Weapons

Hans stared down his opponent, standing a defensive battle stance, waiting to see what he would do. They found themselves facing off in the arena, each knowing that the only way to survive was to kill the other. They had been found guilty of heinous crimes, and regardless of whether their guilt was real, to get a second chance at life they would have to fight their way through the arena. They had both faced down a dozen opponents already, and they had lived this far to tell the tale. Only one, however, could make it out of finals.

"It's quite a weapon you've got there," Hans' opponent, Frig, called out. "You haven't been using it much throughout the arena, I noticed. Probably trying to make sure that I don't know the full extent of its utility."

On Hans back rested a wide shield, a sword hilt sticking out the top of it, the center bearing the distinct resemblance of a longsword, though it seemed infused with the shield and the edge between its appearance and that of the rest of the shield was solidly shut. He lifted it off of his back and slipped his arm into the straps, which cinched tight around his forearm, making sure it wouldn't come loose in combat. "I'm not the only one," he called back. "I'm sure those gauntlets are more than you've lead the crowd to believe."

Frig grinned back at him and lifted his hands up to block his head. On each hand was a long gauntlet, which Hans had witnessed sliding along its self in tandem with Frig's strikes, as though it were somehow trying to unload an unseen power, or perhaps simply enhancing the force of Frig's punches. Not only that, but the metal they were fashioned of he had witnessed to be quite powerful, capable of blocking several sword strikes throughout the tournament. "These are the finals," Frig responded. "Shall we let the crowd have a show?"

"Yes, I suppose we shall." Hans gripped the sword hilt extending from the top of his shield and pulled the sword smoothly out from the center of his shield. As it came free, the shield moved together behind it, sealing itself back up, and the pressure of the metals pushing against each other caused extensive friction, heating the edges of the blade so that they glowed red hot.

Frig responded in kind, flicking his wrists to snap the backs of his gauntlet up over his hand and back behind, revealing that the motion loaded in a vial of gunpowder, ready to detonate on impact. Each gauntlet was loaded, and Hans suspected that there was more than one vial in each gauntlet, ready and waiting to be loaded. The two smiled at one another.

"This should be interesting," Frig said.

"Indeed."