Distracted Training Session

The Colosseum, Morning

Training time in the Colosseum once more, the weather picking up in temperature as the faint tinge of summer heat is cresting none too many months away. The fighters, Angorites and Korites are limbering up for the shows later today, each in their own ways.

Off to the side, however, is the usual congregation of fighters looking to read between the lines of their profession. A Mul'neissa woman stands in the middle of them, gesturing at one to hit them with what seems to be a mace of some kind. They look uncertain, as it wasn't a training one either, with sharp points and ridges meant to smash and tear. Aryia gestures again.

It raises. And comes down onto her side with a dull thud. But the pugilist doesn't budge, nor show any pain on her visage. And pulling away, it seems as if nothing is damaged. "Half of a fight is knowing how to dish out pain. The other half is enduring pain," she gestures before pointing to her side. The finger trails up to her head. "Up here is where the pain is. Pain is good. Pain lets you know something is wrong. But you have to learn to wrestle that sensation and squash it when it matters. Combine it with your tricks of deflecting blows, one can make shit glance off like it wasn't even there."

People stare blankly.

She rolls her eyes. "Pair off, don't fucking stare at me like that. You'll get what I fucking mean. Use the clubs also, for fuck's sake, I don't want to have to take Jaramil to the fucking Defense again."

The group breaks for their... endurance training. A young human squirreling himself away after being called out. <Handspeech/Tongues>

The Goblin has only been half paying attention, her gaze taking on a far away look. She blinks and stares as the mace thuds into Aryia, with no apparent effect save the sound of it connecting.

Simony finds herself facing off against another woman, a Half-Sil, who is still about two feet taller. The Sil woman strikes first, knocking Simony down. For a moment, the Gobbo is stunned, before slowly standing up. Blinking owlishly at the other woman, Sim's club is readied, and thuds into Elf. Whose return strike knocks the diminutive woman down again.

Aryia paces through the groups, her giving pointers or dragging people up to their feet and scolding them for their stance. It seems that Simony wasn't safe from this either, as she is suddenly wrenched up from the ground and placed haphazardly on her feet. She claps twice in front of the Gobbo's face. "Focus. Forging mistakes with half-brained attention makes it hard to break them later," she gestures in constructive criticism before gesturing for the two of them to continue. The pugilist stays, watching. <Handspeech/Tongues>

The look on the Goblin's face is one of shock and surprise, and being placed down suddenly has her wobbling. Her eyes cross momentarily at the clapping, and then track the signs as Aryia makes them. Her mouth opens momentarily, and then closes.

Drawing a breath, she then exhales, before readying her weapon. Simony connects solidly with the Half-Sil across from her, and then grunts as the other woman's weapon slams into her side. Unlike before, the Goblin remains on her feet. "Ow.", is her faint utterance.

Warriors of all sorts can flock here to train, test, or even flaunt their martial prowess. The robed figure that enters is far from that demographic. Verna bears her Mourner robes, yet the hood is doffed. It is unlikely she is present on official Vardamen matters, and such would likely be something of an insult or disgrace to the control of those present or supervising. While injuries are hardly uncommon here, anything to excess is rather unheard of.

Still, Verna ensures her movements do not take her into reach of those active, much less between sparrers.

Aryia crosses her arms as she watches the half-sil and Simony exchange blows. Though the small comment is picked up by long grey ears. The mute pats the sil-touched on the shoulder, a signal to tag out as she takes her place. "Saying that acknowledges the pain. Breathe out instead," she advises.

A walking shade of grey across the way gets her attention. Expecting someone more full blooded in the familiar grounds, she perks, then chuckles to herself at the minor mistake. Aryia waves across the way. "Here to get your ass kicked?" she cheekily asks of Verna. <Handspeech/Tongues>

The Goblin's eyes widen, and she lets out a breath. She adjusts her gi slightly, seeming agitated now. Waiting until Aryia is looking her way again, Simony swings a solid blow with the club.

Then awaits a return blow, her eyes glancing at Verna momentarily before shifting back to Aryia.

Verna looks over as the gesture catches her eye, a hand lifting to return the greeting. She approaches, unhurriedly, before offering an answer to the inquiry, as well. "I would prefer my posterior not be struck, thus, no, such is not the intent of my arrival." After a pause, she adds, "Nor do I seek to intrude on the... kicking of other ass. I am merely... between tasks at present. Good day to you both."

Aryia absorbs the blow with a little twist of a hip and an impassive face, her exhaling when the pain should start to smart. She raises a knee. Brings the foot close to Simony. And briskly gives her a small tap on the side.

Which is about as hard as the half-sil was smacking earlier. At least Aryia knows how to pull her hits.

She snorts at Verna. "If you change your mind, I'm sure I can find someone here that can pair off with you," she offers. "Good to see you Verna. Hope you've been alright since..." She gestures vaguely. At everything. <Handspeech>

The Goblin's ears perk up at reading Verna's name in Aryia's hands. "You are Verna, then? Telamon suggested you as a source of information." Her club comes up again, and she swings it at Aryia's side once more with a grunt. Simony isn't pulling her swing, assuming Aryia will absorb the blow or deflect the swing.

"May I find ya later t'talk about uh certain other-planar critters?" She pauses. "I mean, to talk about demons specifically."

"I am ... well enough," Verna assures Aryia, albeit with no confidence in her flat tone. "I may consider such, given my recent excess of unoccupied time." She pauses to watch the Gobber's strike; not with any judgement nor evaluation as she would not know anything of proper form.

"I would be much more inclined to be a source of information," she then notes to Simony. "In the context of fiends, I hold a great deal of experience. Some of which I would prefer to to have not. I would be pleased to assist however I might."

Aryia frowns at Simony's sudden talk of demons. A topic that the pugilist doesn't find entertaining for various reasons. The club to the mute's side is barely registered as another snapping kick lances out. This one a bit more powered than the other. Still pulled. But...

She nods slowly to Verna after getting het footing, concern crossing her features. "Who knows, maybe we can get abs on you yet," she jokes, trying to lift her spirits. "Well, uh, yes, Verna knows a lot." <Handspeech>

The Goblin grunts at the kick, toppling over sideways. She takes in a breath, and slowly stands up. "I.. where may I find you later? I'm currently engaged in kick-bag duties. But I am in need of some information. I would pay you for such."

She squares up on the club, and swings again, grunting, a bit more strength in the blow.

Verna considers. "My home is upon the Redridge road near the Vardamen temple. I can most often be found there. Else at the temple, itself or one of the libraries in the city." Her eyes pan to Aryia. "Where I would repetitively lift tomes in order to build muscle mass, of course."

Aryia watches Simony topple over, her brows furrowing. As the club comes down, she simply reaches out and intercepts it with the palm of her hand. "Enough," she motions. "You're not in the mindset for it right now. We're here to learn how to take a hit, not have our minds far off and get clobbered," she executively decides. "Take a break."

She shakes her hands off, turning towards Verna with a light smirk. "I'm sure we can find some metal bound books somewhere to lift." <Handspeech>

The Goblin's eyebrows rise up, her cheeks colouring. She lowers her head. "Sorry." Simony leaves the club in Aryia's hand. A smile slowly works its way across her lips.

"Alright, I shall look for you there, Verna." The Gobbo looks to Aryia then. "I am sorry for disrupting the lesson. I'll be in a better mindset for the next one."

Verna dips her head to student and teacher alike. "I look forward to your visit. For now, my apologies for the interruption." Despite not having neared -too- close, she takes a step rearwards to ensure ample space for them. Her attention shifts about to others as she considers, "Metal-bound tomes would be somewhat more resilient... an intriguing concept."

"Well, you have the opportunity now, I'll take my leave now." The Goblin bows deeply to Aryia and Verna, and turns to run off. She pauses a moment, eyeing Verna, "Eh? That would make them more expensive though, and more intricate to make. Depends on what you need them for." That said, Simony turns to go.

Aryia shakes her head at both of them. "No, you aren't disrupting. That's the point of this: finding where the mind is remiss."

She smiles at Verna. "I can look into it if you want." Oh. Oh no.. <Handspeech>

Verna looks back to Aryia as the student excuses herself. "While it might be beneficial to the books, I do not personally aspire to the additional weight. It would only make for reduced, more frequent trips."

Aryia snorts. "We'll start with one book then. A holy book of Vardama? Clad in mithril. Doubles as a bludgeoning tool," she suggests with a grin before wiping her face off. She looks to the club in her hand before eyeing a half-oruch woman training. She whistles sharply at her before throwing the weapon as hard as possible at them.

The oruch touched steps back before turning briskly, swiping a hand through the air to deflect the club. "Fuck ya, Aryia!" she spits back good naturedly.

The mute grins before turning back to Verna. <Handspeech/Tongues>

Verna perhaps expected the oruch to catch the club with her face. Not that the verbal response given would have been inappropriate were that the case. She then looks to Aryia. "Indeed. I could readily acquire such a text in a suitable size that it might better function as a shield, if you prefer?" It is Verna and Verna tone makes it difficult to determine whether there is jest, sarcasm, or blunt honesty.

Aryia laughs at all three cases, a silent, faintly wheezing thing. "It's a start. Who knows, maybe it'll come in handy one day. Start small."

She looks about the group, watching them get more riled as most aren't getting the point of the exercise. "If you want to stick around to watch, I'm going to have to beat the shit out of a lot of people soon. The guy that sells skewers has been getting here early if you want a bite to eat while I teach." <Handspeech>

"This doesn't make any sense!"

"My leg!"

"This is bullshit!"

Aryia gestures. Case and point.