8th Bell, 59th of Spring, 515AV
Orin opened his eyes with a groan. He was really starting to regret his decision to get up almost every morning to work on his physicality. Still he hadn't missed a day yet. And his constant attention to bettering himself, at least his combat skills, was finally starting to pay off in major ways. He'd learned how to throw daggers and while he didn't necessarily trust his skill in an actual fight it was certainly refreshing to know that one day Orin would be able to drop an opponent at a distance. Still that day was a long way away. Orin rolled out of bed, careful not to disturb Sylvette if he hadn't already. He was never sure how aware she was on these morning excursions of his, although he'd never lied to her about where he went. Orin figured she just liked sleeping in although he really would've loved for her to tag along. It got boring doing essentially the same routine day in day out. Those times when something broke up the monotony such as when Orin saw someone he knew in the Fighter's Pits and ended up sparring, either by choice or, on rarer occasions by necessity. Those later ones older seldom came up for which Orin was grateful.
Dressing in the dark so the light wouldn't ruin his exit and wake Sylvette. Orin made it a habit to place his clothes and his boots in the same place each night for this very eventuality. Not having a window was a real hassle sometimes. Orin padded to his door and opened and closed it carefully. He waited as the latched clicked, but when there were no sounds of movement within Orin figured he'd escaped successfully once again.
Breaking into an easy job Orin set the now familiar path from his apartment to The Fighter's Pits. He could probably make it there in his sleep considering he'd done this most mornings for around half a season. Sometimes it felt like he did since when he started running each day often the fog in his mind that sleepiness brought him didn't clear until he was almost at the Pits. Today was one of those days. However when he did arrive he was feeling at least marginally less sluggish. And he wasn't anywhere near as winded as he normally was. While his speed hadn't necessarily improved all that much Orin didn't have as much trouble with keeping going for longer when he ran.
Orin entered the Pits proper. He had to shade his eyes against the sunlight that streamed down and illuminated the few people already training. Orin bowed his head. "Thank you Leth for guiding us through another night and Syna for granting us another day." His words were simple but heartfelt. Orin didn't necessarily worship those two deities fervently but he did respect them and hoped that his little pray would help bolster them. Of course the idea that Orin could mean anything to the gods was so funny that he had to laugh at his own folly. He was beneath the notice of such beings.
Making his way over to the wall, Orin threw his left leg onto a conveniently placed bar. He was working diligently on his flexibility even though he hated it. His leg couldn't go much above his waist, but Orin kept working on it. If he wanted to be more effective with his kicks, he needed to be able to kick higher. Of course his kicks were terrible anyway so Orin wasn't sure how much better he could make them. After about a chime Orin let his leg down. He gave an experimental front kick making sure he was balanced before he did so. His leg felt a little looser. Encouraged, Orin put his right leg up on the bar and stretched it. Maybe there was hope for him yet.
When he'd stretched as much as he could handle Orin stepped away from the wall. Fingering his throwing knives, Orin made his way to an empty target. Taking up one in his left hand Orin eyed the distance between him and his goal and took two careful steps forward. Once he settled Orin brought his arm back and then forward. He released at the end and watched his dagger spin slightly before embedding itself in the target. Moving forward Orin inspected his handiwork. It was at a large upwards angle. Orin sighed. He'd been having this problem with his left arm recently. While his right wasn't consistent yet, at least he didn't make the same error every single time. He was pretty sure it stemmed from releasing the blade too early but no matter what he tried he couldn't seem to correct it.
Tugging out his dagger, Orin put it away. It would probably be a bad idea to reinforce bad habits. He'd ask Sayana for some pointers on it when he saw her next. Taking out his regular blades Orin weighed them cautiously in his hands. Recently he'd been getting an urge to try something dangerous. During his training Orin had made it a point to work on both his left and his right arms. While he was more accomplished with his right since it was his dominant hand he was now slouch with his left either. Today though, Orin wanted to try to use both of his hands simultaneously. Slipping one dagger into both hands Orin squared off. His right dagger was held in a reverse grip and his left in a forward grip. Bending his knees slightly and putting his weight on the balls of his feet, Orin slashed forward with his right. He'd been intending to immediately follow it up with a stab with his left but his body rebelled and his second attack was incredibly sluggish and not at all accurate. Orin frowned. That was not how he'd imagined this moment going. Stepping back, Orin ran through the combination a few more times. He improved minutely but nowhere near the amount he'd been hoping.
Growing disgusted with his so far poor performance Orin sheathed his knives. He needed to do something with all this pent up aggression. Stalking over to the weapons racks Orin scanned them until he found what he was looking for. Taking it out, Orin simply held it for a moment. It was a single long and polished piece of wood, a quarterstaff. Orin had absolutely no idea how to use it, but he'd spotted two fighters sparring with them recently and had been inspired. Taking it in both hands Orin stomped to the nearest empty training dummy. Gripping it tightly without even bothering to wonder if he was doing it properly Orin raised it up and slammed it down on the dummy's fake head. It was about as satisfying as Orin had expected although the staff was surprisingly heavy and his arms protested at the foreign movement.
