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Kelski and a few others take a basic acrobatics course at The Proving Grounds.

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Formally Learning To Move

Postby Kelski on March 9th, 2018, 3:16 am

Timestamp: 10th of Spring, 518 AV

It was supposed to be a reward. Kelski been working hard in her workshop and something she’d made had particularly pleased Jaren by his reaction to it. He’d graciously granted her a boon as a reward and she’d asked for some training on how to move. The request had puzzled Jaren, unsure of what she meant, until he’d consulted with Darvin who had told Jaren he’d been training Kelski in daggers. The Kelvic had been doing well and now could hold her own if she ever got separated from Darvin in Sunberth’s streets. However, the Kelvic still felt awkward in her human body and knew that a multitude of people had told her that the Sun Births could train at the Proving Grounds to get stronger. This was what she wanted from Jaren.

After a quick consult with Darvin, they both agreed letting Kelski take a class with Iztel at The Proving Grounds would be good for her. Darvin had suggested Acrobatics because it would help the Kelvic get stronger and she might be able to learn a thing or two that could entertain Jaren if he needed it. The Warmaster’s Son seemed indifferent to that idea, but he’d not vetoed the entire plan.

Darvin had then marched Kelski over to Iztel, spoke to her, and arranged for Kelski to join a civilian class of mixed race and age to learn some rudimentary acrobatics. Iztel had taken one look at her, winced, and nodded. “I’ll do what I can, Darvin, but no promises.” She’d said with a slight chuckle. The relentless trainer had seen pretty slave in a collar and nothing else. She’d doubted the Kelvic would last more than a session or two.

Classes started in the early morning and lasted three bells. Itzel always started each new class with a lecture on what her expectations were and what she was going to demand from them. They’d have several sessions in a ten day period, running every other day, until the class had met Itzel’s standards or the students had simply stopped coming.

Kelski fidgeted in the front lineup where she’d waited with a few other students. Barefoot, as demanded, she was dressed in a worn pair of boys britches, a wool shirt, and her hair was caught up in a ponytail to keep it out of her face. Besides a belt to hold the overly-large britches up, the Kelvic could claim nothing else on her person. Itzel paced back and forth, getting ready to start her lecture.

“When you first learn Acrobatics, everyone comes to this training expecting to walk out of here today with a whole new set of skills. You think you will be walking on your hands, flipping around, jumping walls, and walking tightropes. That is simply not true. That is a place we can strive for, but before we can even remotely achieve such feats, we have to get your bodies limber, stronger, and be able to stretch. So the first things we will be working on is warming up with a run around The Proving Grounds. I want you to start slow and steady, doing two laps. And when you have completed the run, and everyone is back, we will begin stretching.” She said, emphasizing stretching like it was something incredibly important.

Itzel made a shooing motion as if sending everyone off on their run. Kelski darted in the direction the woman had indicated, settling into making a two lap trip around The Proving Ground to get her body warmed up. She tucked her arms in, minded her stride, and settled into a measured pace that attempted to get her to keep up with the others in the group. As she ran, she studied the others, mindful of where she placed her bare feet on the compact soil of The Proving Grounds. Other people were running too, something Kelski had not known having never visited this location. She felt great, she noted, stretching her legs and letting her arms swing suddenly. She dragged in measured breaths, holding it a moment instinctually then releasing it, feeling her whole body slowly loose its tension and begin to slowly warm up.

Once she’d ran the two laps, Kelski would meet back with the others for the next part of the training: the stretching.
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Formally Learning To Move

Postby Berkley Whispers on March 9th, 2018, 10:08 pm

Berkley rolled his shoulder forward and then back. He tried this several times while he walked along the muddy streets of Sunberth’s western side. He flexed his back and expanded his chest but that didn’t seem to help so he reversed the motion and felt a slight twinge in the muscles running along his spine. The man frowned. He was getting older but he felt like it was far too early in his life to be dealing with issues of stiff and sore. Granted, he’d only been up for an hour and had a rather late evening but such was the life of a man living in a building full of female slaves.

Taking a deep breath, the blue eyes cast about his surrounded and took in the scattered pieces of training equipment next to a large stone structure. Several individuals were outside getting in a bit of exercise and one caught his eye. It was the little pale girl from the other night. There was a distinct feeling in his gut to run away but having a better understanding of what was in front of him certainly made any risks of discovery worth the price. Berkley made his way towards a very fit looking woman who was addressing several young men but he never made it that far. A large man and his half-sized companion ran up with hands on their blades and sour expressions.

“What business have you here, stranger?” The large one asked in a voice like thunder.

“That depends on what this place is, young man.” Berkley smiled a soft grin and slouched his body a bit trying to give off the harmless old man vibe. “I seemed to have gotten turned around and stumbled upon your little playground. I was curious what all of this stuff was…” He motioned casually to the dummies and obstacles.

“This is the Proving Grounds. A class is about to start so you need to shuffle on home, old timer.” The big fellow stated flatly.

“Ooo, I like to take classes!” Berkley exclaimed weakly. “Are they free?”

Both men laughed at the trespasser. “Petch off. Ain’t nothing for free!” the little man chimed. The big lad finished with the true purpose.

“Iztel charges seven gold for her acrobatics course and she’d likely kill you. So beat it.” The man loomed forward over Berkley but the blue eyes twinkled without fear despite knowing he would not win an altercation should one arise.

“Gents, I love feisty women and I have coin.” He gave a knowing smile and started to move between them. “Which one is Iztel?” The goons moved aside and pointed the trainer out to Mr. Whispers. They watched as he moved quickly over the grass and negotiated the fee for joining. She shook her head but readily accepted the aging man’s money. Berkley frowned a bit. Had he let himself go so much that these thugs pitied him for joining a basic course? Maybe the class was just what he needed to get back in shape.

Berkley was in his tan cotton pants, leather boots and a white shirt. He rolled his sleeves up tight and double checked to make sure his boots were tightly tied. He adjusted his belt and removed his dagger, Iztel had said it would be safe with her gear as she didn’t want him training with it. The elder man looked up and down the ranks and bit back a chuckle at the small woman’s outfit. Despite the absurdity of it, her thin figure had great skin so the baggy clothes emphasized that feature. He didn’t get much more time to digest his classmates as Iztel sent them all off on a run.

Running. Berley never saw much use of it as an adult but he loved it as a kid. He was last in line so he waited a half-tick before taking off after the others. He tried to remember the mechanics of it all. Back straight and head up was key to breathing...or was that so one could see where he was going? Bah. Being tall, he stretched his long legs out in an effort to maximize the length of each stride but that felt awkward, almost like leaping, so he shortened it down until it felt natural. He expanded his chest and followed the group. It felt better to keep his chin up and shoulders back which allowed his arms to swim a bit more easily. Elbows bent, he felt strain grow quickly in his body. The backs of his legs, his groin and his upper back were the first things to experience the jarring blasts of each footfall. This started about halfway through the first lap.

By the time they started the second lap, he was huffing a bit and felt hot in his face but he kept going. His head was heavy but allowing it to lower made getting enough air very difficult so he fought through that weariness and continued to press his feet to the ground in a steady cantor that kept him right next to his peers. The second lap felt like it took longer but Berkley noticed that his rhythm had increased and he covered more ground with less effort. He crossed their start point for the second time and curled around as he slowed to a walk. With a little bit of a wheeze to his breathing, Berk placed his hands on his head and interlaced his fingers which allowed him to use no energy to keep them their. He waited for the next phase but hoped that stretching was more along the lines of how he used it at the Maiden.
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Formally Learning To Move

Postby Bronwen on March 11th, 2018, 7:36 pm


Training never ceased with her Father. Even away from home, Matrim Druva insisted Bronwen train in someway. Aerobatics, though, was something that the Syliran wanted to learn as it would only better her skill with her quarterstaff. So, when her father had mentioned it, he hadn't gotten so much as a huff from Bron. This time.

Sloshing through the muddy streets of Sunberth, Mat led his daughter with determined strides. Vaguely, Bron wondered how her Father knew his way around this Godsforsaken city so well, she'd have to inquire about that one day, but not today. Today Mat was in one of his rare, foul moods and she deigned not to ask probing questions.

Moving through the arched entrance way of The Proving Grounds, Bron moved her eyes around the gathered trainees, immediately thinking that the brown leather vest she had donned that morning was going to prove a bad idea, considering the attire of the others, but the light brown pants and boots looked to be well chosen, at least, but she had little to choose from, anyway. With a nod from her Father, Bron handed over her staff and and coin purse, then made her way to the group, as Mat made his way to Itzel.

In the middle of wrapping twine around a messy ponytail, the group set off at a run. Struggling to tie off the twine, Bron jogged to catch up, taking a place near the rear. Running was not something Mat had implemented into his training regime, so Bron felt a little lost. Looking around, she took in the measured pace of those in front of her and, though her stride was longer than most, settled into something close. The first lap wasn't so bad, but being behind those not so tall as she was, the challenge was in not ramming her toes against the other runners heels.

Toward the end of the first lap, Bron felt the beginnings of a cramp coming on in her leg and her pace slowed even further, but not before the leg buckled and caused the woman to sprawl face first in the dirt. Pride bruised, Bron cursed, and jumped up and continued on, visibly limping, until the cramp subsided. By the time Bronwen entered the 2nd lap, she was positive that the leather had been a bad choice. The weight of it dragged at her sweat dampened shoulder's, chafing her skin.

Coming off the final lap, Bron's legs and back ached, her hands burned from scraped skin, and her vest had caused her to thoroughly over heat. Sweat beaded Bron's face and trickled down shameful places. Stumbling to a stop, the Syliran bent forward, hands on her knees, and tried to catch her breath. Deciding then and there that she hated running
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