50 Spring 495 Even before he entered the building, Rykanis could hear the sounds of fighting. Not to the death, but fighting still. The crack of wood on wood striking harshly, the occasional cry of pain as someone managed to score a blow. It was a welcome sound to him, in its familiarity. It was one constant about the Sasaran's, not matter who was in it. As he entered, he saw the sight of many Akalak's sparring. He saw one that looked quite young, perhaps only ten years old, taking on an adult. He had great energy in his strikes, and was lashing out with a wooden shortsword, but his opponent was keeping out of range, and occasionally tapping him with his own wooden blade. "Patience, you need patience and control. Wailing at me will get you nothing." He smiled, seeing the boy being reprimanded. The bruises he earned would remind him to do better next time, especially when facing a more skilled opponent. Each one of them would mark that he had learned something, and become a better fighter. If you left the Sasaran without a few, it meant you had not trained hard enough. He headed over to the weapon racks, the practice wooden weapons, and took a moment to decide upon them... After a bit, he picked out a pair of curved wooden lakan, one for each hand, and headed out to the floor... Looking for an opponent. |