[Alheas Park] Feel the Steel

[Halin'a]

15 Spring, 516AV The morning after Halin'a arrives in Lhavit, after arranging to rent an elegant room from the Solar Winds apartments, Halin'a sets out to explore his new home. He wanders about Zintia for a few bells, familarising himself with its streets before wandering over to Shinyama; there, he found himself in the business district, browsing the wares in Touch of Fire, the blacksmith shop. His attention was caught by a gorgeous flametongue dagger, though at forty kina, it was above Halin'a's price range for the moment; he'd yet to secure a steady source of income, which he would need to do soon. There was a place near his apartment, the Red Lantern, that he was hoping would have a position available. For the moment, though, he passes on the flametongue dagger, though once he has the money to spare... Well, it would be much nicer to have than the standard dagger that Halin'a picks up for two kina. In the marketplace, he finds a sheath for it that he attaches to the belt already holding his scimitar in its sheath. Then, the Ethaefal stops to grab a quick bite to eat at the Jugged Hare, paying for a meat pastie and a mug of ale. He chats with the proprietors and a few other patrons as he eats, and once done makes sure to express his appreciation for the food; it's been a while since he's had a simple, filling dish that also tasted as though it should be a few times more expensive than it was. After eating, Halin'a heads back to Zintia, this time heading for Alheas Park. He spends about a bell simply walking the paths and enjoying the unique beauty of what he's been told are called faedong trees; multi-colored trees are quite the rare sight, and they make for a beautiful one as well. Eventually, Halin'a comes across a deserted stretch of park near the pond in the middle, and realizing that he has nothing else to do with his day for the moment, he decides that perhaps a bit of weapons practice would do him some good. Halin'a removes his belt with its attached weapons for the moment, however; before he begins to practice his form, he will first stretch and attempt to ease his mind, preparing himself to be as focused as possible. This session will be done with his scimitar and perhaps with his new dagger, but he will do no damage to the surrounding area; that is why he picked a stretch of grass that has no trees or other flora close enough to be damaged by an errant swing of the blade. Though he has no personal experience with meditation, how hard can it be, so long as he takes his time? He's read about it, knows that it can be quite beneficial in more than just weapons practice, and what better time to try than now? Placing his weapons a short distance away, Halin'a moves to a flat space, taking in a deep breath and rolling his shoulders in an attempt to loosen the muscles there; traveling from Zeltiva was hard, and while he spent most of the day before sleeping, he is ready to begin anew. Halin'a carefully, slowly moves his arms, bringing his hands up in a sweeping arc to touch his palms together above his head; he can feel Syna's light warming his mortal body, and he can't help the slight smile that curves his lips. He may be a son of Leth, but while the night has a subtle beauty, the daylight demands attention, attention that most are more than willing to give it - including Halin'a. Halin'a lets his hands fall apart just as carefully as he'd raised them, tracing the same arc as before. He keeps his breathing steady - In, two, three, four; out, two, three, four - as he moves, spreading his legs apart and reaching for his left foot with his left hand, bending to the side at the waist and letting his right arm curve over his head, enjoying the stretch in the muscles along his side as he holds the position for a full exhale and inhale before slowly straightening and then repeating the process on the other side. These stretches are ones he learned when he first bought his scimitar and received his first lesson in it; when merely practicing, it is never a wise idea to leap right into the combat maneuvers.

[Halin'a]

Once he has finished stretching, Halin'a walks over to where he left his weapons, drawing the scimitar from its sheath; the sound the steel made as it drew against the sheath never failed to bring a smile to the Ethaefal's face. He had rarely had cause to spill blood with this weapon, a fact for which he was grateful, but this sword was a thing of simple beauty; there were no elaborate designs etched into either blade or hilt, but the simple curve of the blade, Halin'a felt, only enhanced its beauty. And when it was in motion... Stepping back to the spot where he'd stretched, Halin'a made sure to look around and ensure that there was nothing for him to trip over and that there was also nothing that the blade would catch on; he was here to practice his form and keep himself familiar with the blade in his hand, not to cause damage or injury. Satisfied that there was no one about, Halin'a let himself settle into a loose stance, with his legs spread and sword held at the ready. The scimitar, being a curved blade, is not a sword meant for jabbing, for wounding an enemy while keeping the wielder at a safe distance; this is a sword meant to stay in motion, to cut and slash, to get in close and keep those who do wield longer swords at the disadvantage. Halin'a closes his eyes for a moment, taking stock of where his every limb is before he begins moving. Every movement is slow and deliberate, and Halin'a focuses on the feel of the movements in his muscles, repeating them over and over, gradually increasing his speed. He starts with his feet spread about a shoulder's width apart, sword held in his dominant(right) hand, his left held out for balance. He brings his right hand up, wrist tilted so that the curve, sharpened edge of the blade faces outwards, so that if an opponent were standing in front of him, the blade would be coming up to slice through just under the armpit. He allows the sword to carry through the motion, bringing it around to then slice horizontally, as though cutting through an opponent's abdomen. From this, Halin'a carries the blade through a tight spin, coming to slash at an angle; he brings his free arm up to block an imaginary blow, swinging the scimitar around to return, carving through the air. The Ethaefal spins on one foot, dancing around his imaginary opponent to slice through where the spine would be, leading into another spin to then thrust the point of the scimitar between the ribs, aiming for the kidneys. When he has completed this maneuver, Halin'a returns to his starting position, picking up the scabbard that holds his scimitar as well; he's heard about people who fight with both scimitar and scabbard, and he's curious to see how it might work. He imagines it'll be awkward at first, but what new endeavour isn't?

[Halin'a]

It takes Halin'a a few moments to find a starting position that's comfortable and doesn't feel like he's going to suddenly drop the scabbard or the scimitar to the ground. He spends several chimes simply moving the scabbard through the same basic movements that he uses with his scimitar, the same arcing sweeps that would enable the sword to slice through flesh and sinew. The scabbard is heavier, doesn't slice through the air as cleanly, and Halin'a frowns as he concentrates, his movements slowing as he eyes the scabbard intently. The purpose of using a scabbard while fighting is to provide the wielder with an extra weapon, as well as something a bit sturdier than their free arm to use to block blows from the opponent. Perhaps this bit would have been easier with an opponent to spar against, Halin'a muses as he brings the scabbard and scimitar up, forming a curved x-shape with the two, sliding the scimitar out from under the scabbard as he spins to the right, keeping the scabbard in place as the scimitar swings out and around until Halin'a would be facing his opponent's right side, bringing the blade down to carve through an imaginary shoulder. The Ethaefal sheathes his weapon, then, holding the scabbard in one hand as he rubs his chin thoughtfully. The scabbard could certainly become a useful tool, he thinks to himself as he takes a few deep breaths, the exertion of the last movement just a bit too much for his mortal seeming. Halin'a realizes that he's also thirsty, now that he's no longer quite so focused on his training. He'd brought his waterskin along, the same as he does every time he leaves home. He takes a moment to rest and reflect while he drinks. "I'm still moving a bit too slowly," he says aloud, reflecting on his training session. "I need to work on speeding things up. The blade is also still swinging too much, even when I wield it alone." He eyes the scabbard before sighing regretfully. "If I tried to use that in actual combat, I'd lose an arm." Halin'a never liked admitting when he's failed, but in this case, he has; wielding both the scabbard and the scimitar at the same time is just too awkward for him to actually do anything with, and he should focus more on mastering the scimitar before he attempts to bring another moving part into the fight. "Shame," he mutters, removing the scimitar once more and giving it an experimental swing before laying the scabbard next to the belt and dagger. Well, if he can't wield other items along with the scimitar, then he should probably get back to working with the scimitar alone. He's still got several bells before sundown and when he needs to visit the Red Lantern to inquire about a job, and he doesn't feel like wandering the streets and being tempted to spend more of his kina than necessary. He'll save that for the night, when he's in his Ethaefal seeming and better able to handle himself in the strange city should someone choose to attack him.

[Halin'a]

As Halin'a takes up his starting stance once again, he keeps in mind his observations from before: The blade of the scimitar wobbles as he moves it, and his movements are too slow to be effective for any actual combat. For the moment, however, he works on his grip, attempting to correct the problem of the poorly-balanced blade. The hilt is a slim handle wrapped in leather, and Halin'a adjusts his grip slightly, inching his hand up the hilt and closer to the fulcrum of the movement; perhaps that will help with the wobbling. He takes a few experimental swings, taking his time and really trying to get a feel for the blade's movement as it extends beyond his hand; after a few moments, he decides that his grip is still too loose, and adjusts accordingly. The blade seems more stable then, and as Halin'a swings the blade forward parallel to the ground several times, gradually increasing his speed, he nods to himself, satisfied. He returns to his starting stance and then moves forward, slicing through the air in a series of arcing movements, letting the momentum of the blade carry him forward across the grass, spinning and ducking in counter to an invisible opponent's attacks. He moves through the form several more times, gradually increasing his speed, committing the movements to muscle memory so that when he needs them in combat they'll be there without him actually thinking about it. As the Ethaefal pauses to take another quick break and another drink from his waterskin, he sighs to himself. A partner really would be nice, he thinks, swinging the scimitar into a quick slice, spinning on one foot and bringing it up in what would have deflected a blow from above if there had been anyone present. He kept moving, ducking and sidestepping to make a blow from behind that would have sent the blade of the scimitar into the junction of neck and shoulder; as he continues the movement, he pulls the sword back until it is level with his hip, his hand pulled behind him, and steps back with one foot, pulling himself into a finishing stance that leaves him ready to strike again or defend himself. Glancing at the sun, he judges that it's probably time for him to finish up; he's been out here for at least two bells, and his muscles are pleasantly sore in a way that could rapidly become bad. Rolling his head from side and to side and shrugging his shoulders, Halin'a returns to where his belongings are laying, sliding the scabbard back onto the belt before returning the blade to its home. He buckles the belt about his waist, adjusting it until the weapons lay smooth, and then picks up his waterskin, sliding it into his rucksack before slinging that over one shoulder. Another glance at the sun decides him, and Halin'a turns towards the path that winds through Alheas Park once more; he's got plenty of time until sundown, so he might as well spend it out here, surrounded by gorgeous scenery.

[Izuyanai]

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