Completed Morning Training

[Quinn Harpe]

Timestamp: Spring 30, 513AV The crisp cool breeze of night had only just faded into the warmth brought by sunrise, bringing out the early rising creatures and the Hermit. Dropping from the tree he had chosen the previous night and stretching the stiff sleep from his back, he yawned to take in a lungful of the departing cool and exhale in a robust sigh. As was per his usual ritual he did not retreive food nor toiletries to shave or break his morning bread but instead he rolled up his cloak, which he had lain under through the night, and instead begins plucking pieces of leather armor down from the tree. It was only when he was suited up that he took the pleasures of shaving the morning stubble from his jaw. Without a mirror and in using a dull blade, Quinn winced when he nicked his chin to the left of its cleft. Continuing till finished, the Hermit wiped the drops of blood onto an old rag hanging from a backpack still dangling in the tree. "The Thirtieth..." He spoke aloud to remind himself. That meant agility training. with stretches of his legs and back, he quickly glanced around the area. He would start with basics, a run. Slipping his backpack down from the branch and onto his back, Quinn took up a swift but steady pace, weaving through the trees not far from the roadside. with leather armor over his arms and legs and his backpack, the slight weight kept him from having the lightest of steps, but of course he did not intend to stop for predators. That was a lesson long since learned.

[Aoren]

"The thirtieth." Aoren took in a deep breath of the morning air. He had on his back a pack filled with provisions enough for the day. He didn't intend to be gone from the city for very long. He would be back by the time Leth was high in the sky but he needed to get away from the confined spaces of Syliras. Aoren was dressed simply. He was wearing his linen breeches tucked into leather boots wearing a plain linen shirt. He hefted his pack on his shoulder then bounced on the balls of his feet. With that he took off into a run. Aoren started off on the main road leading to the gates of Syliras. It wasn't long though before he got tired of the flat uninteresting contour of the road. So he diverted and plunged into the foliage of the Bronze Wood.

As he moved he dodged the grasping claws of untamed bushes, angry shrubs and low hanging branches. With his quarterstaff he planted the butt end of the staff into the ground and vaulted over a stream. Aoren was exhilarated today. Filled with the youthful energy of Spring. There was a renewal of things was in the air and he seemed to have been renewed with it. He spun the quarterstaff over his shoulder carrying it there for a moment until he came to a comfortable walk. His heart was beating faster and his breathing was slightly elevated but he wasn't taxed in the least. He spent a great deal of time honing the physical strength of his body just as much as he sharpened the wits of his mind.

"Never grow weak, Aoren. Today you're going to get stronger one way or another." Aoren made his way to one of the more familiar areas within the Bronze Wood to him. He kept walking deeper into the woods. Not far away enough from Syliras proper that he couldn't get there by days end but far enough that he wouldn't bother anyone while he practiced. As he walked he took in the scenery. The leaves on the trees were still small and timid. It was as if they were testing whether or not Winter had decided to ebb away from the region. He could still spot a few bare bushes and trees, ones that had not yet awakened to the revelry of Spring. He could see flowers budding in the wild bushes. He could hear the chirp of birds gabbing about the whatever it was that birds chirped about.

When finally Aoren reached the clearing that he usually frequented he took in a deep breath. He deposited his pack in the shade of a tree and rest his staff against the trunk of that tree. He reached down and grasped the hem of his shirt pulling it up over his head then folded it placing it on top of his pack. He stepped out of his boots one at a time and left them there as well. Aoren grabbed his staff and walked barefoot to the center of the clearing. Taking a deep breath he turned his face skyward studying the endless blue plane for a few moment before he folded his legs beneath him, resting his staff in his lap and his hands upon his thighs. He took a few calming breaths, his chest rising and falling in equal measure.

"Alright Aoren...lets get this day started." Aoren didn't close his eyes but he focused on one point in the clearing and organized his thoughts until that one spot was all that was on his mind.

[Quinn Harpe]

The jog did wonders to drive the stiffness from his muscles and alert him to the full glory of the morning workout. Leaning forward and focusing on his breath, his legs began to work faster and harder to rush him through the maze of wildlife. Vaulting over small shrubs or stepping onto and then leaping off sturdier obstructions, he began working in other feats into the simple sprint. Quinn was soon taking an almost zig-zag path, kicking off of trees for an instant change of momentum. Though he was well practiced he had to watch his footing. Several times his bare feet near stepped onto a stub of a branch or a cluster of briers or sharper rocks. the more he tried to physically strain his body, the more focus he lost on where he was actually going. Many times had he gotten lost in doing this. He had been almost all over the Bronze wood without intending to, and still he managed to lose his way on occasion. Spotting a clearing up ahead, Quinn straightens his paths and almost coils his body with every step in preparation for a mighty leap. Knowing he could not clear the span, it was always interesting to try. Focused heavily on the edge of the woodline, his foot was off the ground before he recognized someone else had found the clearing first. It was only that glance that had thrown him off. Quinn landed at a weak angle and found himself toppling forward into a roll. His pack stopped him before he rolled too far and the leather armor over his limbs had served their purpose, suppressing sharp blows to the knees or elbows. Quinn recovered only to a knee, an open palm outwards in defense, just in case. Leaf green eyes study the stranger, drawn first to his human appearance and next to something that drew almost envy. The quarterstaff... The Hermit could almost feel the scar under the locks of wild brown hair ache in memory of his first attempt with one. "Hail, stranger. Are you Friend or Foe?" It had been a while since he had met anyone outside the city friendly, but this one seemed to be meditating, training just as he was. One who trained the mind as such deserved the benefit of the doubt.

[Aoren]

"The gods speak to us when we have the mind to listen, Aoren. So shut up. Sit down. Listen." Those were the words that were echoing through Aoren's head as he sat there in the center of the clearing. The words of the only real friend he'd ever had. A friend now gone. He was not lost in concentration. On the contrary he was very aware of most of what was going on around him. He could feel the breeze. He could hear the wilderness around him. The sway of the wind through the trees. He could feel the earth beneath him. The way the grass tickled the bottoms of his feet and teased his toes. It was a perfect moment. A moment of clarity and balance. He did not often reach these moments though he'd been getting better at getting closer to them.

That moment was interrupted however by the less than graceful entrance of a heap of flailing, rolling...person. Aoren shook his head slightly as he lost his focus. He turned his gaze toward the intruder upon the clearing. Just as soon as the man had fallen abruptly into the grass he was up on one knee with a hand outstretched demanding whether Aoren was a threat or not. In that moment the Drykan man took in the sight of the would-be acrobat. Dark hair. A strong, athletic physique. A rugged visage. Armor in key places covering exposed areas. Leather padding to be exact. He was barefoot and had a cut on his chin that had left dried blood in its place. That must have been a recent wound. Aoren didn't make it a secret that he was observing the man in those sparse few seconds.

"I suppose whether or not I'm a friend or foe would depend on you. Do you intend to bring me harm?" It was a simple enough question. Aoren already knew to treat this man carefully. His body was strong. The lean muscle exposed to the world said that much. His stance suggested some competency in fighting be it just brawling or otherwise Aoren couldn't say and the speed at which he'd recovered from his fall and into said defensive stance told Aoren he was quick on his feet. All those things considered the Drykan man reached inside of himself and searched for the essence of his breath. The ever flowing wind that spiraled deep into his lungs. He took hold of that energy and readied it should he have need to off-balance a potential assault. Outwardly the only thing that changed in Aoren's demeanor was the fact that he tilted his head slightly to the right.

His cobalt blue gaze held the leaf green eyes that stared back at him with unfaltering steadiness. Indeed the man's eyes were a very vibrant green. It made Aoren smirk slightly. Something he could not hide was his amusement at the similarity of how bright and sharp the man's eyes were. Much like the vitality of the Spring season itself. But there he sat, hands resting lightly over his thighs, his quarterstaff but a moments grasp away from being his weapon of defense and his air magic not far from that as it filled his lungs ready to be ushered forth as a strong gust of wind.

[Quinn Harpe]

To the observant eye the open palm seemed to have been a surprise reflex of a weary man. It took a moment of silent gauging, lively green eyes trailing over the man in return. Fit and healthy in the middle of meditation... Physically less than Quinn's own body but with weapon and the constant threat surprise skills beyond the flesh, fighting seemed dangerous, on top of pointless. The statement returned to Quinn's question was enough said.

Lifting to his feet and righting a few loosened pieces of the leather armor, specifically on his arms, Quinn spoke again. "Training in Meditation, I see." An obvious observation, nothing as close as Aoren has analyzed. It was held with a light tone and came with the lowering of the open palm defense. "I was doing much the same when I... fell upon your chosen site." By now he had calmed his breath and seemed somewhat relaxed. Standing at a healthy Six foot two and with a strong posture, Quinn displayed a discipline to his body, one a Mage might have to their Djed.

"Considering the strange situation, I will offer my name first." Taking a short moment to bow his head with cautious eyes always locked onto Aoren, he displays a small knowledge of etiquette. "Quinn Harpe. I am a hermit which lives in these woods..." Despite the offer of pleasantries, he had not moved forward, not till the stranger accepted and returned with a name and polite greeting, or some way for Quinn to identify hostility or hospitality.

[Aoren]

Aoren rose to his feet at the other man did. He quirked his head again. The man was almost as tall as he was. That wasn't something Aoren was used to. In a crowd he was usually one of the tallest people around. An attribute he assumed he had his father to thank for.

"Training in meditation is right, Sir. I am by far no master but it helps me focus and find a sense of balance in the otherwise hectic life I sometimes live." He chuckled and bowed his head to Quinn when the man offered his name. Aoren adjusted his grip on his quarterstaff with assured fingers that displayed familiarity with the weapon. He extended a hand for Quinn to shake.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Master Quinn. I am Aoren Skycrown. You are welcome to share the clearing with me if you like? There is without a doubt room for the both of us." Aoren considered the fact that the man described himself as a hermit. That was unusual to say the least. He didn't know many men or women who could survive in the wilderness very long without at least making regular trips to the city. However, that was none of Aoren's business so he did not pursue the matter.

He allowed the essence of his breath to sit comfortably back within the depths of his lungs where it belonged. He coughed slightly as the energy wove itself back into the fabric of his being when he didn't release it. Taking a deep breath Aoren nodded to Quinn then moved as if to practice with his staff.

[Quinn Harpe]

Quinn had noted the man's size, equally surprised that someone was taller than him. His height usually stood out among people if only by a couple of inches. When the Aoren offered a name and a very clear indication at peace, Quinn extends a leather gauntlet clad grip to take the offer in a firm, warrior's handshake.

"As polite as that sounds, and by chance as this is... Would it not make more sense to train together? A rare gift, sharing my morning routine with one so pleasant." As he began to speak more his tongue took on a faded accent, aristocratic almost. It had very little true wisdom, just a heritage. "Would you like to join me for a run? We can return here when exhaustion sets in and work as you had been, on the mind." A snippet learned from experience, words that brought a smile to the tanned young man's features. "What say you?"

Considering Quinn was weighted down by the leather armor and a backpack of all of his belongings, he reveled in the idea of having to keep up with someone else who was not quite so burdened. "And as flavor to the entertainment, a childhood game of Tag." Despite physical conditioning, he still acted in youth when the chance arrived.

((OOC: Hermit can go to town, but they usually live outside of it, alone. Monks are the ones who rarely leave their home to socialize. XD Just so I don't sound hypocritical.))

[Aoren]

"Hmm...an interesting proposal and I don't see the harm in it." Aoren smiled. He wasn't surprised at the strength of the man's handshake. When he spoke however the slight change in his accent didn't go unnoticed but it went without comment. Aoren was not experienced enough in the ways of the world place it anyways. Besides, Syliras was a city of immigrants. People came and went all the time. That was not to say that the city didn't look upon strangers with an air of caution, sometimes even prejudice. Such was the way of the world though.

"I say that is a sound idea." Aoren nodded and adjusted his grip on his staff. He bent at the knees slightly as if he were about to break out into a dead sprint. "Catch me if you can then, Quinn Harpe!" With that he bolted, bounding in a single leap backwards away from the warrior. There was an exhilarated smile on his face as he sailed through the air and landed a few feet away from the rugged young man. He rotated his hips and whirled around sprinting off into the foliage of the woods.

Aoren used his quarterstaff to aide him in jumping past obstacles and getting past the initial low hanging branches. He knocked them aside with his staff then jumped toward the nearest tree trunk. It was a good thing that the trees in the Bronze Wood grew so high. While there were many that had branches the hung toward the earth most of the trunks were bare the closer one got to the forest floor. He bounded toward one of those bare trunks, his feet having a much better grip on the ground than the soles of his boots. He was both able to get more leverage but the impact against the tree trunks caused him a bit more discomfort.

That merely meant he would need to practice running and his acrobatics barefoot more often. Once he hit the tree trunk he twisted his quarterstaff and planted the butt end against the wood then pushed forward with both his legs and the staff aiming for the next tree. This time he angled a bit more highly attempting to grasp onto a hanging branch that he assumed was sturdy. Thankfully his judgment proved sound and the branch held once he grasped it. Using his momentum he swung himself forward twisting in mid-air. He was not yet skilled enough to complete a full mid-air somersault with his own body and that is where the quarterstaff came in. Jutting it forward he pushed against the shaft of the wood and propelled himself forward to complete the move.

He landed a little off kilter and stumbled nearly falling over but managed to catch himself by again using his staff. In all his days he would be thankful for learning how to use the damn thing. He was by far no master at quarterstaff combat but he was certainly adept enough to use it to help him move. Not wasting another moment he took off running in the only direction viable to him. He lept off a rock and grunted as its sharp edges caused discomfort on his bare feet but Aoren ignored it and kept running.

Today was a day he would let loose and enjoy being in the wild. The travelers from Cyphrus had always told him that to be a Drykas was to be at home where there were no walls and only the sky above you. Today he would embrace that fully.

[Quinn Harpe]

When the Drykas man accepted the terms, Quinn stretches out his legs which had gone stiff from standing still to chat. Lifting the left knee, then kicking out, then repeating with the right, he was about to start running himself when Aoren took the lead. Such was best, in watching him use the quarterstaff to make up for what he had not trained in his physical body alone the man would need a head start.

Acknowledging there was skill present he could still tell his own would be a bit better, though the use of the quarterstaff was rather... inspiring... With one last breath, bare feet take stance and his weight drops forward. It was almost in a launching motion that brought him to a dead sprint. The game of Tag became more 'Follow the Leader' as Quinn replicated what he could see Aoren preform. When he came to the lower branch, he had no staff to aid him along. Instead, he swung up and curled his body till his feet rested on the thick limb and with a heavy push he leaps clean from that tree to the next, where he caught another branch in the leather grip of his gauntlets allowing him to swing without carving his hands. With the additional momentum he managed to shorten the distance between Aoren and himself by half.

Despite having trained in this method for quite some time, Quinn could have never guessed it more enjoyable to backtrack to childhood games. His feet found homage on the ground with every step and unlike Aoren their soles were callused with years of bare footed experience. Forcing his breath to regulate to a hastened but even rhythm, Quinn followed Aoren with a controlled skill. Gaining maybe inches a chime, but conserving as much energy as he could and keeping ache from his lungs and diaphragm.

[Aoren]

The rush of adrenaline pumping through Aoren's system was giving him an extra push. Not that he needed it. His whole life he'd been running all around Syliras proper. That was how a strong young man could make an honest living in the City of Peace. Hard labor. Helping the community sustain itself by working in the Syliran fields or just offering up a hand at the docks.

He was fast approaching a stream with no clear footing to land on. Aoren smirked and hefted his Quarterstaff up a bit closer to his body. With a dexterous twirl he let the staff roll to the tips of his fingers planting in the ground. Once it was braced against the bank of the stream he gripped the staff and used his forward momentum to assist him in just pole vaulting over the flowing water. It wasn't a vastly wide stream but he was using this juvenile venture to get a good use out of his muscles today. Once he was situated on the opposite bank he glanced back and was happy to see that Quinn was trailing closely behind him.

Aoren gave the young man a polite nod before turning on his heel and darting off into the forest. His breathing wasn't exceptionally labored but he was certainly not capable of running indefinitely and Aoren knew he would have to stop eventually. Until that time though he would be pushing himself. Aoren hadn't been challenged like this in quite a while. Not since his regular training partner...well...he didn't dwell on such things. He let the breeze made by his forward motion fill his lungs. He controlled his breathing forcing himself not to expend his breaths in a wasteful manner.

Aoren glanced over his shoulder to see Qiunn not far behind. He was glad for that. What he wouldn't be glad for were the gnarled roots of the upcoming trees. Roots Aoren did not see as he glanced over his shoulder. His foot caught one upraised root and as was natural when a person in fast forward motion is brought to a screeching halt Aoren toppled forward.

"Whoa!" He cried out in surprise and went tumbling forward face first. His quarterstaff went flying from his hand as he landed flat on the ground. All of the air in his lungs went whooshing out of him as he thudded onto the forest floor. Aoren lay there for a moment having been completely winded.

Once he got his wits about him he rolled onto his back breathing deeply and heavily. After another dazed moment he began to laugh and stared up at the sky through the leaves of the trees. He laughed and laughed.

"Well that was a less than graceful landing."