The Day My Life Begins Again (Zhol)

by **Turrin** on March 21st, 2015, 6:26 am

Time stamp: 56th of Spring, 515AV
Location: The Fighting Pits
Who: Zhol

Opening his eyes, Turrin got out of bed and walked over to the candle. It was dark, so he had to navigate to the shelf with his hands out stretched out feeling around in the dark. Eventually, he made it to the shelf and used his hand to feel around for flint and steel. When he found his fire starter, he felt around for the candle with his other hand. Suddenly, he felt his hand hit the side of the candle and heard it crash to the ground. The myrian winced at the sound of wax and metal hitting the floor. Bending over, he felt around with his free hand for the candle holder and wax. When he found them, he set them back on the shelf and used the flint and steal to light the candle. Eventually, after a chime of completely missing his target, he eventually lite the candle. Once the candle was lite, he looked around his the gorgeous room that Drusilla made for him. Shaking his head, the Myrian muttered softly to himself, “You are such a idiot for leaving, Turrin...”

For the last few seasons, Turrin did his best to escape the memories of riots. In doing, he alienated Drusilla from his life. He pushed away the one stable thing in his miserable life, and now, he had to sneak into his own aeries to avoid seeing her. He was such a coward. Turrin knew that he would eventually have to see her because it was hard to hide Aponivi especially in his own home. When his eyes adjusted to the light, he walked over to his chest and pulled out a clean pair of bryda. Putting on the pants, he laced it up, took his full water skin, and grabbed both of his weighted wooden talon swords from off the shelf. The endal knew that he didn't want to expose his metal sword to possible rain, so he left it on the shelf.

When Turrin was done getting ready, he walked to the candle and blew it out. Walking to the door, he opened the door, and crept outside into the hallway. He noticed that Drusilla seemed to always keep some sort of light lite, so it wasn't hard to navigate down the hallway. When Turrin walked past her room, he stopped for a chime and stared at the door. It was the longest chime of his life. Bringing his hand up, he was just about to muster up the courage to knock. However, at the last moment, his hand froze in place as a whirlwind scenarios started to play out in his mind. All the scenarios ended up with Drusilla either slapping him or stalking away in anger, so he brought his hand down to his side and thought to himself, I can face down a pack of wolves with little fear, but I can't bring myself to tell her that I am alive. I am such a coward!

When Turrin got he door of Aponivi's aeries, he opened the door and saw the giant wind eagle staring out into the cloudy sky. Turrin closed the door, leaned up against it, and closed his eyes not wanting to look at his only friend now in Wind Reach. Suddenly, he heard a voice in his head say, You know, Turrin. It would be better for you in the long run if you grew some tail feathers and talk to Drusilla...

Turrin opened his eyes and looked into the golden eyes of Aponivi. The half breed knew that Aponivi could never hide anything from the wind eagle. The endal felt helpless under the gaze of the giant raptor. Turrin looked at at the ground at his muddy boots and replied telepathically to Aponivi, I know your right, but I am afraid. I am afraid of causing more pain than I already had done to her.

Suddenly, the wind eagle sat up and closed the distance between the two of them. The giant eagles beak was about two feet from his face, so he bent down to stare the endal in the eye and communicated, Didn't you choose this path and the consequences with it? I spent three seasons away from my brothers and sisters, so you can find yourself, and finally during the spring, you decided that you belonged in Wind Reach. You are a endal with the blood of Myri running through your veins, and I will use the strength of Myri's running through your blood to protect my home. You are a protector of Skyinarta, Turrin. You were bred for this job, and I will not allow my endal to weak because of a woman! If you to afraid to speak to Drusilla, cast her aside, and get on with your life!”

Aponivi words sank deep into the very depths of his soul, and he felt like he was just punched in the face. Turrin knew the wind eagle was right. He needed to talk to Drusilla and make amends, or he needed to let her go and get on with his life since it wasn't fair to keep her in limbo. Looking up at Aponivi, Turrin said out loud with a nod, “I promise that I will make it right, Aponivi. However, I need to think. Maybe swinging my sword around with help clear my mind.”

Aponivi stayed silent as he backed up and sat down on his perch. The wind eagle seemed bored with the grey sky, so he took amusement in looking himself in the mirror and grooming himself. With his practice sword in hand, he picked up his boots, opened the door to the aeries, and walked to the front door of his home. Putting on his boots, the endal way outside and into the warren leading to the Darniva Common rooms. While he walked, the endal started to mule over people that he knew in Wind Reach. He needed to find anyone that could use a sword. Turrin remembered the name of a Avora named Zhol from the hunt for the Beast. He remembered Zhol swordsmanship was novice at best. As long as he had enough skill not to stab himself in the foot. The outsider would do. Turrin decided to get breakfast in the kitchen before he walked into the Darvina Commons, he saw enough people were out and about to help in in locating Zhol's apartment.

Once Turrin entered the commons, he felt like he was center of everyone attention. However, they quickly adverted their eyes and quicken their pace. Turrin saw a chiet woman walking towards him, so he asked, “I am looking for the outsider, Avora Zhol.” The woman decided to not address him and just point in the direction of his door. Turrin looked to where she was pointing and saw a group of three doors. The endal gave a small nod to the woman and made his way over to the doors. Seeing Zhol's name on one of the doors, Turrin raised his hand and knocked on the door.

by **Zhol** on March 22nd, 2015, 1:21 am

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There were few things in life that Zhol wanted less than to be awake right now. His body had still not forgiven him for the rough treatment he had been subjecting it to recently; the beating he'd taken at the Inclement Weather three nights before was most fresh in his mind, and his jaw ached in protest, reminding him of what the Endal's fist had felt like. He didn't regret his actions - Endal or no, anyone who attempted to lay a hand on his beloved Khara would be prevented from doing so by any means necessary - but it had soured him towards the upper caste, and if he saw another Endal again this season, it would be too soon.

What made it worse was that Khara had already gone. He wasn't sure what he had expected when the two of them had moved from his small room to a slightly larger one that was there's; they had already been living together, officially and not, for over a season; he already spent as much time as was humanly possible with her. Now that spring had finally shrugged off the last lingering residue of winter, the days were growing longer and so too were Khara's expeditions into the Unforgiving. It was important to the city; Zhol knew that. She was important to the city. But gods be damned, selfish as it was, he wanted his every waking moment to be spent with her, and petching Wind Reach with it's petching castes and petching jobs were getting in the way of that.

As always though, Khara's sweetness was beyond comparison. He had protested - pathetically; he wasn't proud of how sullen and whiny he had been - to her needing to leave; she had answered with a long, deep, lingering kiss, and had draped the scarf she'd bought for him earlier in the season around his shoulders. She'd explained to him back then what it represented to her; not just the sentiment that the Inarta placed upon it but also more. It was a reminder of him, she had said, a way for him to embrace her when he was not there. She had wanted the same for him; Zhol snuggled groggily amid the coils of the scarf, grateful that he wasn't entirely alone in their shared bed.

When the knock on the door had first sounded, Zhol initially believed it to be the pounding of his head. A tick or two past before the realisation processed fully; with an enthusiastically reluctant groan he peeled the bedsheets aside and clambered achingly to his feet, his body a multicoloured patchwork of scuffs and bruises in various stages of healing. Barefoot, he padded to the door and, adjusting his face into a scowl, pulled open the door.

It took a moment for Zhol to recognise Turrin: Drusilla's other brother, the Endal who had been kind to Khara at the archery ranges, the one with who he'd sparred before the Winter, with whom he'd hunted the Beast that had been plaguing the Sanikas Road; the one who had all but disappeared, and left Drusilla worried sick in his absence.

Another moment passed before Zhol realised that he had missed an important part of his usual door-answering ritual: with the exception of the scarf coiled around his neck, he was wearing the same absolutely nothing that he always did now that spending the night with Khara in his arms was the status quo. Nothing would come between them was the promise they had made to each other; and clothes had become part of that vow. The intimacy of being so close to the woman he loved so much each and every night was wondrous and intoxicating; but apparently not all that convenient for unexpected visitors.

For a tick or two he glanced down at himself, realisation taking it's sweet time sinking in. Then his gaze rose, and he looked the Endal dead in the eyes.

"Hello Turrin," he said, his voice as calm, steady and unwavering as is gaze. "Can I help you with something?"

by **Turrin** on March 23rd, 2015, 8:54 pm

As Turrin waited patiently to answer the door, the endal glanced around the commons and noticed that people were starting to get up to go to there respective jobs. Turrin had the day off, so he wanted to practice duel wielding with his talon swords today. Zhol would be the perfect spar partner for him to learn defense duel welding because his skills with his broad sword was still at novice level, so he could work on his own technique too. The endal could her rustling from inside the room, so it would only be a matter of time before the Avora poked his head out the door. Turrin decided to passed the time watching people as they walk by him, so when his golden eyes met the emerald eyes of pretty Inarta woman. The myrian nodded to her and gave the woman a smile as she walked passed him. The woman looked up for a moment, returned the smile, quickly adverted her eyes, and continued down the warrens. As he watched her leave, the myrian had smirk of satisfaction on his face as he watched her walk down the warrens.

When Turrin heard the door knob start to turn, the endal turned his attention to the door. As the door opened the endal, he inwardly groaned at his stupidity because he forgot not everyone in Wind Reach gets as early as he does. If it was Taloba this would be awkward moment for him, but the endal lived in Wind Reach most of his life, so the endal was not fazed as he looked at the naked man standing in the doorway. Turrin noticed that Zhol was covered head to toe in welts and bruises and the foreign human smell faintly of sex. If he known the man better, he would have teased him and ask if Zhol was into rough sex with his mate, but he decided not too. He wasn't that friendly with the man yet. However, he decided to say the first thing that came to mind, so he said with smirk, “Looking at the bruises on your body, It must have been a good fight. I wished that I was there to see it.” The myrian paused for a moment and said with respectful nod, “I just hoped you won it, Zhol.”

Turrin hoped the human wasn't to annoyed with his unexpected visit, but he decided to extend the invitation to the young man anyways, “I sorry if I woke you, Zhol, but I was curious if you wanted to practice with me today at the Fighting Pits. I need someone to attack me while I try to defend myself while I attempt and most likely fail miserably at duel wielding.” Turrin laughed slightly at himself and continued with smirk, “By the end of spar, I will mostly be covered with the same about of welts as yourself. It should be fun!”

Turrin was held both his wooden talons swords up in each of his hands to show the human that he was serious about it. He wanted to be as good as the talon swords masters of the city, and one day show up Endal Sira in the process since she clearly kicked his arse in there first bout. Since he knew Zhol's swordsmanship skills from a previous spar, he would be able to focus more on technique and less the need to beat him like Sira. With the smile still on his face, the endal said, “I know it is early, so if you needed to catch up on sleep, I don't mind waiting, but if you are uninterested, I completely understand too.”

by **Zhol** on March 24th, 2015, 1:40 am

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A good fight? Not even remotely. Zhol might have been able to put up a good fight with a sword in his hand, but with his bare fists? He barely even knew how to throw a punch, let alone aim it in the right place and deflect the blows of others. Perhaps he could rectify that somehow; perhaps there was someone in Wind Reach who could teach him - dear gods, was Brandon his only option? - but for now, the best he could manage was to take a good beating, and that would have to do.

He wasn't sure how to respond. Did he admit that it hadn't been a fight at all, because the Endal had required Zhol to stand there and allow himself to be hit? Did he admit that he'd suffered the assault to spare a Chiet from suffering the same - or worse - by that Endal's hand? It would have been an honest answer, and Zhol wasn't ashamed of it, not really: he would rather choose to suffer than choose to watch someone innocent suffer, especially when it was -

It didn't matter. He could decline to provide any details; that seemed like the wisest course of action. Besides, there was something deeply enticing about an Endal unknowingly offering to be on the receiving end of Zhol's anger towards his caste, and Wind Reach as a whole. Turrin wasn't the right Endal, but he was an Endal, and at this time of morning with this level of frustration coursing through his veins, that felt more than close enough.

"It would be my pleasure," he answered simply, not allowing any of the hidden meaning to show through. He paused after speaking, contemplating his situation, and his state of undress; running through the steps and stages that he would need to go through to be ready for such a bout. It occurred to him that he'd never set foot in the Fighting Pits before; he'd never had the need to, nor seen the appeal. Not until today.

"It will take a few minutes for me to make myself ready. Would you prefer to wait, or should I meet you at the Pits?"

by **Turrin** on March 25th, 2015, 6:39 pm

When Zhol accepted his invitation, the myrian said with a smile, “Good, I will meet you at the Fighting Pits, I need to do my morning exercises anyways, so if you need to get something to eat or wash up before we start. I understand. See you later.”

Turrin would have normally just waited for the human, but he wanted to collect his thoughts since it was such a unique morning. The endal waited for him to go back into his apartment before the endal started to jog down through the warrens to the Fighting Pits. As the endal ran through the commons, the large man weaved through the crowds of lower castes. The myrian could already feel his heart start to pound in his chest as he made it to the inner warrens leading the fighting pit. Feeling slightly winded from all the sudden movement, the endal took a break to catch his breath. When he felt better, the endal continued his jog down the inner warrens. As Turrin was jogging, he noticed a group of Inarta talking to each other in the middle of the warrens, so he got about five feet away from the them and side stepped to the right and ran passed the group. He might have surprised one of the men because he seemed startled and jumped forward to get out of the endal's way.

About five chimes after encountering the group, Turrin had to stop because he needed to catch his breath yet again. Feeling sweat on his forehead, the endal took a small drink out of his water skin. When the endal felt better, he continued his jog down the warren a little slower now, so it didn't tire him as much as earlier. About three chimes into his job, the endal noticed someone must have dropped a overturned basket in middle of the warren, so the endal started to pick up speed till his jog turned into a sprint and when he got the basket. He jumped over the obstacle with ease. It wasn't really big, so the endal had no problem clearing it. The myrian started to slow down his pace from a sprint to a jog and eventually stop all together to catch his breath once again. When he caught his breath, the endal continued running till he exited the city proper.

When Turrin made it outside, the sky was a gloomy color grey and the wind was steady; however, the gusts coming from Thunder Bay seemed quite strong. Turrin knew the volcano Wind Reach was quite massive, so he could only guess weather conditions under the cloud blanket. He figured Zulrav was mad again at the Inarta, so it was wise for the wind eagles to refuse to fly these last couple days. Turrin tighten his katinu around his shoulders and walked to the stairs leading up to the edge of the world and the Fighting Pits. Turrin looked up at the stairs leading up, and he took a deep breath and slowly started to jog up the stairs. During his jog, the myrian noticed it was much harder to jog up than jog on a flat surface, so he started to feel the muscles in the top of his legs start to burn as he started to ascend up the stairs. Also he noticed that he had to stop more frequently. It was annoying, but he needed to keep going to build up strength in his legs and endurance.

When he made it to the top, the endal was so winded that he had to sit down on the top of the stairs. He look out at the storms raging over the Unforgiving, and he shook his head for the poor fools that had to go out into it. He figured nasty Avora hunters and their chiet apprentices would still be out searching for game even if the game might be staying low to ride out the storm. Luckily, Wind Reach was high above most of the rain clouds, so the city was mostly dry unless the thunderstorm was particularly nasty to get high enough to hit the city. The endal been in Wind Reach awhile to know those type of storm tend to rage more in the summer and less in mid spring when it was much warmer.

When he caught his breath, Turrin decided to walk the rest of the way to the Fighting Pits. When he got the Fighting Pits, the training area was filled with Endal who were trying to pass the time. While the storm continued to rage across the Unforgiving near Thunder Bay. Turrin got a few nods from his peers and few challenges to spar from a few of them. The myrian held up both his wooden practice swords and said with smirk, “Sorry guys. I already have a sparring partner. He should be here shortly. Besides, I am practicing duel welding today, so...it won't be much of a spar for him.”

The other endal laughed at him and one of them said with snort, “Shall I tell the infirmary to save you a bed?”

Turrin laughed out loud and responded with a grin, “You might as well because last time that I attempted duel wielding. I ended up with me throwing one of my swords and hitting myself with the other one. It was quite embarrassing. Especially since Sira was standing right there watching, I no doubt she will never let me forget it...” The other two male Endals around him started to laugh out loud, so the myrian decided to talk to them till Zhol showed up.

by **Zhol** on March 26th, 2015, 3:59 am

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It took Zhol far longer to reach the Fighting Pits, and his progress was less of a jog and more of a slow trudge, the heel of his palm scrubbing against his sleep-encrusted eyes every few moments. He was awake, he was dressed, and he had eaten, but he lumbered, senses still dulled and mind still reluctant to function.

He still wore the scarf though, and that was a source of comfort. That same comfort objective had guided the rest of his attire too; for a rare change, Zhol was wearing bryda, having decided that the mobility that the looser fitting garment provided might be of some small advantage - or at last would reduce the deficit of sparring against someone as talented as Turrin. He'd considered going all out and arriving bare chested, but aside from the foolishness of being outside so dressed with the way that the weather had been the last few days, he'd decided against it. Besides, from what he remembered of Turrin's approach to combat, the Endal would be quick to exploit his bruises if he left them on display. He'd tugged on his sleeveless ramie undershirt instead, and had dragged on his leather work jacket before leaving the room. It was a little warm wearing it now in the tunnels, and so he let it hang open, but he knew he'd be grateful for it once he reached the outside.

Adding to his sleepy disarray was the odd weight hanging from his belt; the training sword was far lighter than his usual weapon, and it felt strange to feel the familiar sensation of the blade swinging against his leg without quite the same weight behind it. He'd grown used to carrying the sword there; his experiences over the last few seasons had made him reluctant to wander the city without it there - more as a comfort and a deterrent than anything else - and after what had happened when he'd gone out without it a few days ago, walking through the city so unarmed left him feeling vulnerable and on edge. Perhaps his numbed mind was a benefit: at least it was keeping any potential anxiety at bay.

As he stepped out onto the plateau that held the Fighting Pits, he was glad of his clothing choices, but also acutely aware of how ill-armed he was. He could see Inarta of all castes bristling, all far more formidable than he was - or at least, more formidable than he felt - paying very close attention to the fresh outsider who had arrived, perhaps wondering if any of them would have the pleasure of adding to his collection of bruises. Zhol ignored them as best he could, ignoring them as best he could. This was his first time at the Pits, and if he survived, it could well be his last.

Brandon, he thought to himself, as he slowly began to ascend the steps. He would definitely need to swallow his pride, and seek training from Brandon. There were too many things in Wind Reach with the desire or willingness to do him harm, and not all of them could be run through with a sword. Perhaps a little of the skill and wisdom that Brandon had been passing on to the Yasi was exactly what Zhol needed.

As he reached where Turrin was standing, he bowed his head to the Endal, hoping he was showing the appropriate level of deference. It occurred to him that his encounters with Endals were still rare; he was still never sure of the correct way to act. "I hope I have not kept you waiting long."

by **Turrin** on March 26th, 2015, 6:31 pm

Turrin noticed Zhol approaching before the outsider made it over to him. The outsider seemed lost and kind of unsure of himself in the see of red heads. The myrian didn't want to be rude to his peers since they were talking to him. Once Zhol made it to the group, the Avora bowed his head in respect to Turrin, but he completely ignored the other two standing by him. One of the male endal with a claw scars across his face looked up at Zhol and at his practice broad sword at his hip and said in broken common with smirk, “You outsiders have no manners. You introduce self to half-breed here, but no respect for true blood endal. No wonder why you eastern humans are so barbaric...”

Turrin stayed silently since he knew the endal was testing the young man, but he knew Zhol was a Avora, so he couldn't retaliate for the insult the endal dealt him unless he was stupid. Any insult the Avora gave the endal would give the endal a excuse to make the young man's life a living hell the rest of his life. However, the endal did insult him with his half breed comment, so the large myrian turned and punched the endal in the stomach. When the scared endal was doubled over, the myrian put his right leg, between the center of his the scar endal's legs, put his right hand on his chest, and pushed him over his leg on to his back. The throw wasn't perfect because Neran got caught on Turrin's leg slightly, so he lost his balance slightly, but he recovered when Neran was on the ground. It was basic throw that he learned in Taloba, but it was efficient enough to get the point across to his friend, Neran. While the scared endal was on the ground, Turrin put a boot on his chest and smirked at his friend on the ground. Turrin could hear the other endals around him laughing at there fallen brethren. The scared endal looked up and said in broke common to Turrin, “What the petch, Turrin! I just having fun with Outsider!”

Turrin looked at him and said with a laugh in common, “First, I not going to bother talking to you in Nari since I am awful at it, but you should be ashamed with yourself. Your common is just awful. Secondly, don't call me half-breed! You can call me myrian or Inarta, but not half-breed! Half-breed makes me sound like petching livestock, Neran!”

Turrin extended a hand to Neran, and the endal gladly took it. When the myrian dusted off the endal's bare back, and Neran just shook his head and laughed at himself. The scared endal looked at Zhol and said in common, “You promise me, Outsider that you will make him pay during the spar, right?” Neran patted Zhol on the back and waved the other silent endal to follow him. Turrin shook his head at them and said to Zhol, “Neran is arse, but he was just messing with you. The only thing those idiots understand is force. When I first came to Wind Reach, I was in constant fights with the locals, but I proved them that I wasn't prey in the end. What do your people value, Zhol? You don't seem soft like humans from more "civilized" cities.” Turrin wanted Zhol to talk and walk at the same time, so he gestured with his head for to follow him.

oocFYI:I am in karate in real life, and the throw I did was a real simple and basic move. Something a novice could learn easyly.

by **Zhol** on March 29th, 2015, 9:02 pm

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Zhol had to fight hard to contain the smirk that tried to sneak onto his expression as he watched Turrin deposit the scarred Endal unceremoniously on the floor. He studied Turrin's actions closely; he had seen children in Endrykas do similar things, one shoving their unfortunate victim while the other crouched behind him to provide an obstacle for him to stumble over, but Zhol would never have thought of attempting to be the obstacle and the one shoving at the same time. He carefully stored away what his eyes had seen, the way that Turrin's leg had hooked Neran's leg from beneath him, and idly wondered if there was anyone novice enough for him to be able to practice such things.

Zhol didn't answer Neran when he spoke; it seemed like the kind of statement that might be rhetorical, but he wasn't particularly inclined to admit that I'm probably not good enough to do that, to an Endal who was so clearly disposed to disliking him. Instead he merely waited silently and patiently, following Turrin as soon as he instructed, and gave careful consideration to Turrin's question.

"My people -" he began to reply, suddenly struck with discomfort at referring to the Drykas that way. While he had been born in their city, and born from Drykas parents, the fast that he had never been chosen by a strider and had thus never earned his windmarks meant that he had never been considered one of them; they had never been his people, and to call them such felt like a deception of a sort. "- are divided into many clans, each one revering a different aspect of life and survival, and since each clan is considered equal I suppose you could say that the Drykas revere those aspects equally. The focus of the clans are similar to the roles of the Avora in Wind Reach, in a way - there is a clan for healers, for warriors, for artisans, for hunters, for law, for magic, for trade - eight in all, each one named after a different precious stone."

He frowned, wondering - hoping almost - that it was enough information, as providing any more meant explaining how much of a disappointment he had been, how inferior he was in the eyes of the Drykas. Yet, Turrin was an Endal, and Zhol felt a similar reticence - though not quite as strongly - at the prospect of lying to Turrin by omission as he felt at the same prospect with Khara. Deception was not part of the fabric of his being, and regardless of whether his respect was voluntary or mandatory, it still felt like an affront to that respect to withhold anything. Besides, what if Drusilla had informed him of these things already, and Turrin was merely testing his honesty?

"I was born into the Ruby Clan, the artisans and crafters. Sadly, I had no talent for such tasks. The Drykas also revere the Striders: a breed of horse descended from Semele and Zulrav. When you prove yourself worthy, a Strider will choose you, and you will become a member of the Drykas, and earn the tattoos that demonstrate that status; it is a vital right of passage, and without it you are nothing, as I was."

He let out a quiet, hollow laugh. "In Wind Reach, my talent with horses makes me an Avora; but in the place of my birth, my lack of any alternative made me little more than a Dek."

by **Turrin** on April 2nd, 2015, 3:36 am

As Turrin started to walk, the endal's golden eyes listened Zhol as he told him that he was a human from the east called a Drykas. The human started to explain that his people were divided into clans based on profession and each clan was named after a precious stone. Turrin could related to being apart of a clan since he was born into the Twisted Vine clan in Falyndar. All the myrian clans served the Goddess-Queen, and all clans were equal in the eyes of his goddess regardless of the size or wealth. When the young man told him that he was part of the Ruby Clan, Turrin listened as Zhol told him that he wasn't any good at the trades. Also, he wasn't picked by a Strider. A breed of horse given life by the goddess Semele and the god Zulrav. Turrin snarled slightly to himself at the vary mention of the god of wind's name. It was the Zulrav who made Syveris a criminal overnight because he thought the glassblower had something to do with the thief. Even though, it was in the past, the event still left a bad taste in Turrin's mouth.

When Turrin heard Zhol laugh, so the endal turned his head and listened to Drykas' statement. The young man stated that he was much more valued in Wind Reach than in his clan. The myrian could relate because he was born a half-breed male in a society dominated by women. In Taloba, the endal's value in the city would be limited to a grunt in the army. It would have been a sad pointless life in the jungle for the half-breed warrior. Since he had myrian blood running through his veins, Turrin never had these troubles in Wind Reach because he would rather die than let these feather brained idiots bring him down. The myrian looked at the welts and bruises on the young mans chest and said simply, “Do you know that I never wanted to come to Wind Reach? When I first came to Wind Reach, the only thing I knew about my mother's city was romanticized stories of the noble endal of old. I knew nothing about the caste system, and the brutality the lower castes suffer from the hands of the upper castes. It was quickly made apparent to me as a child when I watched a avora beat a deformed dek half to death just for dropping a petching glass bird. I was wanted to stop the Avora, but I just came to the city, so I didn't know it was his right as a avora to discipline the lower castes. I hated my mother's city because it was different from myrian society, but at the same time, they were very similar too.”

Turrin looked at Zhol for a moment and continued, “ I had a hard time coming to grips with the fact that I gave up a life glory in the myrian military, for a city that has a day to day dance with Dira for it's vary existence.” The myrian shook his head remembering his train of thought in his early days in Wind Reach, “I was the one who choose to leave Taloba because my grandmother excommunicated my mother and sister from the clan.”

Turrin remembered the journey from Taloba to Wind Reach, and he knew if he wasn't there to protect his family his family would have died in the Falyndar or the Unforgiving. The endal added, “At the time, my mother was mentally sick and my sister was a pacifist in a society of warrior women, so they were just a liability to my grandmother legacy.”

Running a hand through his burgundy hair, Turrin said with a hint of anger in his voice, “I was the spitting image of her beloved son, so my grandmother was tough on me because she thought that I should have been born a female and born to a proper myrian woman. It would have been easier for her to stomach than her half-breed grandson.”

Turrin frowned and said with frustration in his voice, “I trained day and night in my skills as a warrior, but she could never my myrian spirit through my golden eyes. In the end, I left Taloba for Wind Reach when she sent my family away. I could have stayed because I was a warrior like my father, but my sister and mother would have died in the jungle and mountains and my grandmother knew it...”

Turrin finished his story and did a few practice swings with his swords. The endal rolled the hilt of the sword in his left hand and said without looking at Zhol, “The only other person that I told that story too was Drusilla. I am happy you were honest with me, Zhol. Your honesty speaks volumes of your character...” Turrin looked him in the eyes, nodded to his bruises, and said with a smile, “You aren't the only outsider that suffered the same abuse from Wind Reach, but as long as you don't let them beat you. You should be fine.” Turrin smirked at the Drykas and said with nod, “Besides you wouldn't have those bruises if you didn't have something to protect would you? Anyways, I didn't call you out here to talk about our sad stories. Arm yourself, Zhol!”

Turrin got into his fighting stance. He wasn't quite sure the proper stance to fight with duel weapons, so he put his right leg back and left his left foot forward. The endal put the hilts of the wooden swords on each side of his hips and pointed the tips of his swords up at the chest of Zhol. The half-breed stared into the eyes of the Drykas warrior and said with a nod, “Why don't you just work on your cutting techniques, Zhol while I figure out how to block with my swords. Attack when you are ready.”

by **Zhol** on April 3rd, 2015, 8:39 am

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If you had asked Zhol two years ago, as he was standing at the Sanikas Gates waiting to enter Wind Reach for the first time, if he would promise to respect the Endals and Wind Reach's way of life, he would have said yes. Of course he would have: there was no other answer to give, and there was no reason not to. Back then, Zhol had not understood what respect meant. Like most - even the people of Wind Reach, for that matter - he would have confused respect with obedience. That was what the higher castes expected: respect for their authority, respect for Wind Reach's traditions and laws. Respect for the Endal, though? Respect for them as a person? That was something else.

Respect was like love, Zhol had discovered. It was an emotion, a sentiment that too many different forms, and had many different causes. You could respect someone's honesty, even if you did not agree with their opinion or beliefs. You could respect someone's motives, while at the same time condemning their actions. You could respect someone's input, ascribe extra weight to their opinion, and yet disagree and make a different choice for yourself. Respect was not blind obedience; but blind obedience was a smokescreen, that let Endals feel respected without the lower castes needing to feel the actual sentiment.

Turrin, though? Zhol could respect a man who was willing to sacrifice a preferable life for the benefit of his family. He could respect a man who had survived the same sort of arduous journey to arrive at Wind Reach that Zhol himself had endured. That word - excommunicated - lingered in his mind. Zhol did not relate to Turrin in this story, but rather to his mother and sister; Turrin was as if one of his family had left Endrykas in his wake, as if Dinah or Lillah had chased him to Kenash and made this journey with him. He felt respect for the loyalty, integrity, and love that Turrin's actions displayed; and also no small amount of jealousy for what Turrin had been willing to sacrifice for his family.

Most of all though, he respected the sanctity of the secret story that Turrin had shared. He was one of two people in Wind Reach who knew; Zhol did not take being trusted with such things lightly. He respected Turrin's secrecy and privacy; he would not tell another soul.

As Zhol slowly drew his training sword, Turrin's advice - Don't let them beat you - lingered in his mind. The half-blood was right: Zhol did have something worth protecting; worth suffering for; worth fighting for. A flicker of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I will be honest again, then," he said, slowly beginning to pace a slow circle around the perimeter of the fighting pit, giving his senses an opportunity to attune to his surroundings; the shape of the arena, the feel and solidity of the floor, the way in which Turrin held his twin blades. He contemplated his options; Zhol's backwards-handed nature meant that his strongest strikes would be against Turrin's weakest side, and the curved single edge of his talon swords meant that the Endal would have to be careful about which part of the blade and what angle to parry with. On the other hand of course, two swords meant that the Endal had another weapon to strike back with if he so chose; and Zhol's basket-hilted broadsword was ill-suited to taking advantage of the strength of both his arms at once.

He rested his right arm across the small of his back, tucking it out of the way, giving Turrin one less target to aim for. He kept the point of his sword low, not quite touching the ground of the arena, but almost. His body was angled almost completely side-on towards Turrin, presenting as narrow a target to the Endal as he could, his weight balanced evenly between both legs. Another flicker of a smile manifested on his lips. "You may have just shared a heartfelt truth about your past with me, but do not expect me to go easy on you because of it."

With that he lunged, letting his weight shift to his back leg for a moment before pushing it off and throwing himself forward. His sword rose to his shoulder and then swung in a backhand strike towards the sword in Turrin's left hand; Zhol let his momentum continue to carry him forward, allowing the force of Turrin's attempt at a parry to deflect his course and direct him towards a different side of the arena.

Closed The Day My Life Begins Again (Zhol)