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Just above the surface of the platform the air seems to ripple for a moment before a spire of metal is thrust through the fabric of space. The sleek metallic panels slide to a stop and remain motionless for a moment, drifting just inches off the surface and titled at an angle. Silence...-=SHINK=- The sound of metal sliding against metal and through flesh fills the air as a fair quantity of a noious black ooze begins to drip from the spire.

The metallic panels begin to slide away, sinking back into the hole from which they came. A body is revealed, the platform upon which he stands a temporary measure until the whole is sealed and The Spire retracted fully. The man seemed to be well over six feet tall, ranging possibly even as high as seven and a half feet. Holes are seen sealing across his body where it appears he had been skewered not moments before, passing through the black pants, leather trenchcoat, and form fitting black shirt with a symbol in crimson in a language known only by one.

His features were...unnatural. As he dropped the few inches to solid ground it seemed he wore no shoes, and that the entirety of his body was little more than a giant scar. His skin was puckered and grey, pulled around his flesh as if it had been stretched too far. Two jet orbs scanned the area, windows to a soul he no longer carries. Spines of bone extended from his bald skull, streaming behind him like hair caught in the wind. Similar spines of a much shorter variety pierced through the sleeves of his vestments.

He glanced about as his trenchcoat seemed to slide from his back, dissolving into naught but shadow as he tossed it off to one side. A trickle of black blood ran down his sleeveless left arm to pool in his palm, wisps of light gathering about it. His voice came as needles to the spine, the chill of death about it, "What have we here...?"

He smirked as laughter passed from his form and the spines of bone on his head and arms seemed to twitch independently from his own motions. His mouth seemed to open far too wide as his voice continued unhindered, "Dinner...I think." His right hand seemed to unravel as the flesh of the fingers was cast off, the bone within combining into a single blade of bone that extended down towards the ground.

He began to advance upon his foe as the pool of blood in his hand formed into a glowing orb, white tainted by the black of his blood. He darted at Ice with all his speed, his blade coming up in a slash well before he's close enough, sending out a stream of highly acidic blood towards the man.

Instead of dodging the blade strikes he seem to thrust into them, a spray of blood flying out as if under extreme pressure. Being as close to IV as he is he would either not be able to make the strike against his neck trying to evade the river of blood now spraying out to cover him, or just add to the deluge. Once the blood is released, however, the wounds seem to close harmlessly.

His height seems to increase as his left hand seems to grow as well, becoming slightly clawed as two shafts of opaque white energy flash behind him for a brief moment, the orb expended. Another orb would begin forming shortly thereafter, blood flowing directly from his palm. Another deluge of blood would spurt from his mouth, spit much like a solid projectile at a rather quick pace. His chest seemed to burst as a spray of boneshard needles sprayed out in Ice's direction, each tipped with a small bit of his blood and each projected at a great enough speed to piece steel. It was if he was built to produce relentless assault in many ways at once.

IV watched the man retreat and an unnaturally large grin broken out across his visage. He seemed to crouch as the spires of ice approached, leaping up as one thrust up under him to go up with it. It burrowed into him, but he didn't care. He pulled himself from it and thrust off of it, arcing high into the air and tucking into a roll as a spray of needles burst from his back at Ice, each tipped with his blood.

He'd come down and land in other crouch, small bones tearing from his bare feet like cleats on the shoes of a baseball player or those of an ice climber. They seemed largely retractable, varying in size as needed as he darted towards Ice to close the gap, the orb growing in his palm as his bladed arm came up in a slash, spraying a stream of blood while he unleashed another globule from his mouth.

IV notes the blade left in the ground as he continued his pursuit, the orb in his hand bursting with light. As he darted forward he lept into the air, performing a spin sending the large spines on each arm towards Ice with another stream of blood from his blade. When he comes down he slams his left palm into the ground.

Nothing.

For a few brief heartbeats there is absolutely nothing. He slowly gets up and straightens his coat before calmly walking towards Ice. As he walks light explodes outwards from behind him, the effects of the Antimagic Field spreading to encompass the entire area. He pauses for a moment and glances to the blade that had been left behind and calmly starts walking towards it.

The flow of blood had ceased and IV's voice seemed to return to some semblance of normalcy as he stopped at the blade, "I will make you a deal. If you win I'll let you have the blade back. If you lose, I will eat you." He slid the blade from the ground as he turned back to Ice, slowly starting to walk back towards the man. His body was resistant to any poision trap the blade might hold, and attempts at slicing or piercing his hand would be futile. should the blade have some sort of acid trap it too would find itself useless, his flesh attuned to acidic environments.

Even though magic had been nullified, IV was still a beast to deal with. His healing factor remained, but his blood was no longer acidic, the destruction there driven by magical diseases no long able to function. He had lost his spells as a result, and his ability to create bone on such a massive scale, though not entirely. The tradeoff is the fact that he has seen his opponent use only weapons to which he is highly resistant, and as such he would have an upper hand in such a frigid locale, he hoped.

He began to rush forward, spines of bone begining to push out from his skin at a slower rate than he would have liked. With the confiscated blade in his left hand and his entire arm another blade he darted towards Ice, still some distance away. Slowly his left hand seemed to be locking itself around the blade to disallow it from being taken forcefully.

The blade would strike bone and instead of simply bouncing off like it usually would in an area where magic flowed freely, the blade became lodged in the bone. This was only helped by the fact that IV leaned into the strike and then pulled his arm into it, locking the blade as his right arm swung around not to attack Ice, but to trap him and pull him close. Should he not be able to get the blade around Ice he'd jerk it upwards hardly and then slash down at Ice's arm that held the blade. All the while the small spines were growing.