The Legend of Arrin

A Story by Snitified

This is a bit that I wrote for an ending to my series about Arrin, a gladiator who is trying to find a way back to his family through a war torn country.

The Legend of Arrin

The tales of his deeds have echoed off the walls of Elysium to return anew in the hearts of the generations of men who will mourn his passing for thousands of years after the whisper of his sword has faded. Where his name is spoken, battles rage. Where his footsteps pass, mountains crumble. Where his sword falls, death will follow, and when his wisdom is spoken, all men should take head.

His blade follows the path of right, to lay rest the evil in men and to raise the strength in those few who were lucky enough to stand beside him. Those few would forever feel the weight of his judging eyes upon them scrutinizing their every decision with unwavering clarity. To fail in his eyes would be to fail him and to slight the memory of the man who saved so many with his every step.

It seemed that death could not find him in the dark sea of loneliness that flowed in his eyes. Fear a distant memory of pain that had no place by his side, in this world of chaos and blood fear was hesitation and that was certain death. To see the subtle perfection of his skills as a born killer was to know your own limitations, you felt as a child next to a mountain in his presence. That day in the hills of the world he created his own mountain, built from the men who died under the swing of his blade, in awe of the man even as they fell.

He took so many with him, so that so many more could live their lives without fear. He fought against all odds to rise again and again even when only he knew it to be possible, and only he could make it possible. His strength and desire alone could withstand the barrage of men that threw themselves toward him with unrelenting malice and hatred. The sun on his face only proved to show the blood that now covered him, from wounds taken and given. The sea of red highlighted his every movement and as that sickening thud sounded home, the world stopped to watch the last ripple of life echo away from a great man across the endless sea of blood that began at his feet and spread to the horizon in every direction. No more blood was spilled that day for in every heart there lies a legend, the fury of his greatness was silenced that day, and from that silence a new legend was born, a legend of his glorious life and of his final moments. A man such as he would die where and when he chose, and he saw fit to die that day in that place with his sword still singing the song of death.

"I need not fear my own sword, it will never betray me in a time of need, it alone has earned my trust." -Arrin