Siege & Escape [Open]

[Lord Seeker Lambert]

If there was one thing Lambert liked, it would have to be courage. Just now as his five bravest, strongest warriors charged to take down the beast he let out a smile, a grin which seemed to jeer cynically at the boy-beast. Lambert recalled the names of these five; Andal, Carter who is ever-so-jeerful, Alishe, Ricard from Val Chevin and Davil, the youngest of them five - yet to prove himself to the Seekers.

Lambert still had his own doubts of the men; none of them were used to fighting dragons, even less very aggressive and powerful dragons. And so it was as he assumed, the brave man-at-arms fell quickly to the beast's blade(How could a dragon hold a sword and still use it like an expert?). There was seemingly no effect to the death of their leader, although Davil grinned of fear before he could hide it.

The four seekers left quickly encircled the beast, poking with their swords ,feinting with their maces and axes. Carter was the first of them to take a step towards the beast, releasing a mocking laugh as he approached. Lambert could see no crack in his mentality - Carter had always been the brightest of them. He had quickly acknowledged the possibility of such beasts. But he had not prepared for the following. The beast leapt towards him, shouting while in the air, and cast aside Carter's shield. His last prayers were interrupted rudely as the beast brought down his blade, killing him instantly.

Lambert raised his eyebrows, untouched by the death of his fellow warrior. He had expected a tougher fight between the two, but war was full of surprises - all in all, he took the loss with unwavering equanimity. Now the boy was facing two of the last remaining three templars - this should be a much fairer fight. However, the boy somehow got behind Alishe, killing her with a blade that seemed to be her own. Lambert let out a slight, wolfish smile - he had noticed that he liked watching the fight. Lambert's eyes glossed as he saw Ricard raising his great axe, preparing to bury it deep in the boy's neck. In a flash quicker than eyes the boy turned, raising the woman's body to protect his. For his luck, the axe got stuck in the body, giving the boy enough time to pick up his own greatsword, make a face at Ricard and then kill him cruelly.

Only one of the templars was now standing - Davil, the youngest of them. He had not participated in the fight until now, and Lambert expected him to make a stand. Instead, he faced away from the boy, turning to Lambert. The boy tried to beg for help - too late, as the beast's greatsword lunged through the air to end his pitiful life. Lambert stared at the boy in his eyes, until the last bits of light faded from them. He sighed quietly and turned towards the boy who so arrogantly faced him, Lord Seeker Lambert, leader of the Templar order, who has killed more beasts than he could remember.

~~~~

And now the boy came whooping at him, spinning and feinting all the while with his cumbersome greatsword. Lambert watched indifferently as the beast approached him, letting no emotion pass through the adamant wall that protected him from the mortal emotions; for example fear or anger. It had been bypassed earlier, but Lambert was more confident in it holding now - he had had a glimpse of the beast's fighting style, and he was well-prepared to meet him again... now when he thought of it, he lusted for his blood. Lord Seeker Lambert stepped closer, readying his arm for the next set of events that he had calculated to happen. Lambert made a very slight movement towards his adversary while he was still spinning and feinting like a hurricane at least. Right in between the slow feints of his opponent's greatsword Lambert took a quick step towards the beast, thrusting his sword in a beautiful arc towards the beast. As per his expectations, the attack was easily blocked and quickly followed by a counterattack from the other side. Both attacked and counter-attacked, blocked and chambered with equal skill and strength, a fight worthy to be called a dance of death.

They hadn't fought for long, when Lambert spotted three large seekers approaching his adversary from his back. The next events are still very unclear for Lambert. Perhaps he wanted to bask in the glory all by himself, allowing nobody to cut in? However, inbetween the blows they were exchanging, he nodded towards the seekers, gesturing him to turn around. At the same time he backed off a little, still fighting for his life against this odd beast. He liked his style, at least - perhaps he was worthy to live after all?

[Iggy]

Iggy felt the rhythm, as he danced his fancy pants dance. A clack, clack, clack of blade against blade, moving at a certain tempo, and now escalating. Iggy always had a knack for sensing out the subtle rhythms that prolonged battles fell into, the ebb and flow of strength and vigor, the harmony of motion as two combatants learned from one another and began to move in subtle tandem. Iggy was great as sensing out those moments... and breaking them wide open. The boy remembered, remembered battles that lasted for hours, fought in the Circle, brother against brother, testing for stamina and endurance, yet also testing for the most base sort of cunning. Brothers died in the Circle, many times in spite of the best efforts of the healer present, yet Iggy had never fallen, only learned.

So many thought that battle with a greatsword was a cumbersome affair, that the massive reach and strength of the steel meant an obvious trade in agility and speed. Iggy let them go on thinking that for as long as they liked, it made them easier to cut to bits. One did not survive the Circle by being slow yet powerful, one survived by being not only the strongest, but the fastest, melding with the blade until weight and size ceased to be factors. Iggy had met daggers with a greatsword, swords with a great sword, flails, axes, and maces with a greatsword, and Iggy had yet to fall.

The bubbly beserker grinned all the wider, and offered the Lord Seeker a word between blows, "Ya fight well, old feller! Ye nae grown soft 'r nothin! Gloria et honore ad vos! When ah kill you, Ah'll na take yer head."

The boy took a breath and the world seemed to slow for a moment, his weapon sliding off of Lambert's in yet another well executed maneuver. Bright white eyes watched the man intently, the Lord Seeker outlined in a red hot aura that begged to be snuffed out. Iggy knew this man now, knew the control behind every blow, all emotion walled off in some far away section of his heart. He stood on the opposite end of the spectrum from Iggy, and in all honesty, only this fact and the matter of the man's experience kept him alive. A lightening quick stream of data ran through Iggy's mind, processed and used or discarded in this single instant.

Must break him. How? Not fear, he blocks the fear. Not rage, he blocks the rage. Not pain, he'll block the pain, block, block, block, to block is his nature, to strike must be calculated. Control, he controls, control, control, control, and squeeze everything else away. Then break him, break him, break him, break him break him break him break himbreakhimbreakhimbreakhim- find his limit, shatter it!

Iggy exhaled, and seemed to explode. Within half a heartbeat, Iggy's motions nearly doubled in speed, throwing off the former tempo entirely, sparks literally flying from the metal of his sword as he let loose the Unrelenting Barrage, discarding defense for a moment in favor of a relentless, purely offensive onslaught. The Lord Seeker's blade found his flesh a few times, drawing blood from a barely protected body, yet Iggy paid it no heed, the pain converted into energy instantaneously. All Iggy cared about... was the storm. The Lord Seeker's mind might not break anytime soon, but his arms and armor would... eventually.

((OOC: Only a couple more rounds mate. Feel free to land a death blow, if you thing Lambert can manage it. Simply realize that skewering Iggy will have... severe repercussions. Things will get bloody(ier).))

[Lord Seeker Lambert]

"Perfect." , Lambert thought as he would've been a mere observer of the fight. This was not the case - he was fighting the most dangerous man, or boy in this case, who was present in the town at the moment.

Lambert allowed a slight, mocking smile sneak on his face as he fought on, everything had went according to plans so far. So young, yet so experienced and fierce... so aggressive, such is the power of youth, the true power of such beasts, whose name Lambert could not recall. Doesn't matter, such information would not be important when this boy, this pathetic excuse of a warrior, would be dead! Lord Seeker kept on blocking the neverending blows of his adversary, waiting for the right moment. But then, suddenly, something sneaked on the boy's face too. It was a knowing smile, a fierce, ruthless grin under the (In Iggy's case) not-so-blinding mask of youth. It made Lord Seeker, a man known for his calmness, nervous in a way he hadn't experienced before. It was like seeing a mighty, deadly storm or a giant tidal wave approaching from the horizon - well, Lambert had no experience of this, but so he reckoned. He had to recalculate the situation, fast, fast, fast... too late. It was like a giant explosion, like the boy would've burst into flames, as he doubled his pace and attacked at an unbelievable rate with his big, cumbersome greatsword.

For a moment, this flurry of attacks left Lambert shaken, near shattered, although managing to maintain a firm grasp of the situation. A small period of being shaken was enough to put you in grave danger, at least when fighting this particular opponent. Sure, yes, Lambert got a few stabs here and there, but all the time the counterattacks were faster and more powerful, or so they felt. The Lord Seeker began fastening his own pace as well, at first slower, but all the while gaining speed towards the grande finale, the masterful ending to this chapter.

The longer they fought, the more Lambert noticed a strange pattern in his adversary's attacks - like he'd been driven by one single purpose, one compulsive urge to achieve a goal. Lord Seeker became more careful, observing his opponent, noticing a strange pattern indeed, which seemed to be a physical one as well as a mental one. He guessed that this was his adversary's final try to break him, his attempt to end this chapter - but he hadn't thought about all the possibilities. So finally, as the boy had landed his last strike and was raising his greatsword to strike again, Lambert leapt forwards, suddenly and fiercely, imitating the fierceness of his adversary. There was little time to do anything, but already before he had leapt towards the boy he had began his own attempt of ending the life of his adversary - a perfectly planned, calculated thrust aimed at the beast's throat. It flew through the air, quicker than any blow had been dealt during this small, pitiful exchange of blows... a perfect opening step for a battle unseen for ages. For a battle that would be the topic of many myths, legends and songs...

[Iggy]

The old man moved well for someone well past his prime. The thought reassured Iggy at some basic, primal level. Outside of the Clans, the old seemed to grow so feeble and indulgent, turning into these weak, shivering things that quailed and expired before anything more ferocious than a nasty face. This one though... this one fought like one of the older fathers or elderfathers, all gristle and rage, hard as toughened leather and just as ugly. Iggy loved it, though he’d love it more if the old man would fall under his blade already. The Lord Seeker seemed more than a tad opposed to the idea, unfortunately. The old badger of templar met Iggy blow for blow, doing his best to match the furious pace Iggy set, and perhaps, add upon it. This was the good moment, the time of almost-blood, the nearness of death so intense it greased the pants and set the blood aflame with the most urgent of needs, survival and savagery distilled into the most curious sort of drug.

Iggy saw it, the Lord Seeker saw it, the finishing moment, the climax of it all. Orlesian fighters tended towards the dramatic, a habit Iggy had taken note of in between thinning their numbers. They fought as though each battle were a story or song, something with a clear beginning, a climax, and an end. Iggy found this notion utterly silly at its most innate level. A good fight, a really good fight, didn’t have some notable ebb and flow, a good fight was spontaneous motion, free flight, fury for fury’s sake, and it didn’t end... until you were dancing in your opponents blood. Lambert saw his moment, his climax, his tipping point, and Iggy found what he’d been looking for all along- the man’s breaking point.

The Lord Seeker went on the offensive, and sealed his fate. Lambert had excellent defenses, Iggy couldn’t recall a finer display. The ward off, counter, or outright block, the sorts of blows that rattled bones, dented armor, and crushed organs, when they fell like summer rain, was a feat naught but a handful of warriors scattered across Thedas could boast, a true testament to the Lord Seeker’s prowess and experience. Yet in that superb defense, lay the greatest of snares. The Sanguinem Caeci traded offense for defense in spades, holding to the belief that dodging a blow entirely was more or less irrelevant. No, more important, was making the pain and sacrifice worthwhile. The heavily armored fools were so worried about where the blow might hit, that they never considered where their bodies would be after the blow landed. The Blood Blind thought of little else.

Lambert’s arm drew back for a thrust, something the old man had no doubt preoccupied his thoughts with for the last few moments. A man so desperate to control every movement, and every possible series of movements, could coordinate an excellent defense. A pity such obsessive preoccupation did little to aid one’s attempts at stabbing a hurricane on legs. One didn’t plot the path of a storm, storms were fickle, storms changed directions without warning.

Iggy dropped his sword mid-swing, and dove to the right, into the path of the outer edge of Lambert’s blade. Metal bit into flesh, and Iggy painted a half inch strip of the Lord Seeker’s blade bright scarlet with his own blood. He paid no heed to white hot line of pain, internal jugular nicked, external jugular severed, it made little difference to the beast, high off the blood and violence as it was, driven to greater strength by the blood loss and damage taken. Iggy’s left arm hooked around the Lord Seeker’s shoulder, locking the extended blade in place as the boy’s body swung around to Lambert’s rear. His right arm came underneath the old man’s shield arm and locked it in place as well. Agile legs wrapped around the Lord Seeker’s torso, one leg straddling his waist and locked beneath the other, which pressed against the side of the old man’s knee. In half a heartbeat, the storm had become coiling serpent, constricting ever tighter.

The sword in hand is no longer a sword, but a part of the body, just as a wolf’s teeth and a bear’s claws are a part of its body. If it breaks, grow a new one, and remember... the animal in a trap, gnaws off a limb to set itself free.

There, at the base of the neck, a strip of flesh and hair between helmet and gorget, exposed by a the sloppy work of a squire or the fury of the battle. The beast astride the seeker grin, and for a moment, the boy’s face again seemed to flicker, offering the ephemeral image of a terrible black dragon with jaws wide, maw alight with the queer, flickering glow of the flowers within. Iggy’s head reared back before the youth lunged forward, and sank his teeth into that exposed flesh, Devouring, stealing, wounding, and healing all in one motion. Raw life energy hummed through Iggy’s veins, knitting the flesh back together, restoring lost tissues and fluids, wiping away the wound on his neck. Damn, the old man had too much strength in him to tear the life from his bones completely, but it was a start. Iggy tightened his grip on Lambert’s back, teeth still affixed to the back of the foe’s neck, jaw locked and constricting with the rest of the boy’s body.

Sucker in the trap.

Something within Iggy’s body shifted, and the pain began, a frenzied torrent of energy that spread through the immediate vicinity and filled the world with agony, a direct reaving against the spirit, bypassing armor and the physical world to torture the soul directly. Iggy flinched under each terrible pulse, yet even as the damage took its toll on his body, it filled wiry limbs with an even greater strength. The boy could hear screams, some of Lambert’s lackeys no doubt caught up in the Aura. They didn’t matter, only this mattered, the frenzied fight now turned into a slow race into oblivion. This was a risky sort of trick, a gamble on the hope that the Lord Seeker had less strength remaining in his old bones than Iggy did, that he’d die before Iggy lost consciousness, that the struggle would be over before any soldier could get close enough to intervene. Ahhh, but that was the beauty of it, in the end, all fights were a gamble, and what was the point of playing if you weren’t playing for keeps?

((OOC: TL;DR version: Snuggle of Doom + Devour + Aura of Pain = the world’s deadliest hug))

[Lord Seeker Lambert]

All battles come to an end, even great ones.

Lambert felt shockwaves of pain and surprise rush through his veins, urging him to panic, forcing him to use his last energy in trying to get away. A regular man would've broken under it, he would've screamed and tried to move away from the beast, killing himself in the process of it. He was no ordinary soldier; he was the grandmaster of the Seekers, grandmaster of the Templars, he was their best warrior, which means that he was the best warrior on earth. And even regular warriors should never give up, they should never let panic fill them...

He still felt his sword in the boy's stomach. "Not where I intended it to go, but it will do..."

He shut out the pain, he shut out every feeling he had, he shut out everything but his very own consciousness. He could move his arm again, the boy perhaps thought he had won, but he was so very wrong. Lambert teared the sword out of the beast's belly and felt the beast's grip loosen. He easily released himself from the deadly hug, turning around with his sword ready to attack the beast.

Lambert had learned a lesson during the last moments. He had analyzed the situation quickly in his head, calculating the possibilities. So instead of leaning forwards towards his neck, this time he sidestepped on the beast's left and aimed a strike at his throat. It was no stab this time, it was a wide slash which should cut the beast's head off, but Lambert wasn't sure.