Face-Off [Open, more than one]

[Christian Remoc]

((Pick your team ( Avangards or Lokomotivs Both Russian of course.) and suit up ;D ))

One second he had the puck, the next Remoc found himself smashed against the glass with a brutal check. This was an un-official game, and that meant no rules, and no gear except your stick, hat, and the clothes on your back. Remoc made a mental note to smash that guy back as soon as he got the chance. You're going down Lokomotiv 42...

Flying down the ice, he pulled fast in front of his man and repaid the favor, hard. Knowing full well that 42 wouldn't be getting up for a while, he snatched the puck, and dodged up the center ice to slap-shot it into the goal. Unfortuanatly, their's was one of the best goalies in the league, and she deflected it easy. Remoc glided back to center ice, not bothering to glance at the scoreboard. It was third period, last shift, and still nothing nothing.

Looking up from his stick he saw he was facing off with his old friend...42.

[Seoras Reinard]

Crunch

The sound of flesh connecting with glass was music to his ears. A bit harder than he intended, but hey, Remoc was a communist, he should be used to pain. Seoras stole the puck and flipped it down the ice, spinning around the crushed Avangard and to catch up to his prize. Though baseball was more his sport, he had allowed Remoc to drag him into this game. He wasn't completely paying attention to what he was doing, so he was taken by surprise when a familiar, very ruffled shirt--almost as though it had been recently smashed into the rink's boundary wall--wove into his vision at high speed. Another crunch, though this one a far less pleasant connection between his head and the ice that had been under his feet. The puck was gone, he realized as he wobbled to his feet. "I hate it when that happens...time for a little revenge..." His original strike had been a friendly hit, but now there would be no holding back. Ok, maybe a little, don't want to kill him...yet.

Seoras glanced up to see Remoc take a shot, an effort completely wasted on the Lokomotiv's peerless goalie. The Avangard goalie was bad, but so was Seoras's team's offense, so the score stood at zero-zero. He floated back toward the center of the ice, seeing Remoc coming back from his failed shot. Nothing ever got past her, nothing.

"How does it feel to strike at an impenetrable wall, Remoc?"

[Christian Remoc]

"I hope you mean the goalie back there, cause I'm pretty sure I just turned you into icing a second ago." Remoc responded. The game had been at a stale-mate for so long, however, that they had all gotten their shares of bruising. And it was like that be cause, though Seoras wouldn't admit it, the Lokomotives stunk more than a real Russian train, him and the goalie excluded. The Avangard's, however, had a horrible goalie. In fact they were going without one to add an extra player to the ice. Sure, it was risky, but facing Seroras's team there wasn't too much risk.

The referee let the puck fall... And Remoc found himself flying away, clear of any followers, heading straight for the goal. It took Remoc a full two seconds before he realized that Seoras was skating next to him. It took roughly the same amount of time for his head to make contact with his arm.

((I know, it's kindof godmodding, but you said you'd closeline me.))

[Mercy Hawkins]

Mercy sat at the top of the bleachers looking down at the people who were playing hockey. She leaned back on the bleachers her eyes following them as she watched the game, not fully interested by the sport but still, having nothing to do. She took out her sketch book and opened it to a blank page where she began to sketch what she was able to of the players, since they were moving it was a pretty hard challenge.

((hope you don't mind me posting this here))