heck" Sparda said preparing to make a dash into the adjacent room. Today he was supposed to be giving black belts to a few students at one of the Krav Maga dojos in the city. he didn't teach but would often lend himself as a sparing partner. Sparda would sometimes spar against some of the masters around the area. he was a very skilled and experience fighter with rank somewhere above third dan but he still went home battered on some occasions. After all they arent masters for nothing.
Dashing into the room where his clothes were he quickly got dressed as he had secured the entrance with the chest of drawers. Snatching up the sling bag that he always kept handy for such a time, he took his coat from behind the door. he sighed as he felt he was now being pushed back into a world he had thought he left behind. Climbing out the window he free fell into a hedge below, rolling to the inner section behind the hedge. This little stunt would not go un-noticed as projectiles now shredded the hedge, causing Rhinemann to sprawl flat against the soggy earth.
Something was nagging at him, what was being projected at him were not bullets.
Further more he had seemed to land on an unusually hard piece of earth which was even more bizarre as the surroundings were softer. As he rolled over and shoved away the earth he finally realized what it was. It was a katana, more specifically a Chisa. Picking up the sword the fire ceased causing Rhinemann too peep through the undergrowth of the hedge.
For the first time he got a proper look at his attackers. For one thing these ones where different from the two he encountered in the house. These one looked funny somehow and had facial paintings all over them. Sparda was seeing now way to connect the dots.
Looking back at the sword the realized that etched in the sheath was similar marking to the ones of the faces of those after him. “Or where they after this, but I didn’t know it was here”, Sparda said to himself.
Standing up with the sword in his hands a figure in a hooded robe appeared from behind the two attackers. They separated to let him pass through. Sparda stepped out from behind the hedge.
“I see that you have found the sword?” the hooded figure now spoke.
“Who are you exactly and what do you want with me?” Sparda responded
“We merely want the sword that you hold”, the hooded figure now retorted
“It was found on my property so that makes it mine?” Sparda asked as he moved forward in an offensive stance.
“Mr. Sparda, one way or the other you will give me that sword” the hooded man continue to look in Sparda’s direction
Sparda now took a firm grip on the sword.
“Mr. Sparda I urge you do not draw that sword” the hooded man continued
“It Mr. Rhinemann to you jerk off” Sparda was about to pull.
“You are a skilled in the Krav Maga combat system and also various weapons including ones like which you hold now but believe me you know not of this weapons power”
“Hm you seem to know a lot about me, do you know that if you come any closer I will strike you with this sword? Tell me your name?”
“Emitrius keeper of the sword” the hooded man answered “I know all about those who possess the sword in which you now hold”.
“Ah he has a name well Emitrius, it was nice to know you” as he drew the sword the wound he had sustained earlier began to hurt immensely, never the less he continued.
“Nooooooo” Emitrius shouted
Sparda could now feel the shift of thing particularly reality itself going from not so bad to horrible. Emitrius began to chant quickly hoping he could halt the process. It was to late as a portal opened right under Sparda’s now motionlessly suspended body, consuming both him and the sword.
Sparda shielded his eyes as he fumbled out of the bed and over to the window to fully open the curtains.
It was 7:30 and Sparda knew what kind of day it was all to well as he looked at himself in the mirror. Running his hands through his hair, his left hand then fell to his right shoulder, were a scar made its home. He got the corresponding injury preparing for a similar event he would be a part of later that day. He remembered the crippling pain as his shoulder bone showed itself through the skin…beep…beep…be. Sparda snapped out of his nostalgic moment and turned of his alarm. Sparda set the shower running before going into the kitchen, on the counter top in a room where he kept some miscellaneous items were the components of his daily outfit consisting of the colours khaki, grey, and black.
In the shower Sparda bathed while humming the tune to ‘when we all get to heaven’ a place where he often wondered if he would reside there after death. His mother who had him at an early age, feel in love with a man in uniform. That man would be 99.99% responsible for his career in the military, the other 1% well that was left to chance.
Sparda served in two militaries his first being the Israeli and the second the boys with the red, white and blue. No not the French although he thought their women made good lovers but the United States of America. He spent 10 years in the eastern military and four years in the western. He was out of that business or so he thought. He was trained at the highest level in both governments, trained to keep secrets of those who sat behind the brash oak desks in suits flooded with starch.
In the last two years he enjoyed his quiet life in the Mediterranean. He didn’t need to work but held jobs at the local country club’s shooting range or the den of snobs as he liked to call it. The pay was ok. He took the job solely because as an instructor he could engage in harmless shooting for free. Sparda had his fair share of the other kind of shooting and this was a nice change. His father a gunnery sergeant in the U.S military had him feeling the cold embrace of weapons by the time he was 12.
He would remember this often when wading in neck high in marshes in places not on a geographical map of any kind. “I turned out just fine”, was the usual response and end to this memory.
Sparda’s shower although he was about to call it quits came to a more premature conclusion as he heard a small thud outside the bathroom door. He was humming so loud that they probably thought he wouldn’t hear it.
Sparda was now crouched in the bath, the water beating down on his head at this point.
Sparda crawled out of the bath and dried his feet completely as he would need to be able to maneuver on the tiled floors until he could come to more appropriate footwear.
Standing behind the door he continued to humming all the while so as not to let whoever was outside the door know that he was aware of them. “$500 in statue and a naked one at that”, Sparda said to himself as he eased back more against the wall as the door now was eased open. Sparda rushed, moving his fists in a circular motion, he made a straight punch landing one right in the kidneys of the intruder, and his body fell limp as his counter-part grabbed Sparda from behind.
Moving quickly as the second man whose aftershave smelled strongly tried to initiate a stranglehold. Sparda combined a swift diagonal downward elbow strike into the man’s lung cavity. The man’s grip got a bit tighter as Sparda now looked to hook his right foot into the man’s stance and pushing backwards off of his left foot pushing both he and his attacker into the wall. Thankfully there was a blunt knob situated on the wall which bludgeoned into the man’s ribs on impact loosing the chokehold. Sparda spun quickly driving his knee into the man’s gut, as he now went crashing to the floor. Sparda’s Krav Maga skills seemed as sharp as they were back in the day.
As he ducked out of the bathroom he felt a sharp sting as something grazed his right upper arm. This involuntarily shifted his initial momentum as he was now sliding on his side into the door way of his room at the same time the door trimmings were flying out in bits and pieces.
"what a day i am having; laughing out loudly. I am going to be late to the ceremony but what they heck" Sparda said preparing to make a dash into the adjacent room. Today he was supposed to be giving black belts to a few students at one of the Krav Maga dojos in the city. he didn't teach but would often lend himself as a sparing partner. Sparda would sometimes spar against some of the masters around the area. he was a very skilled and experience fighter with rank somewhere above third dan but he still went home battered on some occasions. After all they arent masters for nothing.
Dashing into the room where his clothes were he quickly got dressed as he had secured the entrance with the chest of drawers. Snatching up the sling bag that he always kept handy for such a time, he took his coat from behind the door. he sighed as he felt he was now being pushed back into a world he had thought he left behind. Climbing out the window he free fell into a hedge below, rolling to the inner section behind the hedge. This little stunt would not go un-noticed as projectiles now shredded the hedge, causing Rhinemann to sprawl flat against the soggy earth.
Something was nagging at him, what was being projected at him were not bullets.
Further more he had seemed to land on an unusually hard piece of earth which was even more bizarre as the surroundings were softer. As he rolled over and shoved away the earth he finally realized what it was. It was a katana, more specifically a Chisa. Picking up the sword the fire ceased causing Rhinemann too peep through the undergrowth of the hedge.
For the first time he got a proper look at his attackers. For one thing these ones where different from the two he encountered in the house. These one looked funny somehow and had facial paintings all over them. Sparda was seeing now way to connect the dots.
Looking back at the sword the realized that etched in the sheath was similar marking to the ones of the faces of those after him. “Or where they after this, but I didn’t know it was here”, Sparda said to himself.
Standing up with the sword in his hands a figure in a hooded robe appeared from behind the two attackers. They separated to let him pass through. Sparda stepped out from behind the hedge.
“I see that you have found the sword?” the hooded figure now spoke.
“Who are you exactly and what do you want with me?” Sparda responded
“We merely want the sword that you hold”, the hooded figure now retorted
“It was found on my property so that makes it mine?” Sparda asked as he moved forward in an offensive stance.
“Mr. Sparda, one way or the other you will give me that sword” the hooded man continue to look in Sparda’s direction
Sparda now took a firm grip on the sword.
“Mr. Sparda I urge you do not draw that sword” the hooded man continued
“It Mr. Rhinemann to you jerk off” Sparda was about to pull.
“You are a skilled in the Krav Maga combat system and also various weapons including ones like which you hold now but believe me you know not of this weapons power”
“Hm you seem to know a lot about me, do you know that if you come any closer I will strike you with this sword? Tell me your name?”
“Emitrius keeper of the sword” the hooded man answered “I know all about those who possess the sword in which you now hold”.
“Ah he has a name well Emitrius, it was nice to know you” as he drew the sword the wound he had sustained earlier began to hurt immensely, never the less he continued.
“Nooooooo” Emitrius shouted
Sparda could now feel the shift of thing particularly reality itself going from not so bad to horrible. Emitrius began to chant quickly hoping he could halt the process. It was to late as a portal opened right under Sparda’s now motionlessly suspended body, consuming both him and the sword.