Victory=Glory

Fog covers the sky, like a blanket of pure white
Hiding all that may be seen in the depth of sunlight.
Figures expose themselves into the audience's sight,
Preparing themselves for the following fight.

The contenders bow in honour of their lords,
Drawing their elegant shields and swords.
They circle about, mumbling some words,
Always on guard, preparing their wards.

One leaps in, attempting a strike,
The other parries to the like.
Once again, they circle and hike,
Allowing for another such strike.

Like an elegant dance, performed with ease,
The strike is evaded, with only a breeze.
As his blade is injected with intensity of seas,
Victim is fallen, dropped to his knees.

The fight is over, the winner is deemed,
The one title every warrior has dreamed.
As corpse lain still, and blood streamed,
The ecstatic crowd roared and screamed.