RP:Breaking the Ice

From HollowWiki

This is a Warrior's Guild RP.


Summary: Having accepted Lionel's invitation to spar for entry into the Warrior's Guild, Quintessa treks beyond Frostmaw to meet with the former prince and destroy him instead. Though Quintessa falters, Lionel recognizes the passion and potential in the changeling and continues to insist she join him.

Snowless Training Yard

The cold winds of the farthest northern reaches of Lithrydel blew relentlessly this time of year. Enclosed within the great stone walls of the Academy of Aramoth, where the Warrior’s Guild under Lionel forever stationed, the snowless training yard was sheltered from the worst of the winds but still felt frigid to all those working the field save for the hardy pair of frost giants leading the pack. Swords and shields and armor and such had been packed away inside the Academy for the winter so that the soldiers of the Guild could hone their skills away from the adverse conditions outside, though from time to time Lionel pushed them to scout the icy routes leading to the city of Frostmaw, keeping them suitably sharp despite the cold. In place of the withdrawn training equipment were numerous ramshackle tents covered in several layers of warming furs and leathers. It was here under the Warrior’s Guild’s protection that the least fortunate denizens of the land -- and those who chose the outermost habitable zones but couldn’t withstand the winds of winter -- would gather. It was common courtesy at Frostmaw’s castle to admit the poor, but too many haughty noble giants were proving as frosty as their species implied, and steward or not, Lionel did not waste time with “his own” people when better opportunities were available. Beside the tents were row after row of tubers and crystal fruit and snow yams and crocus, the hardiest crops of all and Frostmaw’s natural bounty. In addition to the meat stores kept frozen with little workmanship required, these vegetables would keep the soldiers and homeless fed sufficiently. Those toiling away in the snowless training yard moved with purpose, though one particularly lithe and nimble worker with their back turned to the gates seemed to be moving faster than the rest. If someone were to arrive here now, the gates would be at the southern end, and they would be left open to permit entry into the yard.


Quintessa was no stranger to the frigged cold of the north. Not long ago she adventured through the snow covered forests as an apprentice mage, hunting snow-imps and winter wolves atop her Golden Cockatrice, Bloodbeak. As the three meter tall bird stomps through the snowbanks his runic armor glows a faint orange, keeping the bird warm in the extreme cold. His rider, the hex blade Quintessa, scans the landscape through tinted goggles, her red and black scarf flickering violently in the wind behind her as she approaches the warrior's guild headquarters. "This must be the place," the changeling says to the cockatrice and he gives her a small chirp of affection in response. Quintessa proceeds to lead her mount inside, his large talons kicking up slush as they past the gate and enter the area enclosed by stone walls. Of course she expects to be let inside, she was invited after all. Once her mount was stabled she'd look for Lionel, intercepting a guard on duty with questions of his location. Eventually, the changeling finds her mark while exploring the yard. "Yo, Butcher. I'm here, like we agreed." Quintessa has renewed her vigor and determination since the last time she saw him and her proud stance shows it.


Lionel was, predictably perhaps, the lithe worker toiling away with the crops. Those among his command weren’t startled by the changeling’s straightforward insult -- they snickered and shook their heads instead. To the last man and woman, every one of them knew the truth behind that tale. And more than a few of them were accustomed to hearing otherwise from those ignorant to the reality of the situation, especially because it was quite rare for Lionel to bother correcting anybody anyway. The once-prince was dressed comfortably in a loose-fitting deep grey tunic worn over an even looser jet black shirt with matching slacks and shoes. With his simple steel katana sheathed upon his back within a lacquer red scabbard, Lionel looked every bit the antihero. Yet the strength of his azure gaze, the predatory way in which he moved, and the ever-ready stance he carried with every step, foretold a man whose relatively uninspiring size was compensated by the natural strength of his command. “Not here,” he said by way of greeting, cocking his head southbound. “Good people are gathered here -- people in need.” He didn’t bother telling the woman what he would do if she harmed any of them; he trusted he wouldn’t need to. But then, perhaps this would only entice her to act, hoping that by hurting the weak she would goad her prey into fighting tooth and nail. If so, he would reassess; and if so, he would kill her instead. Lionel walked casually past Quintessa, though one hand was turned backward to rest upon the hilt of his sword lest she try anything on his way outside the gates. “Here,” he said once he was outside the fortress. Judging by the drawing of his katana, it appeared he was ready to begin.


Quintessa lifted the goggles off her face to show her mismatched eyes, the pale blue and golden hazel meeting the azure gaze of Lionel unflinching. Be it courage or folly, or perhaps a bit of both, the changeling was not easily intimidated, especially by those that could easily outmatch her. Quintessa silently appraises the 'Butcher of Vailkrin' her left hand returning to the hilt of her katana as she follows Lionel with her gaze. "I'm not concerned with these people," she admits, her mouth drawn into a straight line as spiked heels carry her after him. Their plight would be ignored, as would their very presence, but that also meant that she wouldn't be targeting them in any half-baked scheme. No, if she was to defeat Lionel it would be by her own merits. Slow steps allow a couple of meters to grow between them as he leads her out of the fortress, her boots crunching the snow. Quintessa is ready too, so the moment the words pass Lionel's lips, the lithe form of Quintessa has sprang to close the two meters in the fraction of a second, drawing her katana in the ancient Iaijutsu style learned from books written about the Sylvain elves. Her blade, nicked, bent, and battered, sparks against the entrance of her sheath as the tempered steel is let free, carrying enough force to remove Lionel's head from his body as the blade cuts through the air aiming right for his neck. Even if the attack hits she continues her flurry, flipping the blade around to attempted a second swing aimed for his stomach with the intent of disemboweling him right where he stood. Finally, to end her flourish, she takes a step back, bringing her katana inward and back with her before she steps forward with a thrust, her blade coming in quickly to impale the man right through the heart.


Lionel counted the seconds until his opponent drew her blade. When two had passed and still she had not shown its steel, he determined that the likelihood of a draw-to-slash was high. In preparation, he swung his sword skyward yet over his head and neck in a makeshift kirioroshi stance, gripping its hilt with his left palm and keeping the knuckle sides of his fingers safe from harm. The changeling’s sword smacked into his horizontally, and without Halycanos to aid his strength Lionel flinched and took a quick step back in order to maintain composure and hold the block as long as necessary. Kirioroshi stance came to its natural conclusion when the Catalian’s backstep permitted him ample room to bring the tip of his sword toward his opponent. This elliptical motion granted him a free swing upward in favor of Quintessa’s chin, which would graze her but not destroy her. The attack had the added advantage of deflecting the foe’s stomach-bound strike, though whether or not Lionel gave injury to the changeling he now needed to act in response to her third and final strike. With movements reminiscent of a bird falling over in mock-defeat, he loosed his muscles and allowed his body to fall backwards such that his hips were the highest peak and his face touched the snow. In this impeccable position of limbo, Lionel grabbed his sword at the hilt firmly with both hands and swung in a horizontal arc whilst maneuvering himself sideways in an effort to brutally slice Quintessa’s ankles. An upper kick was delivered to her pelvis as he rose, though rather than remaining so close to his opponent he leapt back and slid across ice to regain his distance.


Quintessa knows the Kirioroshi stance, instantly recognizing it and knows to avoid the circular slash. The changeling pivots in the middle of her second strike, the attack from Lionel narrowly grazing the tip of her upturned nose as she slides a few feet sideways in the snow preparing for her final strike. Quintessa smirks at LIonel's flexibility, preparing to bring her blade down on his stomach as he bends backwards. She never has enough time to counterattack as the 'Butcher's' swords swiftly comes out to threaten her ankles. Following her instinct, the changeling jumps, Lionel's sword just clipping her spiked metal heels enough to create a spark as it passes by. Quintessa grins evilly as she tries to aim one of those heels right at Lionel's face, attempting to rob an eye from him as she had to some other poor fool who had failed to dodge. Whether the spike attack hit or not, she wouldn't have enough time to avoid the kick to her pelvis, and attack that sends her flying back a few meters in the snow. A low growl builds as she rises to her feet, her aura flickering and snapping with dark arcane energy. "Cleddyf tân!" She screams, her sword set aflame before she begins a new charge. "Tân!" she calls, her first attack a simple horizonal slash that explodes with fiery magics as it passes through the air. "Chwip..." She brings her katana over her head, her mana condensing on the tip of her weapon until she brings it down- "Tân!" And a molten ribbon of fire attempts to wrap around Lionel and burn him into a cinder.


Lionel took note of Quintessa’s familiarity with the style of swordplay he recently demonstrated. ‘Not a complete novice,’ he silently thought as the woman’s spiked heel came roaring toward the center of his face. A swift enough rise prevented the blow, but the sharpened kick tore straight across his tunic, shredding it from side to side. She had almost managed to draw blood upon his hips even as they both separated from one-another’s proximity. The girl wanted her gold, it seemed. Watching his foe’s blade catch fire as she chanted, Lionel stealthily withdrew a knife from its cloaked holster via his left hand and kept his katana straightened with his right. He bent at the right knee, then deepened that bend until he had pressed his torso fully forward. Just as the “ribbon” of fire spun toward its would-be victim, Lionel’s knife shimmered reflective shades of orange and became as cold as the wintry air around him. Its iron was frosted in alchemical magics, the likes of which reacted in due fashion to the flames. Tossing the knife in a perfectly straight arc whilst maintaining his bent position, Lionel watched as his thrown weapon zipped through the conal fire. Fire was known to melt ice, and melt the ice it did, but the superheated reaction caused the knife to burst into a rapid watery sprinkler which doused the flames accordingly even as the very outermost tip of the blaze came within centimeters of its target. Fire was replaced with choking smoke, but Lionel held his breath within the cooled furnace and remained there until he gave himself enough forward momentum to spring outside the top of his smoky prison, leaping into the air with additional alacrity courtesy of the melting snow beneath his feet. Twirling his lithe frame unnaturally to cause his katana to spin around and around him like a homing razor, the Catalian came closer and closer to Quintessa until quite suddenly he stopped and landed on his knees upon the ice. Sliding like a skater, he lifted his katana in front of his chest in an improvised junto sono ichi stance, stabbing furiously ahead of him where Quintessa’s attack had originated. Once the procession of skewers was completed and Lionel once again stood upright, he kicked snow into a quick ball to blind her and brought his steel directly to hers -- rather than slashing at her body, he slashed to grant a bladelock. If successful, he would then allow her strength to overcome him, slide the sword down her sword’s shaft and hilt, and then cut across the distance to her stomach.


Quintessa grimaces when the icy water douses her and her flaming weapon, the hot steel whining and moaning as the rapid change in temperature weakens her already battered weapon. The smoke billows all around her, and she takes the opportunity to sink within the obscuring cloud as she covers her mouth with he sleeve of her robes. Her hag-born eyes gave her an advantage in this kind of situation and her mismatched eyes remain relatively unaffected by the smoke. She follows Lionel's movements from behind her cover and waits for his attack, meeting the sword-lock as expected and baring down with all her strength. Quintessa had taken the bait and was overpowering him, but the weapon the hex blade had wielded since joining the Mage's Guild was literally at a breaking point. Put through constant abuse as a makeshift conduit of arcane magic, the chipped up katana crumbles away where Lionel's own katana grinds in, running down the length of her sword until... -snap- Quintessa's blade breaks at the hilt, leaving her with a bladeless katana. She only has a second to react in shock before Lionel's attack connects with her stomach. "Ack!" Her left hand moves up to cup her wound as she stumbles backwards, her sharp teeth grinding against each other. "My..." She brings up the hilt of her sword, mismatched eyes watering when they observe the spot her the blade had been snapped off. "...Sword..." The changeling's aura fades to nothing as she winces at the pain of her wound. "This is so annoying." Quintessa stands up straight, too disappointed in herself to press a magical assault. "I yield, I guess." Blood slowly trickles between her fingers, but she didn't seem too concerned. She'd taken worst hits before and was confident she could make it somewhere safe before she bled out.


Lionel wasted no time. With a snap of his fingers, one of the frost giants sowing the field dropped her rake and rushed outside the gates, big feet booming against the cold earth. “Be wise about this and let Tico here take you to the guild’s infirmary for a smooth recovery. Her bark is worse than her bite.” The giantess, Tico, raised a brow at that remark but rolled with it like she often did and bent down to lift the changeling into the air if she allowed it. Alternatively, if Quintessa was not at all interested in being carried, Tico seemed prepared for that eventuality as well -- she would simply point at the appropriate door of the stone fortress where healing herbs and salves could be handled by anyone with even a passing knowledge of the craft. Regardless of Quintessa’s next move, Lionel sheathed his katana only to take the scabbard from his back and hold it horizontally in front of her. “Sorry about the mess,” he said, gesturing toward what little remained of his opponent’s weapon. “Now I hope you’ll make good here and join us. You’re good. Maybe even better than you realize.” He paused. “Follow me for a while and I’ll help make you even better. And then, if after seeing me for who I truly am, you still want to kill me?” The Catalian laughed. “I’ll have a far tougher opponent to worry about.”


Quintessa looks to Tico, ready to immediately be defiant cause of course she would be, but when eyes of blue and hazel fall upon the giantess, the changeling decided to take Lionel's advice. "Yes, I s'pose I ought to go-" she stops midsentence, her mismatched gaze flickering back to the Catalian, his sword, and then back to him. Any pain she might be feeling is forgotten. "A-are you serious?" The teenage girl that was ready to murder him a moment ago is now the happiest changeling in the world. Both hands reach out slowly to take it, "Of course I'll join you," she says, affirming her allegiance with the Warrior's Guild by accepting this gift. "But I can't promise I won't try to kill you. It's just how I've learned to train under my master, Kasyr. I try to kill him, he avoids me, I get stronger. I'm hoping you can give me the same kind of challenge." She takes the sword and slides it in her sash next to her empty sheath before retrieving the broken blade and hilt and wrapping it in a cloth. "I'd feel awful leaving her out here to rust in the snow. I'll place her on my alter back home and honor our memories." She moves into the waiting arms of Tico and prepares to be carried off for healing. "Thank you, Butc- erm, Lionel. I always remember those that gave me opportunities to prove myself. I shall not forget this day either."


When all was said and done, Lionel was left alone with his thoughts as he watched Rose Tico carry his guild’s newest and most promising young member to be healed. He glanced at the blood upon the ice and broke the smile he had held during Quintessa’s parting words in favor of a more stoic countenance. “Kasyr,” he said. “Of course. I knew that technique rang familiar.” In that long moment, Lionel decided that something he’d been putting off for what felt like ages needed to be resolved at last. Enmities needed to be put aside between the two swordsmen, one way or another. The realm couldn’t afford to keep them at odds now, especially not when Kasyr’s apprentice was now under Lionel’s command as well. Nevermind the realm; Quintessa couldn’t be torn between them when her training was of utmost importance not only in Lionel’s eyes, but he wagered the same held true in Kasyr’s as well. “Alright, damn you, I’ll come say hi.”