Closed [South Kabrin Road] Fearless

[Aren]

Sylira, South Kabrin Road: 18th of Spring, 515 AV - Eighteenth Bell It was late, the sun was setting rapidly, and Orin was still nowhere in sight. Did the notion of training in the wilds, in the darkness, scare the pants right off the little cook? Was he cowering underneath a table somewhere, jumping at his own shadow? Seros would have put money on it, but Aren didn't think so. "Are you kidding me? A half a dozen people saw him turn pale as a sheet from reading a piece of paper at Sayana's party. Not exactly bravery made flesh..." The darker Other quipped, mightily amused by the thought of Orin looking like he was about to wet himself over some words scribbled, somewhere. "What do you expect, he thought the guy killed someone," Aren replied, feeling like it was his responsibility to defend the boy when his brother was feeling particularly nostalgic about that day in the woods. "Pff, if he ever saw a real, serous, honest to Wysar, dyed in red killer, he wouldn't ALMOST wet himself, that's for sure." Seros retorted, and his brother had to concede the point. There was something about men like that which could freeze the spine of even hardened warriors. The boy he had met at that party wasn't one of those men, of that there was no doubt, but Orin wasn't exactly used to dealing even with hobbyists, so was it any wonder he had reacted the way he had? He was a chef, after all, accustomed to the aroma of spices, not the glint of steel as it came towards your neck. Of course, this begged the question, why had he wanted Aren to train him? There was no need (as far as he knew) for combat skills in a kitchen, so what could have prompted the cook to seek him out and employ his services in this manner? "Maybe he would like to conduct himself with some dignity next time he is confronted by a "killer"." Seros thought this might actually be the reason, but that didn't stop him from snickering at the notion. "HA! If a glassbeak so much as looked at him, the stink emanating from his trousers would keep the scavengers away from his corpse for days," The darker Other continued, Orin clearly still not on his good side. At this point, he was just venting away his dislike for the young man, though, and Aren mostly ignored him in his ranting. The Akalak was standing smack dabbed in the middle of the road, scythe already in hand, waiting and listening. He was still close to Syliras, still close to help, but it was certainly not as safe out here as it was within the walls. Night would be upon them soon, and with it the perils of darkness, but overcoming fear was the first step in the training of any warrior. There was no point in being able to wield a weapon with masterful grace if your knees buckled at the first sign of combat. That's how he had been taught, anyway, and Aren knew no other way. First, you beat the fear out, then you beat the skill in. Sometimes a combination of both was best, however. The Akalak's eyes scanned his surroundings in the waning light, hoping to catch the cook's approach. He had better hurry, if he wanted his training to have any practical application section, today. In another bell, moon and starlight would be all his prospective student would have to see by.

[Orin Fenix]

Orin Fenix Food Equals Love Orin raced down the South Kabrin Road, arms pumping and lungs burning. He was late for his own appointment but it was seriously not his fault. The dinner rush at The Rearing Stallion had lasted longer than expected, then Rondo had thrown one of his by now legendary fits of hysteria over Ginger, and then Orin had to lock Ginger in the apartment when she tried following him. After she had managed to escape his apartment inexplicably one time too many he wasn't taking any chances with her. He was getting a bit suspicious about Ginger in general. He didn't think it was normal for a pet to follow its owner everywhere. And she was frighteningly intelligent. And then there were those escapes. Orin swore the door was closed each time. The only explanation was that there was some passageway Orin couldn't see, because the only other way that Orin could think of to make that work was for Ginger to be able to open doors. Cats didn't open doors. It was true dark and Orin was annoyed with Aren for choosing this location and this time for their session. Orin didn't see why they couldn't simply do it in the Fighter's Pits in the morning when Orin normally worked on his physical skills. But when Orin had asked the mercenary to him Orin learn to fight, the man had insisted on the South Kabrin Road and the eighteenth bell and Orin had eventually caved. Orin didn't like Aren. While Orin respected Aren's skills as a warrior, Orin didn't like his personality. In Orin's mind the man was rude, arrogant, overbearing, proud, mean and a whole host of other unflattering adjectives. But he was also the father of Sayana's child, and Orin had tentatively begun to think of her as a friend, maybe even a close one, and for her sake Orin would make an effort just to be civil. Orin's manners were not his strong suit so he knew it would be a challenge. Finally, Aren's distinct form loomed up in the darkness, his tall muscular frame and his blue skin standing out against the moonlight and the stars. Orin skidded to a halt almost plowing into Aren. Luckily he didn't, and Orin began walking off his sprint. "Hello, sorry I'm late," Orin gasped out between breaths. "There was a thing with the cat and Rondo and Ginger wouldn't stay and I had already stayed at the Stallion for much too long and...you don't care about any of this do you? Figures." Orin narrowed his eyes at Aren, but dropped the subject. He didn't want to antagonize the fighter, who had more than a bit of a rash side himself. Remembering Aren choking him unconscious, Orin firmly gripped the reins of his mouth with his mind. The night was spooky, filled with chittering insects and shadows. Orin scanned the surroundings, hoping Aren and he wouldn't have a repeat of the last time the two of them went into the woods. However, this road had regular patrols. And Aren seemed fairly good and seeing danger in the distance although Orin didn't know if this skill would work as well in the dark. Coming to a stop once he had finally caught his breath, Orin bounced up and down, filled with nervous energy. Despite Orin's best efforts he seemed to be thrust into danger over and over again. Orin figured if he were going to be in life threatening situations anyway he might have to learn how to defend himself. So he had asked Aren to teach him the rules of combat. Orin figured he might end up sparring with the man on a regular basis if this first session went well. But first Orin had some important news to share. "So. Sayana told one of the other girls it's her birthday later this Spring. That girl told Remi and Remi is throwing a surprise party. I thought I would invite you since I think it would mean a lot to Sayana. Maybe you could even help out but don't strain yourself on our account." This last part was spoken rather mockingly and through partially gritted teeth. Orin couldn't imagine this brute would at all know what to do to help the out. But maybe Aren had hidden depths. Crossing his arms against his chest, Orin continued. "Now, are we gonna start? Some of us have work in the morning. Realizing he was needling Aren needlessly, Orin let out a sigh. "If you wouldn't mind, I mean. I appreciate you doing this. I have no idea how to fight an opponent and you obviously have proved that you do. And I want to learn, I do."

[Aren]

Finally, the chef approached, and with a great story to excuse his lateness... at least it looked like it might have been a great story by the inflections that Orin was making, but Aren would have been hard pressed to recall a word of the -no doubt interesting- tale only a few seconds after the cook had finished regaling him with it. Fortunately, the young man seemed to pick up on the Akalak's yawning maw as a sign that his words were pretty much wasted and cut the explanation short. When Orin's words suddenly turned to Sayana, however, Aren's ears perked up. "Oh? You don't say? Maybe I could..." He said, but both men likely realized that party prep was not exactly the warrior's strong suit. If you needed a Yukman decapitated or a wolf's neck broken, he was your guy. If you needed a curtain put up, or a dinner table set, however, these things were not exactly within the purview of things the Akalak excelled at. Orin's next comment provoked a subtle smile out of Aren. Clearly the boy was still a might sore about the events of their first meeting: Seros' provocations and the unfortunate necessity of having to protect the young man from himself. One side of him held neither grudge nor lingering animosity over what occurred, but that was sadly not true of the other, and Orin did not seem inclined to let the matter go so easily, either. Perhaps he was picking up on Seros' residual dislike, and reacting in kind. "Alright, let's go," The Akalak stated, turning around and away from the main path of the Kabrin road. The road felt safer than he would have liked, more secure. It gave the impression that if trouble arose, you might see a patrol of knights riding in just in time to save your life. This sense of safety was not at all what Aren wanted Orin to be feeling, and so he headed away from it until the howling of wolves told him that was just about far enough. Smiling, the warrior turned, remembering his encounter with a particularly vicious pack not too long ago. It was Spring now, though; there should be plenty of prey around so that they shouldn't get desperate enough to tangle with a foe they inherently know to be dangerous, by virtue of size, if nothing else. Although, he thought, a wolf or two would do wonders in properly motivating Orin. It was probably too much to hope for, the Akalak knew, but maybe they'd get lucky. "Here we are. The south Kabrin. Home of rabid dogs, mangy wolves, the occasional Yukman and..." Aren looked up, as if trying to add to the list with something suitably horrific. Too bad glassbeaks rarely wondered this far north, that would have been great, but he suddenly remembered something he had heard at a tavern back in Syliras just a few days ago, "Oh, well... apparently ghosts, too." The Akalak didn't know what Orin's reaction would be to this last aperitif, but he hoped it would set a suitably tenebrous atmosphere. Akalaks threw fifteen year old kids at monsters and told them not to come back without proof of having killed some, and the ones that returned certainly knew how to manage their fear; those that hadn't been completely traumatized by the ordeal, at least. Aren didn't currently have that option (nor would he have employed it if he did, considering it barbarous), but this was the next best thing outside of a life threatening situation where the options were keep hold of yourself or die. "The first step in learning to fight is keeping your cool. It can be just as dangerous to run AT the enemy in a moment of panic..." The Akalak offered Orin a raised eyebrow as a reminder of what had happened last season, "...as it can be turn your back on him out of fear." Aren could feel Seros bristling at the memory of seeing Orin's scrawny backside running off towards a group of Yukman like a hog rushing to the slaughter. If it had been him in control, he would have let those things run him down and escaped while they were busy munching on his entrails. "Pull your daggers," The Akalak stated, taking his scythe in both hands and letting it rest just a few inches above the ground behind him, blade turned upwards. It was a stance designed to kill anything that got within range in a single blow. A slower opponent could be killed by bringing the weapon up, then downwards to maximize the power of the stroke. A swifter one could be dispatched as the blade was brought up and across the body. Most experienced fighters would recognize the two most likely attacks that could be made from this position, assuming they had ever faced a similar weapon, and realized that both were meant to be lethal. "What do you see? How do you attack me with those two toothpicks you have in your hand there? If I wanted to kill you, do you thinking turning about and fleeing like a dog with its tail between its legs would save you?" Aren queried, hoping that Orin would understand that he wasn't trying to denigrate him, but rather illustrate a point. "Fight or flight are the only options an animal has. A man has many more, and a true fighter must first overcome his base fear, his instinct to lash out or run, before he can learn how to think," The azure warrior stated, parroting the words his own father had said to him a lifetime ago. It was a bit of a paraphrase, though, abbreviated and edited for less arrogance and philosophical musings. "That said, you are paying me, so unlike I did, you have a choice. If you want, I can swing my scythe at you, and throw some punches at your face until you learn how to get out of the way and how to strike back. That wont make you a fighter, however, if my opinion at all interests you. It'll drill the instinct into you, make you react to things you might not have before, but that's not the same thing as control over your own fear. The day you meet a man who reacts faster and hits harder you'll lose, because you'll panic, and you won't know what to do about it." It was his decision, Aren knew, neither of which was inherently wrong. Orin wasn't a professional warrior, so it would be perfectly reasonable that all he might want to be able to do is duck underneath the blow of a drunk patron at a tavern without getting all his teeth knocked out in the process. The Akalak would endeavor to train him as best he could, if that was the case, although he could not deny a sense of trepidation at the notion of teaching someone half-way, so to speak.

[Orin Fenix]

Orin snorted as Aren trailed off. At least the man was showing some common sense. Just as Orin would let him do his job in anything combat related, Aren was wisely staying out of affairs where he would just get in the way. That being said, it must be uncomfortable knowing you couldn't help plan something special for your beloved. So Orin cleared his throat, swallowed his pride and made as kind of an offer as he could come up with. "We'd appreciate having you there, assuming you have the time to spare. I'm sure we can find something for you to do, carrying kegs or having banners or whatnot. And, if you'd deign to stoop this low, maybe you could help with the food. Under supervision of course." Orin couldn't refuse taking that last dig. He knew it was totally uncalled for. Something about Aren just rubbed Orin the wrong way.

If Orin wanted to remain close to Sayana though, he'd have to make more of an effort to be kindly to Aren. Relenting just slightly Orin added a more genuine offer. "Please do come. It would be...nice...to have you there. For the preparations I mean. You absolutely have to come to the party itself. Sayana would kill me if she found out I didn't ask you to the party proper. And ah, more importantly I'm sure it would mean a lot to have you there." His duty discharged, Orin shuffled his feet uncertainly.

This feeling of unease only grew as Aren led them off the road proper and into the darkness and the woods beside it. Orin didn't know how long they walked before the two of them finally stopped. "You know if you wanted to get me alone in the woods, all you had to do was ask Aren." The quip fell from his lips but instead of coming out light and carefree as Orin had wanted it carried a note of anxiety that Orin could hear. Aren no doubt would pick up on it and hold it against Orin.

Finally, Orin figured out what Aren was trying to do with his mention of wolves and yukmen and now ghosts. It was a classic children's bullying tactic that Orin had been subjected to many times in the past. He wasn't going to be scared of Aren's rather primitive intimidation techniques now. "It's a ghost. I'm far more worried about those wolves howling. Ghosts can be reasoned with. Wild animals cannot. Besides I've heard the same rumors you have. In fact I probably heard them first. He's supposed to be rather harmless." Orin was rather pleased that while his annoyance might be showing, he still had kept his tone civil and his words polite.

When Aren brought up the first time the two of them had ever met Orin groaned. Aren simply loved bringing it up time and time again as a perfect example of why exactly Orin wasn't to be trusted in a fight. "Considering we survived that encounter, I don't see why you keep bringing it up..." Orin muttered under his breath. The most annoying part about this, beyond the fact that Orin's plan had actually worked perfectly, was that Orin hadn't panicked. At least he didn't think he had. He was just trying to help. And Aren had choked him unconscious because he had come to the completely wrong opinion that Orin was flaky.

Orin only pulled out one of his blades. He knew his limits and if he tried to use both at once he’d just end up hurting himself. He wasn’t anywhere near that coordinated yet. Aren brought his scythe down. The light of the moon seemed to collect on the blade, making it shine. Orin figured that this was one of the basic combat positions that Aren used.

"Well I'd probably stab you while you were standing there monologuing, first off." Orin couldn’t resist the verbal jab when Aren started calling Orin’s instincts and prior actions animal like and afraid. It was completely uncalled for, especially since Orin had repeatedly mentioned that he wasn’t a warrior. The whole reason they were out there was to train Orin in the arts of war.

Sobering quickly enough, Orin gave Aren a real reply to his inquiries. "I know how deadly that blade is and how good you are with it." Orin gave Aren a pointed look. " I grew up farming remember? Seen many a person sliced open by a poorly handled scythe, myself included. So I'd probably not engage you in the first place. But seeing as that's not on the table and also seeing that you have the longer weapon and already are taller than I am I would either trying and fake you out or dodge your first blow, then try and duck inside your reach. Not easy especially since you're probably faster than me but it's the only option that would give me a chance." Orin rolled his eyes. He might be inexperienced but even he knew enough to answer Aren's question. He didn't particularly want to deal with macho posturing right now. Especially since he was paying Aren for this time.

"You don't think I carry these around because they look pretty, do you?" Orin raised an eyebrow in challenge. Orin thought that Aren could do without that arrogant tone in his voice. If Orin could knock him down a few pegs it would do wonders for the man's personality. "A very wise woman once told me that carrying a weapon and not knowing how to use it is doing half your opponents work for them. Which is why I came to you in the first place."

Orin gulped. Aren's tone had turned deadly serious. This was why Orin had hired him. Not all that back and forth and trying to scare Orin into giving up, but to test Orin's mettle, to find out what kind of person he was. As Orin gazed out at the night he steeled himself for whatever was coming. "As much fun as letting you bash me with impunity sounds," Orin swallowed past the lump of fear in his throat, "Why don't we give your way a try? If it doesn't work feel free to knock me about." Orin knew he was getting decidedly mouthy but nerves brought out the worst of his chatter. Tonight he’d find out, when push came to shove, if he could act instead of just reacting, if he could harness his fear and anger and channel it into fighting properly. Orin nodded at Aren. They had put off the moment for long enough.

OOCLook at the pretty thing Keene made for me!

[Aren]

Aren listened to Orin's thoughts on what he could do against a real warrior, in this particularly hypothetical scenario that he had been presented. Offering a sagely nod, the Akalak seemed to consider the man's words as not altogether unreasonable. "Only option?" At this, however, Aren shook his head, "That is the only option a dog has, if he feels he cannot run. Do you not think that perhaps waiting is a better attack, in this case, than simply running at me headlong just begging to have your head cut off?" He knew that the idea of doing nothing might seem like anathema to those without experience, but biding your time while you sized up the enemy was never doing nothing. It wasn't always a choice, and when it was, it wasn't always the best one, but it was often a wise opening move. "Look at me. Look at this thing in my hands. Look at the angle I have to hold it at. You must realize it isn't exactly light." Aren twisted the weapon slightly in his hands so that Orin could better appreciate how cumbersome and unwieldy it was. "So, why did the thought of waiting for me to tire of holding it like this not enter your mind? Is it because I used the word attack? Is forcing me to hold my scythe prone to strike, but without the opportunity to do so, not an attack, in itself? He asked, trying to get the chef to enter the correct frame of mind. "I may be bigger and stronger, but my weapon is much heavier than your's. It should be obvious that I can't stay like this forever." Offering a respectful nod, the Akalak had to agree with whomever it was that had given the chef his advice, and it didn't hurt that Orin's own statement reinforced Aren's point, "A wise woman, indeed." Every visible muscle in his body tensed as the towering warrior brought his scythe back to a more neutral position, the effort of having held his previous posture for much longer than necessary clearly showing. "Do you realize now why I did what I did back in those woods? Your plan worked, yes, but that doesn't change the fact that it was stupid. You didn't think, you let your fear and your anxiety and your inexperience get the better of you, forcing you to do something that you probably wouldn't have even considered in a thousand years, otherwise. The body of a true fighter may react, but his mind never does." The Akalak did not mean to keep putting too fine a point on it, but he needed to make Orin understand, even if he refused to accept, that what seems like a good idea when your heart is pounding in your chest is not necessarily so. Fortunately, the young man seemed inclined to let Aren teach him in the manner he had been trained himself. It wouldn't be as brutal, of course, and thus not as effective, but it should show results within a reasonable amount of time, nonetheless. A double pronged approach, the Akalak figured, might be the best idea here; confidence in your own body's capabilities often led to confidence when those capabilities were put to a real test, and so that's how he was going to approach the cook's training. "I know you're not a warrior. I know that sometimes it's hard to control yourself in the heat of battle, but you have to recognize that it's not about being fearless. Give up on that thought, if you're entertaining it." Aren said as he added one last addendum, his voiced softened by the feeling that he might have come off sounding unfairly harsh, when that wasn't his intention. His goal was not recrimination, but rather education. Taking a few steps forward, the Akalak shifted his scythe to one hand, and placed his other one on Orin's shoulder. "Only a fool or a madman feels no fear when steel is drawn and arrows start whizzing by his head. Don't feel bad about that, it just means you're not an idiot," He offered with a reassuring smile, knowing that while hate was a good enough bond between teacher and student, mutual respect worked much better. "Alright, then. Are you ready? I'm not exactly a gentle taskmaster." OOCOh. It's pretty sweet. Damn that produce looks delicious, too.

[Orin Fenix]

Orin tightened his grip on his dagger. He felt that Aren was being particularly dense this evening. Either that or he was deliberately setting out to infuriate Orin. His words coming out short and clipped, Orin defended his statement. ”Only option, yes. I realize that I could try and tire you out, but first of all, you’re in much better physical condition than I am, so of the two of us, I’m the one much more likely to become exhausted if I’m jumping about trying to keep you from slicing me to pieces. That’s assuming I even could dodge all the blows that you would throw at me, which I find highly unlikely and knowing your opinion of my combat skills I’m sure you do as well.” Orin scowled at Aren. The man wasn’t making any sense and Orin felt as if he was missing something. But nothing Orin had mentioned so far was wrong. ”Furthermore, let’s assume I somehow manage to keep myself away from you and your weapon. What’s to stop you from simply frying me with that Reimancy of yours or whatever it’s called? I saw what it did to that yukman and I have no intention of becoming chargrilled.”

A hint of distrust entered Orin’s voice as he mentioned the magic. While Orin wasn’t nearly as cautious as some of the citizens of Syliras, he had a healthy respect and a healthy fear for what it could do. Especially in the hands of someone who had a propensity for violence as Aren did. So perhaps it wasn’t the best idea for Orin to provoke the warrior. Still, Orin didn’t like being pushed around and Aren was no exception to that rule. ”Let’s face it, you and I both know that if you made a concerted effort to kill me I’d have to get incredibly lucky not to end up spitted on your scythe in about three ticks flat. So don’t tell me I have other choices except to try and negate the advantage of your reach because while in theory I might, at my current abilities I don’t. Which is why I asked you to help me out with this in the first place!” Heat was seeping through Orin’s body. If it didn’t find an outlet soon he might just risk Aren’s scythe and consequences be damned.

The situation wasn’t helped when Aren once again brought up their fight with the yukmen in the forest. Orin wasn’t going to let it slide again. He let out his air in a huff. ”Really? I let my fear and anxiety get the better of me? Did it not ever occur to you that actually I kept my cool in the heat of battle and came up with a viable course of action that minimized the risk to both of us and utilized our abilities to the max? No, of course not. That would interfere with the pretty little mental image of me you’ve created in your head.” Annoyed with himself for losing his temper more than Aren for being so clearly boneheaded about this, Orin took several deep breaths. This animosity wasn’t helping either of them. ”Look. I think we’ll never agree on this topic. So maybe we should just drop it?” If Aren didn’t bend just a little bit, Orin was seriously considering just walking out of here and not even paying him.

Aren continued on in a similar vein. Orin was almost tempted to tune him out. He didn’t though and instead clung to the hope that at some point all this waiting about would pay off. Orin could forgive Aren for almost anything if he would help Orin learn how to think like a true warrior. But, honestly, telling Orin that fear was a spur and that everyone felt fear even the most hardened combatant wasn’t exactly news to Orin. He’d lived most of his life in fear of one kind or another. He’d survived a particularly brutal childhood although he would never admit to himself that he was mistreated. He conquered his anxieties to put himself out there time and time again in both social situations and more adventurous and dangerous ones. So, fear was no stranger to Orin, nor was overcoming it. But Orin wanted to get better at it. And, at the rate Orin was going, if he wanted to survive to see old age he needed to learn how a warrior thought and how a warrior fought. So he’d put up with anything Aren would throw at him.

Meeting Aren’s gaze firmly, Orin resettled his dagger in his hand. It felt like a part of him now, an extension of his arm, a far cry from those days when he was first getting used to it. ”I’m ready. Do your worst.” His voice was clear and his face defiant and daring. Orin would meet this challenge or die trying.

[Aren]

"Bwuahaha. Listen to this one, will you? Abilities? HA! What did he know about our abilities when he went off like a lunatic towards those monsters? And he certainly doesn't have any of his own, unless you count not tripping over a branch and getting murdered an 'ability'... " Seros was not exactly impressed with Orin's bluster and complete denial of what he perceived to be the facts, but fortunately his brother was holding him back. Stubbornness was common amongst youth, the lighter Other realized, and a resolute certainty that they knew everything was often a defining characteristic of those too young to have experienced just how wrong they inexorably were. "If I am the teacher, and you the student... why do you insist that you are right and I am wrong? That your analysis of the situation is superior to mine?" Hand still on his shoulder, Aren looked at the young man with a questioning eyebrow, before smiling. "I was the same way, you know, when I was about your age," He uttered, before rapidly shuffling a foot behind Orin's legs and giving a push that likely carried enough force to knock down a grown man even without any leverage. "That's good... and bad." Aren said, with just a hint of excitement in his voice, as he took several long steps steps back and bent his knees to lower his center of gravity. Scythe in hand, he twisted the haft so that it was not the edge, but the blunt backside of the blade which would hit should he choose to swing it. "It's good 'cause it means you've got heart. It's bad because it means I'm probably going to have to beat the notion out of you before you accept anything I tell you." The Akalak's almost maniacal grin was hard to make out in the darkness, but the sudden change in his voice certainly wasn't, "I am over one hundred years old, human! If you think my assessment of you is in any way unfair, come over here and make me change my mind." Seros' deeper voice rang out, suggesting that this was a challenge, in no uncertain terms. The darkness made it difficult to see even at the close distances that that two were at, but of course the Akalak did not share that particular problem with Orin. He could see every inch of the man with perfect clarity, which was good, because he would likely have to completely dominate him before the cook would stop doubting every other word that came out of his mouth. The fact that he was still arguing about who was right and who was wrong about the decision in the woods meant that he still didn't accept the idea that at this point in his life, Aren had forgotten more about combat and warfare than the sum total of a chef's knowledge provided. He knew that Aren was stronger than him, and more skilled, but seemingly refused to come to terms with what this truly meant. "I hope you're okay with that," The Akalak thought, aware that not everyone could endure their body, their pride, and their preconceptions being beaten down until there was nothing recognizable left. Since Orin had a choice in the matter, it would be up to him whether he was willing to put himself through the hardship that real training like this entailed.

[Orin Fenix]

Orin was at his wit's end. Aren had asked him to answer a question and then derided him when Orin had quite logically and as politely as he could manage under the circumstances. And yet Aren wouldn't budge an inch. And he had the audacity to call Orin stubborn on top of that. "I'm arguing with you not necessarily because I trust my analysis over yours, which I don't think I have actually said or even implied once but because I think the best teachers should perhaps be at least a little open in their thinking! You're not going to deny that are you?" Orin's voice was hot with anger. Even if this was a bad idea, Aren had done nothing to better Orin's opinion of him. And he hadn't done any real teaching either. In fact this whole evening was a waste of time so far. "Look, if I promise to accept your judgement at least for the rest of the night could we get on with this?" Orin was getting tired of trading barbs with the man. It didn't do any of them any good. But when Aren placed a hand on his shoulder and tried to create a similarity between them, Orin bristled up again. He was about to brush the hand off and retort when Aren unexpectedly hooked a leg behind Orin's and shoved.

Luckily Orin had been falling a lot recently and had been tripped before. While he couldn't prevent himself from tipping over, a quick twist and his outstretched free hand at least stopped him from sprawling on his back. Instead, he fell with at least a hint of control and immediately rolled away from Aren, coming to his feet slowly a few paces away. Orin's cheeks burned with a mix of rage and embarrassment. Embarrassment that he had gotten caught by such a simple trick. And rage that Aren had pulled it on him in the first place. Now the man simply stood there, scythe turned so the blade was away from Orin. If Orin hadn't been seeing red as Aren talked about beating sense into him, he would've noticed the change come over him. As it was, Orin wasn't in much of a state to be paying attention to anything. "You can certainly try. As I already told you, do your worst." Orin slipped into a defensive crouch, knees slightly bent and shifted his blade to the reverse grip he used. Orin figured that when the fight came to a head, which was looking more and more likely, he'd be on the defensive. He'd use Aren's suggestion of tiring him out. It was nice of the man to tell Orin his weakness.

However, while Orin failed to see the shifting posture, he did hear the change in his voice. It sounded like a completely different person before him. It was deeper, rougher and brooked no disagreement. It was the voice of a proud, tested, tried and true warrior. But Orin had backed away from enough bullies in his life. While he initially had frozen in fear Orin recovered quickly despite the clamoring voice in his head telling him in no uncertain terms that this was a bad idea. "One hundred, huh? You certainly look it. Bring it, old man. Even if Orin got trounced he'd know that he hadn't backed down from the challenge.

Orin took two careful steps towards Aren before stopping, meeting his eyes, and inclining his head. It was probably a stupid gesture and in a real fight Orin would never have done it but it seemed somehow right under the moonlight with the proud and savage figure if Aren before him. Then, Orin fainted towards Aren's left with a hint of a low slash, before darting forward towards Aren's right side

[Aren]

Aren could see that his surprise attack had riled Orin up more than he already was. Good. An angry fighter was a stupid fighter, prone to doing things a cooler head would have easily prevented; things like rushing at him with all the grace of a two-legged cat. "My worst ends with your intestines strewn all over the ground, and no one to pay me for my trouble!" Seros' wild eyes were clear indications that the Akalak was reveling in the moment, should Orin be able to make the golden orbs out. His voice could not hide the excitement of this rare opportunity that his brother was giving him to fight, although he wasn't completely unrestrained, and Aren would still be an active participant lest his Other get a little carried away. "I have it on good authority that I don't look a day over 90," The azure giant happily retorted, secure in the knowledge that by Akalak standards, he was actually quite young. If it had been the chef's intention to provoke an emotional response out of the veteran warrior, he'd have to do better than this feeble attempt. As Orin come at him, Seros spotted and swiftly ignored the amateurish faint the young man attempted, "Every inch of your body gives your intention away, so at your level, a move like that..." The blue devil's grin was decidedly wicked as his torso followed his foot in a sweeping motion across the cook's leg. His scythe was not more than half a breath behind it, however, and to avoid one would have likely opened his opponent up to the higher, much more vicious blow aimed at the ribs, "...is just a pointless waste of energy!" The darker Other shouted, his white teeth practically glinting in the moonlight. In order to fool an opponent with a move that you had no intention of concluding took a great deal of practice in order to eliminate the tell-tale signs of an unprosecutable attack. It had to look real, sometimes even be a real attack that simply gave the option of transitioning into something else before committing. That, or you had to be fighting someone as inexperienced as you, and unfortunately for Orin, Aren simply wasn't. "You're going to break every-" Aren protested, but it was too late. Hopefully, his brother knew what he was doing, and if the strike looked like it was about to land, he would at least attempt to curb the damage it would do. This was training, after all, and it was hard to train when the pain in your abdomen prevented you from breathing. He could feel Seros applying a fraction of his concentration to the production of Res behind his back, so perhaps he was planning for the long term, after all.

[Orin Fenix]

Orin's feint failed and as he closed in on Aren, the man spun quickly. He viciously kicked at Orin's legs and Orin lost sight of the scythe as he passed Aren's body. Assuming it was following the kick, Orin figured he'd take the lesser blow. So, instead of trying to dodge or jump over the kick, Orin decided tolet it connect. Orin had quite a bit of experience with being thrown around by opponents at this point. Instead of resisting the blow, Orin knew he should let it propel him forward. Just before his feet were swept out from under him, Orin bent his body nearly in half as he moved and sure enough felt the rush of air that was probably the scythe's passage inches away from his back.

Then, the kick swept his feet out from under him and Orin was in the air. It hit his legs with a heavy force and Orin knew it would leave a bruise. Orin took the fall on his forearms, making sure his dagger was pointed horizontal to the ground. There was a throbbing pain from where Aren's foot had connected and a slightly lesser ache from Orin's forearms. Orin quickly scrambled to his feet before Aren could do anything to Orin while he was down. He grabbed a handful of dirt in his left hand as he pushed against the earth. It was a dirty trick, but one that had been used on Orin to great effect in the past. If Orin could get close enough he would try to toss it into the taller man's eyes.

Panting slightly with exertion but mostly with a mix of anger and fear, Orin retreated. It was definitely a mistake to take the initiative. Orin should be focusing on avoiding everything Aren was throwing at him instead of attacking. After all, Aren wasn't truly trying to kill Orin. But as Orin looked into the golden eyes of the warrior, he saw a savage gleam and wasn't so sure. While this had started as an abject lesson in Aren's superiority it might be descending into a much more dangerous game. Still, the adrenalin pounding through Orin's body drove him to the point of recklessness. "I've taken worse spills on the stairs. If that's the best you've got I'm not impressed." That wasn't quite true. Orin's legs were in agony. But Orin thought it would be a mistake to show weakness.

Orin began a wary circle around Aren, hopefully outside the reach of his weapon, as Orin searched desperately in the night for something that could turn this fight to his advantage. Unfortunately, nothing was jumping out at Orin. And if this turned into a prolonged exchange Orin knew he would lose. If Orin engaged he would lose. In fact, barring accident or Aren making a grevious mistake, Orin wasn't going to come out on top. Still, something in him refused to bend and submit meekly. Maybe it was that heart Aren kept referring to. More likely, it was stubbornness, pure and simple. Still, Orin would never let it be said that he was cowardly. And Aren seemed certain that he'd have to beat Orin into submission. If that was how the man felt then Orin saw no need to make his job easy for him. "What? No actions? You all talk then or are you just chicken?" Orin was trying to provoke Aren into getting angry. It might make him less careful. Even though Orin was pretty sure that his attempts were pitiful they made him feel better. And for all Orin knew he would hit a sore spot. Actually, now that Orin was thinking about it there was one card he could play. It might push Aren over the edge and let Orin score on him or it might just get Orin killed, but as the blood pumped in his ears Orin was beyond caring. "I'm not gonna have to go tell Sayana that the father of her child isn't man enough to take a scrawny chef like me, am I? Looks like I am!" Orin braced himself for however Aren was going to react. It probably wasn't going to be pretty.