RP:The Frost on Fire

Part of the The White Hunt Arc

Open Snowfield

When Ivorile and Orikahn find themselves on the losing end of nasty fight, the sun-loving paladin turns to unconventional tactics.

Ivorile would have either simply managed to stumble out onto the scene, or would have followed Orikahn. The paladin took in his surroundings, trying to remember from which direction he had come. The area was quite different from what he was used to, great urban areas, and open forests. Well, this place was covered in ice, something he wasn't exactly familiar with, though he didn't have any issues. Minor problems aside, his mind drifted to the beast on the list of things to do. He remembered it had an "ox" in its name according to his pal, but he still wasn't sure of what it could have been. So he simply sighed.

Orikahn stoops, leaning forward on one knee, intently studying something on the ground. Kahn scrutinizes it, leaning in until his visor is mere centimeters away. He sniffs it, picks at it and rubs a bit between his fingers, then lifts his visor enough to lick his fingertip. He spits. "The beast is near." Kahn speaks in a gravely rumble barely above a whisper. After spitting again, the cat nods and straightens, pulling his face away from the massive, steaming cow pie. "This is better luck than we could have hoped for." Very still, he waits and listens. Barely daring to breathe, he dissects every noise around him: the thumping of his own heart, the distant cries of birds, the moaning of the wind... Wind? Kahn's whiskers don't tell him of any wind, but the moaning carries on. The feline's tail points bolt upright and puffs to double it's normal volume. If he didn't know any better, he would say those moans are growing louder. "Rile. Rile!" Kahn dares to whisper, hoping to alert his often-distracted companion.

Ivorile heard his name shouted, and would look over at the cat, a blank expression on his face, until he realized just how much Orikahn was focusing. He would become as quiet as he could and become very still, attempting to not interfere with whatever the hunter was doing. "Hrm." He would quietly murmur, before crouching over, and being as quiet and stealthy as he could, which was not very well at all.

Orikahn drops noislessly to a crouch, quiet despite his armor and smooth and silent as a liquid shadow, he draws his bow and knocks an arrow. Even as he does so, the very air around them seem to grow denser, darker, and colder. The stars above seem impossibly dim and distant, and swirling, fluttering shadows flutter high over their heads, like circling, translucent, aerial sharks. The moans crescendo to a chorus of howls, and out of the growing dimness swipes a ghostly arm, giant-sized and covered with spectral frost. Cruel, glowing claws leave trails of incandescent blue through the air, jagged slashmarks that hang like weightless ribbons and fade like vapor. This first swipe was a close call, almost like a warning, but another soon follows, and Kahn is forced to duck this time, narrowly avoiding the brunt of the strike. In retaliation, the savage cat rounds on an approaching howl and fires a shot just in time for a stern, massive, frosty head to materialize out of the darkness. The arrow sails through it like smoke, and its great, hoary brows furrow in angry disdain as it dissapates back into shadow, as if by its own choice, and definitely not finished. Kahn looks over to Rile, his visor emotionless before his mounting panic.

Ivorile would look around his surroundings, the dark, his least favorite thing in the entire world. Truly the only thing he held disdain for, besides show-offs. He would clear his throat, as he saw his friend get swiped at by the large unnatural claw that descended from the oily black abyss. The knight would stand tall, and tilt his head to the side. "Orikahn, do you think we can even hurt them?" He called, before a pale arm of epic proportions swept from the wall of nothingness. In a panic, the paladin would jump away, clumsily tumbling onto the ground, before he found his footing, by the time he did so, he had a plan. The extremely quick paladin would have had a hand on his glowing sword, before he shouted at his friend. "Avert your eyes marksman!" Ivorile shouted, as he drew the blade, brandishing it above his head, the waves of illumination sundering the grotesque shade, giving the sun warrior a bastion of light in which to stand. He found the ghastly creature receding into the shadows, though the sudden wave of light, brought to a more powerful darkness. The spirit would come back from the darkness, pouncing on the light-warrior. Ivorile would whip around, his cloak flowing as he did so, though the maneuver was cut short, as the tapering end of his rags were destroyed by the hand of the giant. The rags on his back froze, then split into a shower of small cloth shards, scattering to the wind. Ivorile would then find himself without one of his few remaining possessions. His hood flew off the back of it's head, the fastens scattered to the gale darkness. "By the sun it's frigid!" He cried as he backed off, trying to make as much room between himself and the ghost as he could. His blade would glimmer, though the unnatural waves of blackness would hold back it's potential. "Friend! Are you alive!?" He cried, as he would charge at the ghost, releasing a heroic battle cry. Moments later, his blade would burst into light once more, plowing into the shadows, the specter backpedaling to escape the swing. "This blade repels the darkness! Fear what you seek to destroy!" He cried, though he still listened for Kahn's response. Ivorile looked at you.

Orikahn can hear very well, but hearing alone cannot make one a good listener. Amid the ducking and dodging, Kahn hears Ivorile shout for him to look away, and on inpulse he turns to look toward the shouting. Brilliance, dazzling and burning, follows. Kahn roars and yowls, closing his eyes against such a light that even aches through his eyelids, hurriedly looking away and dropping to one knee with a metallic crash. Wordlessly Kahn roars on, daring to open his eyes again and look into a darkness filled with scintilating colors that have scarcely even begun to dim. Robbed of his nightvision, Kahn completely misses the head rematerializing above him. Great, glowing, cerulean eyes glare in contempt, and when the arm coalesces again, the hand is clenched in a fist like a great white boulder swinging ponderously around to knock Orikahn flying, making the enormous predator look more like a flailing sock monkey as he vaults then skids across the featureless tundra.

Ivorile glanced over his shoulder, trying to check on his...Oh by the sun. The paladin would look back at his foe, another massive swing clawed through the air, barely missing the knight, causing frost to cling to his robes, and even the sword, dimming the light even further. After escaping the imminent foe, he would rush over to the hunter, wiping his blade off with his sleeve, the light returning in full force, he would swing it in the general direction of the giant that had knocked over Kahn. The blade didn't do much, but the waves of light penetrated the darkness, rending the dark void that surrounded the warriors. The paladin would back up, keeping an eye on the ground, until he found Orikahn. He would reach an arm out, hoping the headhunter would take it. If he did, the paladin would assist him getting up, if he didn't take his hand, he would dumbly stand there, most likely about to take another massive giant swing.

Orikahn blearily grasps the paladin's hand and, with assistance, gets up enough to move and, with adrenaline and Ivorile each doing their part, begins forcefully hobbling back toward the icy bridge, doing whatever he can to steer them in that direction without toppling himself or his ally. Indeed, as the two begin retreating, the giant ghost's ferocity fades. The shadows grow fainter, and the swiping limbs strain halfheartedly to claw impotently at the air begimd them, as though the friends have passed just beyond its reach. In no time, the stars are shining more brightly and clearly than ever they seemed before, welcoming their retreat. Kahn pants noisily as he walks, and Ivorile will feel a very significant portion of the cat's weight by the time they reach the bridge. "These ghosts..." Kahn swallows thickly, "...re a problerm."

Ivorile of course went with Orikahn as they fled, all the while shouting. "There is no glory in pointless defeat!" as if he had to reassure himself about his escape. As they made their way to the bridge, Ivorile would be struggling to be standing up straight, the armored colossus of a cat was really bringing the guy down, literally. "Grfgher..." He managed to sputter past the weight of the massive creature he called his pal. "I...have a plan!" He said whilst heaving the beast of a man. He examined the sky, giving it a quick look. "It just...might...work..." He said, he would have scratched his chin, had his hand not been affixed to side of his pal.

Orikahn slumps off of the knight, steadying himself on the bridgepost, eventually slouching down far enough to sit with his back against the frosty support. His armor doesn't look too bad for what he's just been through; apparently it's pretty good stuff. How well Kahn might be doing *inside* his armor, though, is still an unknown. The cat isn't saying anything, and he gropes around a little bit for something to steady himself. Kahn finds a bit of tundra scrub and grabs that, tangling his fingers in the wiry, resilient-looking little bush and using it as an anchor. His tail taps the icy ground like a pulse monitor.

Ivorile watched as his ally settled them self on the ground. The paladin would put a hand on his chin as he pondered exactly how to put his plan into action. He slammed his pack onto the ground, making a quiet "thud" as it left it's imprint in the snow. The knight would then begin to rummage through it, eventually pulling out a long length of cloth, followed by a flint and steel. He would nod at the items he was now holding, before looking over to Kahn. "Are you okay? If you're not okay, we can go back to town, and find another way to solve this problem. Though, I do feel clever for the plan I have come up with." He would chuckle quietly to himself as he shifted. "Now, if you have a pair of sticks by any chance..." He would then mention, looking at the tundra scrub Orikahn was hanging on to.

Orikahn looks up to Ivorile at the sound of his voice, and he makes a raspy noise as though to respond, then sloppily tugs his visor up to spit out a mouthfull of a good-sized gob of blood. It kind of dribbles down his chestpiece, mixing in with the other gore there. "I'm fine." Kahn manages to speak now, and he reaches behind himself to produce a couple arrows. One of them is broken, one half dangling uselessly by a few splinters. He tosses that one over his shoulder and pulls out a whole one, offering both to Ivorile. "Just need a minute." The tundra scrub sort of seems to grab back, and if the knight didn't know better, he could almost imagine the plant was wrapping around Kahn's finger's to hold him a little more closely. Moving his free hand, Kahn reaches around himself to pull out his bag and start clumsily rooting around in it, making some unintelligible vocalizations as he does. Eventually, he pulls out a few pats of nice, green, fuzzy-looking moss; more than half-dazed, he starts gnawing on the bit of forest verdigris, his big, fuzzy head lolling about as he chews.

Ivorile nodded at the cat, before turning around, moving his arms wildly as he worked, his hands moving at the speed of a blur. "I'm glad to here you're okay! Now just give me a minute..." The knight worked quickly, the extremely long piece of cloth he had wadded up in his pack, now securely fastened between the arrows, creating a long, thick, twisted length of cloth between the sharp-objects, creating about seven feet of leeway. "Alright, so here's the plan." The knight turned to face Kahn, as he held the arrows. "I keep this cloth in my pack, usually for band-aids and repairing my...clothes..." He he mumbled, remembering how the spectral creature had disintegrated his cloak, and most of a sleeve. "Anyway, here's my plan." He would hold the make-shift contraption on his shoulder, as he held up his flint and steel. "So, as far as I can tell, we're fighting ghosts made of...some sort of ice." He would hold the rocks in his hand, looking them over. "So I was thinking, if we make a run for it, with a length of flaming cloth between us, if they're not deterred, we can run in a circle..." He would put the fire making object away, as he would draw in the snow. "This big circle is a phantom." He drew a large circle in the snow, then a long line. "This line is us, I'm on one side, you're on the other." He then drew a "U" shape around the big circle. "If we wrap a flaming cord around it's legs, I'm certain it will do some damage, based on how they reacted from the...Shiny sword...incident..." he trailed off as he spoke, before he shook his head, and looked at Kahn. "Alright! So what do you think? Crazy enough it just might work?" He inquired, a wide grin on his face.

Orikahn gnaws as Ivorile speaks, and the big cat leans over a bit, staring a little limply at the things the knight draws in the snow. As the cat chews, he gradually finds the strength to nod along, and by the time Ivorile has finished explaining, there is energy and vitality in his movements (and perhaps a visible green tint to his nose, gums, and tongue). He pushes himself back up to his feet with a grunt and noisily bangs his chest, striking it repeatedly with one fist and stomping the ground with his heel. "Yes!" Kahn veritably roars his agreement. "It is crazy! It will work!" The mighty sabertooth snaps his visor back down and thrusts his open, waiting hand at Ivorile. "Hand me my end, Rile. We will show this ungrateful spirit the vigor of the living!" Again he roars, eyes squeezing shut as the bellow echoes off the distant ruins, flecks of spit, blood, and moss flying from his fangs. As if in answer, the moans and howls of the spirits crescendo again...

Ivorile would hand Orikahn his end of the "rope", before taking his own in hand, and giving the entire thing a quick look over, as he was of course, observant, yet also half-blind. "Handles..." He gave it a quick tug, everything seemed sturdy. "Rope..." He murmured, holding the rope in the air for a minute, making sure it wasn't going to unwind into a giant-flaming blanket. "Fire..." He finally spoke, pulling the chord tight, stabbing his end into the snow, before setting the middle alight. He took his end once more, and gestured for the cat to charge into the darkness once more, a flaming rope between them. "Charge!" He cried, as he quickly moved, trying his best to hold the rope as safely as possible, though at the same time, making sure that he and Kahn were running correctly, if they weren't side next to each-other, then the only thing the rope was going to burn, was their chances of survival.

Orikahn sprints into the enveloping darkness, holding tight on his end of the burning snare, the flaming cloth whipping noisily between the two chargers. Stars wink out, and the cold seems to bite more fiercely than ever as the two, great, glowing eyes appear once more, their piercing blue stabbing out through the cold like numbing darts. Towering and fearsome, the great specter manifests itself, twisting and raising both claws high, high above its shoulder, winding up for a raking, sweeping swipe that is sure to rend our two heroes to frozen splinters. Proud, hateful, and utterly condemning, the spirit wordlessly, piercingly stares before making a weighty, mighty swing, his arms descending just as the flaming tripline comes upon it. Kahn's roar is like a crashing avalanche as he and Ivorile gamble their precision and execution against the ghost's formidable power.

Ivorile also sprinted at the giant, also making quite a mighty roar, though it would not be remotely as impressive as the one of his comrade. "Die! Again! Ghost!" the paladin called, as he charged, hopefully the flaming rope of doom would be enough to at least concern the giant. Removing it wasn't mandatory after all, just getting past it. From this point he would let the more experienced warrior take the lead.

Orikahn ducks low and circles in tightly, cutting behind the ghost's withering claws by an uncomfortably narrow margin, feeling the impossibly bitter cold even through armor and fur alike. Sparing no thought, allowing himself no distraction, the cat dashes around behind the ghost, straightening high and calling out as his lifts his half of the burning cloth, "duck low!" holding his end well up in the air, easily high enough for Ivorile to duck beneath if he catches Kahn's meaning. Like a blazing pyre, the phantom's ghostly lower half roils in conflagration, and its eyes waver, flickering like a dying candle. Before it can even realize what has happened, it seems, the flames spread up its frosty body like flash paper. Instantaneous immolation. In a single, bright orange fireball, it vanishes up into the air, a single short-lived plume of flame that lights up the night for one brief, hot instant. When the firelight fades, a gentle cloud of large, fluffly snowflakes fall around them like ashes. Kahn, who had paused in his running, drops his still-smoking end and double-fist-pumps high above his head, high stepping in a small circle and roaring again, his triumph cry echoing off the ruins again. "Rile, Rile" his chanted, roaring cheer goes, "Rile, Rile, Rile!"

Ivorile of course ducked under the margin that was allowed to him by his thoughtful brother-in-arms. He slid, pulling quite an unnecessarily difficult stunt. Though, he did get a brush of flame as a reward, as he was too close to the giant. He didn't expect something like that to happen, as the flames brushed against his humanoid figure. He would ditch the torch, and pounce away as fast as he could, the burnt figure rolling away into the snow. Moments later, he would stick his head up, as he heaved himself off the ground, looking over to Orikahn. "Oh no! No need to praise me! That was all you! I never could have pulled that off." He would chuckle, trying to get his footing, as there as a thud of him falling into the snow once more.

Orikahn ceases his victory cheer as Rile pokes his head up, and he trots over to the singed, stumbling figure to reach down and (should the knight allow it) hoist the knight back up onto his feet and give him a congratulatory slap on the back. "Hah! Your modest deceptions are much too blunt to fool me. Your plan succeeded." Kahn takes a deep breath of satisfaction, blowing out a small cloud of green spores as he exhales. The similarly green tint that had shown on the exposed skin of his nose fades back to a healthy, natural tan. "The beast must be hopelessly lost, by now." Kahn goes on, his cheer dimming a little. "All that light and noise are certain to have scared it off. So back to square one." With an encouraging pat on the shoulder, the massive cat steps away, turning to march toward the ruins a few paces and put his hands on his hips. "Let it not dim our spirits... erm... morale!" Kahn quickly corrects himself. "We have enjoyed a mighty victory this day, and should celebrate while our hearts are full of joy." He roots around in his pack, soon procuring a primitive smoking instrument of some kind. "We will share the war pipe."

Ivorile refused any sort of "warpipe" after all, he had to keep his head clear. "No friend, we have won a battle, but we have not yet won the war." He would nod, and take a glance around the area, a habit he commonly exibhited. "So, you lost all trace of the beast, there's no way for you to find it?" He inquired, though he would immediatly grin widely and chuckle. "It must have smelled the ghost and bolted." He chuckled heartily, and began to silently ponder something. "Hrmmm." He went from speaking to self-inquiry quite quickly, and with little transition.

Orikahn is sitting indian-legged on the frozen ground and has already struck the long, hollow reed pipe alight, a merry little flame dancing atop a small pile of dried, pungent herbs, filling his lungs deeply before exhaling a voluminous, aromatic cloud of smoke. "Mmmm." He grunts with relish. "Mmm-MMM! Hah!" The feral hunter gives his head a vigorous shake and knocks himself in the temple a few times, looking dazedly ahead. "Hmm. Gah!" A few snarling, guttural vocalizations later, and Kahn snuffs the embers with the leather thumbpad of his gauntlet. Absentmindedly he offers it to Ivorile, then catches himself and stows it away. "Ah, your modesty again! I see your heart already soars, knight," the cat observes as he crawls forward, visor still raised as his sniffs about the ground on all fours, tail twitching behind him, sampling the ground for any hint of the passing beast. "You save the great celebration for last. Well, then we will see," Kahn mutters, "we will see..." Trailing off, the cat continues stalking, following the trail deeper, leading the two ever further into the treacherous ruins...

Ivorile would of course follow Kahn, rather closely actually, as of course he didn't know the true nature of the beast they were hunting. He didn't know much of the lands, and even if he didn't he probably woulden't exactly know what they were looking for. "Modesty? We must save our strength and spirit, we will let the world know when we kill this beast!" He would laugh heartily before becoming silent, as did the cat. "So I assume you do have it's trail?" He whispered, asking Khan, simply because he was curious of course, he wasn't exactly sure of where they were going.

Orikahn sniffs intently, alternately pausing and crawling in short, hurried bursts, pupils wide as he tracks, searches, tracks... "No.. yes? No... Yes!" The scurrying savage alternately, ambivalently replies, apparently wholly absorbed in the drama of the chase, sometimes inching along, sometimes breaking into a full, feline gallop, only to halt again, boots and gauntlets scraping to a violent stop against the frozen ground, sending up small sprays of permafrost as he brakes. A twitch here, a twist there, a lick here, a snort there... sometimes he barges forward, sometimes he doubles back, and any follower or observer might easily wonder whether or not there is a method to the cat's madness. Suddenly, the cat perks bolt upright, legs in a crouch, his weight perched forward on the outstretched fingertips of his gauntlets. There is a tense moment of silence, the windless arctic air lingering in lazy doldrums around them. Kahn sniffs once, twice, whiskers tensely aquiver before he bounds forward at an excited gallop, rushing headlong only to arrive... at a large, no-longer-steaming cow-pie. Kahn falls forward in defeat (narrowly missing the frozen pile) and rolls onto his back, staring upward at the shifting, polar lights. "The trail eludes me." The cat confesses. He pulls his visor down over his eyes in shame and seclusion. "My instinct tells me to double back, toward the wilderness. If we are to hunt afresh, we can begin away from this accursed place."

Ivorile would chase Kahn around, panting as he did so. Though he was faster than a speeding drow, and had the reflexes of a hawk, he was mostly blind, and terribly weak. He would follow Kahn loosely, just kind-of following the blur, all the while tripping, slipping, and performing all sorts of faliures, as per usual of course. "Bah!" He called out, as he saw Kahn fall onto the snow, defeated. "Away!? After all of th-" He took a deep breath, and would suddenly smile, seeming invigorated ,and as if he was never out of breath all along. "Alright!" He would laugh, moving in his usual jolly manner. "Lead the way fellow! The hunt is in your hands once more!" He would reach an arm out to help Orikahn up, "We don't get to show the world the beasts head, if we don't kill it, eh?" He would chuckle, grinning wide as ever.

Orikahn accepts the offered hand with a sigh. "Rile, you have known me too often in defeat." He heaves his way onto his feet. "Your juju is good, and your victory over the ghost was glorious and savage!" Kahn snorts with conviction. "This hunt is an ambitious one." With wide, searching pupils, he scans the moonlit sky, complete with brilliant stars and burning auroras. Only a moment longer he studies them before he begins trudging forward, back toward the wild forests and cliffs. "Besides," Kahn goes on, "many of my arrows are broken and spent. I can replenish my quiver," he points at the dark line of trees ahead, "once we make camp. We should have known this hunt was only beginning. We mustn't rest long," the cat admonishes, armor rattling as he trudges along, "lest some lucky scout should beat us to the kill. That scull is mine!" Emphatically, he slams his fist into his palm. Their footprints trail behind them in the light dusting of snow, two dotted lines leading over the bridge and back into high, looming timber...

Ivorile followed the cat into the woods, going where he went, doing what he did. This of course was due to the fact that he was still new to this whole "Hunting" thing. ""Ah! Then we shall go!" He laughed, "You obviously know better than I do!" He grinned, "Of course you can have the head-bone. I'm not one for...trophies." He would shake his head, and smirk once more.