Ice Ballet (Rhuryc)

[Amondaris]

The ringing in his head was awful. The blinding, multighued lights were pretty bad, too. At least they were colourful. He had to admit, though, that the searing, throbbing pain was the worst of the three offenders. Yes. Definitely the pain. Dazed, Amondaris lay prone atop the ice, for the third time this day. He was beginning to regret agreeing to this exercise in stupidity. So was his head. Groaning, he lifted his hand to his face, the practice blades clattering to the ice as he cradled his head miserably. Petching shields. He was beginning to hate them. He was going to invest in a very large hammer for future encounters with shields, and bludgeon their bearers to a pulp. He'd start with this one. A spiked maul, right to the that damned unremarkable, insufferably calm face. Putting such delicious thoughts of murder aside, he picked up his swords and shakily clambered to his feet, swaying slightly when he managed to finally stand up. Blinking myopically, eyes a dull shade of brown, he squinted at Rhuryc and merely nodded, holding a hand up for a moment of succour. Pressing his knuckles to the side of his head, he squeezed his eyes shut and gave himself a little shake. The ringing was fading, as were the lights. This was good. Progress. Now if only he could get rid of that damnable pain... Taking a deep, calming breath, he stood straighter, rolled his shoulders forward slowly, and nodded his readiness. "Remind me to get big hammer.", he muttered as he walked towards the man, weapons held out to either side. There had to be a way for him to get around that shield. Doing what Rhuryc had suggested would be a viable tactic on solid ground, yes, but on ice it would be nigh impossible. Unless he could take it off somehow, he was stuck with it. Sinking into a lowered stance, one blade held above head head, point facing downwards, the other held low and aimed at the sky, he sucked in a steadying lungful of crisp, chill air. Darting the upper blade down, he stabbed it towards Rhuryc's face in a vicious, swift jab, simultaneously bringing the lower weapon up towards the man's gut. One way or another, he hoped, the Syliran would leave himself exposed while defending one part of him. He hoped.

[Rhuryc]

Rhuryc chuckled at the comment. So he did have a sense of humor. Sort of. While he waited for his partner to acclimate himself the man made use of the time by testing the ice. He shifted. Skidded. Wobbled. He had already learned most of the basics of how to keep his balance, most of it was weight, but it helped not to move. Or just slid. The only issues he encountered were when he moved like a normal creature. The idea, he supposed, was to think beyond the realm of comfort. Do not rely on your surroundings, master them. So he did. As Amondaris prepared himself for another assault Rhuryc firmed up his stance, muscles tightening as he locked his shield in place. Make your opponent come to you. Crack! Rhuryc raised his shield and slammed it into the oncoming blade from above. Clang! His sword scythed around, flurried from the side and around over the offending strike, the edges clashing in a parry meant to throw the weapon off. Clear now, Rhuryc pressed the opening. His defense was not meant simply to block the strikes, but he left enough for a swift application of force. In the form of his foot. Going to one leg, he rose the other and thrust it forward at Amondaris' midsection, albeit he did not possess the power he thought he would. The ice made that difficult. He kept his balance enough to complete the maneuver, but following up was damn near impossible.

[Amondaris]

Rhuryc's boot slammed into Amondaris' heavily armoured chest with little effect, serving only to push the large warrior back a few hand's length. Really? Kicking a man wearing back and breast plating, in the chest? He wasn't sure if Rhuryc was mocking him, just having fun, or bored. A flicker of a smile ghosted across his lips briefly, and was gone, the only hint of amusement visible on the man's features. Amondaris decided to press the advantage one more time, digging his spiked boots into the ice and thrusting his shoulder forward with full force, aiming at either the shield or the man's body, whichever came first. The impact should send the off-balance Knight crashing to the ice and, Myri willing, give Amondaris a moment to sieze for his own. If the ramming tackle was successful, he would attempt to be as swift as he possibly could, and try to tear that blasted piece of metal from the foreigner's arm. He was seriously beginning to loathe shields. They were too big for him to get around effectively, and too thick and sturdy for his grosse messers, big as they were, to smash out of the way. So what to do? The aforementioned removal was optimal, but essentially impossible in live combat. Amondaris decided to go on the defensive if he failed in removing Rhuryc's portable wall. He'd try backing away and lowering into a defensive stance, and simply waiting. If it succeeded, however..Well. He'd see if his gambit worked out.

[Rhuryc]

Rhuryc slammed his foot against the ice. Crack. Risky. He threw his weight into the recovery, his body firming up as soon as he came back down in preparation for what he knew was - and there it was. Slam! Amondaris crashed into the man as the shield came back to defend the blow, but without the firm grasp of friction Rhuryc found himself crashing down toward the ice. Crack. His back slammed against the frozen lake. It really was a nice day out. A clear, blue sky met with a radiant sun, albeit the warmth he was so accustom do meant little out here. With all the chills and the hard, threatening Ice, Rhuryc found himself suspended in a moment of firm nostalgia. Syliras was not the most homely of places, but it was indeed his home. Oh right, they were fighting. Amondaris committed himself. That was good. His legs were exposed though. With a twist Rhuryc sent the shield around again. He spun and slammed the flat of it into his opponent's nearby legs, the force of it intended to bring the fellow down to Rhuryc's new level of perspective. With the assumption that Amondaris would soon be a member of the "fallen", Rhuryc rolled on the ice, his blade following and coming down in some kind of humorous, if admirable, flail. Yes, he was fighting on the ground. To him that was nothing unusual. Of all the spats he was in somehow most of them ended like this. Nothing to do but punch on.

[Amondaris]

For the fourth time that day, Amondaris found himself plummeting down towards the ice. En route to his imminent, intimate facial contact with the slick surface, he somehow found the time to admire the reflective material. It certainly was pretty, how it acted like a natural mirror, providing an iridescent copy of the azure sky that floated above, and the yellow disc that inhabited that airy firmament. Alas, all good things come to and end, and the trend of such things were that they came to a rather abrupt, painful one. This was no exception. His cheek collided with the much, much harder ice, causing the skin to split open upon impact as the rest of his body followed suit, crashing into the glossy mirror-like substance gracelessly. Ow. That one would hurt in the morning. Well, it hurt right now, but it would definitely still hurt in the morning. But they were still fighting, a fact brought home as Rhuryc's sword clanged against Amondari's back plating, the metal ringing forth cheerfully with the contact. He really was beginning to be glad he'd purchased that. He was almost growing fond of the protective covering. Regretting not having enough time to spend fondly admiring the back-and-breast's qualities, he rolled to face Rhuryc, whipping around first one sword, then the other immediately afterwards with as much force as he could muster, aiming vaguely at the other man's head. If he couldn't stab him, he'd beat Rhuryc into the ice, and all the way through, if he had to.

[Rhuryc]

Rhuryc released his sword. Again. He did not seem overly attached to the blade. The weapon clattered against the ice and Amondaris made his assault, the queer, prone combat making for a wonderful new set of tactics. The shield came around once more. What a nuisance. The first blade slammed against the portable wall and Rhuryc followed by rolling into his companion, his free arm slinging out from beneath the metal slab. He grasped Amon's wrists on the second strike, holding the weapon in place before it could complete its arc. With a shift he hoisted himself to one knee, his body pushed forward to pin one arm against the ice and his opponent's torso while he held the other. He lifted the shield into the air. With any other man he might have brought the edge down on the throat. He could feel the urge to strike, that violent desire. The thrill of the kill. Instead he tossed the shield away and let up, allowing Amondaris the freedom to move. Bah. His knee hit the ice again. Crack. What? Shyke. The ice broke. Beneath both of them the once frozen surface gave way. That figured. Rhruyc felt himself hit the icy water, needles digging into his skin from the sudden onslaught of cold. He growled as he went under. The undercurrent pulled at him, grasped at his legs, it sung with a siren's melody. His muscles tensed. Legs kicked at the wild, unyielding depths, yet the hole that lead out grew farther and farther away. Wasn't this the second time this happened to him? Unlike the panic that gripped him before Rhuryc's mind sprung into action. Break the ice. With a wild, grasping flail, he launched an arm out to his entry point and dug his fingers onto the surface. A nail snapped. He gritted his teeth and strained, a fist coming about and bashing itself against the ice. Once. Again. His knuckles raked until they bled. Yet he did not stop. Crack. Again! Crack! He reared back and crashed his hand through the surface.

[Amondaris]

This man was a much different fighter than Amondaris. He seemed more fond of using himself as a weapon than the sword that he now so casually discarded. While unusual, the Vantha had to admit that his tactics had thus far proved exceptionally effective. He would have to ask Rhuryc to instruct him in the brutishly efficient style, and incorporate it into his own mode of combat. Once again, as expected, the shield thwarted his blade. What a shock. Amondaris had come to realise that this man was, simply put, better than he was. Added to that was the fact that he hadn't faced a human opponent in years, and it made for his attempt sat retaliation being as fruitless as a child whacking a rock with a pair of twigs. Ah, sweet, humbling training. He had missed it so. Rendered effectively immobile as a result of Rhuryc's pinning maneuver, he simply lay still and watched as the blunt slab of metal lifted above him. If he wanted, the foreigner could simply crush his windpipe and end his life with appalling ease. For a brief moment, Amondaris wondered if the Syliran would. No release from the mortal coil for him, however, at least not now. The blond warrior tossed his shield aside and made to move in order to give Amondaris an opportunity to get up. Or to give himself an opportunity to kick the downed hunter in the ribs. He wasn't entirely sure which, and didn't think he'd be overly surprised if it was the latter. What did take him unawares though, was the loud crack that resonated throughout the thick sheet of ice beneath them. He had a brief moment in which to sigh inwardly, and think, Ah, petch before the ice snapped below him and they were plunged into the depths below. This was perhaps the moment he was most grateful for possessing Morwen's Gnosis. Idly, he reminded himself to thank his mother when he got back. If he got back. he might not be too bothered by the cold, but he could still very much die from a lack of being able to breathe. This wasn't the first time he'd been in a similar situation, though. He had dwelled in this region all his life, after all, and he hadn't gone nineteen years in the tundra without falling through the occasional crack in the ice. So he didn't panic. And he had his practice swords, his hands having reflexively tightened about the handles as he fell, so getting out wouldn't prove too difficult. He didn't fancy having to break though ice thick enough to support two grown men fighting atop it with just his fists. Lashing his legs against the undercurrent which sought to snatch him to an early, watery grave, he swung his right weapon against the ice as hard as he could, the blunted edge striking the frozen substance with satisfying force. Pulling back his arm, he heaved the blade against the lake's solid surface again and again, the crazed cracks patterning the ice growing larger and thicker as it weakened with each blow. One last, powerful smash, and the dark blade erupted from the ice, like some ancient edifice returned to the world of the living. Kicking his legs, lungs burning painfully from the desperate need for air, he reached up and broke through to the surface. Flinging the weighty pieces of metal haphazardly away from him, he gasped, kicking fiercely as his hands scrabbled for purchase on the slick ice. Naturally enough, the found none. Pressing his forearms against the solid sheet of frozen water, he began to slowly, laboriously lever himself forward, pushing himself up and out of the water, muscles screaming in protest at having to carry the weight of the sodden leather armour he still wore. Finally, he managed to get clear of the water and sprawled atop the ice. Rolling over onto his back, he sucked in several long, deliciously sweet lungfuls of fresh air, savouring the nectar-like taste with great relish. Funny how much you appreciate something after having it taken away from you. Depressingly, he didn't have the luxury of being able to lay there and enjoy the glorious act of breathing. The foreigner had to have fallen into the icy depths as well, and he didn't possess Amondaris' divinely granted resistance to the cold. Groaning, the hunter managed to twist himself and shift to his knees, squinting around for any sign of where the Knight might have tried to breach the surface. Ah. A hand had broken the ice not far from where Amondaris now knelt, and assuming no other people had fallen into the lake recently, it must have belonged to Rhuryc. With a feat of strength worthy of Izurdin Himself, Amondaris pushed himself forward, crawling along over the ice towards the other man. He did not dare risk standing up, for fear of the ice being too weakened to support the focused pressure, but he managed to make it over to the foreigner's exposed appendage. Grasping the man's forearm with one hand and planting the other solidly on the ice, he began to pull, putting all of his flagging reserves of strengths into the act of heaving the man up and out of the ice.

[Rhuryc]

His hand was through, sure, but that did little for the rest of him. Rhuryc felt the air leave his lungs. He dug in harder. Both hands coiled around the ice and he hoisted himself up, his shoulder slamming into the frozen ceiling. Crack. There! Again. More pressure. Rhuryc lowered himself and lifted his body again, his arms flexing while his shoulder rammed the ice. The crack widened. Just one more time. He pulled and a loud, resounding snap broke over the river. Something grabbed his hand. His hand floundered about on the surface and grasped the extended wrist, blisteringly cold flesh wrapping about the immune northerner. Benediction from on high. When his head came over the tide Rhuryc took in a sharp, painful breath. Needles. Between himself and his companion his body was brought back over the secure ground where the man proceeded to flop over and lay, his chest heaving from the brilliant, glorious oxygen. He did not move. Blood covered the knuckles of his left hand, his right blistered from the pressure. The ice had done more damage than the fight. He could already feel the bruise on his shoulder. Ugh. And he was cold. Petching cold. Something whispered in the back of his mind. A reminder, a warning, get up! Get dry! But for now he lay, his arms sprawled out around him. Maybe one of these day he would stop trying to kill himself. A strange, guttural sound leapt from his throat. Indistinguishable a first, the tone took shape in the form of laughter. He thought it was funny. Here they were, fighting over ice and beating the piss out of one another, defying logic, reason, and who knows what else and for what? No reason. Because. It made him laugh. Fantastic. "I need a drink. You? Rhuryc spoke in common. He was too tried to use Vani. With a grunt and a roll, the man pushed himself up from the ice and got to his feet. From the look of him you would never be able to tell his was freezing. Soaked, yet calm, he made his way off the ice. Carefully. One foot shuffled after the other in a humorous treat. Upon reaching the shore he donned his fur cloak and pulled up the hood. The pack followed. From inside he managed a winter blanket that was soon wrapped about his form, bundling the might warrior like a child hiding beneath his covers. Only he was trying to stay off death. How wonderful. Suited in his cocoon, he produced one final item, a small, shapely flask. Full of mead. Warmth. He unscrewed the top and downed the liquid in between shivers, his body reacting uncomfortably to his chilled bones. "We can make you winner." He switched back to Vani. He was getting better at that. "I give. Too cold." A grin accompanied the words along with an offer of the flask.

[Amondaris]

With the southerner out of immediate danger, Amondaris took the opportunity to collapse back down upon the ice. His eyes closed and he simply lay there, gratefully sucking in great gulps of sweet air. Well, it had been bound to happen at some point. They were, after all, fighting on ice, more often than not with their bodies and fists than the purposefully dulled practice blades. It was a testament to the sturdiness of the thick, frozen sheet of water that it had withstood the abuse for as long as it had done. Still, all of the impacts and crashing bodily to the ice had taken their toll, weakening it just enough to send them plummeting to the deadly cold water below. Ah, well. He had needed a bath anyway. He was interrupted from his idle reverie by a thick, guttural sound coming from Rhuryc. Blinking, Amondaris turned to squint at the other man - Was he choking, perhaps? But..No. He was laughing. Of course he was laughing. He had almost drowned, and could still die, or lose fingers or toes to frostbite, but of course he was laughing. Why not, after all? Anyone else would doubtless have been bent double at having witnessed their bizarre, borderline suicidal antics. Why shouldn't they themselves find it amusing? Pushing himself to his feet warily, he shook his head in respond to the Knight's question, even though Rhuryc was no longer looking. Carefully, ever so carefully, Amondaris made his way over to collect the practice blades from where they had landed upon the ice, cautiously kneeling down to collect them. Wouldn't do to wast such useful items, after all. Rising, he made his way back to the shore, placing one foot tentatively before the other, over and over until he returned to blessed, firm ground. It took a while, but he got there eventually. Placing the blunted weapons on the ground, he lefted his great furred cloak and tossed it at Rhuryc, speaking in Common. "I don't drink. Wear cloak. Very warm, keep your shivering water-blood body alive." With a strangely disarming, wry smile to show he meant no harm by the words, he lifted his hand palm-outwards in a gesture of defeat. "No, no. You could have killed many times. You better fighter. You not lose." Nodding his head at the man, he gestured back in the general direction of Avanthal, from whence they had originally traveled. "We go now. You move, get warm, or die." Again, that faint, wry smile. "Ground hard. Too much effort to bury you. So no die, please. Tired."

[Cheshire]

. Character: Amondaris Experience: Weapon (Gross Messers) +4, Dual Wield +4, Brawling +2, Swimming +1 Lore: Fighting on the Ice, Saving a Friend Character: Rhuryc Experience: Weapon (Shield) +3, Weapon (Sword) +3, Teaching +1, Brawling +2, Swimming +2 Lore: Fighting on the Ice, An Icy Near-Death Additional Note: Great thread guys! PM me with concerns.