RP:A Familiar Stranger
Frozen Walk
Eelltsu is never phased when the cold of night begins to choke the faint warmth of the dimly strengthened sun in this place of eternal winter. Though not as cold as Frostmaw, or the lands beyond, the frozen lands north of the dwarf kingdom are as good as any place to wait for the weaving of the Fates to trace their lines to him. The monk stands facing the north, his ice enchanted staff supporting his slightly bent form, hands stacked, and slightly clasped on top of the weapon. Eell's eyes stare straight ahead in deep contemplation.
Eboric can likely be seen from a long way off as he approaches, clambering down the cliff face as he makes his exit from Frostmaw. The warlord is dressed in his war glory, with only a large, black bearskin cloak to combat the chill wind that claws at him on his way to the ground. He ignores it, slowly but surely moving ever downward until, with a grunt, he drops the last few feet to the mountain path. He turns then, looking directly at Eelltsu, his face still, unreadable.
Eelltsu can smell many things on the winds, not least of all Eboric, whom he had encountered briefly, faintly, only the day before. Turning to face the source of the smell, the winds now shriek against his face, where they merely brushed his back moments before. The staff traces lines in the snow as the monk's movement brings him 180 degrees to his left. Watching Eboric now, the monk frowns, as he again confirms it. This man has a similar scent to his long gone parents, yet bears no relation. A familiar stranger.
Eboric , whose parents were humans, has only smelled one other being similar to this man; the beast that bit him. As realization of what this man might be sparks in his mind, the animalistic part of him reacts first and, had he been covered in his own fur, he would have bristled. Instead, his teeth show in a feral snarl, his shoulders hunching beneath the links of his hauberk.
Eelltsu also feels a primal resistance to allowing this man to come even a step closer. However his monastic discipline enables him to resist rash action. Instead he continues to watch Eboric, the only sound being the crunching of boots against snow, and the brewing blizzard that is no doubt an hour away at most. Eell glares through the falling precipitation as Eboric comes within calling distance, which is not at all that far away given the weather, his rather "Russian" accent coloring the man's words, "We meet again stranger! Yet for some reason my spirit is not so happy to see you!"
Fuwi clears throat.
Eelltsu makes a chuffing sound, a noise that he has only made in his other forms, "I do not see your marks on the land. Nor does your scent stain anywhere but where you stand. I cannot find any reason to accept your claim."
Eboric gestures out across the landscape, his hand sweeping in a wide swath. "It is all mine," he states, firmly. "For there are none worthy of it but me."
Eelltsu pops his jaw slightly, but otherwise remains calm, "Again. Your claws do not mark it and your urine does not stain it. This land belongs to the white ape from what I can detect." He refers to the yeti if Eboric picks up on his reference, "If you want it you can have it. My territory is far from this place. I would die for it but I will not shed blood over these low lands."
Eboric cocks his head to one side. "Your territory? I have been most everywhere in this world, stranger, but I have not caught scent of you anywhere."
Eelltsu frowns and nods with a grunt, "You wouldn't. My territory is beyond the charts and maps of the humans. Maybe elves know of my home. It is a place where glaciers cover much of the Great Water. A water that has no end. Day and night do not follow the same laws as this place and ferocious beasts beyond my own strength lurk in the depths. My markings and scent are quite clear there and no other Ursine has challenged me for it."
Eboric at long last places that scent, but he shows no visible reaction to the knowledge of Eelltsu's true self. "Perhaps then, I will find it, and take it."
Eelltsu is quite disturbed by Eboric's threat, but does not allow his emotions to take hold, "If you can find it you can challenge me. If I were to lose, then I would not be worthy of it, and would have to find another. Such is the way of our kind. It is a big place and there is much land for many Ursine. If you like seals and abject solitude then I imagine you would enjoy my land. But the question is, can you handle the climate? Can you handle diving beneath water the would freeze the veins of a frost giant? My people can thrive there, as few as we are, only because the gods have made that place for us. It is that simple. The people here say that this is cold. This is not cold, it is warm, very warm." He might have grinned in amusement but the monk is not so humorous.
Eboric shrugs his shoulders, allowing his own grin to break free. It is not a friendly sight. "Perhaps I don't want to even live there. Perhaps I want to simply kill you, take it, burn what can be burned and take what there is of value."
Eelltsu raises a brow, for the first time showing emotion, "I do not understand the purpose of such waste. You are peculiar I admit. What tribe do you hail from?"
Eboric snorts. "The purpose is my enjoyment. I am descended from the Kuronii, the greatest of men, who spread from Frostmaw to Rynvale in ancient times. And what tribe spawned you?"
Eelltsu stands a bit taller as he introduces his lineage, "I am of the Klavisic, the Ice Dwellers as other Ursine are said to call us. However I have never met another Ursine before now. We named ourselves and strangers found another name for us. So whichever of those is more comfortable for your tongue. I enjoy battle as much as the next, and I understand your rivalry instinct, as I feel the same, but is it not best to save your rage until it is truly needed? I killed another for the territory I possess now but that was before I met my teacher. He taught me discipline. He showed me the way to Aramoth." You oocly forgot to add in that he has never met another Ursine save his parents.
Eboric listens impassively to the other man's words, shrugging his shoulders once again. "I have not heard of the Klavisic, nor the Ice Dwellers, nor have I heard of any other...Ursine? As for you and your...discipline, it strikes me more as cowardice. A follower of the god of war, who hold back from fighting when his land, even his very life is in danger? You do Aramoth no great service there, stranger." The warlord's tone is full of scorn.
Eelltsu shakes his head at the other's words, "Then you do not know all that Aramoth teaches. My land is in no danger from one that does not know it. Neither have you begun the ritual of dominance through force. If it is your wish to fight me, I cannot stop you from advancing, but I will not be passive. Aramoth is not just a god of War, but also a god of Order, of Law, and Discipline. There is a place for battle. Some of Aramoth's followers find that place on a whim, I find that place when it comes to me on a whim. War and squabble are not the same. War has a meaning and an end."
Eboric raises an eyebrow. "Ritual? The hell are you talking about?" He takes a step forward, hands twitching as if eager to latch onto Eelltsu's throat. "Were I to wage war on you, Klavasic, that war would have a swift and very sudden end. I am Eboric, son of Penda, Aethling of the Aethlinga Gedriht, Titan of Winter, and I have never once tasted defeat. The greatest warriors in the land came at me, the most ferocious beasts, and even the most cunning adversaries, and one by one, they fell before me. You think you are any different?" He takes another step, the rage growing within him.
Eelltsu does not advance, nor does he retreat, but instead regards Eboric with stoic firmness, his discipline restraining the rage that also grows within him, "I prove not with words, but with action, and your deeds are the past, not the present. The strength of others is not mine. Their defeat proving not my merit. Again: If you challenge me, it is your will, and the will of the Fates themselves, making it mine. But you will cast the first stone as I have no desire or need to fight you. Do not mistake my lack of interest for cowardice as I do not fear battle."
Eboric lets loose a snarl of rage, tearing the haurberk over his head, leaving it on the frosty ground amidst a scattering of golden arm rings. Other armor follows suit, as light brown fur begins to sprout from the warlord's skin. As his head widens and elongates, forming into a snout, he scrabbles frantically at his weapon belt, freeing it just as his fingers draw together, sprouting long, curved claws. The bones underneath his skin twist and crack, rearranging to fit his new form; that of an enormous grizzly bear, fur marred by the scars of his battles. What can only be described as a roar escapes him, and he charges forward intent on trampling Eelltsu into the ground.
Eelltsu is already shifting when Eboric begins to remove his armor. His own attire consists of enchanted jewelry and robes. As pure white fur erupts from his already large form, the monk grows taller, much taller. A polar bear, a beast never seen this far south roars in response, not backing down from Eboric's challenge. His robes and items lie in a pile to his left. Hopefully the coming blizzard will not blow them away. The white bear rises to his feet as Eboric charges, both arms arching to the right, and then swinging to the left, employing the might of his entire body as Eboric comes within range, attempting to knock Eboric back should they collide with the other bear's body.
Eboric no longer thinks as a man, but only as a bear. Instinct works to his advantage now, as he throws himself forward and down, allowing the white bear's paws to smash the air over his head. Then, leg muscles bunching, he thrusts himself upward at his rearing opponent, jaws snapping as he tries to catch a mouthful of his enemy's belly, sharp teeth meaning to rip and tear, spilling guts and blood even as his massive front paw lashes out in an attempt to shatter the closest hind limb, in hopes of knocking Eelltsu down so that the grizzly's baleful teeth can finish the job.
Eelltsu falls with the collision, letting a balance of bear instinct, and monk discipline work in harmony within him, a testament to two centuries of being what he is, and half of that as a monk. However he is not immortal, and cannot allow Eboric to eviscerate him. The polar bear twists as the two ursines hit the frozen ground, causing them both to tumble. Eboric's claws catch Eell's leg, but the full force is interrupted by the tumble, enabling Eelltsu to escape losing a chunk of his flesh. However blood mats the polar bear's fur. As the bears turn over, Eell attempts to grapple, trying to dig his claws into Eboric's neck. A test of physical strength begins.
Eboric pulls his head back as the two of them roll on the ground, struggling to keep it free of his foe's grasping claws, which latch into his shoulder instead of his neck, loosing rivulets of his own blood. With a roar of rage, Eboric snaps his powerful jaws down toward the offending limb, meaning to bite down into the joint to render the leg useless, rather than have to match strength with the larger bear. As well, the grizzly brings up his hind legs, kicking with all his might in an attempt to rake his claws along Eelltsu's belly and groin, easily able to shred skin, muscle, and organs.
Eelltsu instinctively continues to roll, releasing his grip on Eboric's shoulder, narrowly escaping semi-dismemberment. However Eboric foot does manage to 'slip' against the polar bear's inner thigh as the last roll results in Eelltsu falling away from Eboric. The bear monk roars in pain as it takes all of his discipline not to flee at this point. It will be hard fighting with an open wound. By the Fates's mercy alone Eell's main artery in that area is not severed, as Aramoth does not intervene in battle. Eelltsu is on the defensive again, not willing to risk a charge.
Eboric scrambles to his feet, snorting out some dirt that had found its way into his nose. He stares at the other bear warily, as if judging his abilities and injuries. He begins to circle, his tongue lolling from his mouth as he plods heavily around his foe. Then, suddenly, he is on the move again, thundering across the rocky soil. Some last glimmer of his human mind must still be active, however, for he swipes at the ground before he reaches his enemy, sending a spray of dirt and rocks up at the polar bear's face in hopes of distracting or blinding him momentarily, just long enough for the grizzly to throw himself forward once more, aiming all his weight for Eeltsu's injured limb - a crippling blow.
Eelltsu cannot see. Some call such moves cheap, or cowardly, but Eelltsu does not consider any attack as such. Survival follows no rules. The polar bear at this point has no choice but to keep his wits about him, falling to the right, and rolling again, giving the polar bear a precious few seconds to regain his sight before Eboric will no doubt come charging after him. Eell did not anticipate being constantly on the retreat like this. It is not his way, however neither has he fought another of his own kind before, and in fact has fought few opponents so large. This will be a learning experience for him should he survive. The ursine monk roars, willing his eyes to see, blinking furiously, glimpses of light starting to creep back into his sight despite the burning pain.
(Eelltsu oocly forgot to mention that the wound is bleeding worse now. That kind of roll would no doubt hinder the clotting.)
Eboric pursues Eelltsu through each maneuver, finally pausing to once more gather his strength, while the other bear finishes dodging. Knowing that he has precious little time before his advantage is gone, and hoping that the open wound on the polar bear's leg has sapped a decent amount of strength, Eboric charges foward once more, heading straight for his enemy. At the last moment, however, he slides to one side, moving along his foe's good side, where he lashes out once more with his teeth, meaning to shred Eell's flesh along his ribs - a flashy, painful wound only intended to put the polar bear's weight onto his opposite, injured leg, so that the less-injured werebear can slam his shoulder out again, furthering the imbalance and possibly even knocking Eelltsu over entirely.
Eelltsu can barely see at this point, and has regained little of his sight as Eboric reaches him again. However the polar bear catches slight glimpses of movement, his quick wit registering enough to understand the coming attack to mount a defense at best. He brings down his paws, claws down, as Eboric's snout comes close to his leg, trying to dig into the top of the grizzly's skull, and will at the least redirect Eboric's attack.
Eelltsu has regained more of his sight while Eboric staggers. By the time that the next assault comes, Eell's right eye can open completely, albeit painfully, enabling the polar bear to respond with a bit more skill this time. When Eboric breaks to the side, Eell goes in the opposite direction slightly, and then forward, trying to hit Eboric's ribs with both clawed paws bent to the right a bit. His movements are limped, but as long as he can move them, he can fight through the pain. Even with fast regeneration, the wounds will have to clot before they can start healing.
Eboric once more takes a hit from his foe, as evidenced by the bright springs of blood that flow from his ribs as he rolls away, half by his own evasive maneuver, and half by the force of the blow that struck him. To his credit, however, he gets right back up and leaps forward again, for a third time charging directly at his enemy. It appears as though the blow to the head has done him in, for he again begins to break to the same side. However, both this and the previous attack were simply a ruse, for no sooner does he start to move to the side than he corrects himself, his momentum carrying him once more straight for his foe. Hoping that the trick has worked, the warlord-turned-bear snaps out with a roar, meaning to close his jaws over his enemy's throat, his force placed to throw Eelltsu over and down, with Eboric's jaws on his neck the whole way. If this succeeds, however, he doesn't bite down; rather, he intends to just hold his enemy until the fight has left him.
Eelltsu isn't fast enough to react to the ruse due to his own injuries, and can do little more than bring his clawed paws up, and into Eboric's chest as the other bear holds Eelltsu's throat with his jaws, and brings them to the ground, the force of the fall likely allowing the polar bears claws to etch a bit deeper into Eboric's tough body, even as trickles of blood wet Eelltsu's throat fur.
Eboric allows the claws to sink into his chest in favor of keeping the controlling grip on the other's throat. He applies a little pressure, as if to say that he can end it easily, and will, if the polar bear does not submit. To drive home the point, he frees one massive front paw from the tangle of fur to slam it at the side of Eelltsu's head, over and over in hopes of stunning him.
Eelltsu would rather believe that the fight ended in a draw, but realizes that Eboric can kill him faster than he can tear towards the other bear's organs, and relaxes his fight in submission, snorting in defeat, all muscles ceasing their tension.
Eboric feels that submission, and after a moment lets go, moving back a few paces. He rears up on his hind legs, loosing a roar of victory, before plodding away from his defeated enemy, likely off to lick his wounds in seclusion.