Chapter ???? - In the Night

After a long day, you finally get back to your room, dropping tiredly into the thick bedding. Shrugging off your armor in the oddly-muggy night, you turn and roll in bed, adjusting to that perfect position.
Within minutes, your shirt is already soggy with sweat, the pillow damp. Eventually, you pass from this place, and into sleep...


Brrrr....
Blink...Blink...
You're in a cave...a tunnel? No, definitely a cave, an ice cave. No wonder it's so cold!
[IMG]http://farm1.static.flickr.com/166/378163711_c5d4a155dd.jpg?v=0[/IMG]
Looking around, behind you a solid wall of ice, and ahead of you...
Looking down, you've no armor nor weapons, just the shirt and trousers you slept in.

Brrrr....
So cold!

Having no other obvious choice, you move forward into the cave, the hard icy floor chilling your feet and legs.
Deeper and deeper, colder and colder...


Brrrrrr....

Presently, the tunnel opens into a huge cave, a cavern of sorts. Stalactites on the ceiling, wicked-looking stalagmites on the floor.
And in the center of the cave, two figures in battle, their cries and grunts echoing in the wide cavern.

Slowly moving closer to the entrance, you peer to get a closer look...

"You seriously believe your own bold claims?!" shouts the figure in black, every inch of him clad in spiked armor. Twirling his massive sword, the warrior advances upon his opponent.

"Oh, I know them to be true!" the other man replies, mirroring his opponent move for move. Rich supple leather covers his legs, his body wrapped in silk and leather armor. On his belt, a white jawless skull, leering wickedly at the world. Slick hair, slick eyes, slick hands, and in a flash he's on the attack.

His initial swing penetrates the warrior's defences, but the thick plate armor absorbs every bit of the sword's impact. Smiling wickedly, the other man brings his own sword across, just barely missing his mark.


"Oh come now, surely you can do better?" the platemail warrior taunts, shuffling forward.
"Surely!"

Again they come together, and again neither can strike the other. Blades clang on steel, and the air is cut into dozens of pieces, but neither man wears an injury.

"Try again!" the metal-clad warrior laughs, beckoning with his pinky. Thick, grey, and dirty, it obviously hasn't seen a lick of soap in years...

Watching silently in the darkness, the rogue carefully removed a stalagmite from the floor. He carefully wrapped the bigger part of it in a piece of cloth he tore from his shirt. It wasn't much, but it would allow him to stab once at an opponent should that be necessary.

The two in battle in front of him seemed formidable with the blade. It was a fight that the rogue was thankful to watch from his position of hiding.

Joachim is trembeling. This seemed a wicket place. He is remembered immediately to the scene he went through on the way to Saerb. A image of him on the ground in a sea of red glowing blood in the middle of the blue ice. Somehow he has this picture from above and sees himself lying there. Slain. His body shivering he puts, step after step, his foot one in front of the other. His toes soon lose their senses. His feet sending a impulse of cold through the rest of the body. He shivers some more.

The blond man is stripped down to his underpants which somehow seem misplaced on his body. Pink. Their colour is a faint pink. Surely it was not their original colour but a rather uncomfortable tale told how they became mistaken for someone else's and were thrown into a wrong basket eventually mixed with some shirt from distant lands he knew not to much about and got some of its colours. His blue eyes on other hand seem to blend in just right with the surroundings.

As he enters the cave and sees the scene he holds in. Who were these men? Why in the Realms would they want to fight in a place like this? What where they arguing about? This scene just seemed senses. The freezing Paladin breaths a puff of steam into his hands that are getting colder by the second, then he uses the opportunity as he has his hands already on mouth hight to stroke his golden moustache.

"Hail unknown friends. Why are you battling in a place like this?" somehow his own voice provokes the paladin goosebumps, which on their part provoke that his curly chest hair stands slightly of giving him further more the aspect of an ape. He who already is mostly covered in thin reddish blond hairs all over him. His hands search his shoulders and hugging himself he tries to keep himself warm. A very important question comes to his mind "Have you seen Gerwin?"

Neither figure reacts to your words, nor do they signal awareness of your presence. Rather, they continue their duel, each trying to hack the other to pieces.

"I took your portfolio, I slaughtered your followers...now I will finish you!" the smaller warrior replies.

"You are a mere scavenger, Cyric," the other replies, "feasting upon the remains of those before you. I will put you down like the dog you are!"

Lunging at Cyric, the armored warrior swings once, twice, but neither impacts upon his opponent's frame. Cyric, meanwhile, dances in and out of the man's reach, deftly jabbing him with the point of his long sword. Again though, the thick armor blunts the impact, and the two are again at a stalemate.

"..." At first Lorem had been confused, not understanding if he had been moved somewhere or it was an allucination... Now he was certain that this was a dream. Cyric... It was the name of a god. A god who had achieved godhood by slaughtering another one. He had heard about it. During the Time of Troubles, or something like that... "What the hell..."

Joachim waits for an answer. He was sure he had spoken loud enough. He hoped though they would not take to long. It was freezing in here. He looked around to see if he could use something to keep him warm. If the others would not react he would surely to have to shout at them. It would be foolish to step into combat without protection or a decent weapon. He looked at his toes. They were gaining the colour of the ice it seemed. Also a urge to clap his teeth seemed to rise. The blond man tries to think of something else. Gerwin would surely be soon to arrive as well it occurred to him. He was certain, as certain as one is in any dream. It just had to happen.

ooc

The two warriors continued their struggle against each other, with neither making any headway through the other's defenses. From his position of hiding, the assassin felt a sort of kinship with the smaller of the warriors. It made no sense to Garak, as he had never met either one before. But something about the warrior's armor, fighting style, and demeanor seemed to click with the assassin.

He slowly moved through the cave, hoping to gain a position where he could be at the larger warrior's back. Time would tell if Garak would impose himself into the fight and help the leather-clad warrior settle their conflict.

"Must I detail every little conquest for you?" Cyric exclaims. "Killing your minions is hardly scavenging, oh great and mighty Bane!"
"How about the most recent of your foolish plots, sending a caravan of warmages to my domain?" he thrusts, both verbally and physically, his blade slicing large chunks out of his opponent's thick armor.
"They screamed like women, died like children, and bled like virgins - tell me, is that the best you have?" Cyric cries, advancing upon the other.

"I have plenty of sheep at my disposal, yes," Bane replies, smiling off the knicks in his armor and lumbering forward.
"But if it is conquest you pride yourself on, what say you about Neverwinter? As you recall, wise and clever Cyric, you lost your entire faction there! And quite easily, may I add..." Bane adds, allowing himself the pleasure of seeing his blade smash Cyric flat across the face, sending the proud man temporarily to the ground.

Cyric recovers quickly, but only fast enough to receive a wicked chop across the shoulder, again sending him to the floor.
"And how about Saerloon?" Bane proclaims, again advancing. "Your bastion there is nearly vanquished, and my followers will soon spread across the city."

"Do you not feel your own demise, hovering just within reach?" he shouts, his voice echoing menacingly in the cave.

"..." Lorem took in every word. The last ones, the last few words sent a chill down his spine. Bane. Followers of Bane would soon... Spread accross Saerloom?! "No... This is..." He was about to say to himself that it was just a dream... But he paled. It was just too strange. "No... This is not just a dream."