Pick up the sword

Weevil had to decide which choice was worse. Defiance or insubordination. For the longest moment, he looked about to everyone in view, looking for some form of clue to help him make the right decision. The guardswoman was relishing in his initial hesitation and was letting the moment sink in, grinning with glee. The guards at the table were enjoying the episode as much as their kin. He could barely see one of the slaves a small distance away silently and discretely shaking his head, as if signalling to him to not take the risk. None of them were of any help, so he would have to gamble. The sword was made of wood, which was hardly a dangerous weapon compared to the sharpened steel of every guard present. It might as well be a toy, and even less so in the hands of a **** who has never wielded a sword in his life. Compared to not following instructions, it was the safer option. The least that could happen then was whipping, compared to possible dismemberment of any of his extremities. Weevil braced himself for the eventuality of punishment, and acted. Bending himself over, his hand gripped onto the handle.

Just as he could feel the weight of the object in his arm, a heavy and sudden **** slammed onto the side of his head, sending him tumbling towards his left. His ears began to ring, the pain and rush of the sudden **** forcing him to sputter, rolling onto his hands to a position on all fours, elbows down while clutching his aching cranium. It was an excruciating pain, and he knew even as his watering eyes were faced downwards towards the dirt that he had been kicked in the head. Amidst the ringing, he could hear a roar of laughter and whistling. He dared to push his elbows up to look, to see the guardswoman Melina strutting about with another wooden sword in her hand. Behind her, the guards at the table were in the midst of rambunctious howling at his foolish expense. He had immediately regretted his actions, but it was better than an actual sword through his gut.

"Pick it up!"

He heard her repeat herself in a harsher tone. Again he considered the alternative, and reached for the handle of the sword that was now within arm's length of him. Once more, another sudden ****, this time towards his abdomen. It was strong enough to **** the wind out of his lungs and his entire body jolted from the pain, an arm clutching his freshly bruised side. His frame was strong enough to not keel over, however. If he was any smaller a man, he would probably have been sent reeling once more. The laughter continued, coupled with jeers and jests. The once lazy mid morning was now a carnival of ridicule for the guards, and he was the unwilling jester in their midst. Their plaything.

"Pick it up, ****!"

"Ey, Melina! Let him! Let him!"

He reached again, hesitating and anticipating another kick. As his hand finally gripped onto the sword's handle fully, he braced himself into a kneel, but no repercussion ensued. His breath was bated. The searing pain on his temple and gut was burning through his soul as he brings himself up to a stand, a hand still clutched to his side. Turning to face his tormentor, he could see that all around him were the wolves and hyenas waiting to see what happens next. Melina had allowed him to pick up the sword, and this brought on an uplifting tone in the mood of the guards. She was leering at him about several steps away distance, her own wooden weapon trained low to the ground, a haughty air surrounding her well trained fighting stance. She raised it to gesture with the tip of her blunted blade.

"Fight me." She commanded, which was followed by the cheering of all female onlookers.

Obedience was paramount, and his fear did not question. Not even knowing how to hold a sword in his hand, he gingerly pointed the edge towards his opponent. The moment he does so, the guardswoman expertly flicked her weapon against his, sending it flying out of his fingers. The **** of the disarmament ran up his wrist, sending it into a bout of numbness. Like clockwork, the onlookers cheered.

"Pick it up, meat puppet. Come on!"

The attack upon his already weakened psyche was working. The stress and helplessness of his situation was forcing his body to tighten up and shiver. He wished he had not obeyed. At the same time, he felt that he must not resist, least he face further punishment that was far worse. As he once again bends over to reach, his mentally battered form was suddenly pushed face first into the dirt, a sharp kick to his rear slamming shockwaves up his spine. All manner of pride was rapidly bleeding out of him, replaced with an unending emptiness that was slowly overwhelming all his senses. He reached again to grip the handle tightly while on the ground and shambled up to his feet. All feeling of his body was almost completely gone as he found himself in a stupor wracked from fear and hopelessness. He took a wild swing at the guard, who easily dodged and laughed at him alongside the small crowd that had gathered around them in an arena like circle.

"Finally got some fight in you at last, puppet! Fight me!"

He was not listening anymore. He was swinging the wooden sword like a club without much of a care for finesse or skill, missing his mark completely and horrendously. Every now and again, the guardswoman would humiliate him even more by tapping her sword against his face and bottom, kicking him in the gut or the leg and disarming him as easily as a master would do unto a student. Weevil no longer paid attention to it all. All he wanted was the nightmare to end. He lost awareness of all manner of time. He began to tire, but the **** did not stop. His body was covered in wounds and scrapes, clothes ripped and covered in dirt. He was bleeding from the mouth, barely able to stand, while his dominant opponent was left without a scratch and hardly even panting. Another kick to the abdomen sent him reeling into the ground. Tried as he might this time, he arms refused to move, exasperated gasps and whimpers escaping his scraped and cut lips. All he could hear was the sound of Hell amidst the hooting, sneering and taunting of the she demons that had gathered to watch him be torn down.