RP:The Dragon and the Paladin

Location: Hidden Mountaintop Colosseum (Frostmaw)

Hildegarde’s lessons had often led her out towards the Academy in the west, it was almost unusual to be back in the arena training with strangers who only wanted to spar or to perhaps vent their frustrations whilst waiting for the next arena match. The knight had set her weapons to the side – halberd and sheathed short-sword – and only fought hand-to-hand in this spar against what seemed to be a human man. Though for those with sharper senses, such as a strong sense of smell, might be able to pick up on the wolfish scent the man carried. His fighting style was erratic, clearly more brawler than trained warrior as he threw his fist – almost his entire arm – wildly for the Silver’s head. It only took the raising of her forearm in reply to block his attack, before the palm of her hand could strike at his chest. The lycan staggered back to catch his breath before running in; so blinded by his rage that he threw his body at her, fist raised to try and powerfully strike her face. With what appeared to be the grace of a dancer, the knight pirouetted her body and moved closer; hands reaching forward to grasp his incoming fist and throw him beyond her with a smile, “You’re getting weary,” she remarked, fists raised for the next step should he wish to continue.

Ember had been in Frostmaw visiting with her parents, them being among the few elves who had remained despite the realms cordial relationship with the same Drow that had driven them from Sage. Where else could they go, they’d said, and Ember had agreed. She didn’t trust the Drow but beggars couldn’t be choosers; as was, they were grateful for a warm haven out of the cold. The young paladin had taken to exploring some, wandering westward, until the clanging of steel caught her ears. Gripping her spear, in case someone was in need, she came moving quickly into the area in time to see the woman throw the man and taunt him. Well, seemed things were under control…

Hildegarde watched as the lycan chose to spit and quickly catch his breath before taking another go at the Silver: choosing to, perhaps foolishly, run head on at her. If the woman was worried, she didn’t show it. In fact, she seemed eerily relaxed and calm that this lycan was barrelling towards her! As he grew closer, the knight’s foot gently shifted back into the earth to anchor her position before her booted leg kicked out and up to strike him square in the chest. The man fell back with an ‘oomph’ and the knight waited a few moments, “You had best get some rest, Bal, before your fight tomorrow. Stop letting your temper best you, too,” she warned him, before approaching and patting his shoulder and hauling him upright. The lycan walked away, leaving the knight to turn and spot Ember at last. “Ah, greetings, stranger,” she hailed amicably.

Ember watches as the woman soundly defeats the man she calls Bal, and seeing it was either training or a friendly competition, the young elfess relaxes her stance. Ember isn’t particularly tall; five and a half feet perhaps, but trim and well-muscled from her adventures so far. Her green eyes have the spark of youth, her red hair tied back in a single tail though a few bangs hang loose. “Well fought.” She compliments the woman. :My name is Ember, follower of Arkhen.”

Hildegarde , unlike Ember, is rather tall compared to most. Standing at six foot and three inches, she stoops to grasp her halberd and short-sword in a non-threatening manner: only wishing to have her weapons back in her possession, rather than lying on the ground of the arena. “An honour to meet you, m’lady,” is offered respectfully, along with a dip of her head. “I am Hildegarde the Silver,” she is no Paladin, so she offers no name of a god. Though most who know the knight know she prays often to Aramoth, Lore and even Arkhen from time to time. “Ah, it was not well fought, but I thank you kindly for your words. An exchange of fists between friends,” she smiled, “is the Frostmawian way, I suppose.” After a short pause and an obvious assessing glance – taking note of that spear in particular – what with her sole eye being easy to track, the knight asks with evident curiosity, “What brings you to Frostmaw, Lady Ember?”

Ember surveys the woman before her curiously, looking at her arms and armor, not in a calculating sense but with a curiosity at having met a fellow warrior. Ember carries a spear, most of her equipment having been salvaged from Preklek scouts she’d overcome, though the hilt of a dagger stuck up from her one boot and a short sword hung in a scabbard at her hip. Her armor was arrayed to allow a mixture of protection and mobility, playing off her natural elven grace though well knowing a sword to the abdomen was fatal for just about everyone. “You’re too kind, Hildegarde, though it is just Ember. I can claim no title unless some passing noble happens to take a fancy.” She gives a pleasant smile at the joke, her ears perking up cat-like. “It is a pleasure to meet you… I feel I have heard of you before. I was visiting my parents; they were among the Sage elves taken in following the conflict to the south. I decided to look about their new home for myself when I heard the sounds of battle.”

Hildegarde , in comparison, is heavily armoured. Bedecked in mithril armour, chainmail and perhaps leather below that, she could take sturdy blows without needing to retreat too soon from the skirmish. Of course, that did sacrifice agility and speed to some degree but she has the strength to carry her armour easily. The boon of being a dragon. She wields a halberd and a short-sword that hangs from her hip, similar to Ember. “All are above me, Ember, and I address them thusly,” she answered in a humble yet confident manner. But the smiles at the remark of being known: it seems she can barely take a breath without being heard of somewhere in the world, “Ah, I’m not that well-known, I don’t think at least,” says the Steward of Frostmaw. But suddenly she is apologetic, “Forgive me, then, for distracting you away from your parents. Of course, I understand if you wish to hurry and meet with them once again. Nor did I intend to cause undue worry with the sounds of battle. Forgive me, m’lady,” she asks courteously. Of the recent discontent amongst the elves she does not yet speak, waiting for Ember to decide whether she is staying or going.

Ember relaxes her stance fully, resting the butt of her spear on the ground with the point up. It’s a shorter weapon, designed to allow the use of her armored off-arm as a shield while still stabbing with a reach. The elf wasn’t a ‘slugger’, as her trainer had labeled it, and relied on reach to keep her enemies at bay hence the shafted weapon. “There’s nothing to forgive, Hildegarde. I’ve seen them already and they’re well, I was just engaging in a bit of exploration. I only recently was given leave to begin traveling about and I’ve discovered I have a love for seeing new places… it’s cold here but I like it. There’s a certain beauty in it that’s different from where I grew up. I’m afraid I don’t know overly much about Frostmaw aside from that, however. If you have time I would enjoy your company; I don’t often get to speak with fellow warriors such as yourself.”

Hildegarde could often be headstrong in battle, relying on her armour and tough hide to bear the brunt of the attack if the reach of her halberd could not keep it at bay. Her scarred face and brawny shape might give hint of that. “Frostmaw is home to many,” she admitted, “and the elves were welcomed here with open arms, as were any others who wished to flee the combat of that time,” she didn’t need to get into it too much at the moment. “Then let us sit,” she was already moving towards the stands, preparing to sit down upon a cold seat and be off her feet for a few moments. “The City of War,” she sighs, eyeing the arena for a moment as she thinks of what to say exactly about Frostmaw. Where to begin, really. There were many things about Frostmaw, both beautiful and terrifying, that she might describe. “The giants are devout worshippers of Aramoth,” she remarked, obviously considering Ember’s earlier remark of following Arkhen. “I’m not very good at general things,” she laughs gently, “but if you have a question, I can probably go from there and find a decent answer for you.”

Ember nods and follows the battle-scarred woman towards the stands. The city of war… yes, it did look imposing, especially with the frost giants at the gates who’d given the young paladin such suspicious looks. They were used to elves, she was sure, but one traveling so armored and armed was still probably a minority compared to the other refugees. Given the… problems with some of her kin recently, Ember wasn’t surprised. “Aramoth… god of war, I believe.” She speaks. “Not an evil deity but a stern one. He would seem to fit the giants perfectly.” She has a seat next to Hildegrad when the other woman does so. “I encountered some out in the wilds as well, northwest of town. They had a more savage bearing about them; are there rival tribes between them here?”

Hildegarde offered a nod in agreement, “They will follow his laws without question. Honour, battle, victory… it is their greatest moments,” she admitted, “and they revel in them. We recently faced war and it was rumoured that Aramoth himself graced the battlefield,” a total lie, she knew, seeing as she was the one pretending to be the god behind the armour. It still embarrassed her, but to admit now would presumably make some giants feel cheated. “Those would be the exiles… we squashed the majority of their forces during the war there, but obviously a few live. They are not to be trifled with,” she warned gently, “but they will not come too close to the city. They would be fools to do so, as they fear the Ice Witch and her pet dragon,” she remarked coolly.

Ember takes the opportunity of sitting to look about the arena, at the sheer size of it, it’s massive yet relatively concealed in the mountain here. Her ears remain perked to Hildegrade’s words as the other woman replies, however, absorbing what she can. “The ice witch… I have heard of her as well.” Though the comment is neutral, betraying neither approval or disapproval in its tone. “I will remember that if I meet them in the wilds again; I thought it best not to tarry with them and went on my way before they spotted me. I’m confident in my abilities but not quite THAT confident.” A quiet laugh. “Not yet, at least. Pet dragon though… that almost sounds like a paradoxical statement. I’m not sure such a creature could ever really be tamed. Allied with, yes, but to have one as a pet? Rumor and legend often distort the truths of such things but it’s a tale that serves the ice witch well, I’m sure. There’s few brave enough to risk a dragon’s wrath.”

Hildegarde chortled gently, “The Queen is often referred to as the Ice Witch by the exiles and those who might revile her,” she explained in a relaxed manner, as if she were certain the name wouldn’t cause offense. Either she was bold in assuming or she knew the Queen on some level. “A giant can be taken down, if you have the skill. Speed being on your side,” she says with a slight jerk of the head towards Ember to indicate her armour and perhaps her agile heritage, “you would probably stand a better chance than most. Particularly that you use a polearm,” which made it all the easier to reach the giants in the first place. “The exiles named the dragon a pet,” she explained with what appeared to be little concern, “but there are many dragons that roam Frostmaw. Some better known than others,” she smiled, “like Cryothain, Mother Dearest of Frostmaw.” A truly formidable dragon. Only an utter fool would even consider taking her on for a single moment. After a pause, though, the knight sighs and shakes her head, “But I am no pet. I am loyal to Frostmaw, though. I would defend her with my last breath, this I know.”

Ember nods.” I’ll remember that if I end up unable to escape from one. Move quick, don’t get smashed, and see if I can stab something sensitive.” The young paladin gives a laugh; giant bodies no doubt meant giant sensitive areas to target with a weapon and the elfess believed in surviving battles, not getting smashed into jelly. “Crytothain is not a name I have heard but… you? Why should you be a pet? I had assumed you were a knight of some type by your garb.” Confusion clear on her features. “Forgive me but you don’t look particularly draconic.”

Hildegarde didn’t really intend to imply stabbing that sort of delicate area, so she somewhat bashfully mutters, “The back of the knee is a good place,” as it would force even a giant to kneel into submission, perfect for a finishing blow. “Most dragons can assume a human form,” she answered with a shrug of her shoulder, “and I find that people are more talkative when I appear human, despite my scars and lack of an eye. Perhaps you do not believe me,” she smiled, knowing that Ember would not be the first if she didn’t take her word on being a dragon. It could all be a rather big boast, after all. So, bringing her hand to her mouth, the knight inhaled before exhaling slowly onto her palm. Her face is certainly one of slight concentration, before she extends her hand to reveal the lotus formed from ice within her palm. “Frostmaw is chilly enough that I can live comfortably here without armour or furry linings.”

Ember watches as the woman breathes into her palm, at the ice lotus forming, and blinks in surprise. She’d seen sorcery before, of course, having traveled to see the Mages Tower in Xalious. To hear Hildegrade say she was a dragon, however; “I’d not insult you by calling you a liar, it’s just that I am surprised. I did not know dragons could assume a human form.” The young paladin admits in all honesty. “But you are correct, it is much easier speaking with you in this manner. Your control of the ice is very fine, isn’t it?” She reaches out a hand tentatively, silently asking permission to touch the created sculpture. “The Queen must be a woman of consideration to have earned your loyalty so. I am grateful she was willing to take in the refugees despite recent problems among them; I don’t know what I’d have done for my parents otherwise. So you truly are a dragon? That is quite fascinating. I’ve never met a dragon before you, that I know of.”

Hildegarde smiled at the mention of an insult, “Ah, words are wind, I have learned that in my time here. Even if you intended to insult me, it would not bother me,” a bold claim to make. But rather than merely keep the lotus in her palm, she passes it entirely to Ember for her to keep for as long as it lasts, “Not quite so fine a mastery of the ice as the Queen has. It has taken much practice to concentrate it just so,” she said with a gentle nod towards the lotus. “I do not hide it particularly,” she explained, pulling back a length of hair to reveal a spattering of silvery scales along her flesh, “I even claim that I am a Silver when I tell people my name,” she grinned. “Unfortunately, Ember,” she rose from the seat, “I must be off. I have duties to attend to within the realm, but I hope to see you again. I have enjoyed our chat. I wish you and family well,” she said with a polite yet curt bow, before departing from the arena to hastily pursue her duties.