Winter's Frozen Heart [Attn: Ravak]

[Sunny]

Dax

A Trolloc with a ram's horns and snout faced him, a sword nearly as long as the Tairen was tall held in both clawed hands. It swung, and Dax ducked beneath the rough-forged steel, watching the creature carefullly. His mind still had not quite come to terms with how large the Shadowspawn were; the fact that even astride a horse his eyes barely came level with the thing's chest made him queasy. He chose to focus on certain spots- in this case, the thing's patchy armor. If he could get past that tree trunk of a sword, he could strike- there. He kneed Twinkle Toes straight at the Shadowspawnm, crouched low over his back. The horse's shoulder rammed into the Trolloc's thigh, and Dax straightened, his sword sliding home between the creature's ribs.

He had no time to celebrate; another Trolloc leapt from the side, its clawed hand batting Twinkle Toe's head like a child's toy. Dax hastily threw himself off and to the side. He landed on his back in the dirt, sword held over his head in both hands. As if in slow motion, he watched the horse collapse, its head little more than pulp. Burn me, I'm going to die. He scrambled backward, then up, until he stood on his feet once more. The Trollocs seemed much bigger now that he stood on the ground, but he also felt far more at ease. He had never enjoyed mounted fighting, and this way he could move quickly.

The Trolloc that had killed Twinkle Toes approached, and another with a wolf's jaw had turned toward him. He drew his dagger in his left hand and charged at the one with talons. His sword flashed in a silver arc, and met the thing's shield. Metal shrieked as the blade slide down and away, then to the side. It met flesh, and the Trolloc emitted a guttural howl of pain. Dax pulled his blade back up, and made a diagonal slash at the monster's chest. It ended in a thrust that bit deep, and the creature fell.

He felt movement behind him and whirled, sword at the ready. Wolf-face grinned at him. This Trolloc was shorter than the rest and it carried a well-made blade, gleaming softly in the light. It seemed like a child's toy in the monster's grip, though some distant part of his awareness told the Ji'alantin that it was actually larger than his own sword. Abruptly Dax realized that the Trolloc had likely stolen the blade from the dead patrol, and rage filtered through the battle fog of his mind.

Stolen or not, the thing knew how to use its weapon. Dax pulled his sword around to a high block just in time for the two blades to crash together, and his muscles wailed in protest against the force of the blow. They locked for a moment, the Trolloc grinning savagely, then Dax growled and slashed at its face with his dagger. He used the moment of direction to shove upward with his sword and move out of the monster's reach.

They circled for a moment, then Dax swept his sword from midsection to the Trolloc's neck. Had the blow gone unchallenged, it would have killed the beast. Instead, steel met steel, and he broke away again. A moment later he swung his sword up and back, then back down from his right shoulder, so fast the blade formed a silver arc. The Trolloc attempted to block, but then Dax cut sideways and the blade cut through the monster's leather armor and into its abdomen.

The thing looked down at the blood then back up, red-rimmed eyes narrowing as it lashed out at the much smaller man. A series of quick exchanges followed. A few of the beast's blows made their mark on Dax's body, including a slash to the head that would certainly give him a new and interesting scar later on. Most, however, he caught with one of his blades and he could tell the stomach-wound had done its work. Each successive blow was a little weaker, each movement a little slower. Finally he attacked again, forming a rapid figure eight that slashed at the enemy's thighs. The Trolloc stumbled, and fell to one knee. A moment later, Dax's sword separated its head from its shoulders.

Breathing heavily in the momentary lull, the Ji'alantin looked around. Monika's horse had fallen, and there was no sign of the Gaidar. Ravak had clearly gone to help her, however, his blade and sword-breaker flashing as he fought. Dax moved rapidly in that direction, ignoring the shapes moving around him.

As he reached Ravak, he felt the cold-hot edge of a blade bite into his side, and twisted away, turning to parry a second blow from the eagle-beaked Trolloc that had been following him, his sword snaking around the creature's blade and popping it out of its hand. The thing stared at him for a moment, then turned to run. He slashed across the back of its knees, and it fell on its face. Another took its place, and Dax set his shoulders back.

How many so far? he had lost count. They were big it was true, but they were slow. As he had fought his gut-wrenching fear had dissipated, replaced with acceptance. He would win or he would die, and that was that. He threw a cocky grin at Ravak, and turned to face his next assailant.

OOC: I am attempting to earn my fourth sword point and Blight Lore with this thread, thus the insane amounts of detail. We can carry on as long as you like, or end it with your next post. Sup to you!

To Roan: All of his attacks are Forms, I just described them rather than using their name, given that Dax is a total pain.

[Craig]

Ravak Darrow

There were at least four Trollocs surrounding what had become of the Gaidin and her horse. Rav shot a glance out in Dax's direction, the black-haired Tairen dealing with his own group of Shadowspawn. Maybe it was sheer luck that Rav only had two Trollocs to deal with, one at a time, or maybe the beasts knew what the colour of their different uniforms meant. Either way, it wouldn't be long until both the Drin and Ji were overwhelmed if the Gaidar fell.

The nearest of the monstrous forms turned to meet him. It's long face, sunken beady eyes and wide furred ears made Rav think of a hyena. A large breastplate, dull black like coal, that could have served as a tower shield in a human's hands. The Drin wouldn't be able to run it through like the boar-tusked Trolloc.

Hyenaface gripped a massive barbed club, that may once have been a wagon's axle. Crude spikes had been attached, each one a good foot in length. Fear pressed in against the ko'di, but it held, albeit unsteadily. Rav raised his blades horizontally, getting ready to block an attack aimed either at his head or chest. The strike came from the side, the huge club sweeping towards him with all the full force the Trolloc could muster. Rav dropped to the ground; there was no chance of blocking or parrying. Something scraped across his back as the truncheon crossed overhead, pain searing in its wake. The focus he strove to hang onto started to yield.

Rav rose onto one knee, as Hyenaface shouldered his weapon. Its other hand reached out and gripped the Shienaran, hauling him up by his right shoulder. A clawed nail dug into the wound along his shoulderblades, and Rav felt blood pour down his back. Heavy, musky pants assailed the air between them, but more acrid was the smell of murder. The Drin wasn't going to be the Trolloc's first kill of the day.

Through the smell of death and the eye watering pain, Rav heard a cry. At first, he thought it was his own, but a moment later he realised it was a woman's howl. Monika. The Trolloc toting him turned briefly to look, just a slight twisting of its fibrous neck muscles. Rav used the momentary interruption to strike. He angled his longsword round the edge of the breastplate and penetrate the Trolloc's flank. It howled, dropping the Drin and swatting him the back of its fist. Rav half-rolled and was half-shunted to the side, at the Trolloc's other side. Rav used all of his strength to plunge his sword-breaker in, then twisted it hard as black blood poured over the crossguard and hilt. Hyenaface howled, but not before it brought its weapon to bare again. Once more Rav had to drop flat as spikes whisked overhead. This time, fortunately, nothing connected. There was a crash of wood against steel as the Trolloc fell, two blades still impaled in its sides.

With the most imminent threat lying in an expanding pool of blood, the ko'di vanished. The Shienaran shook like a leaf. His stomach churned at the smell of death and blood. His back was on fire, wetness slicking his uniform to the waist. His right arm, sore from the Trolloc's hand, still gripped onto his sword-breaker. He heaved the weapon out, crimson shimmering along its entire length. The teeth made to trap blades looked like a blood-soaked maw. It was an effort to get back to his feet, but he managed it.

Dax appeared at his side, and gave the Shienaran an arrogant grin. Smiling in the face of death. How could the Ji be so sure of himself? The mindset of southerners was still surprising, even after all this time amongst them.

Looking around, there were still enough Trollocs left standing to kill both of them easily, and they were encircling the two men with every pained heartbeat. But that wasn't what made Rav groan so loudly that it attracted Dax's attention for a moment. There was a gap in the Shadowspawn's ranks, and beyond it was Nothru. The silver gelding's eyes were entirely white, rolling in horror at the carnage, and yet there it stood, waiting. The groan was for the distance between them and the mount. Too far, even to run, before the Trollocs catch us. Even with a lifetime of duty and honour having been drilled into the Shienaran, he wanted to run away more than anything. One of them may be able to escape, if the other stayed back to hold off the Trollocs. Rav looked at Dax, and he knew the same thought had crossed the Tairen's mind. If they had both considered it, there was only one thing left to do. "What are your orders, Torellion?"

OOC: I'm not actually suggesting either of them run, despite Rav's line of thinking. Oh, and he's probably lost his longsword for good.

[Sunny]

Dax

"What are your orders, Torellion?"

Trollocs circled, but had not yet approached. Dax took advantage of the moment of calm to glance around. Monika had fallen; he saw the telltale flutter of her cloak on the ground. Her horse lay nearby, while Nothru, for a wonder, still lingered near. Stuck in the Blight with only one horse and no one to guide us home. For a moment his stomach soured, but then his eyes turned to the man at his side. He had at least ten years on Ravak Darrow, more training, and more world experience. He could see fear in those gray eyes, though the man's face remained stolid. Good man. The problem was that good men died in battle far too frequently even when fully armed...and Ravak had lost his sword.

The Tairen flipped his dagger and handed it to his companion hilt first- anything was better than nothing. "Stay near me," he said shortly. "If we get separated," his sword arm swung up to block a blow, "we're both dead." Black blade and silver locked, and Dax strained against the downward pressure, teeth gritted. Finally he shifted his weight, lifted his leg, and kicked the beast in the knee. It howled and stumbled; Dax broke the lock, then swung his sword back to pulverize the Shadowspawn's face. Black blood sprayed and he turned his head away, grimacing.

"Move south if you can," he added, and then there was no more time for talking. He had to work doubly hard now to cover both Ravak and himself. His body ached in a way that foretold trouble if he did not stop soon. The temptation to leave the fiery Shienaran behind and run stuck in his head. His chance to do so grew slimmer by the minute. As his strength began to fail in truth, he began to search for opportunities. It would be a pity to lose the progress he had made at the Tower, but it wouldn't be the first time he had had to start over. He would manage.

Before he could actually take the first step on that final path, he heard a sound from the west: hoof beats and the clinking of metal on metal. He turned, parried a blow that would have taken Rav's arm off his shoulder, and saw men in Shienaran colors approaching on horseback. Offering up a fervent, if rather inappropriately phrased, prayer of thanks, Dax shifted his stance and attacked again.

When the last of the Trollocs had been chased down and dispatched, the leader of the new group rode up to Dax, looking down at him with cold eyes. "What happened here?" Dax looked around him absently; the world felt oddly distant and seemed to fade around the edges. His head and side were on fire; he reached for his ribs, and realized that cloth and armor were sodden there. They got me harder than I thought.

"Trollocs," he managed to say, and then he blacked out.

OOC: Eh. Nothing that isn't Healable.

[Craig]

Ravak

Eyes wide with fear, the Drin fought on with all of the strength he could muster, which wasn't saying much. That ragged slash across his back was searing pain that threatened to sap all of his vigour away. With the ko'di unobtainable, muscle memory kicked in whilst he focused on reaching Nothru. He didn't move with the same finesse as the Tairen, keeping to tried and tested blocks and parries. One curved sword blade got within an itch of his eye before he was able to turn it aside, and a spear or halberd scored his side from amongst a flurry of attacks. Lost in the heat of battle, it wasn't until the Shienaran lancers were upon them that Rav realised they had reinforcements. The Trollocs thinned, until the last was put down with a chilling cry.

Rav looked around, making a slow turn to scan the entire landscape. Huge black mounds marked where Trollocs had fallen, with dark blood oozing into the barren ground. That same blood streaked across his sword-breaker. Distant thoughts flickered at the edge of his consciousness. Trolloc blood scores metal. He tore part of his sleeve off, and wiped the blade clean.

The air was stifling, and not from the heat. Dropping to his knees, Rav emptied the contents of his stomach. His back flared with each spasm. Dry retching followed for what seemed like an Age, until the pain in his throat started to rival that of his other injuries.

A gauntled hand pulled the Drin up once the heaving had stopped. Rav let himself be raised onto his feet. He glanced at the mounted soldiers. The sigil of Lord Yokata. Dax was strapped onto Nothru's back, the gelding tied to one of the lancers' warhorses. He needs a Healer. Rav opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Tugging at the soldier's arm, he indicated to his uniform. We're Grey Tower men. The Citadel. Whether Fal Eisen or the Citadel was closer, he didn't know, but-

"We'll get you back to the Citadel, lad." That was more reassuring coming from a Shienaran mouth. He was pulled up into a saddle behind one of the other lancers - neither Dax's nor Monika's mount had survived - and held on as firmly as he could.
- - - Stretched out in a bed in the Citadel's infirmary, Rav groggily raised himself into a sitting position. The bed was hard, but the air was cool and largely scentless, a blessed relief from the Blight. He shuddered just from thinking about it. Stop it. The rawness of the memories would fade with time, someone had told him. At least he'd moved beyond feeling sick every time his mind thought abou- Stop it!

He looked to his left, at the Tairen lying in the bed beside him. Dax looked just as tired as Rav felt, but he had a grin on that spoke of mischief, and his eyes wandered from woman to woman with an appraising glint. How does he manage it? Rav wished he had Dax's way of handling things, with a grin and good humour. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine he was back in his back in Fal Dara, before days of Trollocs or of the Grey Tower. He wanted nothing more than to feel safe again.