Fledgling Warriors{Torin}

[Thimryl]

➸9th of Ash, Year 124, A.o.S➸

➸ Time had been gracious to Thimryl in his recovery after his injury back in during the Ruin discovery. He felt in that time of light duty he had become rusty in one sense of the word. It was why he was here now, in one of the public training halls that could be found in the capital. He found himself among many more skilled warriors of the realm among those present. Archers at the range, duelist honing their craft with others, and many practicing alone.

Thimryl was among the many who chose to train on their own, and he was hard at work perfecting his swordsmanship. Practice dummies surrounded him and he littered them of slashes and stabs with his sword. He was getting familiar with this weapon, being comfortable with its weight, how it sang in the air with each slice. After several practiced hits, the soldier was exhausted from his bout with the foe enemies. "This surely is tiring." he thought.

He backed away from the dummies for a moment to let his body cool off as it was hot to the touch from all the training. Following his meeting with Rhydian, Thimryl was both excited and anxious to become stronger, eager even. He was glad to have found a quiet little spot in the arena to practice as he knew he wouldn't be bothered. With the sun kissing his skin and the breeze teasing his hair, he was at peace here, the sounds of training being the epitome of serenity.

For the moment he would take a break, and allow his body to relax a bit more, soreness from his earlier injury still humming on his bones. It was moments like this that he enjoyed, basking in the beauty that was the sound of swords singing and the songs of training. ➸

"Common Speech"
"Mythrasi Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

[Torin Kilvin]

Torin had made inquiries about where he might find a public training grounds that access to allowed non-elves. The one he had been recommended by the other apprentices at his temporary place of employment and education was not a 'grounds' as he had imagined it. The building had high ceilings, long windows to provide ample light and enough wide open space inside to accompany a small battle. Which was a bit like what was going on. A very polite, battle that was made up mostly of one-on-one sparring bouts, with the occasional larger group or person practicing on their own.

The wide shoulder young human was wearing loose sparring clothing, his hair tied back and his hammer-staff held close to his body. He stood on the outskirts of the main floor, watching for a time, trying to discover where he might begin his workout without inconveniencing anyone. After a few minutes he spotted another young male, an elf, just finishing a set of maneuvers in a ring of practice dummies. Hoping that he might be finishing, Torin walked over and said, quietly,

"Excuse me, are you finished with the training ring? I'll wait if you're still using it, or go elsewhere."

Most of the elves he had met were willing to accept his presence because he was polite and respectful, but there were some who were less accepting of a human in their spaces. He should have probably waited for Sivan to have a free afternoon to go with him, but it was rare that they had such time off together during their intense course of study with the master Makers. If any trouble looked to be brewing, he would know to duck out and not return without an elven escort.

[Thimryl]

➸9th of Ash, Year 124, A.o.S➸

➸ Once his break was over, he returned to his training, going at the training dummies as hard as he could. He put his own flair onto it, coming into her own rhythm, with the sword skills he learned from his mother's tutelage. The young man sent a flurry of stabs into the practice dummy, finding different ways to make combos of his attacks, finding his rhythm in building his own personal style. It was a new learning experience for sure, as most of his training was in the bare basics of the different stances and fighting styles of his particular sword. By the time he was done, his forearms and thighs were throbbing, screaming with soreness from the extensive training.

It was suddenly that another presence approached, and green opalescent eyes peered back to see a rather robustly built male. He was pretty, and his build suggested that he was in the greatest shape of his life. Though the way he held his weapon, and the tone in his voice suggested he was nervous maybe, uncertain of himself or asking if the area was available. Thimryl knew what that was like, watching other warriors spare and wanting to join them. Picking up a towel he wiped the sweat from his face and his chest as he smiled, waving for the male to come closer.

He looked human if Thimryl had to guess, and he didn't know how much Mythrasi he had known, so he decided to go with common. "Come, join me in sharpening your skills. I could use a sparing partner." he offered, looking the man over, and more so at the weapon he was holding. It was a hammer, or staff, or a combination of the two. He had to say he had never seen anything like it. He was curious how he fought with it. ➸

"Common Speech"
"Mythrasi Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

[Torin Kilvin]

The other male, far from rejecting Torin, ignoring him or sending him away, offered to train with him. It was unexpected but not unwelcome. He trained with partners whenever he could remind himself to do it, but all of them were close friends and he would never know how much of his skill was knowing them and how much would translate to a stranger. All of the people he trained with, Kala, Sivan, Aurin, were better than he was because he didn't practice nearly as often as he should. Even young Timon, his own apprentice, was at least as good as he was now, having spent so much time training with the Leukos twins.

Not only was the elf offering to workout with him, but he did so in the Common tongue, not putting up the barrier of language that many of his race assumed would put the smith off. Torin's grasp of the elven tongues had been fair before he's spent a full season in Sol'Valen and had grown significantly enough since that he could converse easily. It was still a kindness and he appreciated it.

"Thank you," He answered, "That would be kind of you."

Stepping into the sparring ring the human began quickly stretching his body, warming it up since his would-be opponent was already prepared. While his body was well muscled over nearly the entire structure, it wasn't the same sort of muscle the formed from a soldier's life. The way the human moved also did not indicate that he made his living in the fighting arts. Whether one could guess at his profession would depend on whether one had known blacksmiths intimately before.

When he had done at least the minimum needed to be safe to start he took up his unusual weapon and chose a stance. Nodding to the elf he said,

"When you are ready."

[Thimryl]

➸9th of Ash, Year 124, A.o.S➸

➸ He smiled as the other seemed to relax a bit, he figured that it was from the raven using common, and not shooing him away cause he was foreign. No his foriegness made him unique. He had a soft sound to him, like the sounds of birds in the morning. It was calming to be in his presence, making Thimryl lighten up. Seeing that the other had a live weapon, he took a moment as he rushed over to where the practice weapons were, as he didnt think either of them were ready for live weapon training.

Coming to find the best possible option, he came back with a quarterstaff, somewhat the same length as the hammer like weapon the foreigner held, and handed it to him. "Here, it will be safer if we used the practice weaponry in place here" he stated, taking the other's actual weapon if he obliged, and set off to the side. Once it was secured he would move back to his starting position and take up a fighting stance himself.

After a moment of contemplation, he decided to take the first move and come in at the man, his faux sword poised to stab the man in the abdomen and then slice him up across his left shoulder. Thimryl was still finding his pattern and style with his swordsmanship but he figured there was no time like the present to test out what he knew on the foreigner, he just hoped the man could handle himself in a fight. As much as he didn't want to pull his punches he knew neither of them would learn anything if they held back, and he could hear his mother's voice in his ear tell him to treat every fight as if it was his last. ➸

"Common Speech"
"Mythrasi Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

[Torin Kilvin]

The human hesitated when it was suggested that he switch his weapon for a quarterstaff. Even a non-studded staff was just as dangerous as a hammer, both of them blunt. But maybe the elf thought there was a hidden sharpness to the heavy weapon. It wasn't a big deal, except that the staff was much lighter than his double-headed hammer staff. With a shrug, he let it go, this session could be about learning to combat a stranger's style rather than about training muscles that, honestly, didn't really need it.

All of Torin's early training had been focused on defense, as defending himself and his loved ones had been his only goal. Later he had begun to learn that being able to win, to end a conflict, was as much about defense as stopping the blows of an attacker. Even so, it felt disrespectful to begin before he was sure the elf was ready, so he waited until his host made the opening strike.

Thankfully, from training with Sivan, the smith was used to staff-against-sword reactions and was able to avoid the blows, one with a quick step back and the other by sliding the borrowed staff between himself and the wooden sword. He nodded, settling into in, watching the elf's abdomen, his breath, his feet, more than his eyes or his hands. Eyes could lie, Aurin had taught him, and hands could change too quickly from one strike to the next. The placement of the feet and distribution of weight gave away more.

Taking the initiative back, he swung a genuine strike from above, high and tight, but rotated the lower half of the staff such that if it was deflected it would sweep down towards the elf's feet. They were both testing, seeing if they were out of their depth or well-matched. Not ready to fully commit.

[Thimryl]

➸ There➸ weren't many that Thimryl could call upon to train with, but this foreigner, someone he hadn't met before, was different. The two were engaged in ascertaining the other's skill, declaring their intentions through words unspoken. The foreign warrior had some semblance of training, he wasn't sure if it was formal or from others in the human's life but it was clear he was practiced.

Their first few exchanges were a test, Thimryl seeing the overhead strike, which he caught with his wooden weapon, but could read the motion of the incoming attack from below as well. On instinct, he blinked out of the way, but not backward away from the blonde male. Instead, he blinked behind the foreigner, giving his lower back a soft tap accompanied by a chuckle. "Sorry about that, it's instinct for me to use my magic to evade undue injury. Forgive me, I will try to restrain myself next time."

Giving the other male a moment to register what had happened, he smiled and got back in position. "It occurs to me I don't know your name unless you wish to be called the Pretty Blonde. You may call me Thimryl, Thimryl Len'Lavian." he mused, though his eyes couldn't help trace over the human's form. After all the introductions were done, Thimryl wouldn't waste any time and got back into the training mindset.

Lunging, he went forward, the point of the faux sword down at a right angle, so the elf could come to bring the blade in an upward swing, to loop it around with the same momentum, and deliver a slash straight across the man's chest. Thimryl was gaining confidence in his moves, after all, fortune favored the bold, and Thim was learning that being bold was something he was coming to like.

"Common Speech"
"Mythrasi Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

[Torin Kilvin]

The testing phase was intent and combatative but not competitive. They were there to learn and work their bodies, not to prove anything. When the magic was used to evade and then touch the practice blade to his back, Torin frowned. The rules of the space were that magic was not to be used unless all involved in a sparing match first agreed and set peramitors. He turned slowly back to face the young elf, wondering if his initial friendliness had been a ruse to lure the 'stupid human' into a situation where he could be humiliated.

The apology that followed sounded sincere, but the smith did not have the runic gifts that would have told him the truth of it. Even if he had, none of his magic was active. At least, none of his runes were. The pendant that hung, visible below his loose shirt, and the wide metal cuff on his wrist were always working to connect and protect him.

Unwilling to take the new acquaintance at his word, Torin activated his Semblance. He was used to the incomprehensible amount of information that flooded into his mind and senses, narrowing his focus immediately to just his sparring companion and himself. It was thoughtless now, adjusting what information the aether brought him, like picking something up with his hand or blinking his eyes. Some might not think that Semblance would aid in a fight, but reading someone's aura during battle, at the level at which Torin could, was almost like seeing the future. He didn't want to use it that way, his body would never learn to protect him without it if he did, so he narrowed the focus further, until it would only tell him if Thimryl activated runic magic of his own.

"My name is Torin, Kilvin, of Kalzasi. I'm here studying." He mentioned the name of the school and his teachers, having seen how the elves often changed their treatment of him when they realized under whose protection he was.

A faint flush found his cheeks at the compliment, he was still not used to being addressed in such a way, but he was also flushed from the workout, so maybe no one would realize. Returning to their starting position he continued the spar, more warily that he had at first, taking a defensive stance to block and anticipate blows rather than strike.

[Thimryl]

➸9th of Ash, Year 124, A.o.S➸

➸ Smiling he took a moment to acknowledge the name. "Torin, Torin Kilvin." he let the name roll off his tongue, akin to taking a sip of his favorite spirit. It had a nice sound to it, a slight song. He noticed the flush on the man's face, not knowing if he had made him blush or if it was the rush of physical exertion that was finally showing in the handsome human. His eyes danced over the man for a moment or so longer before he smirked once more.

Taking a breath, he tightened his grip on the wooden sword's hilt, rotating the practice weapon down and to the side to a 45-degree angle. This would permit Thimryl a strong rising cut with the weapon with his first attack, which would allow him to end that attack striking it back down on Torin. Knowing this Thimryl made his move, coming up for a hard rising slash, which, if it missed or Torin parried it, he could try from the high striking position to slash at his face or neck with the wooden sword. Though it was a friendly sparring match, even he knew he had to treat this as if Torin was an enemy he had to dispatch.

The thwacking of wood against wood echoed as Thimryl would press his assault on Torin, keeping his advantage but being aware not to let himself get overconfident. If he was being honest with himself, he was enjoying this exchange. Practicing with his fellow soldiers was monotonous at times and though he enjoyed that form of military training, it was nice to throw his own flare on things, especially as a reaver. ➸

"Common Speech"
"Mythrasi Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

[Torin Kilvin]

It felt less vulnerable, with his rune keeping an 'eye' on the elf across from him, and a confidence that had been lacking settled into the human's body. Forged muscles lost their tension, sitting comfortably over the bones beneath. Even avoiding the temptation of reading Thimryl's aura to see his moves before he made them, fighting without his Semblance felt like fighting blindfolded.

The strike, when it came, was a studied one, well-placed. The good thing about fighting with a pole arm, particularly against a one-handed weapon, was that he could block in one direction without leaving himself vulnerable in another. It was almost like fighting with two weapons, but not quite. The flow of the fight was different. If used correctly, he could use the shaft as a shield and a blade, or, in his case, a hammer. Not having that heavier head shifted the balance, but not so badly that he became clumsy.

One foot sliding back for balance, he brought the staff up to block one blow, swung to protect his face with the tip while bringing the lower half around and up to swipe at the elf's unprotected legs in a swirling arch. While his opponent was reacting to this, he could attempt his own blow to the head or shoulders. The staff, when used properly, was always doing two things at once.

Torin's training with Runeforging, with moving so many weaves of aether at once, had prepared his mind to make several moves at once. His body wasn't as used to it as his mind, so he wasn't anywhere near as good with a staff as he was with his forge. The magical training he was still receiving seeped into everything else he did. It wasn't something he could help, but rarely led him wrong, so he didn't try to fight it.

Sivan and Aurin had both instructed him in self-defense, Kala and Kaus had sparred with him, and even Timon could hold his own now. Having so many different styles in his head caused his style to be a mishmash of movements that somehow worked together to keep the wooden blade away from his flesh. Both scored minor blows, careful, even in the heat of the moment, not to harm each other. Torin was surprised to realize, after about fifteen minutes, that, had he wanted to, he thought he could have beaten Thimryl.

After a particularly rapid exchange, he stepped back and held a hand up so he could take a moment and drink from the water skin he'd left hanging with the practice weapons.