Fight:Slippery Slopes

Colossus Combatants

Satoshi is playing the improvised role of ranger this afternoon, if the cat perched with a frost-katana in hand atop the head of the deceased frost worm is an indicator. Whistling merrily to herself, the feline is busy using the elegant blade as a skinning tool, ridding the worm corpse of a hide it no longer required. Or, at least that was what she -was- doing, until white ears perk up at sensing something. Was it the subtle sound of snow crunching beneath boots, an instinctive awareness of another's presence, or a scent drifting on the breezes from the blizzard outside? Whatever the source, she was suddenly aware that she is no longer alone. A low hiss issues from barely parted lips as a hand releases the worm-hide and slips into that aged satchel always hanging at her side, pulling free a trio of glass vials holding clear liquid-presumably water. With a tightened grip upon the katana with the other gloved hand, the cat flicks her arm outward in the source of the other presence, vials released from her hold at the end of the swing. Sailing through the air with the deft movement, the containers turn cork-over-end numerous times before crashing to the ice-packed earth of the cave floor, near the place she'd detected him. A half-whispered, half-sung word comes from the mage as the glass shatters, and instantly the waters inside freeze and extend outwards in a rush, jagged icicles erupting in every direction with intent to impale anything they should come in contact with. Skin broken by the enchanted ice is not an easy thing to bear, either, as the magics are far too eager to mingle with drawn blood to begin the slow process of working through the bloodstream to leave crimson crystals of the chilly element in its wake.

Namen had simply been wandering through, curious as to what he might find in this frigid region, the harsh landscape that so matched his recent mindframe. He had been, until he stumbled upon the corpses that laid upon the ground, and the tiny woman that was skinning the scaled of the pair. She had thrown something - he couldn't tell what, at first - and they were coming his way in an end-over-end fashion, and it's not until they come in closer that he realizes what they are. He thinks the water harmless, at first; he'd only get frostbite, at the worst. But then the woman manipulates the liquid, and it sharpens into icy projectiles of doom. He curses, fluently as a drunken sailor, with words that can never be typed here, and dives aside. As the icy arrows sink into the ground, he's rolling to his feet, lunging himself forward. What he holds in his hands is a strange-looking weapon, a dual-bladed staff...though this one, odder still, is held one blade in each hand, a chain connecting from the end of either hilt. Up the wyrm he scales, coming to land atop it with a full 180 degree flip. He lashes out then, one blade thrusting out low towards the feline's thigh, the other slashing out horizontal across at chest-height...well...chest height for Satoshi, anyways.

Satoshi remains idle long enough for an impressed whistle to escape her at the clever bit of dodging the fellow managed. However, once his feet come in contact with the worm, the cat is no longer sitting still. The frozen katana is held out at arm's length in her left hand as her crouch lowers a number of inches, her body leaning forward and slightly sideways, her weight and a push of her legs naturally producing the momentum needed to bring her into a somersault toward the high-elf. The manuever grants her a by-pass of the lower of the blades, the other not quite hitting its mark but still claiming a rather large slash across her right arm. A hiss of agonized anger comes from the cat, calculated somersault faltering at the blade's bite to end in a graceless tumble behind Namen. Landing upon her stomach with another hiss and skidding along the worm's back, she ends up facing the man with a renewed smirk upon her face. Hold on the katana reversing, it is plunged into the worm's flesh to stand in place, all so she can scramble forward without altogether regaining her footing, freed hands taking hold of the abandoned hide Namen now stands upon. A harsh yank upwards with intention of removing his own balance, the mage stumbles backwards with the hide in hand to simply fling it out again at the high-elf. With luck, he's both fallen and enveloped in worm skin, leaving him blind to her lunge forward atop him with reclaimed sword singing its intent to drive its keen edge through the hide repeatedly. Lack of skill with the blade may prove his advantage, as the stabs are clumsy and haphazard, so many off the mark and none nearly deep enough to deliver a fatal wound.

Namen had smirked when his blade drew blood, the elf growing cocky in an instant. He simply turned to watch the cat woman as she haphazardly rolled by, holding his position atop the wyrm, all to his undoing. She yanks, and he yelps, startled as his footing is suddenly lost and he falls to bloodied carcass, only to be further bloodied by a net of the very scales he had just been standing on. He thrashes, trying his damnedest to free himself, and then suddenly light pokes through to invade the darkness, courtesy of Satoshi's frosty brand. He snarls, thrashing all the more, making better use of his keen swords to cut enough of the scaled hide to free himself, though not without earning a number of knicks and cuts from his aggressor's untrained blade. And by the gods, was that blade cold! Cold enough, in fact, that once he's free, he backpedals from the woman, at first, rolling his arms to regain full feeling. He snarls again, like a feral hunting cat, and pulls his weapons so the chain goes taut. When he relaxes his hold, that chain withdraws into the swords, secreting itself inside a hollow of each sword, now united as a dual-bladed staff weapon. Again he rushes in, still atop the wyrm, an overhead twirl of his weapon of choice preluding the sudden flurry of motion. Spin upon spin is made, that exotic brand spun from side to side, resulting in an assault where no two strikes come from the same location.

Satoshi is at least wise enough to hop back once her foe frees himself. The small cuts were really all she had needed to deliver, the magicks running through her bewitched blade carrying that same desire to freeze blood as her earlier spell. It was not a swift moving magic, however, and so long as he continued jumping about and swinging like he was, Namen'd have nothing more than a slight chill and the occasional shiver to contend with. Voicing her own feral snarl in answer to the man, Satoshi lowers her form into a half-crouch, katana held in front of her diagonally as her free hand retreats again to the ragged satchel. His wild approach is answered with the cat seeming to balk, rising out of her crouch enough to backpedal, her katana requiring a panicked swinging to try and fend off the whirling bladed-staff. A handful of the strikes are deflected by the frosty weapon, the rest inflicting a collection of crimson stripes across her body, where the slashes were deep enough to slice through the thick fabric of her winter coat. The cat's frantic gestures, as her retreat down the worm's back continues, is exaggerated by a waving of her arm as it returns from the depths of her bag. The flail is at least intended, however, as two more of those vials find themselves flung at Namen's feet to appear not as fanged ice, but a slick sheet of the element. With friction between boots and worm scales removed, she is curious just how long he can keep his footing. Not that she had much time to entertain the thought, for as soon as she spies any form of distraction from him her backstepping halts, right foot planted firmly on scales as the left is brought tight against her body. A swift pivot produces a kick with a heavy boot aimed for any part of him on level with the limb, momentum bringing her full circle again to drop back into that crouch, blade at the ready.

Namen grinned like a madman. He had the advantage! He presses on, swinging and swinging...until he slips ona patch of ice. With an indignate roar he falls on his hindside, sliding down the slick patch and right into a sudden kick from the feline, right to the head. His world reels and stars fill his vision, but, unfortunately for Satoshi, the marred elf has enough momentum to keep sliding onto the scales of the dead wyrm, and the sudden friction sends him flipping forward, his body to collide with hers. The tangle would certainly cause a roll down the wyrm's corpse, and Namen has to worry about keeping both his weapon and Satoshi's frost-spelled blade from stabbing through him. At least, until they collide with the ground. He continues his momentum to roll back to his feet, spinning to face his possibly downed opponent. He brings the sword-staff up to slash with the lower blade, and when it reaches its pinnacle, he thrusts it straight downward, his straightforward attack, strangely, aimed for merely the woman's thigh than her heart or throat.

Satoshi is granted time to voice a foul dwarven curse at the backlash from her plan before she finds herself colliding with Namen and tumbling down the rest of the worm's back in a deadly entanglement of limbs. Worry for the two blades between them is forgotten, the mage's focus being a rapid series of whispered words to the collection of ice left around the cave from the quarrel. The algid element is eager to respond, dispelling into a shapeless water form and rushing toward the duo even as their fall continues. The meeting with the earth is not a pleasant one, breath forced from her lungs and surely a rib or two cracking as the man's weight is born by her. His roll forward and off leaves her gasping for air and without the physical strength to move out of his blade's reach, an arm sleeved in dwarvencraft metal lifted to weakly ward off the slash. The downward strike, however, she herself is not swift enough to halt. Her only saving grace her prior call to the ice, the watery substance arriving as the staff thrust downward. The blade is halted with only half an inch in the cat's leg--another of those tasteless words on her lips, the strike literately frozen in place by the block of ice forming from floor, around her thigh, and upwards to encase the odd item. The weapon's release only coming when the mage deems herself safe from further attack. Even if she was the one who'd started it in the first place...

Satoshi is suspicious Namen might have felt her up during that fall...

Namen might have. That might explain the smirk he wears as he wanders off.