Storming the Castle

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Everwood
A simple written exercise

Submitted: May 19, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 19, 2016



A man riding on horseback, carrying a weapon in hand. A katana so sharp, it needed its own name. Its name had always escaped his mind, a man of honor and joy. He never asked Senzokuren its name. Seeing his actions with it, only made him sane. This man of honor knew its purpose and only lived by its name. A samurai of standing, and of humble origins.

The man held its purpose and lived by the blade. Only his peers among his actions, knew where it began. A life turned side-ways and held in shame. Forgotten among them as person and blade. He knew its source, and could picture its name, only to be shown rightness and held in fame. This samurai entered the castle only to be slain.

Climbing up the staircase setting the gates a-flame, this man of honor drew on his blade, as the ram progressed he helped others climb. Taking a ladder from behind their lines. Many soldiers would giver their lives in vain if only their commander could deal his final duty. A samurai gone Ronin doing his best for his land. Pushing onward's this man's name will go down in flames. Though his conscience is clear he knew it was going strange.

Reaching the top of the walls he could see his friends both pushing the advance while others lay in blood. He needed to keep composure as he continued on. Seeing the efforts of his resolve this man would become King.

Reaching his wounded comrades this Ronin had few limits and made it known through valiant efforts, and in action. Charging onward's with sword in hand, this extension of his body had earned its name. Slicing the enemy before him the blade played magnificently. Setting its opponent the man followed through perfectly. Cutting his foe at the neck, severing the head.

Samurai and his katana became stained in crimson red as the enemy began to retreat. Another fell side-ways with a cry of agony rushing through his mind. This Ronin had just cut him just above his hip. Within a moments notice the man had cut off his enemy's head.

Showing his efforts, this samurai had energized his men. They gave a glorious shout and rushed through the wall. Given the amount of progress, this man leveled his head. Dropping into bow stance he readied his blade. As his men pushed on, this man leaped into action, surpassing his own men. Within a few short steps this samurai had stopped three of his attackers. Sending all to their ends, one had no legs, another had no hands, and lastly the third was simply cut in half.

Long was the battle and little ground was gained. The enemy poured out from all directions with weapons in hand. This man harked his heralds and made a defensive stance. Accompanied by his allies this samurai gone Ronin earned their respect. With a coordinated effort these three fended off the attacks. All back to back, their blades flashed like lightening making little work of the other men. Though they held their ground each suffered wounds. One severely injured, and another sorely bruised while the samurai suffered the most. Knowing his life is in danger he grasped at his wound. A spear had made contact, piercing his innards. He broke the weapon's shaft with a swift motion of his sword. Pulling out the spearhead, blood gushed from his wound. He quickly applied pressure and clotted the injury with a piece of enemy cloth, cut from his assailant's robe.

Turning to his comrades, this Ronin became a man. Seeing his neighbor slumped over and gasping for breath. They had made progress pushing the inner court. Just down this left wing, the enemy was out of sight. Kneeling beside his neighbor, this man held his friend closely. Signalling to the other to stand by their side, keeping an eye on look out. He could see the light flicker slightly casting shadows far and wide, holding his neighbor who was about to die. With the last breath over, the man began to cry.

With one las word his friend said goodbye. May your rest eternally and forever at peace. The man held his katana tighter, wiping the tears from his eyes. This man lost all emotion and carried out his orders, given by his lord. This samurai has truly become Ronin, sending his friends to die. he could no longer look back, for he now had the power to send all who served him, back into the fray. He gave no sign of slowing as they pushed onward, storming the castle. With one final shout he gave out a battle cry that boomed and billowed, showing no sign of wavering.

As he approached the next stairway, he rallied the survivors to his side. A top of the entrance, there sat the final challenge. Behind the enemy line, stood a door of wood and stone, an entrance to the throne room. One action from his hand, set his allies charging, slicing at their enemy. This Ronin knew there was not much time left and joined his comrades inside the charge. Willingness and adrenaline were all that was left. The doors opened behind enemy lines exposing the inner chambers of the throne room. The battle was nearly over and there wasn't much time left.

The man and his comrades were of skilled backgrounds and each practiced daily but nothing ever prepares you for a battle of this scale. Each took on their surroundings, circling in pairs. Showing that their teamwork was something to fear. Each equipped with a katana and baptized in their enemy's blood. Even with their scare, the enemy was still skillful and only shared their weapons. None could predict the damage that ensued. Clash of blades and screams of agony were all that was heard on that fateful day. The samurai turned Ronin was beginning to earn his name. As new lord and savior, destined to martyr.

he raised his blade in protest, fighting to earn his right to be free once more. Bound by his honor he fulfilled the last wishes of his lord. The end was near now showing now sign of slowing. They danced through the courtyard spreading crimson colors all through the sword. One step forward, the man skewered his opponent, two steps back, the man covered his injury and took another to his hand. Turning his wrist just right, the sword flashed back, slitting two throats and spinning him around. Cutting through flesh and leaving them dead. He was almost at limit while he held his blade. None there knew what was at stake.

His men were tired and shrinking in numbers when suddenly over head, a flag was drawn only in white. The enemy knew this was no trick, the Ronin had just severed the King's head. Dropping to one knee, all covered in blood, the samurai seen the one who held the flag. It was none other, the lady he was to wed. She rand down the stairway only stopping at his side. The man signaled her closer, to rest his head on her shoulder and giving her his hand. I will always love you, even in death.

His life was almost over as she held his weary head. If only this happened sooner, it may have been better for each of them instead. In his dying moment he whispered into her ear, I will always love you, even though I'm dead. She was left to mourn, with his dying words echoing in her head.

© Copyright 2018 DM Alistar. All rights reserved.

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