Completed The Cost of Distraction

Jorin discovers that distraction is not a good spice for work, sparring, or life.

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Built into the cliffs overlooking the Suvan Sea, Riverfall resides on the edge of grasslands of Cyphrus where the Bluevein River plunges off the plain and cascades down to the inland sea below. Home of the Akalak, Riverfall is a self-supporting city populated by devoted warriors. [Riverfall Codex]

The Cost of Distraction

Postby Jorin Ertihan on September 10th, 2013, 7:24 pm

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Season of Fall, Day 12, 513 AV


Things had not been going very well for Jorin. He'd flubbed a line during rehersal, something he hadn't done since his Traveling Thespian days. He missed a zero in his inventory count and had to do it all over again. He was irritable in temperament and nearly snapped at Krima before managing to pull himself back. Perhaps most significantly, his book of poems sat dusty and unused in his apartment. He hadn't touched it once since Rinya had stormed out. In fact in the six days, eight bells, and seventeen chimes ... no wait now it was eighteen, that he'd last seen her, Jorin hadn't composed a single poem. The inspiration had flown away with her.

"Jorin, what are you doing?! Get a move-on!" called a voice from behind him. Jorin sighed and nodded, muscles straining as he lifted the heavy crate onto the pallet. Even actors had to do grunt work around the Amphitheater. Everyone pulled their weight. But Jorin was glad for the physical labor. Maybe exhaustion could do what his grousing couldn't; make him forget, even temporarily, what had happened.

Jorin's mind went over and over what happened that day at the Grotto, like a play he was watching performed again and again. No matter how many times he replayed it in his mind, no matter how many angles he attacked it from, no matter how he tried to put the pieces together nothing fit. Nothing about that day made any sense.

"Are you blind as well as deaf, Jorin?! I said put it on your right!" Jorin grunted his acknowledgement and silently lifted the box once more, straining against its weight and shuffled over to the right, where he put it on yet another identical-looking pallet.

Wiping his brow, Jorin squinted at the sun. It was about midday now, and he wondered what Rinya was up to. He could barely feel her. Everything was muted and indistinct, like she'd cut him off somehow. Well that wasn't surprising. Jorin sighed as he strode over to yet another crate. How many of these petching things were there anyway? He kicked one in frustration and cursed at the pain in his toe.

"Hey, would you watch it Jorin! That's delicate!" came the angry shout. Jorin just waved his apology and picked the crate up. It was looking to be yet another long day.
Last edited by Jorin Ertihan on September 13th, 2013, 5:55 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Jorin Ertihan
Art is the purest form of expression.
 
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The Cost of Distraction

Postby Jorin Ertihan on September 10th, 2013, 8:32 pm

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Season of Fall, Day 13, 513 AV


"OK, once more from the top," came the order from "the pit", the small area below the stage where the stage director could shout directions during rehersals. Jorin grumbled, but nodded, and climbed the steps to once more assume ready positions with his "opponent". Once again he would attempt this fight scene, but his heart really wasn't in it. Then again, that was what made an actor. It didn't matter if your heart was in it. The show must go on.

Gripping the wooden sword, Jorin held it in a two-handed grip, as was specified in the script. the script actually did not have very many stage directions for this particular engagement, beyond the fact that his character was to fall in this scene, so much of the choreography was actually "margined in", that is, the stage directions were jotted into the margin as the script page wasn't large enough to accomodate the full descriptions.

"Aaand, begin!" With that order Jorin's opponent dashed forward, raising the wooden sword high above his head and coming down with an overhead swing. Jorin, as practiced, danced back, blocking with a horizontal parry and pushed back while using his legs to maintain balance of his body. Two more swings, one to his head and another to his stomach, quickly followed, which Jorin blocked and then smoothly dodged by pivoting and bending slightly to allow the sword to pass harmlessly.

What followed would look to the audience to be a perfect flurry of blows, but they were all pre-planned. Two more hammer strikes, a cross-strike, followed by a lunge and attempted pommel strike. Jorin responded by dodging twice, legs straining as he leaped back, going into a roll to avoid the cross, coming out of it to receive the lunge right into his "gut" (actually his armpit).

The lunge was long though, and instead of striking Jorin in the armpit as intended, it struck him in the shoulder. With a string of colorful curses, Jorin rubbed his sore shoulder while his partner's face morphed into one of concern and worry.

"No, no, I'm fine," Jorin insisted, as he continued to rub the shoulder. What had happened? He'd practiced this a million times. He knew this routine like the back of his own hand. How had he missed the catch? Nodding to his partner that he was feeling better, Jorin stood once more, leaning a bit on the wooden sword for stability. His legs felt wobbly for some reason, but he ignored it.

At least his relentless practice at the Kendoka seemed to be paying off. He could feel his core was much stronger now, and his legs especially had become far more developed. The breathing techniques he learned at the Sasaran also came in handy, giving him greater endurance for combat scenes like this one. And he'd need that endurance now.

"Again," he ordered.

As the routine started again, Jorin tried to push all other thoughts from his mind. Right, next move is the horizontal parry, followed by a stomach swing ... no wait a head swing! Jorin was too late with his block and the opponent's wooden sword sailed toward and impacted his skull with a hollow wooden sound. Jorin saw stars for a moment before recovering his vision, and his head now sported a nice lump.

"Jorin! What the petch is going on with you?! Are you alright? Do you need to go home?"

"No!" Jorin ground out through gritted teeth. "No I don't need to go home! I'm perfectly fine. I don't want any water, I don't need any rest, I don't have to take a break, JUST LET ME DO MY JOB!" Jorin breathed heavily after the exertion of shouting, face red and chest heaving. The entire amphitheater was deathly quiet. One could hear the proverbial pin drop.

"Jorin," the stage manager began warily, "I really think ... I really think that maybe you should ..."

Jorin whirled on him. "Maybe I should what? Take a break? Go home and sulk for six Bells because you know I really think that's going to help my temper a whole lot," Jorin spat out, the words dripping with sarcasm. Wow. That had been unexpected. Jorin took a few deep breaths, calming himself down.

"Look, let's just get a few more sets out of the way, OK?" he grumbled finally. He wasn't in the mood for an argument anymore. He just wanted this to be done. Nodding at his opponent, he got back into the ready stance.

"Again," Jorin commanded.
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Jorin's Thoughts | "Your speech" | "NPC Speech"

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"Written Text."

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Jorin Ertihan
Art is the purest form of expression.
 
Posts: 593
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Joined roleplay: July 27th, 2013, 3:41 pm
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The Cost of Distraction

Postby Jorin Ertihan on September 10th, 2013, 11:42 pm

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Season of Fall, Day 14, 513 AV


"So ... ah ... do you want to talk about your little meltdown yesterday?" Farline asked, as she took a sip of her water. Jorin shook his head, staring into his mug as though it might have answers.

"No, not particularly," Jorin answered, still staring into his beer. "How'd you hear about that anyway?"

Farline giggled. "Word gets around," she replied, with a light shrug. "I mean really, Jorin, you seriously flipped out, or so I hear. Did you really overturn a table?"

Jorin sighed. Of course, stories like that got exaggerated as they were retold. He wouldn't be surprised if down the line, the story claimed he suddenly had magic and started setting fire to the stage.

"No, Farline," he sighed for the hundreth time. "I did not flip over a table. Can we get off this topic?"

Farline nodded her agreement and took another sip. Jorin felt rather bad. He knew he was being poor company, but he didn't have much to say to Farline. They'd talked about old times already, and they'd already discussed the possiblity of his return (still as remote as ever).

As Jorin stared into his mug, he swirled his beer around and around. It was almost hynotic, watching the gold liquid swirl inside the container. Gold. Like Rinya's eyes. Jorin blinked. Was that always going to come up? Was every little thing going to remind him of her, until they finally reconciled? Jorin sighed. He closed his eyes, tried to feel her, but there wasn't anything except for very vague sensations. No, she was still blocking him. He opened his eyes, and Mizahar flooded back to his senses.

"... able to do it anyway," Farline finished saying, though Jorin had lost the entire first half of that sentence. He shook his head absently.

"I'm sorry Farline, could you repeat that?" he asked. She stared at him strangely.

"I said," she repeated, "do you want to dance? I don't think either of us are able to do it anyway."

Jorin snorted. "Then why would it be a good idea?" he asked. He took a sip of the beer. Warm and flat. Of course.

"Well," she answered, her cheeks flushing a bit, "I figured if you were embarassed alongside me, we'd both feel a little better. Of course, if you don't want to..."

Jorin shrugged. There really wasn't anything better to do, and he'd grown tired of staring into the same stale beer in the same petching mug for the past half bell. He got off his stool, and Farline followed suit, her simple but elegant dress flowing down around her knees.

Neither of them had ever danced before. When they were in the troupe and together, they'd never done this, always opting to go do something else when the music started. Jorin briefly wondered what made Farline decide to dance tonight. He also briefly wondered if Rinya could dance. He wondered what she'd look like here, in that peach-colored dress...

"Jorin," Farline said. There was a strange tone to her voice that Jorin couldn't identify.

"Yeah, Farline?" he asked. He felt a pair of hands turn his head.

"Eyes on me," Farline insisted. Jorin obeyed, and they took their first, hesitant steps onto the dance floor.

The first few movements were literally them stumbling all over each other, Farline laughing good-naturedly as they both stepped all over the other's toes. Truthfully, neither having ever danced, it was as awkward as it was hilarious. The various couples glanced over with hidden smiles at their stumbling new addition, and a few of them offered pointers. Keep your back straight. Try not to step on her feet. Follow the beat of the music. One of you has to lead.

Jorin didn't even know what "leading" in dancing even meant, so he took his cue from the others. It seemed the lead would initiate the step, and the follow would ... well ... follow. Seemed simple enough. So Jorin stepped to the left and -

"Oh!" Farline cried, as the hem of her dress snagged on a table and she nearly fell. Jorin immediately twisted his body so that he'd protect his partner, and they both fell to the ground, Jorin wincing as Farline landed on top of him. They remained there for a breath, as they tried to recover their composure and Farline disentangled her dress.

"Are you alright?" Jorin asked, and Farline nodded gratefully.

"Th-thank you," she said, making sure to put in just the right amount of stammer. Off Jorin's questioning look, she continued. "For protecting me," she explained, with just a hint of sheepishness.

He smiled. "Of course," he replied, offering her a hand up.
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Jorin's Thoughts | "Your speech" | "NPC Speech"

"Common" | "Pavi/Grassland Sign" | "Tukant"

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Jorin Ertihan
Art is the purest form of expression.
 
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The Cost of Distraction

Postby Jorin Ertihan on September 11th, 2013, 12:18 am

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Season of Fall, Day 15, 513 AV


The Kendoka Sasaran was filled with students as usual when Jorin stepped inside. Sohryn was nowhere to be found, which meant either he was off doing an errand, or else perhaps he'd been called away. It didn't matter. Jorin set up in the far corner, like he was used to doing, and began his daily stretching exercises. As he'd practiced many times over the last season, he stretched his arms, then his back, and finally his calves, making sure to work each major muscle group and loosen them up for their daily punishment.

But Jorin's mind was not on his exercises today. As he picked up a staff, and begun to swing it in his usual stacatto pattern, his thoughts were entirely elsewhere. It had been nearly ten days now, and he'd still not heard or felt anything from Rinya. Was she severing the bond? But if she was doing that, Jorin felt sure she'd tell him. But if she wasn't severing the bond, why couldn't he ever find her, and why was she all but hiding from him?

Jorin's distraction caused him to miss the large red akalak until it was too late, and his back collided into the larger man's impressive bicep. Jorin looked up almost impassively at his new opponent. In the past he would have been nervous, but what was the point? He knew the rules. The Akalak simply grinned, wooden Lakan at the ready. Jorin just sighed and entered forward stance. It was still the only stance he knew well.

The Akalak sprang forward, ignoring the forward thrust of Jorin's staff to twist his body to the side, his wood Lakan springing for Jorin's throat. Jorin jumped back, but was too late as the wooden weapon scraped across his throat. The Akalak took advantage of Jorin's momentary lapse to send a large, red fist right for his gut, and Jorin barely had time to roll out of the way, the fist striking his back instead.

Pain blossomed from the impact area, and Jorin growled as he swept his staff low. A staff sweep was not a move he'd practiced, however, and it went wide, giving the large Akalak more than enough clearance to jump over and then grab Jorin's left arm, immobilizing it. Jorin in desperation kicked forward blindly, and managed to impact the Akalak's shin with the heel of his foot. Despite the pain, the Akalak maintained his grip on Jorin's arm and brought his wooden Lakan smashing down on his shoulder.

There was a hollow popping sound, though in his adrenaline-fueled state, Jorin barely noticed. He did notice the arm did not seem to respond the way he wanted it to, but he merely forged forward, squirming and struggling to free himself, finally bringing his elbow across the Akalak's impressive stomach, elbowing him there again and again despite the growing pain in his shoulder.

The Akalak acted as though he did not feel a single one of Jorin's elbows, so Jorin grabbed the staff with his good hand and brought it whirling upwards. It didn't have the force that a two-handed stricke would have, but the length of the staff meant that the impact of the one-handed buttstroke was significant enough that the Akalak released him, rubbing his sore chest and glaring at him.

Jorin tested his left arm, and found it only barely responded. Deciding to tuck the arm in and use the hand sparingly, he entered a sort of monkey-grip-like stance, relying mainly on the grip of his right hand and the power of his legs to compensate for the lack of a second hand. The Akalak merely sneered, tossing and catching his wood Lakan before attacking once more.

Jorin this time attempted a staff strike to the knee, first sending a thrust to the Akalak's face, and quickly dropping the end of the staff several feet to instead catch the knee. But the Akalak responded with a feint of his own, dodging left and circling to Jorin's right, catching Jorin in the chest with his wooden weapon as his arm shot out. Without any hesitation, the Akalak then pounded in another powerful punch, followed by a side kick right into Jorin's solar plexus.

Jorin's head swam. He normally did better than this. Sure he'd lose, but he could put up a better fight than this! Why wasn't he focused like he normally was? Why was this Akalak beating him so badly?

Jorin roared and charged the Akalak, now dropping all semblence of strategy or tactics. The big red man just grinned and side-stepped, holding out one foot to trip Jorin, who landed, painfully, on the floor. Jorin could feel a shadow above him and quickly rolled; which was a good thing he did because the Akalak had thown himself down, elbow-first. The elbow was intended for Jorin's spine but caught him in the kidney, and he could feel pain radiating throughout his body. His vision briefly wavered, but he scrambled to his feet and refocused.

He was losing grip on his weapon with his left hand, and had a death-grip on it with his right. With that sort of setup he knew he could barely use it to ward away attacks, to say nothing of actually attacking. But he wouldn't give up. He couldn't give up. The Akalak just shrugged and attacked again, dodging first, left, then right, then leapt up and brought the wooden Lakan down with the full weight of his body on Jorin's chest.

He could hear a crack as something broke, and he stumbled back, the pain in his chest so severe he choked and watched with almost detatched interest as blood came out of his mouth. The edges of his vision began to fade but Jorin maintained his grip on his weapon and continued to stand. The Akalak was relentless however and pursed the attack, despite the blood, wooden Lakan now beating on his head, his neck, his back...

"STOP!"

It was Sohryn's voice, and before he blacked out, Jorin thought it was truly ironic that he'd actually be glad to hear it.
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Jorin's Thoughts | "Your speech" | "NPC Speech"

"Common" | "Pavi/Grassland Sign" | "Tukant"

"Written Text."

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Jorin Ertihan
Art is the purest form of expression.
 
Posts: 593
Words: 894547
Joined roleplay: July 27th, 2013, 3:41 pm
Location: Riverfall
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes
Medals: 2
Overlored (1) 2013 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

The Cost of Distraction

Postby Magpie on October 2nd, 2013, 9:00 pm

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Jorin :
XP:
Observation +3
Acting +1
Weapon: Short Sword +1
Intimidation +1
Dancing +1
Weapon: Quarterstaff +1
Brawling +1

Lores:
Working Through the Pain of Loss
Protecting Your Partner from a Fall
Starting a Spar in the Kendoka Sasaran
Taking on a Much More Skilled Opponent


Notes :
Admittedly, I've never dislocated my shoulder, but research into it shows it would be significantly more painful than you show here. It's a fairly small point though, and not out of the question that he was so out of his mind that he could ignore it, so I'm not requiring you change it. However, please be mindful of the effect of pain in the future. Otherwise, nice little thread here, with your usual wide spectrum of skills. Good job!


If you have any questions or concerns about what was awarded, please don't hesitate to PM me.
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