Comhroinn Fuaime

Wiping his long brown hair out of his sweat covered face, pulling down the visor for his helmet, he lunged, his sword outstretched. He heard a loud cry. A smile spread o’r his lips. Lifting the visor from his helmet, off his dark blue eyes, he looked down at the still body lying there, his sword impaling the chest of its victim. He sighed, and began to say a clever remark— when suddenly, the body upon the ground flung his arm in the air with his sword drawn, piercing him in the chest.