The Gypsy's Tale

thrust, parry, guard, thrust, gaurd clang
parry, thrust, thrust, parry clang
guard, parry, parry, thrust GAH

The young boy was brought out of his stupor at that sound. Dressed in all black, save for only a white collar, the clothes of the cleregy, he looked around, seeing a man dressed in the same fashon holding a nasty gash in his leg. He instantly bowed his hips down "Forgive me, father," he said, accent thick with an exotic spice on top of the normal Russian. "I...thought that was where your hilt was." The older priest just laughed softly, taking a white cloth and holding it to his wound. "Balgar," he spoke calmly as his wrinkled face smiled. "You have a gift, that is clear to all of us, you are only ten and already disarming our top fencing students. Yet, you are careless, cocky even. I don't mind getting a cut or two due to this, but some day that will mean YOU will be the one holding a wound."

Balgar simply grinned as he placed his blade back into his belt. "Come now, father, you said it yourself, Saint Sarah has blessed me all my life, why would she stop just because I'm proud of my gifts?" The old priest chuckled again, leaning down to pull the golden cross from under Balgar's shirt, looking into the silver woman's face in the middle. Saint Sarah, the patron saint of the Roma race. "This necklace was found on you the night our holy bishop found you on our steps as a baby, all alone. They say it's a mericle in itself that you survived the cold long enough to be found. That does not, however, mean you are immortal son." He laughed at that, "Only one being in this church is everliving," he grinned, looking to the large cross on the wall "And he doesn't like to share that title."

With that Balgar was left alone, the sun outside was setting, casting only faint light through the many stained glass windows around him. He looked down, the red carpet under him had a faint dark trail of dots where the priest had bled. He had spent ten years of his life, eternity for him, in this room, the main worship room, the mess hall, and the bunkhouse. The world outside the walls of the church grounds was almost like an alien world to him, and in his Russian homeland the weather didn't help. When it wasn't snowing he looked out to a vast, forested, land, deep and dark, so easy to get lost in it seemed. The only inlet was a single road that lead into town, a town he had only heard of and never seen. He began to pace as he looked out the windows, watching the flurry of snow fall beyond it. Outside the world was cold and dead, but inside, he was safe and warm, or so he was told.

He felt a pair of eyes on him as he watched a snow-rabbit bound through the powder, trying to ignore them. He wasn't the only child here, there were many orphans, but he had little time with the others. They didn't want him, and he didn't much care about them, they only got in the way of his reading, training, and window watching anyway. Behind him was one of the older boys, a great oak tree of a boy named Uri, built like a roman statue with deep brown hair and harsh blue eyes. "Hey, Gypsy," he spoke in a deep voice that already told everyone he was ment to lead...or atleast command people to his will. "Trying to kill the father or something? What, was his purse not around to steal?" Balgar growled softly, fists balling as he tried to focus on the rabbit, "It was an accedent Uri, and you should call me by my name at the least." Uri simply laughed as he walked closer, outside a lone fox stalked the bushes, watching the rabbit. "You think you're so great, just because you can swing a sword, your people kill good Christians for fun anyway, no wonder you're a 'natural', as if anything a Gypsy is can be called that!" Balgar spun around at that "Just because you swing your blade like a blind fishwife does not mean that it's unnatrual to actually have skill!" Uri growled this time, grabbing the blade that the old priest left behind, "Oh, big talk for a puny man, care to back that up?" He smirked as he took a fencing pose. Balgar's face turned to a sneer as he pulled his own blade free "To the first blood then?" He laughed, getting into the proper pose. "Let's make it fun," Uri laughed, "Untill the other admits to being a weakling!" Balgar just grinned, lunging at Uri "I'm going to make you my pincushion then!"

Parry, thrust, guard, bash He got me, right in the arm, damn his lucky hits
Outside the fox lept at the rabbit, who let out a yelp of pain as it tried to fight its way to freedom.

Thrust, thrust, thrust, keep him guarding, keep him frazzled, make him- I got him! Right in the hip! Ready to surrender Gypsy?
The rabbit wiggled to freedom, hopping away as the fox gave chase

Parry, guard, thrust thrust thru- My gut! You cheating gypsy!

Don't let him up, thrust, thrust, thrust I SURRENDER I SUR-
The fox lept on the rabbit, tearing into its neck with feral hate.

END IT! Thrust. Why is he quiet, how did that dumb ox decide to shut up...what...what's going on?

"He...killed him..." a new voice snapped Balgar out of it. There was a crowd now, that was who Uri was talking to, all of the other children had gathered to watch the fight. A great feeling of dread hit him, as if he was under a great ocean. He tried to explain, tried to tell them what happened, but his mouth hung open dumb, unable to form more then a soft gurgle. As the mutters and gasps grew he felt trapped, the already small walls feeling like a cage. He had no choice, he ran, right through the shocked crowed, into the snowey courtyard, down the old broken path, past the blood stained snow where the rabbit was, and into town, desperatly looking for a way out, any way out.

((Just the intro for now, any comments, critics, welcome!))