33rd Day of Winter, 512AV
Kendoka Sasaran
11th Bell
"We'll have to start charging you rent, Razkar."
"That mean I leave less?" Razkar said with a smile as he bowed a greeting to Mizra Aqdas, then straightened up (and up... and up...) to look the towering Akalak in the eye. "Or more?"
"What do you think?"
Razkar chuckled softly and walked slowly to the edge of the dojo, Mizra at his side. As usual, the students were sparring in an endless dance on the white mats. Wooden practice weapons flashed and whipped through the air. The Myrian's nostrils tingled at the smell of fresh sweat and the merest hint of blood. Constant cracks and groans from the fighters.
"I am student. You are teacher." He said, stripping off his cloak of scalps, his breeches and tunic. He paused to donate his customary ten gold mizas into the donation box, not bothering to wait until after his sparring was done today. It was always worth the money. When it was not, he would stop coming. "So you decide."
Mizra nodded slowly, enjoying this alternate, verbal sparring. The Myrian, Razkar, was truly becoming a regular at his training hall. But he still concerned the Akalak, and had said so before. He knew what Razkar was. Killing and war were not just training or profession to him; they were instinct. They were in the blood and the soul.
Such men always ran the risk of seeing everywhere as a battlefield. Even a school.
But now, today, safe from the bitter cold beyond the walls and with Razkar in apparently good spirits, Mizra was not about to let those fears overly trouble him.
"Students are meant to think for themselves."
"Only when much educated."
"You say that you are not?"
"I have lot to learn."
"Until then," Mizra said as the Myrian turned round, steel weapons exchanged for wooden gladius and hand ax. "I think a donation for every visit should suffice."
"Until my room ready?"
"Something like that..."
The Myrian chuckled, flashing sharpened teeth for a moment. He liked the massive Akalak. He was not as stuck up and arrogant as many of his kind. He had run into many in Riverfall, and most of them had been in this building. But whenever boredom and restlessness seized him and mere exercise or shadow-sparring would not suffice, Razkar found himself drawn here almost helplessly.
"What do you seek, Razkar?"
The Myrian held up his weapons. "Same as last time. Two at same time, ah..." Mizra let him search for the word rather than correct him. It was the best way for the foreigner to learn. "Dual weld?"
"Wield."
"Yes, wield."
"Hmm... most of my more advanced students are paired. However... someone should present themselves."
Someone did.
RecieptTraining: 10gm.0sm.0cm
Kendoka Sasaran
11th Bell
"We'll have to start charging you rent, Razkar."
"That mean I leave less?" Razkar said with a smile as he bowed a greeting to Mizra Aqdas, then straightened up (and up... and up...) to look the towering Akalak in the eye. "Or more?"
"What do you think?"
Razkar chuckled softly and walked slowly to the edge of the dojo, Mizra at his side. As usual, the students were sparring in an endless dance on the white mats. Wooden practice weapons flashed and whipped through the air. The Myrian's nostrils tingled at the smell of fresh sweat and the merest hint of blood. Constant cracks and groans from the fighters.
"I am student. You are teacher." He said, stripping off his cloak of scalps, his breeches and tunic. He paused to donate his customary ten gold mizas into the donation box, not bothering to wait until after his sparring was done today. It was always worth the money. When it was not, he would stop coming. "So you decide."
Mizra nodded slowly, enjoying this alternate, verbal sparring. The Myrian, Razkar, was truly becoming a regular at his training hall. But he still concerned the Akalak, and had said so before. He knew what Razkar was. Killing and war were not just training or profession to him; they were instinct. They were in the blood and the soul.
Such men always ran the risk of seeing everywhere as a battlefield. Even a school.
But now, today, safe from the bitter cold beyond the walls and with Razkar in apparently good spirits, Mizra was not about to let those fears overly trouble him.
"Students are meant to think for themselves."
"Only when much educated."
"You say that you are not?"
"I have lot to learn."
"Until then," Mizra said as the Myrian turned round, steel weapons exchanged for wooden gladius and hand ax. "I think a donation for every visit should suffice."
"Until my room ready?"
"Something like that..."
The Myrian chuckled, flashing sharpened teeth for a moment. He liked the massive Akalak. He was not as stuck up and arrogant as many of his kind. He had run into many in Riverfall, and most of them had been in this building. But whenever boredom and restlessness seized him and mere exercise or shadow-sparring would not suffice, Razkar found himself drawn here almost helplessly.
"What do you seek, Razkar?"
The Myrian held up his weapons. "Same as last time. Two at same time, ah..." Mizra let him search for the word rather than correct him. It was the best way for the foreigner to learn. "Dual weld?"
"Wield."
"Yes, wield."
"Hmm... most of my more advanced students are paired. However... someone should present themselves."
Someone did.
RecieptTraining: 10gm.0sm.0cm