Example Duel: Emperor Ling vs Zhang Jiao

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(Note: This is an example duel between Emperor Ling and Zhang Jiao, it has no relevance to the forum other than for amusement purposes.)

Zhang Jiao, the Divine Hand of Heaven strode across the clifftops, looking down below at the masses of his children, fighting the cruel forces of the Han. He looked at the figure he was approaching.

"Fat and foul hedonist! I am here to put an end to your misery and release this land from your sickening perversions!"

He did not bother to wait for a reply, sweeping his staff up towards the fat emperor's gut. His eyes burned with the hatred he had long held for this man. Today that would come to an end.

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As the words caught his ears, Ling looked up from the Imperial Rod he had been stroking. Polished teak, the top portion of this weapon had been carved remarkably well, to resemble the lush and nude form of his latest favorite among the harem.

He turned in time to see the staff rushing for his stomach, and outrage came across his face. He had been waiting for a tryst with the concubine his servants were bringing to this remote spot on the battlefield, and now this yellow turban fanatic was bothering him?

Down the rod swept, crashing against the staff and knocking it aside. Ling lifted it into a fighting post.

"I think you are mistaken, fanatic. First I will deal with you, and then I will deal with the lovely girl being brought even as we speak."

With those words, the rod swept up, aimed at a crushing blow to Zhang Jiao's head.

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Jiao was shocked, to say the least, when his blow was so casually deflected. He never would have dreamed Ling was capable of such a maneuver. Not only that, but stars flashed across his eyes as Ling's rod came slapping against the side of his head.

Jiao groaned and fell back, dazed at the stunning blow. He struggled feebly to raise his staff and lash out with it at Ling's weapon arm.

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Ling contemptuously slapped aside the weak thrust of the staff. In the distance he could see the servants and the lovely piece of flesh they were bringing to him. He resolved to finish this fight quickly and struck hard at Jiao's left arm, seeking to knock his weapon away.

"Hurry up and die, miscreant. My pleasure awaits."

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Jiao let out a grunt as Ling's rod slapped against his arm. He could feel a drizzle of blood running down his robes, staining them, but was otherwise unharmed. He sneered at Ling.

"I am armored by the Heavens themselves! They will rise to my call and destroy you!"

He swept the bottom portion of his staff up, striking at Ling's knees. The fat pig was going down, one way or another.

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The sudden attack caught Ling off-guard, and he let out a scream as a bone cracked when the staff struck his legs. Wincing and biting back tears at the wound he cursed at Zhang Jiao.

Up came the Imperial Rod as Ling attempted to punch the head of the nude girl carved into the rod into Jiao's stomach. His servants were still too far away. Inwardly he cursed at his desire to screw a servant girl up here on the cliffs while the battle raged below.

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Zhang Jiao knocked aside the rod and countered with his staff aimed at the emperor's head.

"Is that the best you can do? You fat and miserable fool. The Way of Peace will dominate this land and turn it into a paradise the likes of which you will never see!"

The roar of the battlefield crashed below them. Cheers and cries of defeat resounded across the ground resting beneath these cliffs. Jiao had no idea of knowing whether his Yellow Turbans were marching to victory.

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Ling panted with the exertion of the duel, and it was pure luck when he managed to shift his head to the side to avoid Jiao's staff as it whipped up towards him. Slightly off balance, he stumbled back to a normal footing and laughed in Jiao's face.

"You will have to do better than that Turban. I have had women hit me better than you. And I liked it!"

He spun his rod in hand and arced it up to smash Jiao's face in. An anger was burning within the emperor at this man who was ruining his pleasure.

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Jiao rocked back as the emperor's rod struck the side of his head. Dazed, he struggled to right his staff and lash out at Ling's fat belly. He had to win this. The Heavens were on his side. This miscreant was an enemy to all in the land.

"S-silence dog! I care nothing for your perversions."

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Ling's breath came out in a wheeze when the head of Jiao's staff crashed into his stomach. The emperor panted and struggled to catch his breath, bent over as he was, and attempted to lash out at Jiao's legs with his weapon.

"S-shut. Up. You. Peasant!"

For the first time since the fight had begun, Ling was beginning to feel like he might be in trouble. He struggled to see if his servants were near yet. Surely they would save him.

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Jiao swept up his staff to knock aside the clumsy thrust of the gasping Emperor.

"Your time is over! The Han is a gasping relic of a time gone by. The people do not want it, nor should they suffer under it!"

With those words, Jiao spun around and lashed forward for another shot at Ling's stomach.

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Ling groaned at another attack to his stomach. Yet this one wasn't as bad, and he was able to straighten himself. His leg throbbed with the broken bone, things were not going well at all for him.

"I am the HAN! This is my land!! And you filthy peasants will not steal it from me!"

He smashed the imperial rod at Jiao's knees, screaming his rage as he did so.

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Jiao let out a scream of pain from the force of the attack. He nearly fell as agony rippled through his legs. The emperor was seething with rage. Jiao bit his lip, struggling to fight the pain and attack, but was incapable of doing so.

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Continuing the momentum of his previous attack, Ling whipped his rod up to hit Jiao in the torso. His eyes burned and sweat dripped from his face. His leg continued to throb and ache. All of this simply pissed him off more at this rebellious peasant.

"The Han is eternal! Nothing short of a demon shall rip this land from my grasp!!"

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Jiao coughed blood as he held his stomach. He could feel himself weakening. How could this fat emperor be such a strong warrior? He was nothing but a soft lump of flesh, pampered as he was.

As Ling's words fell over his ears, he snarled and spat blood upon the ground.

"Fool. The Heavens care nothing for you. You are a blight upon the land!"

With those words, Jiao swept his staff up, seeking to strike Ling in the head and drive him back. His chest heaved with the exertion.

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In one move Ling struck the staff aside, whipping his large rod around to crash into Jiao's forehead. His servants were drawing near, and his eyes burned from the sweat rolling down his face.

He panted, nearly ready to fall over from the pain in his leg. He wasn't sure how much more he could take.

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Jiao reeled back from the blow to his head. He drew in a ragged breath as the cries of the servants of the emperor drew near. Cursing he spun around and staggered off, slow at first, but picking up speed.

He burned with shame that this fat emperor could best him. But no matter, the Heavens would ensure the victory of the Yellow Turbans. This meant nothing. Nothing at all.