Sing Me a Sweet Song of Blood and War

[Ashla]

Closed to Siegfried. Brief, light bunnying approved at my end.

Fists clenched, violent footsteps, quick walking pace… A grin?

Yes, Ashla Icebreaker was smiling. Why? Because she was just stepping into a fresh, new arena in the Citadel. The way she walked, how her fists were tightly grasping the thin air, it was all from excitement. For the first time since the Althanas Leagues, Ashla was going to fight in the Citadel. Ashla had sucked at the Leagues and she had been distraught because of her incapability to fight then. But now, boy, Ashla was better, faster, wiser, stronger! Now, she knew of her true life purpose and of her true powers. Now, she was unbreakable!

She could feel the sensations of her bloodline racing through her veins. The feelings of her Icebreaker bloodline, her ancestors, her pride! It tingled in her fingers, it flustered through her body. Her frozen family roots were her gift and light, she would not waist it. In one hand, you had an exiled, but still powerful none the less Icebreaker of the small, snowy county Eiskalt. A proud warrior, a diligent keeper of justice and mercy. In the other hand, you had a half-elf. Her elvish bloodline was limited, but she was still gifted in receiving only the best from her mother. Her smirk only grew as she opened the door which would lead her into the arena. No hesitation could be seen on the young woman’s face as she boldly opened the door and stepped in. No matter who she faced, she would come out as the victor!

~~~

Ashla gasped as she looked around. The ground was covered in lush, dark grasses. Neatly cut and covering the sun-bathed world around her like an angel’s blanket. Trees and plants all around her flourished in the loveliness of the heights of spring. The fat oak trees were covered in leaves that even in the light winds, didn’t fall off the tree and onto the spotless grasses below.

Ashla took a deep breath of the heavenly air, the wonderful smell of various flowers flew up her nose and caused her desires of battle to immediately cease. Ashla could believe that she was in paradise! She was now lost in the liveliness of the beautiful valley surrounding her- well… she was almost lost in the paradise. There was something missing, Ashla couldn't catch it but there was something missing here. She blinked, her sparkling blue eyes searching the area around her. There weren't so many trees to make a forest, but they were still sprouted here and there enough to cast long, shady shadows onto the sunlit ground below. Ashla’s head was being delighted in the warm of the sun for one second, then the wind would cool her down again. It was not too hot, not too cold. Ashla sighed, the wind was the only sound to play around her - and then it hit her!

No birds sang above, not a single sound except for the wind resolving around her. What this place needed was some music! Ashla had almost forgotten about the battle now, she was now searching her mind for any songs she knew. She blinked as she remembered a small song her uncle would sing her when she was little. A small song he would hum to her before she went to sleep each night. The words Ashla knew well, like the back of her hand. She slightly whispered the words, coming out as an eerie lullaby, breaking the silence as the teenage half-breed coolly sang.

”In the darkness of the night
You may be in for a fearful time
But just wait, sometime you’ll see
That the sun will come out and set you free
I’ll always be there, you never fear
Until the last of your blood runs dry
I’ll draw you near.”

Her voice had been surprisingly beautiful, a unique vocal combination of a light, scratchy voice octave and a haunting, chilling tone. It sounded amazing in the hushed words sounding from Ashla’s lips.

But now, the light-hearted mood of the somewhat careless girl churned into something sad as she drew them out. Her light eyes suddenly darkened in the memories of how she had discovered the truth of her family. How they had ridiculed and rejected her for simply being born all her life. Ashla had learned to forgive them, but her fists naturally shut tight as the old ache grew inside her once more. Now, the fresh idea of battle had reoccurred in her mind and Ashla’s facial expression turned from innocent to violent. Ashla now was ready for battle. The same family that had almost destroyed had gave her one of the greatest gifts ever – her bloodline abilities. Ashla would use this gift with every ounce of her being to bring whoever she was facing to their knees in her own victory. Ashla Rose Icebreaker was ready.

[Siegfried]

“Back so soon?” asked Davon, the Ai’Brone monk.

“Yes,” answered Siegfried in a cold, flat tone. Garbed in the draped uniform of the Raiaeran High Elves, the Bladesinger stood at the main counter of the Citadel. His face was stuck in a half scowl, and the monk receded his brow in concern.

“I do apologize for last time. The chances one of our brothers pass during the ritual is exceedingly rare. It will not happen again,” Davon reassured while he nervously clasped and unclasped his hands together. The more he spoke, the further Siegfried transitioned to the apex of a perfect expression of disdain. He took in a deep breath of the musty area air and placed a lone finger firmly down on the counter.

“If it happens again, I’ll inform the Lady General Nalith Celiniel that Radasanth’s Citadel has a vendetta toward the High Elves.” The monk halted his fiddling, became rigid, and lifted his chin. Siegfried slightly narrowed his hazel death glare toward the man.

“Y-yes sir!”

Davon promised this Citadel was safe, and tried to prove it by throwing the Elven Soldier into his first arena battle. No sooner had that happened, did one of the monks which governed the fabricated room pass and an throw them into a fatal situation. His decision to return did not come without a strong hesitation to believe any of the brown robed bastards. It took three weeks before Siegfried mustered the gall to return. He nearly washed his hands of the place, but the Citadel was the best opportunity to collect and recruit troops to his cause.

“Now, which areas are taking participants? Preferably fabricated by the healthier of your brothers…” Siegfried lifted his finger from the use-polished counter, but the disgust on his face remained. The Ai’Brone retaliated with the look of an injured dog, unsure of how to please such a colossal disservice. He remained silent for a moment, then smiled ear to ear. The Bladesinger remained stoic, and the monk’s expression dulled.

“I have a room I think you’ll appreciate. I will personally oversee the ritual to prevent another unfortunate event.”

“Good, let us go before I change my mind,” Siegfried barked callously.

The monk rounded the counter and gave the Bladesinger a curt bow. He then promptly lead them through the sea of Citadel regulars down the dimly lit halls. The idle chatter rang deep in Siegfried’s Elven ears and the more they traveled, the deeper his heart sank. This was the Citadel’s last chance to change Siegfried’s perception of the place. On the other hand, it may be the last chance they could try to kill him. Either way, Siegfried walked with tension in his stride.

“Here we are,” Davon mentioned, gesturing to one of hundreds of similar doors.

“Thank you,” the Bladesinger stated flatly. The Ai’Brone offered a bow, then disappeared into the flood of bodies. The elf stared at the wear polished iron handle and grains of the oaken door. With a deep breath, he gripped the door and flung it open. He swiftly moved through the idling room and to the second door to the fabricated arena. With unwavering resolve, he opened and stepped through. The hammer of new sensed slammed into him, a sensation he would need to become accustomed.

The intensity of the transition waned. Siegfried found himself standing idol in a field of rich, thick grass which was littered with young oak saplings. The sun and the wind played a delicate balance of comfort and intensity. The vibrant greens and blues contrasted the towering trunks of a forest in the distance. The fresh aroma teased at his memories, and harkened to a time when Raiaera flourished – a time before corpses razed his homelands.

Siegfried stood tall now that the impact of the new environment dissipated and focused on the melodic song that broke the silence. His vibrant gaze directed itself to the source. They fell upon a yet another war maiden. Instead of the lavender hair of the woman, Iriah, this woman possessed rich, dark locks. Through which, he made out the tips of pointed ears – an elf.

“M’lady,” he spoke formally toward her as he finished the final note, “That song… it was quite beautiful. If I may be so bold as to inquire its origin?”

She snapped her head to the disturbance, startled by his words. Siegfried offered her his warmest smile.

“My uncle,” she replied with hesitation and eyes locked on the blade at his hip. “It’s a song from my childhood.”

“It is lovely.” Siegfried stood steady as the woman gently placed her hand on her weapon. Unlike he, she seemed much more ready to battle. “I see you’re eager to start. Before we do, I’d like to introduce myself.” He gave her a bow and prayed she possessed enough chivalry to resist burying a blade in his back for a quick win. Fortunately, she stayed her inevitable assault. “My name is Siegfried Alfhiem – Bladesinger, Skyknight, and self-proclaimed avenger of the High Elves lost to the Corpse War. If you would do me the honor, I would like to test your mettle in combat and maybe offer you an opportunity to join my cause.”

On that final note, he filled the air with the shrill melody of iron drawn from a scabbard. The unique blade possessed a long groove down the middle through which opened several slots. He held the weapon to the side, turned so his body hid its silhouette, and kept a slack arm toward her. His posture remained formal, chest jutted out slightly. His eyes, on the other hand, met hers with resolve and determination.

“You may have the first move.”

[Ashla]

Ashla glanced at her bow, one arrow was placed inside it. The child blinked as she remembered how both her parents had been praised as excellent missile fighters. The bow had been relaxed in her young hands, the arrow simply hanging on. Even while the elf was making his introduction, Ashla drew herself many paces back so she could use missile attacks on him first before moving in with her various blades. At the signal that she was allowed to make the first move, Ashla snapped into position, the arrow was tightly pulled back, her hand clenching tightly onto the elegant reflex bow she held. The wind briefly blew against her, her hair flew up and her eyes watered. She closed them for a moment, then opened them again. Her opponent, like her, obviously had some elvish blood in him. However, Ashla could tell that he was a pure-blood, not a halfling. Ashla closed one eye and allowed the other to focus on Siegfried Alfhiem's sturdy chest. She knew she would most likely miss, and a swift battle would surely disappoint her. However, Ashla counted on missing. Why? Because taking this fight to a missile battle now would let Ashla know just what this Bladesinger was capable of. Thus, when Ashla's truer gifts of melee combat came into play, Ashla would know just what to do.

A smile spread across her face, she felt her mother's elvish gifts aiding her as she took one final glance. Then shoot - the arrow headed true towards her target. However, this sure wasn't the end of Ashla's attack; no way! Ashla would not take everything out on this elf yet, but she would still not give him an easy time. She held the curvy bow in one hand and with the other formed her Crystalline Spear.

The Crystalline Spear was an ability passed down through her Icebreaker family tree. A light, blue spear formed in Ashla's hands. An awe breaking light grew from Ashla's palm's as the spear took form. The spear was made of ice, but was as strong as steel. Ashla's smirk stayed where is was as the plucky girl ran up slightly closer to her opponent and then thrust the spear towards him. The arrow was already half way up to him, and spear was now close behind. If this man was truly an avenger of the High Elves, he would showcase the agility Ashla had.

Ashla already liked this man, he seemed to share some traits with her. He shared elvish blood and was fighting on behalf of a certain family or race. Ashla would bring back the Icebreakers, Siegfried would bring back the High Elves. He also seemed friendly enough, and Ashla was glad. The Althanas Leagues had set up various battles with random opponents, many of whom came off and ugly and cruel to the young Ashla. Seeing that this man seemed to at least have some manners, Ashla was relieved. Aside just seeing what he was capable of, him being one of the best opponents Ashla had met was another reason she hoped for him to surpass this opening attack.

[Siegfried]

"No introduction? How rude the youths of today have become," the High Elf though to himself as the girl drew an arrow.

Siegfried remained stoic as she aimed the point toward his chest. His regal stance stood defiant to inevitable assault. She loosed the arrow, and the battle began. Immediately and while still keeping his feet firmly routed, the Elven soldier rose his left vambrace to his chest. The arrow's tip sped into the gauntlet. A thunderous boom filled the air, and the projectile fell to the swaying grass.

Like a statue crafted of mythril, Siegfried remained unscathed. The song magic, Aurient's Percussion, prevented the girl's initial attack, but he was impressed at her persistence and follow through. Not soon behind the arrow, did she thrust a a spear. The Bladesinger was far too occupied with the proper timing to deflect the arrow, that he had not seen where she manifested such a weapon. The spear's tip drew near, and she forced him to give way. Siegfried snapped his chest back, stepped to the side, and with the grace of his people, brought his sword up to parry. The icy weapon clashed against iron, shrieking its aggression as the thrust continued to grind against the blade. With a calm resolve, he braced the flat of the sword with his free hand.

Another boom sounded as though a drum of war had been rapped.

A force blasted from the palm of Siegfried's hand. It not only repelled the crystalline spear, but pushed the Bladesinger back a few feet. Two streaks of mud and rooted grass marked the maneuver.

"Your form is not bad young lady, but your tactics are far too linear," Siegfried remarked, bringing his blade to the ready. This time, he held it diagonally in front, his free hand hovered close behind, and faced the girl square. "A sweeping blow would have been far more effective. Though, I do appreciate your zeal, especially in light of foregoing a proper introduction."

Siegfried kept a slight bend in his knees, and prepared to handle another volley from this mystery girl. So far, she seemed but an ordinary elf quick on her feet, good with a bow, and with an affinity to some form of conjuration magics. A soldier like her perked the Bladesinger's interest. If the Citadel could produce a handful of mercenaries such as her, the High Elf may have luck recruiting the needed men and women to purify Raiaera.

"Now," he began with a more commanding tone and stern gaze, "come at me again! With more vigor this time!"

[Ashla]

Ashla grinned arrogantly when the man dodged her attacks... then praised her. Looks like I have a challenge! The smirk remained as she stated, "Nice job. You managed to throw off a double attack." She then decided to pull out her broadsword. The Damascus weapon was one of a kind, the hilt hid yet another weapon, one with spikes on it! Also, the entire sword was enhanced to be lightweight, the way Ashla liked them. She pulled it out of its leather sheath just enough to see a bit of the bright, shinning blade. "Now that I know you can dodge," Ashla told him excitedly, "Let's go!" The more scratchy side of her voice sparked with the last two words. She elegantly pulled out her weapon. A weapon which reflected the bright sun and the old oaks.

Another gush of wind whirled around them for a while. Meanwhile, a dark cloud swooped over them and blocked out the sunlight. Ashla felt goose bumps pop up all over her as the cloud passed. Her smile had now faded; in this brief chill she was putting together another plan. She reached up to her back; hanging on it was her new buckler. The small, pine shield seemed like any other shield, except that the symbol of her family was carved into it. She wondered if she would need it against him. She reached for it… then pulled her hand back – then she reached for it again! She finally had made her choice. She pulled the wooden buckler from behind her back and briefly let go of the side which she had clasped. When the shield had fallen enough, Ashla grasped the wooden handle in a swift fist squeeze. She smiled and pulled herself into position. She scanned the world in front of her; the short grass, the several trees spotted here and there. Her bright, blue eyes then rested on her opponent. Ashla had her sword in her left hand, her shield in the other.

The cloud had rolled away by then. The welcoming sun warmed Ashla up once again. As if it was the signal she was waiting for, Ashla darted towards her opponent! She dashed across the bedded ground; the earth was a mattress, the grass was a blanket. Across the plain she went in the average speed of a human. She already had made a plan by then: she would push the enemy’s sword away with her buckler and swing right for his head with her blade. With the blade occupied, he would have no weapon or shield to block her attack with. Yes, a killer blow at the first melee attack was a bit brutal, but Ashla was never going to take it easy on him anyways. Right?

[Siegfried]

The little remarks she made were a testament to her confidence. Though a strong weapon when wielded at the proper moment, it may also prove a soldier’s downfall. For the Elven girl, it would be the latter. Siegfried observed her hesitation with keen eyes. His hazel gaze noted her poise, her movements, and brazen approach. Again, it was linear and she took to the offensive.

Her shield came at his blade and with a stoic demeanor, the High Elf Bladesinger moved with the blow. She pushed away his arm, and his body followed. He spun off to the side, noted her wide stance, and proceeded to duck. He let her force carry in his own momentum as her blade cut through the air his head once occupied. While he rotated behind her and stood upright, the swordsman dipped his blade low. The tip reached for the girl’s heel – nothing serious, just a friendly reminder to improve her form.

“I think it is time for me to stop playing games,” Siegfried declared. “You certainly have potential, but it needs to be honed.”

The Elven soldier widened his stance, firmed his grip, and brought his blade up to complete the offensive posture.

“Let me demonstrate finesse,” he stated cold and firm.

The gentle breeze swept at his lengthy hair and rolled across the verdant field. Though moved by the winds themselves, he acted. The distance between him and the girl closed in mighty strides. His blade, held at the ready, began to hum at a high pitch whilst he brought it diagonally up to strike her shield. His feet stepped gracefully into the strike, and though as a single movement, the blade reached its peak then sundered horizontally at her abdomen. No sooner did both crescents complete, the High Elf pushed off the ground to repel away from retaliation. His vambrace rose instinctively to prepare for counterblows.

“Like water, your sword must flow with your body!” he shouted over the singing vibrations of his blade, “Use the momentum of both you and your foe!”

[Ashla]

Ashla was offended! How dare she be told what to do?! Her body movement was just fine! She made the face of a grump as he made the next move. The blade he wielded began to "hum". A deafening sound reached her ears that slightly gave her a headache for a moment. She bit her lip, still offended, what would be the effects of this humming metal?

Siegfried moved gracefully, his blade and himself moving as if it were a dance. He aimed for Ashla's shield. Ashla herself was just beginning to learn how to use such crude, round objects. However, Ashla did know one thing: block.

However, when the full blooded elf hit the pine shield with his sword, something unusual happened, the shield crumbled. "Hey!" Ashla yelled as he swiftly aimed for her waist. Ashla was able to quickly infer from the way the buckler crumbled that the iron blade had suddenly become stronger. Ashla didn't know the full effects of the humming metal just yet - and now she didn't plan to! Ashla avoided using her damascus blade to block and referred to her elvish traits to get out. In a rather impressive performance of her acrobatics, the young and annoyed Icebreaker pushed her feet off of the ground. She back flipped away from the blade, barely being able to miss the edges. She landed squarely on her feet, her sword still at hand, as the man stepped away from her.

After the moment of which she had been focused on dodging, the buzzing of the sword reached her ears again. Man, that thing is annoying... “Like water, your sword must flow with your body! Use the momentum of both you and your foe!” He scolded her. Ashla growled, at least she used to like him... The low and intense sound that gurgled from her throat was followed by another battle stance. Ashla quickly drew another blade, her steel long knife, and side stepped. Her left arm and foot pointed at him with her body to the side. Her broadsword and long knife were both being pointed towards the elf who had just hurt her pride. Her right arm was pulled back, her upper arm pointing the opposite of her entire left arm. Her elbow, smooth in her youth, was naturally turned, her lower arm and hand allowed the blade to hover several feet in front of Ashla's nose. Ashla's blue eyes were bold in determination, You want 'graceful', I'll show you graceful!

She kept her pose as she slowly circled around the elf. She refused to let her annoyance of the constant noise from the Bladesinger's sword show through. The face of her's was a face that had been seen somewhere before. Her uncle, an expert swordsman, had taught her how to use a sword personally.

"Remember where your strengths and weaknesses lie, take them to advantage!"
"Remember your form!"
"You're too slow, quicken your pace a little. There you go, girl!"

Another bolt of life flickered in her eyes as she remembered...

"Ashla, look at yourself! We've been practicing all day, you're sweaty and exhausted. Please, let's just stop for th-" "-No! I wanna try again! One more time, just one more time..."

Ashla blinked as the wind blew as she circled around her opponent, the beautiful scenery of the world around her blissfully trying to ruin her. Ashla kept her form though! She had gotten better than what she was at first...

"Good! You've got this!
"Nice move. You managed to throw off my attack even when when my blade briefly fell off yours. You remembered what I taught you last week..."
"So close! Remember, you have elvish blood in you, you can move faster tha - Whoa!, now there you go..."
"I could see that one coming, but that was still a clever move. Good job!"

Ashla briefly smiled warmly as she remembered those times... Her uncle had been strict, but for good reasons. Now, especially after her recent experiences in Fallien and in the Althanas Leagues, Ashla had morphed into an adept swordsman. This person in front of her doubted her skills, he'd judged her before she had shown him as much as she could. Now, he would see how the combination of her father's strong mental skills and her mother's elvish agility had been passed down to her ... And how they had helped her survive even after death.

Her own dance had began.

Ashla briefly stepped forwards, an intent to attack clear in her eyes - then she pulled back again. She stepped around him for about a minute than took two steps closer... then she stopped. Her thin fingers gracefully twirled her damascus sword in her hand as it lowered to her side. At the same time, Ashla lowered her second, overgrown weapon to fall a tad bit lower and to fall over her chest. She was faking attack attempts. It took her hardest not to laugh or even grin while pulling off such an act, as she found this to be a rather amusing plan of attack. She side stepped closer to him, closer, closer... Right up to him. She raised her blade - she fell back again... This time she laughed. And she continued to laugh as she took a step closer once again. This game was cruel, and Ashla tried not to be that... But hey, Siegfried started it! Ashla kept on laughing as she raised both her weapons to the sides of her. Her face, in a flash that was quick like lightning, churned back to the battle like Icebreaker she was and she pulled her blades towards him. Right before her blades met him though, she paused. However, she swiftly raised her leg with extreme force, hoping to send her foot straight into his jaw. This time, this attack was real!

As she raised her leg, she threw her knife several paces back, the weapon flying into the dirt blade first. The hilt shined as it pointed to the sky, dark brown dirt flew up with the collision of the steel and the ground. It caused a rip in the sheet of grass. As Ashla finished her kick (whether it was successful or not), Ashla placed both hands on the hilt of her larger sword and pulled it in two. She let go of the top side and let the hidden weapon slide out. A steel spiked rod arose from the parting poles of the hilt. Ashla threw herself up again with her remaining leg and black flipped again. In mid air Ashla gripped both parts of the hilt and aimed the blade down. The blade half buried itself under the grass, dirt flying up into the air instead, as it fell under Ashla's weight. Ashla let go of the loosely hanging north pole of the blade as it slide back down to the south end. Ashla grasped the very end of the hilt again and in her grace, landed on her feet again. Ashla snapped the hilt back together and pulled the blade from the ground. She backed away several feet and picked out her large knife too. As the plucky girl did so, she smirked at her opponent, "Impressed now?"

[Siegfried]

The elf's blade sang true. Where a robust thud would have indicated the sound of metal slamming into wood, a noise similar to a saw mill rang out. Even Siegfried expressed surprise when the girl's shield fell to parts. The hesitation was not enough to deter him from his follow up strikes. Regardless of his own form and her wearing plated armor, her speed and acrobatics kept her from his sword's edge. Her evasion alone hinted to a hidden talent not present in her swordplay. As her body came to rest, so did his. With his blade to his side and arm prepared for counterattack at his back, the Bladesinger watched both her eyes and feet - the true tell tale signs of any maneuver.

"I admire your agility. It's your elven heritage that keeps you nimble," Siegfried remarked.

His opponent scowled. Perhaps his preaching had angered the girl? With mud blood elves, true age was hard to discern. The girl could be several decades old or easily over a century. Again, the mud bloods were hard to read. Regardless, the female took an offensive stance, growled with frustration, and began to strafe around him. Siegfried, confident in his ability to handle whatever she would deliver, followed her with only his eyes. His body remained like a mountain to the storm.

"What now child?" he thought.

She did not act, at least immediately. He noticed the thoughts churning in her mind by her changing facial expressions. Instead of eying him as one would expect a hunter to watch its prey, her features were somber. Though lacking the intimidation of a seasoned warrior, Siegfried noticed the girl had changed.

The wind blew, her body tensed, and she attacked. Her eyes spoke killer intent, but her feet betrayed her. As she stepped in with her blades, the Bladesinger stood his ground. From the edge of his vision, he watched her weight shift but without the momentum to follow through. As suspected, the blow ceased and weight fell back to her supporting leg - a feint. Siegfried felt the urge to comment once again, but choked down the remark. His opponent moved with confidence and vigor, and he wanted to see the extent to which she would perform.

She feinted again. Siegfried did not move. She strafed, then ducked in for a blow - a feint. The elf grew wary of the cat and mouse attempts. She cracked a smile on a third strike, and the Bladesinger admittedly moved his blade to block but checked it as she pulled the blow. He grew irritated at her immaturity. Now she laughed, and that was the final straw. The elven swordsman slid his boots against the grass for a better footing and prepared to skewer her on the next attempt.

"You need to learn humility," he scoffed mentally. The look of disdain became apparent on his otherwise stoic features.

Just before she stepped in for another blow, her laugh stopped and personality changed. Immediately, Siegfried began to act against her, but this time she did not bluff. Almost too late to notice, she shifted her weight completely forward into the blow. The elven swordman brought his blade up to parry hers, but his last second switch from offense to defense cost him. One of her two blades would taste flesh. Then, she finally feinted. This time, into another attack entirely. Siegfried cracked a small smile even though his teeth were slammed together from the foot now planted in his jaw. He staggered backwards from the force and his free hand bolted to his chin reflexively.

"Not bad," he commented while adjusting his jaw to gauge the damage. He did not spit out teeth, nor blood. He was lucky the maneuver she pulled off limited the amount of force she could have delivered. Aside from the ringing in his head that matched the hum of his blade, he was generally unharmed.

"I admire your tenacity. I can see that my previous statements bothered you, which means I touched upon a sensitive subject. I take it you were trained by a loved one? That same uncle perhaps?" he inquired. "I meant no offense. I would like to ask if you would be interested in assisting my cause against the Corpse Horde?"

Siegfried loosened his posture and stifled the hum of his sword as he waited for reply. His grip, on the other hand, remained firm. This would be a test of her chivalry amongst other things.

[Ashla]

Ashla smirked. Her response to his apology? "Apology accepted. My uncle was a great man, but he's dead so he never would have been offended anyways." She let out an amused chuckle.

Then he asked if she could join a cause of his. The Corpse War was brought up. Ashla was born way after it took place, but she remembered being told stories of it by her then exiled, now deceased, father. Another Icebreaker. He told her about the dead bodies which had come back to life and wrecked havoc on the elves. It brought the elder race down to a downfall. Ashla remembered being told that her mother was an elf. She too was native Raiaera. Her mother's story proved how far the once grand race had fallen. Layla Rose had lived most of her life a beggar and thief.

She eyed Siegfried with both interest and question - a rather innocent look which proved how young she really was. "Wasn't the Corpse War a while ago?" She questioned, "Aren't the sculled warriors already back where they should be? 'Ya know, their graves?" Ashla twirled her broadsword in her skinny, nimble fingers.

She tilted her head, "My mother was an elf. She lived in Raiaera and her life was still a poor one up until she reached Eiskalt." Ashla's eyes suddenly saddened. Eiskalt was so close to a war itself, it too could end up like what Raiaera did long ago...

Only a glimpse in her head of endless fighting, bloodshed, and destruction entered her head and her eyes began to water in sorrow. She then remembered that she was standing in front of another person and blinked the tears back. She could not look weak in front of any opponent! She however, did say something, "I know what it's like to know your country is meeting its downfall..." She sighed, gripping her sword and lowering it, "I'm interested."

The wind suddenly softened, as if it too was depressed to see such terrible things happen left and right. The grass stopped swaying its happy dance and stood still in an apparent freeze in fear. The frozen fears were also present in Ashla, a frozen girl of frozen heritage. The young Icebreaker still had so much on her back, and it was hard to carry. Clouds formed above them again and gathered. Dark, dread bringing clouds which seemed to want to build her melancholy mood up. Before anything else could be said, one single raindrop splattered against the half-breed's forehead.

[Siegfried]

“Yes,” Siegfried replied, “The war was many decades ago, but Xem’Zund’s blight still plagues my homeland. The forests still rot with the undead, the plains are still black and lifeless, and our once great forest is now crimson with Pode’s curse. Though the war is over, the fight still remains.”

The high elf indulged the girl’s questions. His watchful eyes never left her blade, nor her free hand. She spoke of her mother and the pain washed over her features. Siegfried felt a moment of weakness himself, for he had long since forgotten his own mother’s face. The scenes of mindless killing, weeping loved ones, and the flicker of green hellfire trickled up from the back of his mind, but he stifled himself. While the women gripped her blade, he had to maintain his resolve.

Then, her blade lowered and stance relaxed. The faux atmosphere shifted with the mood, and the sunny skies became laden with clouds. The warm breeze grew cold to the skin and small droplets fell from above. Was this the trickery of the monks?

“My apologies,” Siegfried softly spoke. He risked trusting the girl and sheathed his weapon. “It is both fortunate and unfortunate that we share similar experiences.”

He stepped toward the girl with caution. He held his hand out towards her blade just in case.

“I can offer you my own knowledge of the battlefield - help train you to be even stronger. All I ask is for you to aide in my cause when the time comes. Do this, and I shall return the favor should you ever need my skills.”

He stood only an arm’s length from the half-blood. Her expression was contemplative, and much like himself, hinted towards a repressed sorrow, hatred, and yearning. She was so young. She should not have such similarities with himself. Though her strength had been proven, he felt pain for her. More so, he felt a sense of guilt for asking such a youth to commit to another conflict. Siegfried never considered children in his centuries alive, but this feeling… was it how a father would feel?

“Shall we call this a draw?” he spoke, staring into her troubled icy eyes. “We may speak more once this illusion is over. Across the way is a pub called The Broken Blade. I’d like you to join me for a drink so we can discuss without hostilities. Would you do me the honor?”