It is that time of the year again...the time when the world turns white, the rain turns to ice, and shivers become the normal social behavior. And while our story today bears some of these characteristics...the place in which our story takes place bears them year-round, whether festive fire hazards are in the town squares or not. Driving snow blow the white dunes from place to place, like slow white waves at sea over rocky shoals, or their more stationary and treacherous sandy brethren. Black-grey rocks dot the landscape, breaking it up like the bones of long forgotten beings, lying defeated beneath the ever-present snow. And atop a tall crest of the frozen landscape, what looked to be a temple...with many icy and treacherous stairs leading up to a seeming mausoleum, crowning the bleak wasteland. The temple bears a single arching dome, over a single cavernous room, magical were-lights giving it a cold, somber illumination. At the far end, another narrow flight of steps lead into dark depths beneath the ice and snow, with unknown mysteries promised below.

And the inhabitants of such an unforgiving and foreboding place? There is only one, and he isn't shivering festively. A single figure...though seemingly larger than life, a suit of silver plate armor standing alone at the top of the wide temple stairs before the huge steel doors. A T-shaped visor hides all but icy blue eyes, the only sign betraying life in the statuesque figure, while a huge shield and sword stand before him, gripped each in one of the armor's gauntlets, set one behind the other and centered between the shoulders-width apart feet. A red cape blew in the wind, and a golden sigil shone on his red surcoat and bright shield. The man stood waiting...waiting for any comer desiring to test his worth in pursuit of the treasures of the temple. For none would enter who did not first prove himself worthy.

@Laach

Trekking up a long and winding pathway, her scarlet cloak billows in the frigid nitrogen breeze. A thousand stone tablets stacked in a row behind her, and a dozen or so left to go. The vagrant travels to this hallowed and barren land in search of something. Few have gone before her, but all have failed. They all lacked the quality necessary for accomplishing this godforsaken feat. And before you guess, no, it did not include their lack of intelligence. The quality that was equally void in all of their souls was the ability to care for the fabled guardian of the treasure. Their desire for gold and glory distracted them from the true point of this journey. Being worthy of that worthless hunk of gold. Each and every person before her had one thing in common: they were not worthy. One guardian guards the historically old building for one purpose, guarding the treasure until one of true worth comes to take it from him.

The Scarlet stranger, now only a few more slabs away from it's destiny, halts in recognition of it's adversary that greats them. It stands there in silence, marveling the battle scene that so rightfully makes itself known to each of them. The guardian and the challenger face to face to see who the winner is. But as all fairy tales go, it would be anticlimactic for the heroine to lose after walking all this way.
Still hidden behind her hood, the guardian's new opponent addresses him, "I have come from far, far away to challenge you. I suppose you know what I want?"

The armored guardian tilts his helm down a fraction to view the comer in red, his ice-blue eyes coldly regarding her from behind the eye-slit. In a voice proud and strong, he replies to her declaration. "I know you want it enough to come from far, far away, as did all who came before you. I know you are here to take it, if you can, as did all who came before you. I do not know if you will succeed, or if you will fail, as did all who came before you. Before you learn what it is you came to obtain, and choose whether or not to lay claim to it, you must prove yourself worthy. Are you prepared to test yourself against me?" His statement, with not a hint of condescension, nor admiration, merely the neutral respect given an unknown opponent, rang forth over the muted sounds of the wind and snow. Yet even so, his figure remained still, beyond his initial motion.

She seemed to be at a loss for words, staring at the guard with a look on her face as if wondering whether this guy was serious. She cleared her throat and spoke up again, "Actually, I'm just here to take your job. Not... whatever you just said..." She takes a moment to pause and search for something on her belt. This continues for a few seconds before a look of realization dawns on her face. Gripping onto the side of her blood red coat with what seems to be a spiked gauntlet she sighs, "you kinda threw me off guard with that cryptic mumbo jumbo, so... hows-about we just get straight to the point?" With one swift motion she rips her cloak off and throws it to the side, revealing an arsenal of weapons all carefully prepared to take down the heavily armed foe before her.

"I'll make the first move," she grabs a hand sized bag around her waist and hurls it at her opponent. A fuse like string on top of the bag is lit to go off the moment it lands next to him.

Note: (the bag contains two chemicals. One that explodes, and another that creates a small lasting flame for ~30 seconds)

The armored figure stands impassively as the challenger seems confused by his statement. He had no intention of attacking an unprepared opponent...but he had no particular issue with allowing the enemy to make the first move in this case. But what would it be...the gauntlets seemed to point to a mage or an unarmed combat specialist, but she seemed to have plenty of room to be an alchemist or some other fighter as well. He kept his sword and shield in a loose grip, ready to wield at the faintest need. Then she seemed to reach understanding.

"I'll make the first move."

Jacos smiles grimly as she initiates the fight...with a thrown bag with a fuse. A bomb...interesting. But a concussive device would be the last thing that would work on this guardian. With a keen eye he measures the bag's flight, then in a burst of motion he thrusts his left hand into the air, releasing the shield it held at the apex of its range of motion, sending it flying up to intersect the explosive and likely knock it up and away harmlessly. In the same smooth set of movement, he crouches low, then explodes upwards himself, launching himself into the air with his sword flipping up into its normal grip, a grip that was sending it downward to cleave his enemy in two as he descended on the no longer red-garbed opponent.

Had the bag been an actual grenade or bomb it would have been entirely deflected by the guardian's shield, but if you have ever tried hitting a small beanie bag out of the air then you should realize how the trajectory would change. The explosive bag, traveling in an upwards arc, collides with the shield, stopping it from moving forward but also sending it higher up. At this rate the bomb will most likely explode before even hitting the ground with the flames being spread out over a larger area. This would be the least of the guardians worries however, as he was moments away from realizing the mistake he had just made.

A smirk grows on the lady's face. Either she had expected her adversary to take the offensive initiative, or she was simply toying around with him. Jumping from such a far distance however had given her just the right amount of time to counter react to his attack. She held one of her metal covered hands up to block the opponents attack, and the other in a ready stance in case she would need it for any surprises coming her way. The observant eye would be able to recognize the runes carefully inscribed on the palms of her gauntlets, but the warrior only had a limited amount of things he could react and focus on before meeting face to face with his opponent. Whether or not he was mentally capable of calculating the meaning of the purple symbols in the milliseconds he had before landing was unknown. Regardless, he could not prevent all three attacks coming for him at once, and the girl new this quite well.

The Warrior had expected the bomb to go off behind him, and was unphased. The only thing that remained of that maneuver was now to regain his shield, but that could easily wait. For now, all that remained was to carry out his attack. To his surprise, his new enemy didn't make an attempt to dodge...she didn't look paralyzed in fear either. She was holding out a single hand to block his strike. That spoke of significant nerve...and unless there was something about her he didn't know about, which was almost certain, significant foolishness. He descended upon her like a bolt of crimson and silver from the heavens, swinging his blade downward in a two-handed grasp, his feet impacting the stone and ice in front of the enemy just before the sword came down to bring the full might of his slash onto this enemy. Can she block this? He would find out.

(The bomb in the air explodes, sending flaming debris across the battlefield)

This certainly was not what she was expecting. The guardian had gone from a one handed attack to a two handed one, gambling a boatload of strength into this one attack. Getting hit by that attack would either break her arm or send her down on her knees, perfect for an execution blow. By the time she realized this, her opponent had already touched down with the ground. It was now or never to react, so she decided to use her only escape option possible in this scenario. Activating the rune on her gauntlet that was only seconds away from intercepting his deadly attack, she uses her flamethrower spell. Using her mana as fuel she quickly spins around on the ice, narrowly avoiding the attack by a hairs length. Of course, all this did was manage to help her survive his first attack. Right now she was in an unfavorable position for dodging any more super powered swings.

Her spinning momentum would give her the tools necessary to retreat. Her opponent swing had left him vulnerable to a single attack, for the momentum of his attack would prevent him from carrying out an instant followup with the weapon that he carried. luckily for him, Savaymin had no armor penetrating that she could capitalize on, leaving her with only one option. swinging her gauntlet, she strikes her armored foe in the back of the head. The sound of metal clashing metal echoes, probably more so in the warrior's ears than in hers. Hoping that did the trick of disorienting him, she attempts to back step away from her adversary. She needed to distance herself so that she could prepare for the next time he lunges at her.

Jacos allows himself just a tiny fragment of his mind to recognize the humor in his opponent spinning aside with a rocket-propelled hand. But just a tiny fragment. The mighty runeblade comes down and slices empty space, before sending chips of ice flying as it gouges a cut in the frozen stone. He keeps his eyes to his opponent as he prepares to follow up on his offense, only to receive a heavy strike on the helmet, knocking his head down and aside for a moment. But he was not impaired, the strike wasn't anything to really brag about beyond the fact that it landed, and his armor was unharmed. Only a moment after the strike landed, with speed that belied the warrior's size, he rebounded back, swinging his body around back towards his foe, and one hand releasing it's useless grip on his sword to fly around at the challenger. His sword wasn't his only weapon, he was just as capable of throwing unarmed punches as his attacker. As it swung, his gauntlet glows white as he triggers a concussive strike, ready to hit her with with a backhand strike possessing the force of a battering ram.

(Things are starting to heat up.)

The flames sprinkled down, like a thousand candles lit up and gracefully descending around them. Red flickering tongues landed on the ground around them, some even made there way on top of the two enemies fighting to the death. The lights contrasted beautifully with the icy white landscape. The Guardian, ignorant to the sudden terraforming going on around him, launched his own plated hand at his foe. Little did he know, the smile she had on earlier was still there.

The calm and collected Savaymin raises her right hand to block her opponents blow. This was nothing compared to what her cousin Dilloh could dish out with his gigantic sword, so she only needed one hand to stop it. All thoughts of retreat in her mind melted away as the inner demon within her revealed itself. Pure sadistic joy filled her body, invigorating her to punish this lowlife who thought they could beat her. Her other hand sparked to life with flames now fully covering it. She raised it slowly compared to the pace of the battle, but even an idiot could tell what she was planning with it. From ashes you were created and to the ashes you will return.

Jacos's strike is blocked, but he has more than simple punches up his sleeve. With a quick turn of his hand, he snatches the enemy's wrist and pulls back, trying to send her off balance. At the same time, the longsword in his other hand rises up, preparing for a downward slash at his opponent. She was strong to block even a fractional-strength concussive strike, and the magical flames rising in her other hand were impressive...but such was not enough to prove her worthy.