Sparring in the Colosseum
It's Gilday, Aestry 05 14:36:11 1019. The full moon isn't up. The tide is low and rising. Towering white clouds drift slowly through the blue sky. It's hazy and hot, and the glare of the sun seems to drain the color from the landscape.
A03: The Colosseum
This day is a hot one, with the summer sun glaring relentlessly from high atop an azure sky. Here in the Colosseum, there is no event going on, but rather several small sections in which various people are drilling and training in various martial pursuits and techniques.
In one spot, a male sildanyar in an exquisite shirt of mithral chain and deerskin trousers wrestles with a massive shirtless oruch whose topknot swings around him as he maneuvers against his much smaller opponent. Clearly the massive oruch is more about force and power, while the scrappy sildanyar is all about agility and flexibility.
Kira isn't a fan of violence, but there's nothing wrong with some healthy competition and physical training. Thankfully, there's much more of the second parts here in the Colosseum than the first. Her light robes help to reflect some of the day's hot sun as she walks in to look about. The big oruch and the much smaller elf quickly catch her eye. She's always a fan of an underdog.
GAME: Elian rolls CMB: (9)+23: 32
Elian makes a good effort to grapple the big oruch, but it isn't quite enough. As the pair wrestle, the oruch says in a friendly mocking tone between breaths, "Youll have to do better than that if you want me to buy the drinks, Elian." The elf bends hos body with preternatural speed to narrowly avoid getting grappled by the orc, and replies, "We'll just have to see about that, Mogvar."
Kira approaches the two locked, maybe literally, in their competition. She offers a smile and polite wave in case someone's looking her way, but doesn't call out. She doesn't want to distract or interrupt. It wouldn't be fair, or polite.
GAME: Elian rolls 1d20+24: (17)+24: 41
In a matter of moments, Mogvar the Sweaty has managed to bodily grab the elf and extract him from his attempt to pin the big guy, much like how a father might extricate himself from the assault of a vigorous child intent on tickling. The orc's grip is too firm for the elf to wriggle out of, and before long it looks as if the elf will be the one to buy drinks. Ga'Elian says, with panting breath, "Your point, Mogvar. Maybe next time we'll see who's the better shot with a bow."
Now that it looks like the match is done and point scored, Kira claps politely. "I think you both did very well. You're definitely getting better with smaller, quicker opponents, Mogvar." Both get a smile.
Elian looks up from the ground at Kira, then smiles and says "Well, hello there. Yeah, he's improving against littler opponents, that's for sure. 'Tis a good thing the drinks are cheap at the Fire Lodge." He hops up onto his feet, dodging a friendly punch to the shoulder from Mogvar, to whom he says, "Meet you over there... after you've bathed, okay?" he grins.
To this the oruch says, "Eh, yeah. I guess it'll be good to cool off anyway. You're not gonna shower?"
Ga'Elian replies, "No need, my friend. Comfort and immaculate cleanness are part if the magic of my armor." Then turning his attention back to Kira as the oruch waves and heads off presumably to bathe, he says, smiling, "Did you come out to train, watch, or just pop in on your way somewhere?"
Kira waves to Mogvar as he leaves, then turns her smile back to Ga'Elian. "A bit of the first two, I think. I don't have to be somewhere else right now." Her smile firms and purses some in thought. "That I can think of..." Hopefully she didn't forget something.
Elian chuckles. "Well, it seems a lot of people are of the same opinion." He glances around the area. "I'm not that good with it, but if you'd like I could spar with you with quarterstaves. Or whatever. Oh hey, were you there at Arendt's signing of the treaty in Rune?"
"Thank you, but no," Kira shakes her head. Her smile dips at the question at the end. "No. I'd really wanted to be, but I was called elsewhere. I feel terrible about it. After having the honor to speak with the Council and with Arendt and his lieutenants about peace during the war, I'd hoped to be there to help encourage everyone when it was made official."
Elian nods. "Well, you may have made a personal impact on him. I cannot tell. In any case, his statements were shockingly contrite. He essentially signed the armistice then abdicated his leadership of the Dranei. I've never seen anything like it in the 118 years of my life. Of course, many suspect it to be a clever ploy with some unterior motive, but I only say time will tell."
"I think he was deceived and influenced," Kira shares her feelings and experience on it, "during, and maybe even before the war. He was as much a victim as anyone else, even more so. He probably didn't feel confident in his leadership, or that the Dranei wouldn't be. They're a very proud people, but also very honorable."
Elian shrugs, "That would probably explain it, but still, a person with his history bears watching, I think. Still, life goes in and There are many things with which to involve (or distract) oneself. For my part, I'm starting to hear renewed rumors of Asumit, and there's always the distraction of sporting with fae creatures under the moonlight deep in the woods." He grins.
Kira nods. "Their whole nation could use the eyes, and hands, of others. It suffered during the war..." She blinks at Elian's last comment. "Sporting with creatures in the moonlight? That sounds like a very ...unusual sport?" It sound like it to her, anyways.
Elian smirks, "Fey are often very fun-loving and frequently behave as though there were nothing in the whole world to cause worry, despite being fully aware of many such threats. So, if one can both convince them that one is not a threat and can also handle getting pranked expertly, then frolicking with the fey can be a thrilling experience. The Silvanori are probably as close to fae beings as any of the races of Ea, and were ourselves fey in remote antiquity.
Speaking of unusual sports, Azog arrives. While big oruch are not remotely uncommon in the arena, Azog's still a bit of an odd one. This time, he heads over to a training dummy with -2- bastard swords, and it appears he plans on using one in each hand. This never bodes well. No it doesn't. Not even a little. He faces off, and both practice blades go crazy, whipping them around and then backhand, each hit knocking a bit more stuffing loose. Perhaps he's envisioning little twilight faries.
Kira ahs and nods to Elian. "I see." Her smile widens. "They sound very fun and free-spirited, almost like children." Then there's new noises nearby, like poor practice mannequins getting slashed, and she looks over thattaways. She lifts a hand to wave to the oruch swordsman, but like before, she tries not to interrupt or distract.
Elian watches Azog thrash the dummy and nods. "You're not the first to make that comparison, and indeed I agree that most children seem apt to view life in a carefree way, when their circumstances do not force them to do otherwise." He then remarks, "I remember a time a while back when Azog and I sparred together with a sword like those. He was clearly my superior, as he evidently still is, in that weapon." He watches Azog's moves, and looks quite impressed.
Azog flips one of the practice blades, wooden sticks, really, but sword-shaped, anyhow, he flips up almost to his face as he looks towards Kira. A sword-salute to those who know about that sort of thing. And then he goes back to pounding the stuffing out of the training dummy. A child of maybe 12 or 14 is hauling over another practice dummy, struggling under the weight, but neither complaining nor asking for help. He stands just outside Azog's circle of danger, looking absolutely sober and serious and not at all childlike.
Elian draws the rapier from his belt and returns Azog's salute. He watches the lad for a moment, then says, more to himself than to anyone in particular, "In 2-4 years, he'll likely be ready to go adventuring himself, the way he carries himself."
Azog finally finishes mauling the target. It's well and truly mauled by this time, so he hauls it up out of the ground, and the boy hauls the replacement back into place. Azog settles it with a thump, and nods to Elian. "I hope that's the case. This is my squire. Or acolyte. I'm not sure the words in Tradespeak." He shrugs.
Elian says, "Yes. Precision is hard to preserve through translation. In any case, I'd say the lad has a worthy master. At any rate, I know I'd not want to cross swords in earnest with thee." He winks and gives a slight bow. <yrch-speak>
Azog shrugs dismissively about not wanting to cross swords and replies in Yrch, "Few want to cross swords, but will if needed. Many are eager, but prove nothing by doing so. Finding worthy opponents is difficult, and when I do, others have found them first. I am schooled in frustration. But I have honed a new technique in my idleness. Not a change in style; Kravar advised against it, and I think he was right, but a new tactic. Sometimes useful."
Elian raises his eyebrow, "Oh, what is that?" <tradespeak>
Azog says simply, "The two swords. Not many can wield two at once."
Elian nods. "Well, it looks pretty effective to me... some might say terrifying." He glances back toward one of the doors leading into the Colosseum then back, and says, "A bit ago, I was wrestling with a burly oruch, not unlike your build, frankly. He goes by the name of Mogvar. Anyway, he bested me, so it falls to me to buy drinks. He should be done bathing and be presentable soon, so if you'd like to join us, and you also Kira, we'll be heading to the Fire Lodge when he's ready."
Azog shrugs about its effectiveness, shakes his head slowly. "Against armored targets, not so good. Against practice dummies, highly effective." He frowns, "I have other tasks that I must do, but thank you for inviting me." He looks at the boy, nods, and the boy darts ahead. Azog says, "I do not know this Mogvar, but perhaps we will meet sometime. I must go."
Elian smiles. "Alright then. I'll leave you to it. Good seein' you around." Just then, there is a cry of "Elian!" from back where the elf had just looked, as a brutish-looking specimen of the oruch race strides out. Elian waves back and says, "Perfect timing, it seems. Well, 'til later..."