Relentless gales of wind howled across the frozen landscape, swirling torrents of snow in an endless wave of white which stretched out across the horizon. The barren wasteland was home to only the most hardened and rugged of people forced to live in such extremely harsh conditions. Isolated from the rest of the world by a towering range of mountains that created a natural barrier which few dared to cross. Those who did so rarely returned.
Two figures shrouded in dark robes stood out in stark contrast to the eternal white around them, though they were lost in the torrent of snow which swirled about them. Despite the cold, they both panted from exertion, their breaths coming out in wisps of misty air which was instantly snagged away by the gusts of wind which snapped their cloaks about them wildly. Bared blades flashed with reverberating clangs as they parried and countered one another, swings and thrusts of cold steel adding to the flurry of motion around them. Their footsteps caused snow to crunch beneath their feet as they forced one another about, each giving ground or taking it as opportunity arose.
Desolation was the only companion the two shared as they continued their struggle along the edge of a ravine, their dual taking them precariously close to the edge. Each attempted to maneuver the other towards that edge as they constantly shifted about one another, swords lashing out with fatal intent. The larger of the two wielded a large claymore with vigorous speed and effective strength, using his weight and advantage in length to press a formidable attack. The other, a man of average height and build moved with a fluid, almost snake like grace as he effortlessly used a shortsword and dagger to twist the attacks away when his speed and agility were not enough to allow him to simply dance away from the aggressive blows of his opponent.
Despite the seemingly endless energy both exhibited, the cold air which accompanied their endless dance was beginning to wear them both down. It was evident as they began to slow in their footwork, their attacks coming with a more careful measure as each took stock of an opportunity rather than simply attacking with reckless abandon. Their breathing became ragged and quick as they labored to catch a breath in between blows, feet stumbling in the snow as they drove each other about.
There came an abrupt moment in their fight when the larger mans claymore was caught between the dagger and short sword of the smaller man, both locked together nearly shoulder to shoulder. The larger of the two pressed onward with his advantage of weight and strength, forcing his opponent to give ground with the ravine at his back. There was a brief exchange of words as a swirling gust of wind blew the hoods from both of their heads. The shorter mans long, silvery white hair flowed freely in the wind as he regarded the larger man with a sneer of contempt upon his pale, sharp features. His dark haired opponent, eyes narrowed and jaws clenched upon his regal visage glared down upon the smaller man with a look of murderous intent.
"Ad vitam aeternam," the white haired man whispered fiercely as he gave way and swiftly twisted out of the sudden oncoming rush of the larger man. He lashed out with his dagger, slashing the larger man across his arm as he hurtled past. The dark haired man stumbled wildly in an attempt to stop his momentum as the edge of the ravine loomed suddenly before him. Losing his grip upon his claymore, he fell over the edge and plummeted down into the white void which swiftly swallowed up his dark form. The white haired man approached the edge, then glanced down with a look of bitter satisfaction. "In the next life, my brother," he murmured into the howl of the wind. Stooping to pick up the claymore of his fallen foe after sheathing his own weapons, he pulled the hood up over his head once more, then walked away from the scene of their battle, the wind howling in his ears like the shrill scream of the damned.
Please. Mike doesn't hug. He's physically incapable of hugging. Instead he'd get a shotgun erection (as in his penis becomes a shotgun), and he'd shoot whoever is bullying his daughter with a "BOOM BABY HOO-HA". Then, afterwards, he would eat steak with a side of bacon, made by his wife. Paint his body in red white and blue (but not france wise because they're whimpy woo wah's) and do the patriot act on his wife until she can't walk for year (in a good way).
Then he'd take a freedom dump. And balance is restored.