Bane prepares to swing again at the downed Cyric, his blade arcing high into the air. Unfortunately, before he can bring it down upon his opponent, he is engulfed in an explosion of ice, the small shards and flakes of ice raining down all around him for several moments.
Seemingly unharmed, the angry warrior looks around for the source of the explosion, seeing nothing. Roaring in anger, he brings his sword down upon Cyric...and hits solid ice, the blade cutting deep into clear-blue ground.
The Black Lord pulls his sword from the ice, and turns just as Cyric rejoins the fray, a series of quick stabs and slices that finally find their mark upon Bane, gashing his legs and staining the ice a sickly shade of reddish-black.
"And what was that, old friend?" Cyric taunts, dancing back out of Bane's reach.
"Even in this place, my followers are stronger than you. Can you not see that your time is at an end, that you are but a pebble upon my carriage-track to ultimate power?"
Bane says nothing, simply smiling at Cyric's words. As he bleeds, the thick droplets of ooze begins to melt through the ice, leaving small trails down into the blue.
"Your followers?!" Bane shouts, twirling his blade and advancing, "They're nothing but rabble, fools inspired to serve another fool!"
"They may speak thick words of devotion, but in the heat of battle you will be undone."
"You cannot hope to challenge my power!" he booms, the powerful echo shaking the cave, sending showers of ice and snow down upon both combatants.