RP:A Dance of Blades, Krice and Osecreth Face Off

Western Frostmaw Gates

Osecreth came outside the gates of Frostmaw, on break from his regimen of constant training under Hildegarde's watchful eye. He studied under the disciples of Aramoth, and the warrior's guild taught him much. He was still only a novice, but he was catching onto the fundamentals quickly enough, and looked for every opportunity to test his progress, his learning. The giants would not spar with him, not in that form, but he expected as much... he'd make a poor showing, and leave with ruined armor and a ruined body for trying to take on such foes as he was. No, he had to start with sparring partners... that were less brutal.

Krice was out in the wilderness of Frostmaw for a second day, dressed only in his usual black attire with no furs or leathers to speak of. With his katana strapped to his back, the long-haired warrior seemed ready for anything, though his intention this far west was not to do battle with the creatures of the frozen lands; he moved quietly through the wintry haze that hung over the area, hardly bothered by the changing consistencies of snow underfoot. As he neared the gate, the crimson-eyed man happened upon a familiar face, to whom he had been speaking only the day before. Lifting his chin, Krice offered Osecreth an upward nod and a casual, " Hey," in greeting.

Osecreth smiled to see Krice, yet again. "I was successful in befriending Hildegarde the Silver, mister Krice, and in entering the Academy." His gaze went to the sword on Krice's back, and he'd unbuckle the greatsword from his back, planting the tip in the ground. "I am but a novice, as of yet, though learning. I was wondering if you would spar with me? I'd like to put to test what I've learned, and I think you a fighter of some caliber. Would you care to humor me, friend?"

Krice slowed to a halt when Osecreth drew his weapon, and the smirk in congratulations that he adopted casually faded from his face. Still a few metres back from the dragon, the warrior squared his shoulders and considered the request asked of him. His first answer was a simple, " I'm out of practice, myself." As he reached up for his katana's hilt, visible over his left shoulder, the warrior took a moment to consider the details of Osecreth's large blade before passing forth a comment disconnected from his observations. " Don't call me 'mister'. It's a little too proper for me." The warrior turned, withdrew the katana from its sheath, and held the blade out to his side as he ventured a few more paces away from the gate.

Osecreth nodded. "I shall refrain from doing so then, Krice. Just as well, the gauntlet is thrown! Let us both be learning, then!" He'd heft the large blade, and dash towards Krice, bringing that heavy, massive greatsword down in an overhanded arc, followed by a heavy kick to try and keep his opponent off balance and unable to counterattack. He was a heavy set fighter, reliant more on power than speed, and would try to control the battlefield through that brute force.

Krice was quite the opposite; though he possessed strength greater than other humans, especially those his size, he was one whose speed would help in a battle such as this, where his opponent was clearly bigger than him in height and weight. As he turned to face Osecreth once more, now comfortably away from the Western Gates of Frostmaw, he found himself confronted by an attack. The snow here was more compacted than soft and loose, which allowed both combatants easy purchase for more accurate maneuvering. The warrior used it to his advantage, engaging the speed of his evasiveness against the drag of Osecreth's large sword to side-step the attack. This put him directly in line with the following kick, however, and he evaded it by darting backward on his left foot, the dragon's large boot barely grazing the billowing folds of his shirt. His right foot slammed to the earth and then he propelled himself forward from its placement, an underhanded sweep of his curved blade angled in search of the less-protected armour of the dragon's left underarm, followed by a smooth transition into a downward arc across Osecreth's thighs from left hip to right knee. His speed was inhuman, but the strength behind his attacks was less-so; perhaps he was holding back because this was only a spar? Perhaps he really wasn't as strong as he was fast?

Osecreth found reason to be glad he was so well armored. This wasn't a battle he'd be controlling, he soon found, as Krice danced around the his opponent like a fairy. He sidestepped his blade, and avoided the outstretched kick, and Osecreth found himself off balance, still ready to lean into the assault, when he needed to defend. The first slash came for his underarm, and he crouched quickly, intercepting the blow with his vambraces, and preparing to counter. The second slash, he wasn't so fortunate with. It grazed his hip, instead of his thigh, and a quick jerk had him pulling back before the damage was too severe, but he would be bleeding for his efforts. "Haha! I should have expected as much. You are a man not to be trifled with. Let us see if I can even the odds somewhat, hmm?" He'd wave his fingers, and cast a spell of Tactical Acumen, to boost his perception of the battlefield. Perhaps now, he'd stand a better chance of keeping up with his opponents vastly superior speed. He'd pay more attention to his footwork, his positioning, and to the movements of Krice's shoulders and hips, all but ignoring his own wound, even as blood dripped to the ground. It would slow his movements, but he couldn't afford to let it cripple him just now. He poised to intercept Krice's assault, on defense even as he cast the spell.

Krice did not move in as Osecreth addressed him for this was a spar, not a true battle for one's life, and he had more respect for his opponent than would allow cheap shots. The dragon's words inspired a wry smirk, for he spoke of not underestimating the warrior--though wasn't that essentially what he had said before they even started? Whatever the case, it was a non-issue soon forgotten when the movement of his opponent's fingers changed something in the air; it was brief, and localized to the dragon himself, but it nevertheless told Krice of the presence of magic. A twitch of the wrist flicked his blade downward in a ten-inch gesture that disposed of excess blood from the steel itself, splashing against the snow in a nice contrast of warm crimson on white. Sword once again clean, the man stood at the ready to attack again. " You should try strengthening yourself before you rely on the strength of others," was his mock reply, not to genuinely insult the dragon, but to carry on the banter through battle. He stepped forward and raised his sword, approaching Osecreth slowly with his katana held behind him parallel to his spine. Would attack once close enough? That would depend on whether or not the dragon took the reigns of the battle and preempted such a thing before he got there.

Osecreth found he was given time to cast the spell. It seemed Krice was hardly worried... and well he shouldn't be! The boost might help even the odds, but Krice stood the superior warrior, here. His words did ring true, but Osecreth had a rebuttle. "Ah, but the divinity of Arkhen is my own strength, Krice. It is as much as a part of my mettle as my armor, and my blade." He trusted Arkhen easily as much as his own sword arm. Since Krice stood ready to intercept him, he would come in again, and this time, with a somewhat more capable offense. His bladework seemed just a tad more polished, his movements more sure. He stepped in before swinging his blade, to limit Krice's potential options for movement, as he'd have more chance to react with his positioning. He thrust the sword downwards for the legs, and would bring it up in a diagonal arc, following Krice's movements, ready to lunge into the attack to see that it hit. He was betting on his sword's weight, and ability to plow through Krice's own blade, should the man try to parry. Hopefully, he had him, this time.

Krice lifted his shoulder in an accepting shrug in response to Osecreth's reply, but then it was back to the battle! His options for evasion were limited by the sharpening of the dragon's ability via that enchantment, but this did not put the silver-haired man in any great danger. He did use his sword to parry the blow of the much larger weapon but did not rely on the strength of his blade to withstand the force behind the blow for long; it was reinforced steel, crafted by a skillful blacksmith whose sole purpose was to create such light, efficient weaponry, but even his katana had its limits. As such, a diagonal tilt across both shoulders allowed Krice to deflect the broad-sword off to his right rather than receiving and attempting to push back against its momentum; the toned musculature of each arm was tensed through the motion, directing the other sword accurately away from his body - and his own weapon. Immediately following, this allowed him a span of time--the length of which depended on Osecreth's ability to recover and react--to step in and strike at the dragon a third time, wrist twisting and arm swiping upward in an attempt to catch his opponent's face with the tip of his steel.

Osecreth found Krice's reactions on par with his expectations... the man was unphased by his newfound tactical ability, and was able to deflect the blade, deftly, without suffering the full brunt of its might. When his sword was redirected away, he took a step back, but Krice was already on the offensive. It was an upward cut, aimed for his face. He was fortunate that Krice wasn't aiming to kill, as even though he brought his sword up to deflect, he was too slow, and suffered another gash up his cheek, and over his brow. "Ah!" He stepped back, as blood seeped into his eye. "Well fought! You are strong, Krice. It is a privelege to cross blades with you." He was laughing, even as he took a smidgen of some sort of bland paste, and sealed up the cut above his brow with it, to keep his eyes clear. Osecreth knew he was too slow, yet, to cross blades with experienced swordsmen. Too inexperienced. But, he was growing, he was learning.

Krice stepped back on his left foot, pulled away his right one further, and stepped with his apparently-dominant side angled toward Osecreth, sword held at the ready. With the dragon concluding their spar, however, the warrior ultimately relaxed and lowered his weapon, again twitching the blade once to rid it of any excess fluid. As he lifted the katana over his shoulder to slide it into its back-mounted scabbard once more, steadied by his right hand at its end behind his hip, the silver-haired man regarded the injury dealt to Osecreth's cheek and brow, thereafter noting the effectiveness of that bland paste in keeping the blood at bay. Krice wasn't one to gloat or even accept compliments readily, so it was with a small nod that he acknowledged Osecreth's positive review of the battle. As he let his arms relax by his sides once more, the warrior lifted his chin and directed his gilded gaze to the eyes of his once-opponent - whose laughter was not lost on the warrior. " That's a big sword," he commented, nodding to the broad-bladed weapon. " I'd imagine you could crush many a foe with it."

Osecreth smiled in turn. "Of course! But first, I must be able to hit them with it." As Krice had quite handily demonstrated. "No matter how strong a weapon is, it can only strike as strong and true as the arm that wields it, and the heart that guides it. Your blade strikes sure, and true, Krice. It is truly an honor to learn from you." He was carefree with the compliments, it seemed, but he had a sober, and thoughtful expression on his face. "I must train more. There is much to learn, and this sparring has illuminated yet another path of learning I must follow." He turned his smiling gaze back to Krice. "If you wish, I could treat you to some ale and boar at the Frostmaw Tavern! If you haven't tried their boar, it's well worth the visit." His own stomach was growling angrily after the stimulating fight.

Krice pressed his lips together in quiet contemplation over the compliments. Despite the fact that they were compliments, Osecreth's words held truth; the size or sharpness of a blade mattered not if the blade lay useless in the hand of one who could not wield it. The warrior was more perceptive to the dragon's less directed-at-him comments and regarded him thoughtfully. There was much training to be had, for -both- of them. Upon hearing his opponent's offer of drink and food, Krice lifted his left hand in a small gesture declining the offer. " No thanks. I have errands and other various things to take care of." A beat. His hand fell to his side once more. " Thanks for the spar. Enjoy your meal."

Osecreth felt that other duties called his sparring partner away, and nodded amicably. "Very well, Krice. Be well, and hone your blade! I hope to test its mettle anew, in the near future!" He'd be buckling his blade upon his back, and turning to make his way to the tavern. He had a hunger, and a new scar, with a tale to tell of it!

Krice nodded again, this time more respectfully for Osecreth than reserved in the face of many compliments, and turned from his sparring partner to venture westward - though how far out he needed to go remained a mystery known only to the ice of the wilderness.