[The War Storm Pavilion] Bruised knuckles.

[Quzon]

80th of Winter, 516 A.V.
Noon/12th Bell

Quzon, whose face showed the faint lines of aggravated annoyance, also narrowed emerald green eyes, and quickly began to understand just how much he hated being at peace. The pale blue Myrian thrust his chakram forward, holding the blade disk by the palm of his right hand. A metallic ring of steel striking metal echoed out as he used one upward motion to slice across the front of his training dummy tatted armor. The blade of his own weapon dug into the palm of his hand since he was basically holding a curved dagger by the blade.

He focused and channeled the pain to combine with the agitation he was already using, and allowed it to fuel his motivation. It hurt, but that didn't stop him from following through with forward jab with his free hand. Slamming his knuckles into the wooden protrusion that acted as the dummies head. His knuckles surged with the bittersweet sensation of pain. Quzon eyes glanced down to look at his tightly balled fist. It offered him a small moment to let his focus drift to the things going on in his peripheral vision.

The War Storm Pavilion was, like always, filled with the sounds of combat. And In truth, Quzon knew he felt most at home when surrounded by the vivid ambiance of battle. He set up his tanning dummy to the side, out of the way of people training. He only wanted to be motivated by the environment, not be dragged into a conversation. However, he did not act like a true hermit. As he turned his head to look out over the training yard, he offered the faintest of up nods with his chin as a gesture of acknowledgment to any who locked eyes with him. Then turned back to face the dummy.

He tossed the chakram to the ground, letting it rest right next to the heavy chain on the ground that he also brought to use for weightlifting. After taking a few steps back, he stood in a low crouch. Keeping his back straight with his backside to the ground and his head up. It looked like he was in the process of doing a squat, but froze in the middle of lowering. Quzon made sure to distributed his weight both feet. Letting his weight sway mostly on the balls of his feet, leaving his heels raised slightly off the ground.

Once he raised his hands up to the level of his hips, he knew he was in the basic stance of a wrestler. He quickly wasted no time by closing the distance to the training dummy, dipping his shoulder low as one of his feet stepped to the side of the dummies base. He pressed off of the ground with his back foot to slam his shoulder into the midsection of its armor as his arms wrapped around the bottom.

Quzon pulled the dummy upward out of the ground, lifting it up as he pushed his weight forward. The loud thud of something heavy hitting the ground caused a few people to turn towards him, but Quzon only stood back up to inspect his work. The man only stood clad in a loincloth as he started to practice the basic movement of a single leg take down. Reaching down to lift up the dummy to stick the base back into the hole in the ground, then got back into a wrestling stance to do it again.

[Rena Rain]

The position of the sun was high in the sky indicating it wa near noon bell.Yet the was still a general buzz and the clash of weapons sounding around the War Storm pavilions. The practice yard was full of people honing their skills by sparring with a partner or practicing the fine part of the form against target dummies. Rena stood in front of one such training aid long sword drawn as she worked one her footwork circling around the immobile target.

The effects of the heat of the day could be seen in the sweat trickled down Rena face which was set in a determined scowl of concentration as she circled the wood post dressed in ragged armor that was serving as a focus point for Rena’s frustrations; as taken a blade to someone unprovoked was frowned upon.

As Rena came around the front she thrust the blade up slicing along the armored torso tearing the old worn leather knicking into the wooded belly. Darting back and using the momentum of the previous stroke she brought her blade down on the dummy’s shoulder leaving a deep groove in the wood.

As rena thrust and cut into the practice dummy her scowl began to soften her face moving into a blank expression. As she became less intent on her target her eyes wandered as she circled the practice dummy she notice a tall pale blue skin male behind her. His skin made her wonder for a moment if he was one of the Akalak from Riverfall like herself. She dismissed the notion when she saw the look of aggravation upon his face as most Akalak she knew found peace in the practice of the combative arts. For a few brief seconds Rena brown eyes met His green ones. The look he gave her was hard to decypher as was the nod that accompanied it. She passed it off as nothing believing that if he wished to speak to her her would come over himself

Shaking her she down mentally she too returned her attention onto the dummy thrusting and cutting into the wood. Rena let the moment of the sword determine the strikes, until one came into the back of the neck knocking the dummy’s helmet off and rolling over to sit under the practice dummy the pale blue warrior was using.

Sliding her sword back into the scabbard she made her way over to the man and hailed him in common noticing that most people spoke at least a few words of it as it was the language of trade and Endrykas was a trade port.

“Greetings, I am sorry to disturb you but may I retrieve that helmet.”

[Quzon]

When the helmet rolled next to his training dummy, Quzon was in the middle of running head first at it. His hefty frames center of gravity thrown forward, making him unable to stop when his eyes glanced to the helmet on the ground.

To keep himself from wasting the momentum and effort, Quzon ran past the side of the dummy, circling around to its back and bear hugged the base of it. The Myrian squatted down, using his knees to give him leverage, then lifted the entire wooden structure up into the air.

Quzon shifted his entire center of gravity backwards, falling backwards but kept his feet planted on the ground as if leaning too far back on a chair that had no backrest. He arched his back while throwing the training dummies body over his head to suplex slam its head area into the ground.

He only noticed Rena as he started to stand up again, rolling out from underneath the dummy. Quzon didn't plan on practicing suplexes today, but was happy to add it to his list of things to do. That was why he didn't treat Rena as a hostile when she approached him. The half-isur reached down to pick up the helmet on the ground with his left hand hand; the one tattooed one that held a dull gray color which mismatched the rest of his skin color.

"Female. You warrior?" He asked her while holding out the helmet. "Want, fight?" From the way he spoke, it was clear that he hardly spoke any word of the Common language. But he was pretty sure that his question was easy enough to understand.