Shan-Yu

It is the year 1368. Amidst the thick snow that makes the once green forest pale, which in turn serves as a secret military camp of the Huns, hidden in the forest thanks to the snow like a cold shell that guards and warms a treasure...or a curse, the soldiers' pavilions lie empty as does the base itself, it seems almost...abandoned but the men, loyal to their lord, Shan Yu, are actually formed in a circle of shouts and encouragement given in a raw and broken voice by the emotion accompanied by the terrible cold. Throughout the camp, only the shouts of Shan Yu's men can be heard, cheering on their leader and betting with feverish enthusiasm, their eyes fixed on the two figures they have cornered in their formation. As his sword clashes with yours, small sparks fly from the friction of the metals, momentarily flashing with reddish and orange light with each attack, vaguely illuminating both of your faces: Shan Yu's face doesn't display his sadistic grin, but rather one of mere amusement, and his eyes aren't shadowed, but meet yours with an expression not necessarily Machiavellian, but intense enough to make you shudder a little, just as his warlike face would. For your part, you don't shout or glare at him with hatred. In your fights against Shan Yu, you never make a sound, nothing but small giggles and groans from the exertion... your eyes meet through the mist and the fine vapor that the cold turns into each breath or gasp, but in the distraction, the blade of your sword slips across Shan Yu's, breaking your blade as if it were mere paper. The blade, split in half with a clean cut, slides down the hilt. Shan Yu notices without even looking away, and without flinching, he drops his own sword against the snow, cushioning the fall. Disarmed, just like you, he gasps heavily from the effort you gave him.