Crunch, crunch, crunch
Aiswynd's steps came to a stop as his breath fogs before him. He adjusts the scarf about his mouth and face, and a sheer cloth to protect his eyes from the cold and brightness of Coerthas. He pulls a map out of his pocket and studies it for a bit, looking up from the map a few times before putting it away and trudging on through the snow. A pack slung across his back filled with missives and some tool resupplyment for a scouting group that was working in Coerthas.
Crunch, crunch, crunch
As he trudges on through the snow, Aiswynd thinks about the events of his life up until recently. He had ended up in Limsa and fell in with the Rogues guild, well they more picked him up. They were watching all the new arrivals and apparently his skills doing odd jobs culling some of the more dangerous creatures near the city attracted his attention. He worked with them for only a month before they parted ways. They liked to work in shadows and secret and his method was a bit more direct than their style. It was during a courier job from Limsa to Gridania that started him with the Adders.
Crunch, Crunch, Crunch
He stops and looks up at the sky, the snow was starting to come down thicker, he was going to soon lose a lot of visibility. He checks the map one more time to make sure he was facing in the right direction. He lets out a sigh and continues on. His thoughts straying back to the Adders. How he fell in with them, it was pure chance, a group of Adders were being attacked by Garleans that had slipped into the area. The Adders were losing and he charged in without thinking. They fell fast, already worn out from the battle, and not ready for a sudden strike from someone more skilled than them. A couple Garleans were left alive for the Adders but proved to know little that was useful, or they didn't break. The Adders gave him honorary status, and he started doing jobs from them, small, but he quickly proved his usefulness.
Crunch, crunch...
He comes to a stop as the wind starts picking up with the thickening wall of snowfall. He normally wouldn't be doing resupply jobs like this but the Adders were short handed, and he volunteered because he wanted to see Coerthas. A land of pure pristine snow of shades of white, blue and...
"Azeyma let this be a fresh carcass of an animal." He says under his breath as he starts moving quickly, the streak of blood turning out to be from one of the Adders that were camped out. He kneels down at the body to inspect it. No signs of gunshots, he muses within his mind, rolling the body over to find scorch marks all across the body, "No..."
He stands up, letting the pack land in the snow by the body before he draws his blades and creeping forward towards the next blotch. He freezes in position as the camp comes into view. It was several Garleans standing around the remains of a campfire, dead Adders lying all about them. Aiswynd clenches his teeth, his jaw and then launches at the nearest of the Garleans, one that held a bow at the ready. The Garlean was taken by surprise as Aiswynd latches onto the back collar of his armor, drags him backwards and slices his throat open. The gurgle alerts the others.
Without hesitation he launches himself at the next nearest Garlean, Fire scorching past his head. The next spell was ended before it could be cast as he buries his fist into the stomach of the Thaumaturge. He twists around and slices low, hamstringing the Thaum as his Gladiator ally misses his swing for Aiswynd's head. Aiswynd continues his twisting spin, coming back up and slipping behind the Gladiator's shield and planting a dagger just under his shoulder. His other dagger is thrown past the Gladiator's head to catch the Thaumaturge in the face, ending his career in an instant.
The last person left in sight, a Pugilist launches himself at Aiswynd, believing him to be unarmed now. Aiswynd kicks the dying Gladiator into the Pugilist's path, buying himself enough time to bring forth another pair of daggers. He doesn't meet the strikes coming at him head on, insteady parrying and slipping sideways. His movements significantly faster than the Pugilist, scoring a slice across the ribs. The Pugilist aims a high sweeping kick at Aiswynd. Aiswynd, catches the leg and rolls with the kick, coming away from the strike rolling through the snow. He stands up and draws another dagger, having left the one in his hand planted firmly into the back of the knee of the Pugilist who was now on the ground and screaming in pain. A swift execution follows and Aiswynd gathers his daggers.
As he approaches the pack, a faint clapping could be heard along with the heavy crunch of snow, and into view came a Marauder, no, this one was a Warrior, the stature and armor sending flashes of recognition through Aiswynd's mind. For a moment, Aiswynd was no longer in a land of snow, but a steppe land, and the corpses around him were not Adders, but Xaelas. "That was magnificent for a backwater hick." the Warrior comments, laughing a little as he does.
He brings his axe to bear, "And I see you've gotten better...I was not wrong to let you live...You've culled weaklings from our ranks quite well."
Aiswynd's knuckles go white with how tightly he grips his daggers as he approaches the Warrior, "I will kill you." then it was all motion. He rushes in and aims for a throat cut at the start only to leave a knick upon the haft of the Warrior's Axe. With ease the axe is swung forcing Aiswynd to retreat before he leaps in again, this time aiming low and again the Warrior parries his attack and pushes him back with another swing. Aiswynd collects enough of his wits to change his tactics, going for a feint that he uses to grab the haft of the axe and launch himself past to aim a strike at the Warrior's face. His dagger leaves a shallow cut on the armor. He releases his grip and ducks down under the axe swing, aiming to stab the Warrior in the thigh only to be sent reeling as the haft crashes into the side of his head. He rolls to the side as an Axe blade narrowly misses coming down upon his head.
"You've gotten better, but so have I boy." The Warrior lets out, chuckling as he sweeps his axe up, unleashing a wave of snow and obscuring Aiswynd's view. Aiswynd leaps backward from the snow launch and launches a cluster of throwing daggers into it. He realizes to late that the Warrior went around to the side. The Warrior's swing comes in with the blade backwards, Aiswynd's arm cracking painfully under the impact of the haft and he is sent tumbling.
Aiswynd stands up slowly, the broken arm hanging limply by his side, the dagger in the snow. The pain of his arm causing him to collapse. The Warrior grins widely as he approaches, his helmet splitting from the strike earlier that hit more deeply than it first appeared. There was a fresh cut on his cheek, above the scar of another. The Warrior stops before Aiswynd as he tests the weight of his axe in his hand, "One more try...hehehe...next time...maybe you will win...I am curious to see just how powerful you will become."
In quick motion, Aiswynd brings up his linkpearl and broadcasts his location through it, getting it out before the haft connects with the side of his head and all goes black.
Later
Sometime later, he awakens to the sound of crackling fire and warmth. Heavy blankets are over him and his arm is pinned and splinted, he groans painfully as his vision swims. Someone found him at least. He closes his eyes and sleeps back off into sleep. In his dreams the laughter of the warrior is coming not from the Garlean Warrior, but his father, laughing at some idiosyncrasy of tribal Xaela life.