RP:Frostmaw is Unyielding

Frostmaw's Village

Hildegarde had chosen to take a stroll along the streets of Frostmaw after the sound advice of Gikal and the insistence of Kenway, who so happened to accompany her. The master armourer had told the woman that she needed to put on a brave face, to show the people she served that she would not be beaten so easily, that she could cope with such an incident. He even fitted her with an eyepatch, which was odd, irritating and somehow constantly in the wrong position for the first week but now she was accustomed to it. It sat comfortably over the ruin of her left eye, concealing it from the world. ~I can be your left eye,~ the couatl joked with her, bumping his head against her cheek affectionately. "Of course you can," she replied, smiling fondly at the remark and affectionate bump. Gloved fingers curled around the shaft of Winterheart, dipping it into the snow as she walked as if to search for anything that might trip her up, but she knew the streets of Frostmaw well enough to feel comfortable walking them without assistance. Since the loss of her eye, she felt as though her other senses had heightened some which she was somewhat thankful for, even if it was a bitter sort of gratitude. The familiar scent of the wizard was carried along to her by the chilling breeze of Frostmaw, causing her to smile and wander in his direction. "Svilfon, friend," she said, in way of greeting, as Kenway raised his body and shook his iridescent wings, ~Honoured Svilfon!~

Svilfon was talking to himself while wandering the snow-laden streets of Frostmaw's village. He was absently waving at greetings that were barely heard, responding with words to comments that he forgets moments after speaking them. He is distracted by a task he set himself, and the only real clue anything is different or he is busy is that strapped to his back is a sword forged by the wizard himself. Its length lingers in the gap between a two-handed and one-handed blade, except its hilt can fit two hands - Svilfon's sword-wielding skills usually equate to slashing wildly at something - and though the sword seems plain enough, anything made by the wizard probably has a few tricks up its sleeves. He is working on creating a much better weapon than this, to give to the warrior king as a gift, but until that time he does need to trial the prowess of his attempts. So when he hears Hildegarde's voice, followed by the warm familiarity of Kenway, the wizard pauses his muttering and flashes a crooked grin which is half hidden beneath his glorious beard. The couatl receives the first greeting by way of, "Alahir misses you, brave couatl. As do I. You should come on an adventure with us soon... though," At that the wizard's pale gaze lifts to rest upon first the patch, followed by Hildegarde's good eye. "It seems you two have had enough adventures of your own. How fares you, layd knight?" And as direct as ever, "What in the name of Sven's balls happened to your eye?"

Hildegarde smiled as she felt the pride radiate in waves from the couatl on her shoulder, feeling him bob his head eagerly in response, ~I would be honoured to accompany you and brother Alahir on an adventure! It would be good training for a squire like me,~ he said eagerly. The knight could not help but grin proudly at her companion, pleased that he thought of himself as a squire, that he held himself in high regard and had a self-confidence in his prowess. "Kenway and I both long to see Master Alahir, we have seen little of his sisters too. It would be good to spend time with the brood as a whole," she said with a genuine love for the hatchlings and their companions. "I fare as well as one can with two broken ribs and a ruined eye," she said with what was either a blink or a wink. It was really difficult to tell. "Ah, that would be a hot iron poker, my friend," she said, offering a little smile. She had been telling many jokes and laughing it all off to keep her mind from wandering to darker places; to keep her morale boosted. It seemed to work for a short duration, at least.

Svilfon nods his head with a small smile, “It would indeed. I miss the others.” He nods at that as his gaze grows momentarily distant, before he speaks again – his voice rather ambiguous as to whether or not he feels much sympathy over her injuries. “Red hot pokers will do that, yes. Gotta remember the sharp end goes in the fire, lady knight.” His grin turns larger, then; so much so that you can see the gaps in his teeth hidden beneath his beard. “Broken ribs can be painful, though, yes. You should visit the shamans, they will heal you.” There is a certainty in those words, spoken by one who has spent many a day resting in their care.

Hildegarde laughed merrily at the remark of pokers and fire, nodding in agreement, "I shall have to bear that in mind, wizard-friend." The stormy eye that was left to her seemed to give the wizard an appraising glance, assessing everything new about him: "I take it the cold became too much for you, hm?" she said with a gesture to his face, obviously remarking on his wondrous beard! "However, I am more intrigued about that bastard sword you carry," she remarked, being aware that a blade that came between a longsword and a greatsword was often classed as a bastard sword. "Would you care to tell me about it?"

Svilfon nods his head at Hildegarde, "For a price not yet received before the lady icicle left, I... did a service for her." The wizard winces at that. "Yet, even such a price could not wash away what was done. So instead, I decided I needed to grow a beard... and a beard I did grow. Really, as a wizard, I was fighting the inevitable without having one. It's a sign amongst some of my kind that you're learned enough to no longer set yourself on fire when spells go awry." That had nothing really to do with the decision to grow a beard, but it was nevertheless true. Though, few really knew wizard business all that well. Even wizards! Ahem. Yes, anyway, he speaks again as his attention shifts from his newly acquired facial hair to his even more recently acquired weapon. With the sibilant hiss of a snake ready to strike, the vampire reaches over his shoulder and draws forth his sword. It would probably be more respectable if someone else was holding it - the sword is rather plain - but regardless it's held with pride. "Unnamed weapon, it is. Made by myself in preparation for a gift. I just need to... test it. It's a pity you're so wounded." He spins the blade once, then, in his hand - around itself while his grip lessons on a hilt that is without insignia or enhancement. "I like it, though." He grins at that, the look almost predatory.

Hildegarde had came to Frostmaw as a naïve and well-intentioned girl, but her time here had taught her that there was little room for that if she wished to survive. Certainly, she was still naïve in some aspects, but in the way of war and battle she was as well-versed as any knight-captain might be! So, as the wizard hefted his blade, the knight surged forward, sweeping Winterheart in a low arc to sweep the wizard off his feet before stepping inward - in an effort to give him no quarter - and sharply jerking the halberd forward to try and wallop his ribcage. "Frostmaw is unyielding," she said, smiling warmly at him, even though she had just attempted to attack him moments ago!

Svilfon walked the same paths Hildegarde did after entering the frozen City of War, but unlike her, he did this years ago. So he is not caught surprised by her quick attack. There was a saying in Frostmaw about those wounded being more dangerous than those who are not, and the wizard firmly believes it... especially considering Hildegarde is a knight... and a dragon... He reacts quickly, first leaping back upon the ice, narrowly avoiding the attack at his feet, before lifting his sword in front of his chest and removing one hand from the hilt to place it upon the flat of the blade near it's edge. Held this way, he takes the halberd's attack straight on with a thunderous 'thud!'... unfortunately, he is nowhere near as strong as Hildegarde, despite being a vampire, and is sent, by the power of her attack, hurling backwards across the snow. “Bloody unyielding... Don't think I don't bloody know it...” He pulls himself up from the patch of sno which stopped his backwards slide, before giving himself a small shake. Around his body a small snowstorm falls to the well-walked path beneath, before he charges forward. He feints with a thrust while placing his second hand back on the hilt, before he slips forward upon the ice and twists his feint into a true attack: A two-handed slice from low to high, aiming to cut into the dragon's body and tear up out her shoulder in one foul swoop.

Hildegarde could not afford to give Svilfon quarter, not with that kind of blade he was wielding. So as soon as he was pushed backwards, she followed after him swiftly: feet moving with the grace of a heavily armoured dancer, twirling as the knight swung her halberd up high and then low as she dropped to her knees in an effort to tear him asunder. Indeed, she knew the vicious nature of the wizard, so once she dropped to her knees she darted to the side with an evasive roll. However, all this movement made her chest feel tight and under strain, broken ribs making it much more difficult than usual to catch her breath.

Svilfon is very quickly learning that fighting Hildegarde with just a sword is the equivalent of her fighting him magic against magic. It's simply not an even battle when the two knights, who are so very different, step briefly into the other's world. This thought is one of the last coherent ones which go through Svil's mind before he is struck first high by the halberd in an attack that staggers him out of his sword thrust before he's hit low by the weapon, sending him cartwheeling wildly – and by Xalious's own luck the wizard manages not to stab himself with his sword – before his ungraceful flight is stopped quickly in its tracks by the vampire striking against a small fence with an audible 'thud' which causes two of the watching giants to laugh uproariously. Svil groggily mutters as he staggers to his feet, casts a short glare at the watching giants, though it lacks any vehemency, before the wizard looks back at Hildegarde. Without pause, he hurls his weapon at her while speaking its commanding word. What should have happened is an opaque wall would trail its flight, masking where the wizard stands, But instead about halfway through its flight the weapon sets itself on fire, before melting down into a burning rain which leaves steam coming from the road. The wizard quickly tears his gaze away from it and seeks out his opponent with the hope he's quick enough to defend as his attack all too literally fizzled.

Hildegarde , unlike the giants, did not laugh at the wizard's misfortune of falling into the fence. She did not find it honourable to laugh at an opponent during that sort of moment. ~Hilde!~ the couatl warned her, acting as an extra pair of eyes for her. She had not anticipated the wizard to hurtle his weapon, but she was not foolish enough to assume he would throw it without having some kind of trick up his sleeve! The knight drew in a deep breath, waiting for the 'click' at the back of her throat to go before exhaling powerfully in the direction of the burning rain; her concentrated frost breath acting like a powerful blast of frozen wind to repel it away from her and her companion. However, with the wizard having no weapon, the knight stood still and righted her halberd. "Is your blade supposed to do that?"

Svilfon sighs as his gaze rests upon the stationary Hildegarde. “A lesson learned, lady knight... next time, I am not hacking at you with a sword.” Briefly the wizard rubs his head, before grinning. “And honestly? No, it wasn't... it was supposed to mask where I was long enough for me to cast a spell at you... but instead... well... enhancing weapons beyond mundane tasks, such as light or flames, is rather difficult. As is forging weapons...” The wizard shakes his head as he further dusts himself off, before walking forward. “I will learn, though. Next time it will not be so easy.” With that, Svilfon tips his hat to the knight. “ But instead of being out in the cold,” not that she feels it, probably, “you should go find the shamans and get some healing.” He grins at her again, crooked beneath his beard. “We will speak again another day, lady knight. My weapon will be better, I'm sure.” With that said, the vampire offers the couatl a tip of his hat also. “And you, brave couatl, come spend time with your noble brother when you can.”

Hildegarde laughed gently at the remark, "I am happy to offer sword lessons, my friend!" she said, half seriously and half jokingly. "I see! A formidable ploy if it had worked as intended," she said with a sage nod, able to appreciate the strategic benefit of such a move. A courteous bow was offered to him, one copied by Kenway, "Safe travels, my friend," she offered. ~Safe journey, honoured wizard. I shall join your adventures soon, I swear it!~

Svilfon grins at both Hildegarde and Kenway, before turning and continuing on his walk through the village, after, of course, tipping his hat to the watching giants. His thoughts soon return to the weapon and how he can ensure next time it doesn't break itself and within moments the only real reminder he has that the battle was real is a pain in his head and a slight limp that thankfully he's all-but too distracted to notice. He would remember the battle, though... he would ensure next time it was closer than this...