Closed [Anthonius Fighter's Pit] It's Petching Productive (Draven)

[Baelin Holt]

72 Winter 515AV

Baelin shifted in his place uncomfortably, eyeing the various Sylirans who were practicing on the frozen dirt. The owner of the Pit, Gerard Athonius, was already in the middle of a lesson with a woman. She was hunched over a dulled blade and had her eyebrows scrunched in concentration as Athonius gestured and spoke. Baelin had spent the last chime trying to gauge how far along in the lesson they were and it wasn’t looking good. If the lack of motion and plethora of speaking and gesturing was any sort of gauge, then they most likely had just started.

Athonius looked up from his lesson momentarily to meet Baelin’s scrutiny, shook his head with an apologetic frown, and then returned his attention to the woman.

Baelin had figured as much.

The large man exhaled a large puff of air and stared unenthusiastically at the weapons. He wasn’t sure how much he was going to get out of coming to the Pit without a lesson. But coming here was pretty high up on the list of chores Baelin didn’t want to do and he didn’t trust himself to come back anytime soon. He should at least try to get something out of this visit.

The armorer took a step closer to one of the racks and reluctantly inspected them. The smith in him couldn’t stand looking at them. Not a single one of them was without some sort of defect, dent, or ding and they all were woefully dull. He ached to nab one, bury it in charcoal, and then fix it.

But the completely inexperienced fighter in him was quite happy with the nearly demolished weapons. Baelin was no stranger to injuring himself in stupid ways, but a training accident would add insult to injury.

Huffing in annoyance, Baelin snatched a war hammer out of the mix. It at least looked like a distant cousin to his smithing hammers, and the familiarity was something Baelin could certainly do with.

The half-Dhani stepped away from the rack and ambled over a distance far enough away that he didn’t think he’d accidently hit someone. Baelin slowly swung his arm down, getting a feel for the weight of the weapon.

It wasn’t the first time Baelin had held a war hammer with the intent of understanding its mechanics. But experimentally rolling it around in his hand was a far cry from being able to use the thing and, after a few test swings, Baelin stared up to the gray sky and asked himself for the umpteenth time what good he was hoping to accomplish here.

Maybe he could turn it into an exercise. Baelin lifted the war hammer up high, then swung it down quickly and, when the metal head was about at the level of his waist, he put the brakes on it as hard as he could. The momentum of the weapon carried his arm a bit farther, and then he ended up overcompensating and snapping the weapon’s head up higher than he had wanted, but he did feel a nice burn in his arm.

Baelin switched hands and tried it again. His left was always worse than his right and the hammer’s head made it mid-thigh before he stopped it, but that nice ache in his arm was already building. His body’s way of telling him that he was indeed pushing himself.

Now we’re talking, Baelin thought, a bit of a smile starting to creep in. Experience or no, Baelin was going to make this day petching productive, so help him Dira.

[Draven McNiel]

Draven found himself wandering the edge of the infamous fighter’s pit, a place in which one could fight with other or be taught. Draven was surprised at his own appearance there, it had been years since he had last been here yet it appeared his legs carried him to this place while he was daydreaming. There wasn’t a major reason he avoided this place, at least none that Draven could properly think of. ”Now I’m here I might as well make the most of it.” He muttered to himself before hopping into the pit. There were a number of people getting ready to spar or were in the middle of doing so. Draven also noticed the presence of the Pit’s owner, Gerard Anthonious instructing a woman on the art of the sword, but to Draven it looked more like lecturing…

”Woman are there to be protected, idiot.” He thought to himself, a somewhat sexist thought in some circles, but it was what Kerry had taught him. Although Draven took that to another level as he did with many of his father’s off-hand comments. He soon found himself close to the weapon racks. While he carried his steel cored longsword with him as always, Draven knew that the wooden item wouldn’t be able to stand against a weapon made of metal.

His eyes shuffled through the swords on offer, hoping to find one that matched his own closely. Finding a weapon that was going to get as close as it was going to get, Draven picked it up and inspected it. He was no smith, but this would do, there were a few scratches that were obvious even to his eyes but he paid them little attention as it wouldn’t hinder his training. Now it was down to finding a sparring partner...Who would be willing to spar with this unskilled teen?

Draven looked around and smiled upon seeing a man wielding what was a large hammer of some sort. It was a strange weapon that Draven had never sparred against and it spurred his action to approach the man, with little thought he found himself approaching the man who was a little way away from Draven’s original position. ”A warhammer huh? Guess you’re pretty big so it suits you.” The words came out of Draven’s mouth before he could process them.

”Ah shyke...Guess having a random guy come up to you might make me look weird huh?” Draven said as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his head; a small chuckle escaped his mouth. He took this moment to take a closer look at the person he had been talking to, larger than him by a good amount which Draven had noticed earlier. While Draven didn’t feel that he was significantly smaller, it was still a difference of a good few inches. There was the difference in broadness as well. Over all Draven was sure he’d lose in a contest of strength.

[Baelin Holt]

“A warhammer huh? Guess you’re pretty big so it suits you.”

Baelin visibly started when he heard someone speak up close to him. The war hammer seized to a halt at the very start of his downswing and the half-Dhani jerked his head to the speaker.

The youth wasn’t much shorter than Baelin and had shoulders that could potentially hold a build similar to the half-Dhani’s if he worked on it. And, as Baelin took stock of the young man’s sharp features, he wondered for a vague moment if he was facing a malnourished kid or a youthful looking man.

The armorer winced, not liking how easy it had been for the stranger to sneak up on him one bit. Sure, he had been engrossed in his exercise. But that was no excuse for letting his guard down. Especially not in an area that was dedicated to practicing assaults.

“Ah shyke…Guess having a random guy come up to you might make me look weird huh?” The stranger rubbed the back of his head in what looked to be a nervous gesture. Even his chuckle could be interpreted as nervous.

Baelin could certainly understand being nervous about social interactions. Despite himself, he felt a stab of…sympathy? Comradery? The feeling was so fleeting it was gone before he had a chance to examine it.

Instinct and self-preservation urged him to give the stranger a quick and firm ‘petch off’ look, but a larger part of him recognized that a sparring partner would do him good. And nothing in the young man’s expression was reading as malicious. In fact, he looked relatively cheerful.

Baelin inhaled a touch too sharply as he felt an uncomfortable bit of hope stir in him. He couldn’t help but be drawn to people who seemed to truly enjoy life. The relationships he built with such people didn’t tend to last very long; Baelin usually had little to offer them in return. His fitness and his work ethic were about all he had going for him. But he did cherish and thrive off of the small interactions with such positive and resilient people when he could.

The half-Dhani licked his lips in consideration before extending one large, calloused hand to the young man. With his hand held out firmly, he enunciated softly, “Don’t worry about it. Baelin Holt.” Perhaps a bit too brusque, he considered, but certainly an improvement. Working with Ros and Fredrick at the Ironworks had done marvels for his ability to introduce himself.

“And,” he admitted with an embarrassed tilt of his head, “I don’t know much about the war hammer.” The half-Dhani twisted the hammer’s shaft in his hand, as if to emphasize how unfamiliar he was with its particular weight.

The half-Dhani gave the youth a considering glance and added, “Nor do I know much of ssparing.”

”OOC”Very sorry for going AWOL on you right at the start. I hope you’ve been enjoying Miz.

[Draven McNiel]

Date, 516 AV

Draven rubbed the back of his neck, he should have given away his presence before talking to the male showing some remorse for his thoughtlessness. He however took a closer look at both the person in front of him and the weapon that they held; he found the urge to test his skills against someone who wielded a large weapon such as that one. The memories of his last job flashed through his head, that bandit with the two large axes seemed as if he could crop up again and Draven wanted to be prepared to fight against heavier weapons. But he wasn’t even sure of the level of the male in front of him.

However upon the other male introducing himself Draven went to shake Baelin’s hand firmly. ”Baelin huh,, I’m Draven McNiel a mercenary.” Draven said used to introducing his profession as well as his name. ”Nice to meet ya’.” Draven said with a big smile as he released his hand from the shake.

”Just starting off then? Well the best place to start would be to spar, though a first time for that should make things interesting; how ‘bout you spar with me? I know shyke about a warhammer, but I know my way ‘round a fight.” Draven said jovially having missed the drawn out ‘S’. The longsword in his other hand was held parallel to his leg so that he didn’t injure anyone by accident. ”Guess the best way is to hit the ground running, wanna jump straight into a spar, or get a better feel for the thing first?” Draven said calmly knowing that he was more experienced with his weapon but the earlier excitement hadn’t died down instead he’d get to see someone take their first steps with a weapon in front of his own eyes.

Credit for boxcode goes to Karin

[Baelin Holt]

Baelin’s eyebrows rose in surprise when the youth introduced himself as a mercenary. A traveler, then? Mercenaries seemed to be a rarity indeed in the fortress city of peace.

But his introduction was friendly and his smile infectious. Then the stranger jumped into what was probably supposed to be a helpful intro to fighting. Baelin licked his lips and listened, shifting his weight on his feet.

“…how ‘bout you spar with me? I know shyke about a war hammer, but I know my way ‘round a fight.”

The half-Dhani rolled the unfamiliar hammer in his hands and tilted his head slightly to the side in consideration. It was true that his hammer swinging exercise likely wasn’t going to help him any. Perhaps make him a bit more familiar with the war hammer’s weight, but little beyond that. A sparring partner would most likely do him good.

But he didn’t know this man, nor did he trust him. His imagination pulled forward scenes of the stranger beating him down with that dulled blade, rifling through his pockets for spare mizas, and then dashing off. Baelin shook his head sharply, trying to clear his head of his paranoid thoughts. Relax, he mentally groused.

Before he could gather his courage to speak, the man went on, “Guess the best way is to hit the ground running, wanna jump straight into a spar, or get a better feel for the thing first?”

He snorted. Getting a better feel for the thing was hardly going to do him any good. If he was pressed to fight someone with a war hammer, he was going to be in for a bad time. Swinging it around aimlessly was just a hair shy of useless.

So before he could talk himself out of it, Baelin adjusted his grip on the hammer and brought it up in what he approximated as a decent ready position. Baelin figured he was a pretty defensive guy in general, so he’d probably be best off taking a defensive position. It might be a touch more intuitive than trying to swing the war hammer out lamely. With that in mind, he slid his right leg back and twisted his body slightly so that his left shoulder was facing his potential sparring partner. If he had a shield he’d have his left arm raised, but as it was he just kept his arm slightly crooked and braced.

Once in what was as good of a set position as he was going to get, Baelin gave Draven a sharp nod.

He wasn’t sure how well this was going to work without a shield. His hammer was farther behind him in this position. But surely it wouldn’t be a good idea to just stand facing the man straight on. His chest was far too broad; he’d be a massive target. And twisting so that his right arm with hammer in hand was facing the man would make it difficult to get any force behind his swing. When he used a sledgehammer while striking, the hammerhead had to come back a good distance to successfully make the heavy swings. His gut was telling him this would be similar.

But this was a moving target, not a stationary piece of metal. And he may very well have to adapt.