Misadventures of the Minstrel - Northern Dojo (Zorolo)

The ice crystals, gleaming like diamonds scattered upon the tundra, crackled underfoot, accompanying the twangy melody of Louis’ harmonica as he continued on his trek through the northern Hielo plains. The minstrel was in a bit of a sour mood, the cold weather having thrown off the fine-tuning of his fiddle, but he persevered on his journey to guide his charges nonetheless. When asked if his foul mood was the cause for his instrument’s poor timbre, he huffed at the inquirer and remained silent for a few hours, content with giving the offender the silent treatment until they had revoked their statement. Unable to bear the lonely quiet of the tundra for long, the man cracked and apologized in a mere two hours’ time.

The trip was otherwise uneventful, and to pass the time as they marched on through barren expanses of frozen land and snow, Louis told stories, sang songs of heroes and adventure, and because his companions had been interested, spoke of his skills with his halberd and sword. They made few stops along the way, but the going was rough, and landmarks to go by were scarce. Louis had never been one to rely on the stars for directions, but he found himself now almost entirely dependent upon them.

The sky is spectacularly clear, he thought, during a rare instance when they had stopped to rest. And yet…and yet I cannot shake the feeling that hail may be forthcoming. This feeling in my bones…it has always heralded poor weather.

In three more days, the bard and his party arrived in the town of Nieva, where his charges were to be left for training. Sword training, I believe they said. Although they certainly do not look like the swordsman type.

Curious to see the teachers whose talents warranted such a long trip, Louis invited himself along as his three clients went to what they called a “dojo” to meet with their masters.

The building was of a style of architecture Louis had never before seen. Uniformly-cut, hand-dyed, crimson boards of a wood he could not identify formed the roof, leading the minstrel to wonder how, with all the moisture from the snow, the roof never caved in because of rot. The exterior walls were a delicate cream, the hue differing from white only by the smallest perceptible degree, and at about mid-height, a sepia-colored, wooden border ran along them. And the doors--double doors in fact—were of the same shade of brown, and were engraved with intricate designs of arctic wolves, thin-bladed swords, and moons that seemed almost lifelike in their astounding level of detail.

Walking inside behind his charges, Louis began wondering if the swordplay of the teachers was as anywhere near as artful as the carvings on their doors. If not, he joked to himself, he just may need to take the dojo for his own. Such a remarkable place deserves a worthy master, he thought with a soft laugh.

The main training room was empty at the moment, but the minstrel could hear the footsteps and quiet conversation of two men heading down the hall. As the pair rounded the corner, Louis caught a glimpse of fiery red hair and a large, impressive sword.

If that is the manner of blade they are using in this place, then perhaps I should stick around...

OoC: Sorry for the shortness and overall lack of quality. As I told Awkin earlier this week, I haven't been writing my best fiction lately. :embrsd:

Cold. The very element the red haired man had been born in, and trained in, for the past several years. As the cold winds past and the frigid, wintery chill set in, the ice innate walked as if nothing about was different then room temperature to the average person. The ice below him, and the seemingly endless, ever changing terrain of the tundra. The ice innate rested his left hand on the hilt of his sword, seemingly walking into the arctic chill that pushed towards the red haired youth.

The swordsman had headed into the tundra in order to find a dojo where he could train with a swords master who's fame extended over many lands. Perhaps, with more training with his sword, the ice warrior could overcome the man that had defeated him; the man who's evil was so great, that the red haired youth felt obliged to kill him. This fate was inescapable, but at the same time, it was like a nightmare. The brown eyed elemental warrior continued to slowly trudge his way towards the dojo, even if he didn't have the slightest idea where it was he was heading to.

As each blast of icy wind never came anywhere near Zachary's face though. Each blast seemed to be moved around an invisible barrier, only noticeable from the movement of the ice and snow that had been pushed by each movement of the wind. Although Zachary could not create ice out of air, when a source of ice or water was near enough to use, he could put it to good use, and the frozen winds were no different. They contained massive amounts of frozen water vapor, therefore, the ice innate could manipulate them, even if it was only around his body.

The ice innate continued to walk through the endless tundra, days away from any city or town or village or anything of that nature, so if Zachary were to need to turn around and try to head back, death would be the only feasible result. Leos had taken the time to stock up on food and water enough to last him the extent of his travels, or as long as he thought it would take; the swordsman didn't know anything but rumors that he had heard from people, namely that the dojo was a week away from the city he had just left recently.

The red haired youth felt something slowing the icy wind as he continued to travel north in the endless tundra. Nothing lived out here, so Zachary had no fear of being assaulted by wolves or things of that nature. Slowly, the ice innate moved ever closer to his goal, and hopes of finding this master swordsman to help the swordsman become strong enough to conquer that green haired man. So soon would the youth be able to overcome that man, he could taste it, and the taste of victory was worth any journey.

Suddenly, it came into view; the youth could see it, the old wooden building that housed him, the legendary swords master that could train the youth in swordsmanship, making him stronger then he was, and possibly powerful enough to defeat the fencer who's power was astounding. The lavish decoration and the beautiful designs drew the boy in almost immediately, and something about them made the ice innate feel right at home.

The boy ascended the stairs slowly, looking at the door, and slowly reaching his hand out to open it. The boy walked through the door and began looking around. "Hello, anyone here?" the ice innate asked, looking at the strange building.

"Yes sir," a man asked, walking up to the ice innate and looking him over. The man that approached was dressed in very strange looking outfit. His shirt was red and very loose except for at the wrists and waist, where it was tight enough to lightly bind his skin, keeping it very firm, no matter what kind of movement he made. His pants were dark blue and had the image of a white tiger on both pant legs, the claws golden and reaching about the mid-thigh. The bottom of the pants snugly grabbed onto the man's feet, and at the waist, the pants also had the strange, elastic band. The man had brown hair and deep blue eyes, but something about him seemed to make the swordsman feel welcome. At the man's side, he had a long, slender sword that was in a very decorated scabbard. "Why have you come?"

"I'm here to speak with the Master of this dojo, I need to master my sword," the ice innate said, motioning to his runeblade, "in order to defeat a man that I think is pure evil."

"Although your cause sounds just, I cannot allow you to see the Master," the man told Zachary.

"Why not?!" the youth asked, still resting his right hand on his sword.

"The Master will only allow me to allow people to pass if they are here to train for the sake of training, not to use the skills they learn for any reason other then they have a desire to learn the swords."

"But I have a righteous reason!"

"Right and wrong; good and evil; these are all reasons that can appear one way to one person, and another way to another man. Perception is how that is taken, so it is not a reason for you to study here."

"How about a deal, I'll defeat any person you choose, and if I do, you will let me train under the Master. What do you say?"

"Sounds like a fair deal, now all I need you to do is find you an opponent," the pupil stated as he saw the door open and four people walk in.

Louis' three charges drew their swords as walked the few paces to the center of the room. Compared with his own, their grips were tremendously awkward, and less sure. The minstrel could plainly see why they felt they were in need of training.

The two men, obviously bashful about their lack of skill, turned their backs on each other, and began making short swinging motions, the arcs of which they confined to the space where, if one were to watch them from behind, their bodies would block the view of their sword and its motion. Only the sounds of the blades slicing through the air hinted to Louis that they were actually moving their swords or arms at all.

The woman just turned the pommel of her sword over and over in her hand, giggling and fawning over it like a schoolgirl. She held it up to see the blade catch the light, and accidentally knocked herself on the forehead. Louis had to caution her before she performed the act a second time.

These three are like children, he observed. He spat thoughtfully on the floor and sighed. They're pathetic. They've squandered all their time prior to this on buying needlessly ornate swords, instead of settling for a duller one with which to learn the basics. What a wasted effort coming here was.

When the bard glanced up again from his boots, he took notice of a ponytailed man in peculiar attire gesturing towards him. Beside him was the redhead with the remarkably large sword that he had seen not long before.

"That man," said the ponytailed swordsman to the redhead, "that man will be your opponent. Simply by the way he carries himself, one can see he is an adept swordsman."

Just from that you can tell, eh? Louis thought, furrowing his brow. He called back to the strangely dressed man, "Opponent for what, may I ask?"

The oddly dressed warrior laughed at Louis' question. "Why, my good sir, you shall be this fine lads foe to see if he can be allowed to enter this dojo as a student," the warrior informed the veteran. "What do you say, sir?" the man asked, looking upon the minstrel and smiling.

Whilst the warrior and the war veteran spoke, the ice innate watched, standing silently, utterly ignored. That guy, he isn't dressed like any warrior I've ever seen, and what is with those instrument cases? He looks more like a traveling troubadour then a warrior, the red haired boy mocked the warrior mentally. Aside from that though, this guy does look pretty strong. He has no weapons, though, so I'll beat him quickly and earn my way into this stupid dojo, the youth told himself, smiling.

Slowly, the ice warrior turned to the warrior and told him, "I'll fight this guy. I think it would be a good warm up match anyway, just to get my power flowing," the ice warrior told the veteran and the entrance examiner. "Do you think we could fight outside, though?" the ice warrior asked.

"If your foe has no problem with that being your battlefield, then no, I don't. Actually, it would be the best place to have a fight, because there is no room in here," the fancy warrior told the swordsman, who merely looked at him with annoyance.

Why would they not let Zachary into this place? He wanted so bad to know, because the sword training he could get here would be invaluable, especially against the fencer, whenever the two warriors met again. The ice innate would make sure he killed the green haired man if it were the last thing he ever did, and if he could gain this training, he would have no problem doing what he desired. The ice innate crossed his arms, awaiting an answer from his opponent.

"That is fine," the man responded, looking at Leos. "Shall we begin?" the bard asked the young swordsman, moving towards the door and opening. "Well?" he asked as the ice innate and the examiner followed.

Slowly, the two warriors moved across from one another, looking at each other fiercely, the ice innate moving the icy winds around him, to prevent the frosty touch from grazing him. "I guess we should begin, but there is one thing I want to do," the red haired boy stated, holding out his hand and closing his eyes, focusing his control over ice into one spot.

Slowly, ice from the winds began to gather, combining and taking a form of something. With every second that passed by, the strange thing became more and more weapon like. Slowly, it formed a sword, almost identical to the one that the entrance examiner had. The ice innate unsheathed his rune blade slightly, revealing two runes and letting their energies flow into the ice and freezing it into an ice sword, condensed to be hard as steal.

The ice warrior sheathed back up his rune sword and extended his right hand, grabbing the new sword of super frozen ice. The boy looked at his new ice weapon and smiled at his foe. "What do you think?" the ice innate asked, looking at the strange sword he had created.

The ice weapon was much lighter then the youth's rune blade, even if it was much less durable. The ice sword could be easily maintained in this battlefield, because with every piece that was damaged, it could be replaced. The blade was two feet six inches, and the hilt stood at eight inches, making the sword a rather long, yet thin blade. The ice fighter swung his new sword around, getting a feel for it.

"Let's dance!" the boy ordered, holding his new sword in one hand and getting ready to fight.

Louis found himself laughing softly at the boy's eagerness, and what could only be called a "no-nonsense" attitude. Still laughing, he hefted his fiddle and clarinet cases off his back, and lightly kicked his clarinet case off to the side near the dojo wall. As the examiner and the young man watched on, both intrigued and somewhat confused, Louis bent down and unlatched the locks on the fiddle case with a flick of his thumb, just as he had done a thousand times over.

The hard leather container popped open with a click and let out a puff of warm air. Behind the wooden stringed instrument lay Louis' steel halberd, and he eyed it fondly before taking hold of the grip and nudging the case and the fiddle aside. The crisp white light gleamed brightly off every inch of the steel as Louis brandished the polearm.

"Weren't quite expecting a weapon of this manner, were you now?" he teased as he stopped cutting flourishes in the air, now pointing the halberd at the examiner and the boy.

The examiner shook his head.

Louis smiled and stepped forward, removing his hat to let it be carried away by the icy winds. He grasped his halberd firmly, bowed, and said to the boy, "I confer upon you the opening move."

"Hehehehehe," the swordsman laughed looking at his foes unorthodox weapon. "Good choice of weapon there, bub," the ice innate stated, the icy gusts blowing around the boy in an almost dome like fashion. The ice warrior gripped his new sword with interest, but knew it wouldn't last long against his foes weapon, but it had a greater purpose. "Some swordsman you are! I mean, that thing doesn't even constitute a weapon in the sword class, nor in the spear class, its a mix between an ax and spear. I'll crush you all the same, I need to defeat you, you are merely a stepping stone to that man," the youth stated, swinging his sword to the side and then pointing it back at the minstrel.

The veteran didn't respond, merely moving his weapon down slightly, merely waiting for the red haired fighter to make his move. It seemed almost too easy, all the terrain was frozen, and yet this bard was unafraid of a boy who clearly could control the very elements that danced around the two warriors.

The frozen fighter smiled at his foe, embracing the man's lack of fear, and using it as a reason that this battle might be of some interest. The youth made his move, charging at the warrior, dragging his ice blade along the ground and quickly swinging the sword in a diagonal motion as the warrior swung his halberd at the boy in opposition, the two weapons clashing, and shards of ice exploding in all directions.

It had been just as Zachary had predicted, and now there were needles of the purest ice around the minstrel from the youth's shattered ice sword. The weapon had been shattered to just above the hilt, and as soon as the boy released the blade, the hilt exploded into additional shards, dancing around him. "Do you understand my power?" the ice warrior asked, drawing his rune blade and holding it tightly, making a powerful slash at his foe in an identical manner as he had prior.

The musical fighter merely looked at the man opaquely, swinging his ax in a powerful forward motion and locking blades with the ice innate, an attack that had proven to be dangerous to other who had tried similar things. "You can't begin to understand why I am here, so I'll just defeat you now and not worry about it. How does that sound to you?" the ice swordsman asked in a sadistic tone, holding one hand up and closing it.

As the warrior's fingers clenched, several ice shards shot towards the veteran, who now noticed why the red haired fighter had shattered the ice sword. It made the perfect medium to create about fifteen ice shards, now were all aimed towards the expert warrior.

Brilliant daggers of ice darted towards Louis at varying, unpredictable speeds, threatening to take out an eye or cut through flesh with their crystalline points. Without alarm, Louis loosened his grip on his halberd and spread his legs wide, balancing his weight evenly upon each foot. He drew in a deep, oxygen-rich breath--a woodwind musician's breath--and held it in the pit of his lungs, allowing it to swirl about and draw in the warmth of his body. He could feel the very heat in that air radiating from inside, massing into a conglomeration of body-temperature particles. Then, as the ice shards entered within his range, he gave a great exhale, and the warm gust from his extraordinary lungs gushed out to meet the needles, melting countless numbers of them. The remaining ice shards either missed their mark or were crushed against the swift steel strokes of his halberd.

"Do you think I have not fought in such conditions?" Louis asked, grinning in a taunting way.

The response was met with a most indignant grunt.

With a leap, Louis closed the gap between the boy and him, and delivered a series of feints and cuts which forced the swordsman to give ground. A final slash nearly knocked the younger man off his feet.

“You’ll have to step it up to keep up, my boy," he said, avoiding a hasty counterstrike.

The ice innate smiled and pushed his foot hard against the ground, launching himself back skidding to a stop as he slid across the ice as he rose. "I'm impressed, old man, you haven't lost your touch with time," the youth stated, unimpressed by his foe. "Then again, they say your knowledge grows with age, but it comes at a price, and that is strength," the ice warrior stated as he rushed the veteran, who quickly prepared himself for combat.

The youth, with a strong step forwards, swung his great blade down towards the soldier, who moved his halberd to the side, deflecting the innate's weapon, and followed up with a stab at the boy. Zachary, though, was wholly ready, and forced his weapon to the side, deflecting the steel blade and gave the warrior room to throw a powerful shoulder, knocking Louis to the ground.

"Here's an idea, give up before I'm forced to kill you to get into this place. I have to learn the art of the sword, to defeat that man, and I won't let anyone stop me," Zachary said as he looked at the examiner of the battle. "You hear that?" the boy asked boisterously, readying his sword again, knowing full well his foe would go another round.

So he's got a touch of spunk, a dash of resolve, and the shine of ambition in his eyes. Ah, the passion of youth, with its fresh furies, Louis reminisced as he flowed from one stance into another; deflecting, advancing, and thrusting with the great swooping blade of his halberd. He's underestimated the vigor still resting within these old bones--if anything, all this lad may have on me is reflexes, and those abilities to enchant the icy winds to do his bidding.

Zachary locked his sword into a grapple of blades with Louis, pushing what he had mistaken as his advantage; Louis played along, giving into the boy's strength and bending at the knees until he was in a full-on squat. The warrior's pride in the boy's eyes was welling up so much in his moment of triumph, and it dazzled the onlookers who could recognize the telltale glint.

"As I said: the price you paid for your wisdom was your strength," he whispered between clenched teeth, pressing down with his sword ever the more.

But then, with a swift, sudden, and unrelenting shove from Louis, the young swordsman's arrogance abruptly turned to a flash of surprise and panic. Propelled by his muscular legs, Louis had used Zachary's overconfidence against him, and had forcefully catapulted the young man looming over him off the attacking position and right into the side of the dojo with a resounding wham! The boy slumped down from the impact, rubbing his throbbing head and muttering to himself. When he drew his hand back, it was slightly moistened by blood.

"Head wounds are the worst, eh?" Louis called out, smiling somewhat mockingly.

The ice innate rubbed his head and looked over at the man, smirking slightly. "Yeah, you should know, especially seeing as you must have taken one to many," the ice warrior stated as he held his hand in front of the wound and ice began to develop over it. Despite the stinging freeze of it, the feel of ice over wounds was always better then the feel of blood dripping from them.

The swordsman rose and grabbed his weapon up from the ground, standing up wholly as stronger icy gusts blew around the two warriors, almost creating a complete circular arena. Despite the danger oft his battle, Zachary couldn't help but feel this battle was far more interesting then any of the other fools that had arrived with this minstrel. His veteran skills of combat made the ice innate slightly intrigued, and the ice innate stabbed his blade into the ground and began channeling energy into the wind around him, causing ice to gathered into the form of another weapon.

"You got me good last time, so let us see how well you fight against a weapon that is rather ill seen, sadly," the ice innate told the man as the weapon revealed its form as an ice spear. It, too, was made of the super strong ice that was bound by the energies of the ice innate's sword. Zachary was slightly drained, and slowly growing fatigued, but this battlefield made the fight seem almost too easy for Zachary to win.

I can't, nor will I, lose! This man's has to be at least twice my age, and if I lose, it will be embarrassing! I will win," the ice warrior told himself as he charged with his spear held tightly in his hand as the powerful thrusts of the spear of the warrior began to quickly move.

The spearhead the boy formed was brilliantly beautiful; even in the midst of a battle Louis could appreciate the aesthetics of a weapon. It wasn't often that his passion as a fighter was roused, but something in this boy's attitude and determination struck him as admirable, and he found himself thinking it would be a shame to deny such a vigorous young lad a truly challenging duel.

In a more serious manner he parried the advances of the ice-wielder, bringing a closer approximation of his full strength and speed to bear. Ice and steel clashed again and again, each time ending in a stalemate, albeit often one that slightly favored one combatant a bit more than the other; once in a while a proximity was afforded to Louis, and he managed a sweeping kick that knocked the boy off his firm stance. On the other hand, the grapples sometimes ended with a swift move from the young swordsman, where he scored a forceful shove or kick of his own. The onlookers watched the ebb and flow of the battle with gasps of awe, and on a few occasions, reverent applause for a clever move. Both fighters showed honorable behavior when the fighting drew too close to the woman on the sidelines, and they mutually agreed to cease for a moment and move back to the center of the battlefield. On the whole, Louis was enjoying himself a great deal, and couldn't recall the last duel that had exhilarated him so.

"I'm surprised by your considerable stamina, young lad," he said as he made a low slash with his halberd, the boy's ice spear dropping down to counter. "But I'm afraid your weapon might not be as hardy--I've been attacking key points on the face of the blade, and unless it has become steel right under my nose, it should shatter in the next few hits."

Zachary just seemed to smile at this, and he struck back at Louis as if he paid no heed to what the minstrel thought was a kind and sporting warning on his part. Sighing at the lad's recklessness, Louis continued to block the thrusts as he counted off the last remaining hits. Four...three...two...one, and--

The bard hesitated on the last blow, expecting the spear to burst, but instead found himself struck in the abdomen by a fierce forward slash. He fell over in both pain and shock, staring at the proudly grinning boy with wide eyes.

"W-why--it was supposed to break!"

OoC: Wheee, I was feeling kind of rusty, but I actually like this post! ^_^

OoC: Actually, I liked that post, and now its my turn to explain how.

BiC: The ice innate looked at the man, stepping backwards and holding out his ice spear, the weapon having only a few scrapes and chips on it that slowly repaired themselves through unseen forces. The red haired boy then smiled and decided he might as well explain what had happened to the man. "Before you have a heart attack, old man, I guess I'll tell you where you went wrong. You see, we are in the middle of the Arctic, and I have an abundance of ice in the air that I can draw into my weapon and continually strengthen it as you attack. Your attempt was good, but you fell slightly short. Now then, its time for me to win," the youth stated, holding the tip of the spear towards the ground and the but of the spear at an angle, getting ready to attack.

The veteran looked at the boy and took his own stance, getting ready to counter attack at the ice warrior. Perhaps Louis had underestimated the red haired warrior, or maybe it was just setting, but Leos told himself he had an easy victory against this man. With a slight push, the youth charged at the battle hardened warrior who began evading at a slightly faster speed, avoiding the nearly endless barrage of thrusts the swordsman launched at him.

The ice innate spun his foot and then began swinging his ice spear down at his foe, who side stepped each attack with expert timing. Even if Fritz couldn't avoid Leos' attack, he'd merely raise his halberd and block the attack and push the spear away as the swordsman continued his volley. Although he gained no ground against the skilled fighter, the ice warrior did manage to push the veteran to the edge of the battlefield where the icy winds blew with near enough power to freeze a person solid.

This is it! the ice warrior told himself as he swung his blade down, expecting his foe to step back and move into the powerful ice storm, but instead, he pushed forward, thrusting his halberd's blade into the swordsman's chest, causing the boy to drop his spear and step back, freezing the shallow wound, but still shocked. How did he know? He must have known what I was planning when I started attacking in that method, the youth told himself, figuring out his foe was no average warrior.

The bard spun his blade around quickly and pointed the blade of his weapon at the swordsman, getting ready to attack and charge. The minstrel began his movements quickly, charging. His first move caused the boy to roll to the side, avoiding the down swing of the old fighter. Louis' next attacks were a mix of thrusts and swipes, all that the boy narrowly evaded until he rolled, grabbing his sword by the hilt and pulling it from the ground, locking blades with Fritz again.

The two warriors stood silently, their blades locked, and Leos now had and advantage. He began using his powers to move the spear he had created. This move was risky if he did it wrong, because if Zachary moved too early, the bard would be able to evade; too late, and Zachary would be dead. This would take perfect timing, and that, sad to say, was not something that the red haired boy had. "If you give up now, I won't do what I need to to win. Please, just give in," the ice innate asked, feeling the man pushing him back.

Louis was a bit taken aback by the boy's change in attitude, although the surprise only lightly showed upon his pronounced features. His keen eyes searched out the lad's face for the signs and twitches of an ulterior motive; the dilation and contraction of the pupils that acts like the clenching, unsteady heart. Uneasiness could be read in his manner and voice; Louis decided to push on, resolved to make the boy face whatever it was that riled up this new discomfort in him.

"I'm not ready to abandon this contest just yet," the man said, watching closely for the effect his words had. Zachary's face looked like that of a person holding back a distressed sigh between firmly gritted teeth.

As the seconds went on, the minstrel prepared himself for what might come.

OoC: Sorry for the extreme shortness, but it seemed appropriate for the situation. ^^;;

As the two faced down, the young swordsman continued to try to push his sword forward, clearing any thoughts away that would ruin his plan. His mind worked hard, straining itself the grab the spear that had perched itself so far away. This was a dangerous move, and it took precision and timing... even against these odds, that move was the best course of action. Despite it being the best action, could the ice innate actually go through with it.

This is dangerous, the swordsman thought to himself, because if I don't move, that spear will impale both of us, but it's not just that. If I go through with this and he dies, I'll be nothing more then a common murderer. I'll be no better then Kellson. That thought made a chill run up Zachary's spine and his skin crawl. He couldn't just kill this guy, he'd have to find a better way to defeat him, but perhaps that spear would still help, after all, if you can't move, how well can you fight? was the ice innate's last thought as his fingers continued to try to pull the spear forwards.

The red haired youth had a new plan, and it would definitely take his foe by surprise. Suddenly though, something that the ice innate did not wholly expect happened, and he found the butt of his foe's halberd driven into his side, forcing the youth to step backwards in pain. As fast as he had been struck by the weapon, another blow from the man's ax-like weapon came down, and the ice warrior had to jump back, but he did so with a smile on his face.

"Okay, old man, its time we ended this," he said, holding his palm out to the man; his eyes were closed, focusing his energy and lifting the spear up. Now he would strike! "It was fun, and you were a good foe, but you can't beat the power of youth," the ice innate said as his eyes opened and his palm closed, the spear now moved at the man's legs, and how, in the world, could the veteran dodge an attack he didn't see coming?

One of the benefits of being an older fighter-- Louis thought, springing back out of the arch of Zachary's spear that he had anticipated, --is the amazing heightening of your instincts. You can read intentions in faces and stances; you can perceive the nature and motions of a battle.

Zachary's mouth was agape for a fraction of a second at the man's avoidance of the strike--then he shook the surprise off and tried his attack again.

It is time I tried what I have learned from another impressive youth, Louis told himself. As the man's figure shot back to narrowly dodge the blow, he let out a shrill, high, whooping whistle that sent both the blade of his halberd and of the lad's spear reverberating. The trick not only made his opponent's grip shaky, but it seemed to incite a sonic-wave that emanated from the tip of the halberd. Catching Zachary off his guard, the sound made the boy reel until he nearly fell over backwards.

"I am not without my own remarkable abilities," Louis said, grabbing his halberd firmly as the boy stood to fight again.

The young warrior's breathing had become unsteady and warn as the swordsman was. He was tired; actually, tired wasn't even the word to describe what he was at that moment. His body ached, his magic was nearly depleted, and he had gained absolutely no ground on his foe. It would be hard to push himself to his feet at this point, and yet, he had to. He needed this training to defeat that man with green hair.

"I... cannot... lose!" he yelled, grasping the hilt of his sword and driving the blade into the ground. He used the weapon to push himself to his feet, the icy winds that had once raged in a circular manner had all but dissipated. This battle was not going to be won by the youth's special powers. Magic had all but proved itself useless, and brute force was a waste since this man was clearly stronger.

Even so, the ice innate had to push on. If he couldn't survive this trial, what chance would he have against the green haired man. The runes on Leos' sword had all stopped glowing, signifying his magical energy was drained, not that it had helped him much to begin with. Now, the ice warrior would either have to be clever, or become amazingly powerful to defeat this foe.

His exasperation clearly appeared over his face as he looked at this warrior, Louis Fritz. Why won't you give up and let me claim the training I so justly deserve? the ice innate asked himself, for it was not his foe, but himself, that had brought this defeat upon him. It had not been the veteran who had drained all of his energy, nor had it been the bard that had exhausted himself, these things were all Zachary's doing, and he couldn't simply undo them now. He had entered the combat pit, and he now needed to finish it.

With nothing but his sword, weak though the red haired youth was, he would stand strong against this foe. After all, triumph begins with "try" and ends with oomph! And oomph was what the ice innate needed right now. Something to push him over the top and make him stronger as a swordsman, rather then as a mage as he had always focused himself. He held his blade before him and smiled, weakened and frustrated as it was.

"I can't lose here," he said clearly, making sure he sounded strong, "because I must defeat a man in the world. That green haired man is the source of my problems, and when he dies, I will be content. Until he is, I am an avenger, and I shall be! For anyone who has ever been slain without cause, I will avenge that person and bring suffering upon those that committed the act. I am no mere youth, I am Zachary Leos!" he said, the amount of pride in his name echoing from his lungs. "I won't lose!" he repeated, charging his foe with his blade ready.

Louis felt some part of his soul touched by the boy's words, but he wouldn't let things end that easily. He reclined back on a boot, awaiting the lad's forward charge, and then deftly sidestepped out of his path like a matador avoiding an onrushing bull--only this particular "bull", he could plainly see, had very little steam left in him. With Zachary's momentum working against him, the blow on his back from the minstrel's halberd sent him sailing into a hardened snowdrift.

Concerned glances from the onlookers were exchanged with the examiner, but the ponytailed swordsman held up an austere hand to hold back their cries and comments.

"Wait," he said. "It will end soon; there's no need to interfere just yet."

Once Zachary picked himself back up, Louis erupted into a series of slashes and cuts, intending to wear down the young fighter. Judging from the feeble and slow parries and counters, the bard could see the fight's conclusion was, as the examiner had said, very near.

The red haired boy's sword moved as fast as he could managed, which by this time was rather slowly, trying to knock away the halberd. With each successful deflection, would come a quick attack, cutting the ice innate's body. The veteran and everyone watched, knowing the youth could hold on for little longer, but he still fought to remain strong. Even though all odds stacked against him, Zachary couldn't give up.

The red haired boy's sword moved quickly, knocking the halberd to the side, but quickly its wielder responded, thrusting the weapon into the youth's leg, causing him to fall to one knee. As an overhead attack fell from the bard, the ice warrior knocked it to the side, but couldn't evade the follow up slash that left a shallow cut along the red haired youth's right arm. A cry of pain left the youth's mouth as the cut fell, and followed soon after was his sword, which hit the ground.

The youth's right eye closed in pain as he looked up at his foe. Another warrior that had proved himself superior to the ice warrior, who found only pride that he had found such a chance to fight a strong foe. Even so, the youth couldn't concede defeat; Leos would rather be defeated in combat then surrender.

"You fought well," Fritz stated spinning around quickly and smacking the boy across the side of his head with the side of his halberd, throwing the ice innate to the side and knocking him out.

***o=)---------- ----------(=o***

The red haired boy's eyes opened slowly. He wasn't where they had fought, but rather, laying on a bed within the dojo that he had desired to be trained in. His room was small and decorated in bamboo designs that made the youth feel rather misplaced. He recalled all too well the battle, and how his own foolishness had cost him such an important battle. Well, it was obvious to Zachary he still had a good deal to learn, and such a strong foe had taught him much.

Suddenly, the examiner walked in, smiling at the sight of the red haired boy's awakening. "Well, it seems you are fine. That was an impressive fight, I must say. I never thought such a young boy would be able to fight against an expert like Louis Fritz so evenly."

Zachary raised his eyebrow quizzically to the man, trying to sit up, but not capable of managing such a feat. His body was racked with pain, and all he could feel where the cuts and stabs in his body were. "That guy was good. So, where did he go to?" the ice innate asked the man with interest.

"Fritz? He's gone off. He is a traveling minstrel, and his job was done. Who knows, maybe your and his paths will cross again one day, but who knows?" the examiner said smiling at the red haired warrior.

Zachary smiled and looked at the examiner. "As soon as I can walk again, I'm leaving," the ice innate stated as he laid back down. "I've got a person to find, and I don't care what it takes, but I will defeat him."

"Who, Fritz?" the man asked.

"No, another man. A man that is stronger then I think Fritz is. I'll go find that man and defeat him so I can prove exactly how strong I am!" the ice warrior stated.

OoC: Good battle, Altamira. If you want to make a closing post, feel free. Man this battle was good fun!

Smiling, Louis looked over his shoulder at the modest town behind him until the high, snow-capped roofs became mere twinkling specks and touches of pure white on the horizon. A hush had come over the tundra; here and there brambles would bristle up from frozen patches, a cool wind blowing through them, but aside from these small, haggard plants, there was no signs of life; no records etched in the snow to tell of what had transpired in the nearby dojo.

Moved by a sudden impulse, the minstrel hefted his fiddle case off his back and unlocked it, tenderly lifting up the instrument inside. Closing the box again, he tucked his fiddle under his strong chin, and plucked a single string with care. The note rang out, clear and unwavering. Louis got the impression that the echo could run to the town and far beyond.

Taking his instrument's bow in hand, the bard began to compose a new ballad; the song, with each robust note, telling a tale of a determined young fighter and the admirable zeal with which he strived to achieve his goals.

OoC: ...And that's all I wanted to add. Thanks for the battle, Zorolo. I enjoyed writing it. ^_^