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[Quzon]

36th Day of Spring, 517 A.V.
13th Bell

To any onlooker, Quzon was undoubtedly in the midst of perfecting his martial prowess. He raised his weapon, a chakram with a razor sharp outer edge; its diameter large enough for him to wear the weapon around his neck like jewelry, grasping it by the unsharpened inner edge of the circle. All of his fingers pressed against the flat side of the blade, pushing the opposite side against his palm so that the blade was held within a vice; choosing not to hold it in a hammer grip because he didn't want to slice off all of his fingers when he used the chakram as a melee weapon.

As was his usual attire, he wore only a loincloth as he lifted his hands up into a fighting position. Twin strikes of lethal intent lashed out, the steel of the chakram hissed and rung out as he raked the edge against the head section of a training dummy. Slicing at where his wooden enemies eyes were. The slash was immediately followed by a straight left punch to the throat area of the training post.

If they were not before, the sounds of combat training were now becoming a constant thing to expect for anyone who visited the Dawnwhisper Pavilion. Quzon still remained firmly set on the idea of parking his wagon and camping the edge of their personal space since the start of the season. He welcomed any of them to join him in training, or companionship if they required it. That was the least he could do since he wanted to ally himself with their 'clan'.

He stepped in closer to it, then drove his right knee right into the midsection of the ruined armor draped across the dummy, then placed his right foot back onto the ground behind him. After the strikes were finished, he retook a southpaw fighting stance, holding the chakram out forward in his right hand. Then lashed out with it in a light jab. Using the blade like a far more deadly set of knuckle dusters.

Taking the time to practice his technique rather than power, he slowly touched the edge of the blade to the dummies head, then pulled his arm back. The palm of his hand tingled, as if he'd been stung by a bee. Quzon didn't need to look at it to know that the edge had nicked at his skin. He ignored it, then adjusted his grip to continue his practice.

[Turrin]

Waking up, Turrin stepped out his tent to saw that it was clear mid morning. He wasn't working today, so he decided to do some training instead. It was the life of myrian to make your body into a weapon for the glory of the goddess-queen. This way of thinking was molded everyday by his grandmother the clan chief of the Twisted Vine clan, and his life as a endal reinforced it as he was apart of War-hawks Flight. He was a soldier even if he didn't serve in the goddess-queen army. As he stood outside his tent, he fastened the water skin to the belt of his bryda, and started to jog around the purple colored tents. The jog was slow pace at first as he jogged in the clearing between the purple camps and the blue camps. Turrin tried to do this jog every morning before everyone got for the morning, but he was still exhausted from the excursion with Tuarina, so he been taking it easy these last couple of days. Not the mention letting his wounds heal from the Snarlwing attack on the same trip.

As he ran by the edges of the purple camps, Turrin did noticed the many droppings left by the horses in the city, so as he ran, he weaved his way around, or he jumped over the piles of dung as he made his way to the center of the city. As he ran through the clearing, he pick up his pace to a sprint, and he could feel his heart race as he ran through the city. He kept up the pace for about two chimes than he started to slow down his pace to a run for another three more chimes. Eventually when he made it to the city center, Turrin slowed down to a walk and eventually stopped entirely. The former endal could feel his heart race a mile a chime as he just stood there sweating in the heat of the spring morning. People around him just watched the foreigner with strange looks in his eyes as he stood there with his hands behind his head trying to catch his breath. Reaching down for his water skin, the took a long drink of water.

Turrin looked for a food vendor and eventually he saw a stand of a person selling beef jerky. Walking over to the vendor, the burgundy haired man waited in line for his turn to come. When he got to the front of the line, Turrin smiled at the blond woman behind the desk. She smiled back and started to use her hands to talk to him in pavi. The warrior just stared at her blankly because he had no clue what she was saying even if she added her sign language to it. Turrin smiled and said in common, “Do you speak common?”

The woman tilted her head in a look of confusion and said something in Pavi with another sign with her hands. Turrin looked at the sign with the cost by the beef jerky. Took out a gold miza coin placed it on the counter and pointed at the jerky. The woman looked at him, bite her lip, and pointed at the coin and stuck up seven fingers. The vagabond rubbed his chin trying to figure it out, took out six more coins , and set them on the counter. The woman smiled said something in Pavi took the coins and wrapped up his pound of jerky. When she handed him the jerky, he smiled at her said in common, “Thank you.” He knew that she wouldn't understand him, but the gesture will help ending the transaction.

When he made it through the center of town, once again Turrin accelerated his pace slowly from a jog up to a run. He kept his running pace for two chimes and for the last three chimes. Once again, he was sprinting till he made it back to his camp. When he got to camp, Turrin decided to walk to the shady side of his tent, so he would be able to cool down from the heat of Syna's light. Turrin took another drink of water Sitting down on the soft grass, Turrin decided that he warmed up his muscles enough, so he spread his legs apart and bent over trying to touch the top of his toes on his right foot with his finger tips. He could feel the muscles of his hamstring start to burn as he held his position for thirty ticks. When he decided it was enough, he moved his body to touch his toes on his left foot. Once again, he held this position for thirty seconds as he stretched his hamstring muscle in his left leg.

When his stretching was over, Turrin stood up and started to rotate his neck. Suddenly, he noticed in the camp next to him. Noticed a mostly naked blue man in a loin-cloth beating on practice dummy. Turrin put the jerky into the tent and decided to investigate. Walking over, he noticed the man was a large muscular man about his height, but his well defined muscles told Turrin that he definitely took a great effort in maintaining their bulk and appearance. The former endal was a student of war, so he watched the man's unarmed combat style. It seemed familiar like he seen it before. He just couldn't place it. Turrin unarmed combat style was more formal, but the muscular man's style was brutal and straight to the point especially at close ranges. However, he wonder how effective it was if he could keep him from getting close. The half breed's golden eyes immediately saw the familiar gnosis mark reward to myrian warriors. A pang of jealously and regret echoed through his mind when he realized that he should have completed the trials before he left Taloba. His father's death fighting the Dhani never gave him a chance since his grandmother was eager to get rid of the useless females of her clan.

Deciding to take a chance at him being one of his father's kin, Turrin walked forward and said in myrian, “My name is Turrin of the Twisted Vine Clan. Sorry my father's tongue has been rusty as of late. No chance to speak it in the lands of savages unless to praise the goddess-queen. I recognize the gnosis mark from my youth. Are you myrian?” Looking at the practice dummy, Turrin said with a half smirk, “Would you like a opponent who can strike back? It been awhile since I sparred one of my father's people?”

[Quzon]

Quzon brought his elbow up horizontally to bring it parallel to his shoulder. Then, twisted at the hip as he ran his elbow across the side of the dummies head. He waisted no time in then lashing out with the chakram, punching out in an uppercut to drag the blade into the jaw area of the dummy. He knew that if it was a real person, he'd have thrust it up into the neck rather than the chin. He felt the blade nick at his skin again as he gripped the sides of the chakram tighter.

From the sounds of oncoming footfalls, Quzon knew someone was coming towards him, but didn't care unless they bothered him. He wished to train, so kept his eyes on the dummy. As he was about to take a step back to kick at the dummy, the sounds of his native language shocked the Blooded Myrian. However, one of the mans words agitated him.

The pale man walked over to Turrin to invade his personal space, then looked him right in the eyes before speaking in Myrian. “Someone who understands the truth. We are not savages. We are a long survived cultured race.

Our city of bones is built on the foundation of out ancestors. Taloba is a 'watchtower' of culture in the world. The savages are these people. Homeless, barely surviving in their tents. Roaming and huddling like suckling babies to their horses. Using horse shit to light their camp fires. Wandering like dust in the wind. They survive. And that is their personal victories... but they do not honor the Queen Goddess, they don't thank her for allowing them victory.”

His voice was deep, however the tense moment was suddenly broken as a smile crested on the edge of his lips. He lifted the palm of his free hand that didn't hold any weapon to pat Turrin on the chest, then still spoke in Myrian. "But. Lets just keep how I feel about the savages between you and me. I've not had civilized conversation in some time."

Quzon then set his finger into the center of his chakram, then started to spin it around his index finger. As he spun it, he used looked to the dummy. He took his time to focus before spinning it faster, then simply thrust his hand forward as he pointed toward the dummy. Quzon had learned that the point was a key part in throwing the weapon. And as the circular blade flew threw the air, it barely grazed the side of the dummies chest before landing on the ground a few feet behind it.

"Ah, miss... I will get better at its range some day. I just like to use it in close combat more than distance."

He spoke before turning to Turrin as he bent his knees to squat down until his elbows were nearly touching his thighs, just above his knees. Quzon kept his back straight while in the middle of the squat as he took up a wrestlers stance. A fighting stance different from what he was just doing in front of the dummy "Come on... make your move." And just like that, the spar had started.