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Post by Thorulf Donalbain on Jul 15, 2014 0:37:15 GMT
Glancing up from his papers with a brief flicker of his eyes, the glass face of Thorulf's copperplate watch was met with a stern frown as the longer hand began to caress the edge of another roman numeral. On the transparent surface of the little clock face, the shimmering, cosy light of the single candle danced and highlighted the exact reason for Thorulf's displeasure.
Late. Positively and utterly late. Not that he could really be surprised in any sense of the word; tiros these days were utterly foolhardy. Too brash, not enough sense. The caliber had slipped, in Thorulf's opinion, the Vetrs seemed to be allowing anyone who could hold a sword in. Not that he would ever voice his views of course - no, far too respectable and mired in his status for that. Nevertheless, it was a trial to be lumbered with someone else's tiro. Admittedly, he hadn't mentored in a long while, a period approaching almost an entire year now, but Thorulf was very selective in who he picked as his student - the right one simply hadn't made themselves visible to him. But now, some poor child was simply being dumped upon his lap; a 'temporary' adjustment, he'd been assured, but the aged Pryfektus wasn't so sure. He didn't even know who this lad was, the boy who'd lost his arm recently, he knew that much. Kaelan, was it? Not that Thorulf usually went with first names anyway; he preferred those lower in ranking to address him by his surname, but out of common decency and decorum thought it right to return the formality, so he made a mental note to learn the tiro's last name.
Stretching across to the other side of his desk, Thorulf picked up a pristine, cream folder and flicked through its contents. The news of his sudden tutoring had come as a bit of a shock for Thorulf; he liked to work with pre-planned lesson structures, timetables, organised curriculum, but this new student had been dumped upon his proverbial lap, he hadn't really had time to rehearse, so to speak. By the gods, this was his first meeting with the lad, Thorulf had little to no idea of what to expect, and it was perhaps just slightly daunting for him, although he'd never tell. Upon reading the contents of his newly obtained folder, Thorulf quickly discovered the last name of his new student was 'Avallochson'.
Kaelan Avallochson. A boy who needs some schooling in the art of punctuality, it would seem.
Thorulf read briefly over Kaelan's folder, it was light reading, just a few straight-forward tidbits of information on the tiro; his age, his clan, his animal form, the like. Little things, but vital nonetheless. Thorulf was quickly finished, snapping the folder shut with a brisk clamp of his hand and placing the papers neatly next to him on his desk. The room that his desk occupied was of course, his office and indeed his sleeping quarters. Pryfektus' had some of the finest rooms on the ship, and it helped to have as much life experience as Thorulf did. His dark, oak desk took centre stage in his room, and the edges were lined with his cabinets of various collected items including weapons and books and old uniforms. In an adjacent room, was his bedroom, where the candle had since been diminished and so the sleeping quarters were submerged into darkness. Thorulf sat alone in his little, homily office, the long, milky candle flickering to his right as he scribbled down some report as he waited for his new pupil.
Normally, at this hour, when the sun had departed their corner of the sky and the moon was creeping upwards, he would have been attending to Talon, but the drake-human bonding session would have to wait a while longer. First, there were formalities to attend to, but also matters that corresponded with Thorulf's own personal gain as well. He did this with every new tiro; used this first meeting as a way to judge their personality, their ability, their behaviour. This lad had recently lost one of his most vital limbs, and Thorulf was silently curious to observe how that had affected his attitude. Whatever the case, Thorulf was a stern teacher, but a successful one, as his previous track record of still-living tiros would boast. There was such an art in instructing warriors, it had to be done with the upmost precision and dedication.
It was a good thing Thorulf was an incredibly dedicated individual. ...and hopefully a patient one who overlooked tardiness, if his newly appointed tiro wanted a pain free tutoring.
Tags: Kaelan Avallochson Inspiration: none this sucks i sorry Notes: IN MY DEFENSE I HAVEN'T RP-D IN WHAT FEELS LIKE FOREVER SO THERE'S MY EXCUSE FOR THIS SUCKING. i'll get better i pwomise.
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Post by Kaelan Avallochson on Jul 15, 2014 1:32:07 GMT
They’d given him a new mentor. They’d given him a new mentor. Of course, Kaelan wasn’t too thrilled. This would be his third in what? A little over a year? Seemed like no one wanted to have him as their student. But this one, Pryfektus Donalbain, was a temporary mentor because Larael was completely swamped by other things going on. So, he forgave her, but whoever decided he needed a new mentor did not receive the same. The man was strict, beyond strict he had heard. Kaelan didn’t really mind that part, so long as the man’s demands of him were suitable and not completely crazy or majorly beyond what he could do. He’d also heard that Donalbain was a stickler for the rules. Rules were there to keep one in check and to keep one from harm, which wasn’t a bad thing. Kaelan didn’t mind rules either, unless they were utterly ridiculous and had no point. It was then he didn’t like them. The Pryfektus had wanted to meet in his room. It was a sudden meeting, Kaelan hadn’t been planning on this sort of thing happening today, but he hadn’t been planning on being given a new mentor as well, but he’d gotten prepared for it quickly and then left his room a few minutes early to get there just on time. He was never one for being late. He didn’t like and it showed disrespect and practically told the person with whom he was meeting that he didn’t give a crap for them and couldn’t have cared less. No, Kaelan was not that type of person. He gave respect where it was due and would respect the man who was now his tutor whether he liked this situation or not. Which he didn’t. So he’d be there right on time. Kaelan hoped that he’d give the right first impression. Being on the Pryfektus’ bad side from the get go was not a thing he wanted to do. A mentor, specifically a pissed off mentor, could make life a living hell for their mentee. Not like he was already slightly living in one anyways. He still had a hard time doing things that normal people never even thought about. It was an unconscious thought to them, but to him, he actually had to think and struggle through it. It was difficult, but with practice it’d become a unconscious thing again, or so he hoped. But now he’d not complain. He had before, but he didn’t want to any longer. Thalia had told him he had talent and that he couldn’t have a self-demeaning mindset anymore. So he would try not to. It didn’t take Kaelan long to find the Pryfektus’ room. He could have been a minute or so early, but he didn’t really know since he didn’t have a watch on him. They were handy, sure, but he never liked wearing them. It just felt strange. Kaelan raised his hand to the door, rapping the back of his knuckles against it. He waited for a confirmation to enter before he did so, opening the door and slipping through before he closed it behind him. Turning his eyes to the man who was sitting at the desk, he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. The man was indeed imposing, but Kaelan would be fine. …He hoped. He approached the desk, slightly unsure if he should say something or if the man would address him first. Kaelan decided that the man would probably address him as he stopped several feet in front of the desk. And now to wait and see…
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Post by Thorulf Donalbain on Jul 15, 2014 3:42:14 GMT
The rapping on the door sounded throughout the office, interrupting the steady scribbling of Thorulf's pen but still the Pryfektus maintained his writing motion. With his throat already pre-cleared in anticipation of the boy (eventual) arrival, Thorulf didn't so much as even lift his head as his voice responded a moment later, loud and imposing; "Come in." There was no warmth in it, the politeness of a casual request, it was a command, important and heavy, spoken with the knowledge that he was going to be obeyed. Thorulf had come to expect that in his years. It was a standard, not a privilege.
The creaking of the hinges rolling in their place confirmed that the tiro had entered the office - Thorulf's domain - and it was as if the lad had been nothing more than a baby deer entering the den of the lion. And yet, as the flickering stance of his shadow confirmed, he stood strong, poised, prepared, but Thorulf could see right through the act. Nevertheless, he inwardly admired the boy's attempt at a steady countenance. Always maintain a sense of power, after all, even if the flesh betrays you.
Having endured many years of experience, Thorulf was trained enough to judge the physical weaknesses of an enemy with limited visibility. Of course, the same worked with new faces as well. Slight acknowledgements of the boy's outward appearance was observed with the most delicate of eye flickers, despite his head staying bowed to maintain the idea he was still scribbling away at his report, but Thorulf was able to scope a reasonable amount of information. Indeed, the boy possessed only one arm. Not an issue. Thorulf would make him work if he lost both arms, and a leg. He wasn't about to let some one-armed sob story ruin his track record. He was also able to observe the boy's age, judging by the size of the shadow his slighter figure cast against his office wall. A lad good for speed possibility, but there was hidden strength too. Definite potential. But the praises could be sung later, formalities came first.
"You're late." came the matter-of-fact welcome from Thorulf's lips . His voice was low, like a distant rumble of thunder, threatening to climax. The pen continued to scribble, multi-tasking was something he'd learnt over the years. You needed it as a mentor. "In the future, Avallochson, I expect the upmost dedication to punctuality. I have no time for late children."
It was important to assert dominance very early in these sorts of situations. Tiros were young, ambitious, but with ambition comes an over-eager spirit, too brash to think about consequences. Thorulf knew the pain of consequences. For the well-being of Kaelan, Thorulf needed to remind him that he was in charge.
The Pryfektus had yet to make eye contact with his new pupil, so once his current sentence was finished as his report sufficiently up to date, he set his pen down adjacent to his papers and clasped both hands together on the desk in front of him and calmly raised his head to meet the boy's eyes. It was then, he was able to thoroughly review his new student. His eyes searched Kaelan's entire form, taking all in, silent. This done, his dark eyes flicked up to Kaelan's.
"I understand you are otherwise limited with your physical ability, Avallochson." he began, making a steady gesture to the stump no doubt covered by the boy's uniform, "But I believe you are fully capable of dressing yourself properly, are you not?" His quirked an eyebrow and after a moment's pause, thought it best to clarify himself, "One of your uniform buttons is not correctly fastened. I am not here to dress you properly, lad, please correct it immediatedly. I don't know what your other mentors let you get away with, but I-" And here, his voice raised a little in volume, heavily accuentuating the sternness of his words, "-do not. Tolerate. Poor presentation."
He stood then, and the shadow of his broad form spread like an eagle against the back wall. Slowly, with long strides, he approached Kaelan. He stopped about a few inches from the boy, looking down at his smaller figure with a darkened expression. "You were an archer, weren't you?" he inquired, his voice now surprisingly soft despite his expression, "Tell me, what area of the Drakonrhedi are you looking to go into? Slayer? Stalker?" And then coyly, voice dripping with sarcasm, added; "Cooking staff?"
Tags: Kaelan Avallochson Inspiration: ha ha no Notes: thorulf is giving it full sass today soz kaelan
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Post by Kaelan Avallochson on Jul 16, 2014 2:32:03 GMT
The Pryfektus didn’t even move as Kaelan approached, his head still hovering over the page he was writing on. The man’s only two words that Kaelan had heard so far were rough, emotionless, demanding—not asking— demanding respect. How different it had been when Larael had said those very words. She seemed so soft compared to this man. Yes, she had wanted respect. Yes, she had wanted no nonsense. And Kaelan had given them to her. But this man demanded it. And yet Kaelan would give it to him too. Donalbain was still writing, his pen scratching across the page when spoke again. “You’re late.” Uh… What? He blinked in surprise before confused look spread across his face. Um… No. No, nononono. Kaelan was not late. Kaelan was never late. One might as well be telling a fish that he was flying. Kaelan was not late; he had specifically made sure of that. The watch on the man’s wrist had to be off. That was the only explanation, and the Tiro wanted to say that. He wanted to correct the Pryfektus, but he held his tongue. Correcting Pryfektus Donalbain would result in him having his head bitten off. This was not a man he wanted to cross. Ever. So, Kaelan made his face settle back into a neutral expression and took in the rest of the words, picking out the poorly hidden insult. A flame of irritation sparked in the young man, but he was going to keep it in. The man finally set down his pen, clasped his hands together, and looked up at Kaelan. The young man could feel Donalbain’s eyes examining him, judging everything harshly, and with a practiced eye. Kaelan remained still under Donalbain’s scrutiny and when the man’s eyes came up to meet his own, he blatantly kept the man’s gaze. He was not about to be intimidated or cowed by this man. Oh no, Kaelan was not about to let that happen. Donalbain motioned to Kaelan’s left shoulder as he spoke. Not being able to dress himself properly? …Oh. It took Kaelan a moment to realize what the Pryfektus was talking about, and the man confirmed it as well. One of his shirt button’s had come undone. Of course it had. This particular button on this particular shirt always came undone, slipping through the hole. Kaelan had made sure it was buttoned before he had left his room, but obviously it had done no good much to his displeasure. Why had he even worn this shirt today? Right, because it had been close at hand. Nothing to do about it now but fix the button. So Kaelan did with hardly a glance. So Donalbain didn’t like- hated poor presentation. And he made it extremely clear. All right, so he’d have to keep that in mind every time they met for a lesson. Great, because that was exactly what Kaelan wanted to be doing before a training session: making sure that his looks and clothes were spotless and that nothing was awry. Kaelan had every right to be intimidated by the man as he stood and walked around his desk, stopping only inches from the young man. Donalbain towered over him head and shoulders if not more than that and Kaelan felt even smaller than he normally did when he stood beside other people. This man could kill him in a heartbeat and they both knew it, but Kaelan wasn’t about to back down and give Donalbain the satisfaction of it. So, he kept the man’s eyes as he glowered down at him. The words that left the man’s lips next were practically the exact opposite of the man’s look. They were… soft. And it put Kaelan on edge. The man was planning something. What area of the Drakonrhedi he was planning on going into? Well- Did he just seriously say that? Cooking staff? The sarcasm in those words made Kaelan’s eyes narrow slightly. Donalbain was taunting him and he wasn’t going to rise to the occasion, despite the fact that he really wanted to say something sharp back. “The Stalkers, sir,” Kaelan replied, evenly. Who again decided it would be a good idea to give him a new mentor? Tags: Thorulf DonalbainInspiration: ... Notes: Kaelan is really trying not to give it back.
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Post by Thorulf Donalbain on Jul 18, 2014 16:16:26 GMT
There was a fire hiding here. A small, boisterous flame in the boy's eyes that was slowly gaining fuel. Thorulf honed in on it, watching that spark intently like a bird of prey. Years ago, his eyes were like that; full of promise, potential, the untrained power of a young warrior. How the years had changed him! His own stare was much harder now, more imposing, the look of a man who'd seen too many horrors in his lifetime. Yet standing here before him now was nothing more than a mere lad, who - if his disabilities were anything to go by - was experiencing trauma at such at young age. Then again, Thorulf hadn't been much older than him when-
The trail of thought died before it was allowed even a split second of life.
Kaelan was quick to adjust his uniform but with begrudging compliance, nevertheless Thorulf nodded once in response with expectant satisfaction. "Poor presentation in the battlefield promotes laziness and groups the Drakonrhedi with hooligan, viking barbarians. For the sake of this organisation's reputation, Avallochson, please ensure you show up to your lessons with utter commitment to your appearance. It's not vanity, but a sign of a respect." He quirked a curious eyebrow before adding, dangerously, "You do respect the Drakonrhedi, don't you?"
“The Stalkers, sir,”
The sharp pinch in Kaelan's voice was ummissable, and Thorulf narrowed his eyes just an inch. He remained silent, but the darkened look was warning enough in his book. This done, he raised his head and circled Kaelan slowly, his heavy-set boots thudding with intent purpose as the Pryfektus analysed his new pupil diligently. "A stalker?" he clarified, not really expecting a response. He continued his motion, "Taking your recent impediment into account, I would agree on such a path. You're significantly weaker." There was a pause as he came to a halt at Kaelan's side. He raised a hand and steadily placed it against the stump where the boy's arm use to hang. He cocked his head to the side as he felt the uneven skin, the area where the bone used to attach, the bumps where the muscle had torn. There was no affection or intimacy in his contact; it was cold, precise, like a doctor examining his patient. He studied this for a few seconds, taking it all in before speaking once more; "Weaker, but not redeemable. It's a minor setback."
Then just like that, he left Kaelan's side and crossed over to one of the glass cabinets sitting at one side of his office. Using both hands, he flung open the glistening, patterned doors with quick, important purpose and viewed the collection inside. In this cabinet, Thorulf kept his spare weapons. He was a fan of swords most days, but kept a few extras for the benefit of new students. These instruments included two maces, a crossbow, a small collection of swords of various lengths, a simple but heavy battleaxe hanging at the back, three daggers and a spear. Of course, all were organized neatly and categorized accordingly to Thorulf's favour of each weapon.
"Your report tells me you were an archer before your little run-in with one of the Drakonrhedi's most wanted. Number one, that isn't going to work for you anymore - it doesn't take a genius to work that one out. Number two, I don't actually possess a bow and arrow and I'm not using my valuable time to craft a special device for a one-handed archer." He spoke fast but clear, listening his reasons matter-of-factly, expecting not to be questioned, as was his way. He looked over his shoulder to the boy, "The Drakonrhedi have always found ways to carry on. I'm not about to allow you to be an exception."
His eyes flicked over his array of weapons, judging carefully each one on their suitability. Eventually, his eyes fell on a sword of reasonable length. Slightly blunt at the tip, but good enough for Thorulf's intention. He reached in and plucked the weapon from its hold, turned sharply on his heels and - without warning, announced "Here." and threw the blade in Kaelan's direction, with the handle facing the boy to make it easier for him to catch.
"A little different from what you're used to I imagine, and I'm not suggesting this be your weapon of choice from now on, but I want to see how you can handle an easy instrument. It isn't the sharpest, admittedly, but I'm not asking you to slay behemoths right now. It's light, however, intended for you to swing fast." He moved to stand in front of his desk and leaned back against it, using the edge of its surface as support, "Consider this our practice round. Show me how you would swing with a sword. Nothing fancy, just a few basic swings." He raised his head a little, "And quickly please, Avallochson, I don't like people who waste my time."Tags: Kaelan AvallochsonInspiration: DR PEPPER WOOOOO Notes: thorulf will be nice to kaelan i pwomise
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Post by Kaelan Avallochson on Jul 22, 2014 20:32:53 GMT
Donalbain nodded then went on to talk about looking presentable separated the Drakonrhedi from other Vikings. “It's not vanity, but a sign of a respect." Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it. Go on already. I got to look nice and presentable everywhere I go because I respect myself and other stuff like that. Crystal clear. The Pryfektus arched a brow at him. "You do respect the Drakonrhedi, don't you?" The threat in the man’s voice was unmistakable. Kaelan knew it was not a question to be left unanswered. “Yes sir, I do.” Of course he respected the Drakonrhedi! If he didn’t why would he even be here in the first place? The man’s eyes narrowed at Kaelan’s first response. Ah yes, he’d heard something there, but Kaelan didn’t care. He was unhappy about this, and other than that comment he was going try his best to keep it from sight, especially around his new mentor. Just by the man’s look, the Tiro knew he couldn’t even take a step out of line, or even threaten it. Donalbain would no doubt come down hard on him and he’d end up regretting it. Not like he’d actually try though. Kaelan tilted his chin up as the man started walking around him, Donalbain’s heavy boots thudding against the floor with each purposeful step, and kept his gaze forward. His eyes narrowed slightly at the man’s words. Significantly weaker? Great words to be telling your Tiro. Way to make me feel like I can’t do anything. Kaelan knew he wasn’t as strong as he had been before. He knew it very well, but hearing it from someone else’s lip made it sting quite a bit. He hated hearing words like that, but right now he didn’t really have a choice but to listen. The Pryfektus came to a stop at Kaelan’s left side and placed a hand on his shoulder. Kaelan set his jaw as he felt the man’s rough fingers touch the now healed wound, running over the uneven skin and flesh that was left behind as the muscle had torn and ripped. The young man never liked being touched and this examination made him feel uncomfortable. Kaelan, quite frankly, hated it, but he bore it in silence. The man probably had a reason, and it wasn’t Kaelan’s place to question. "Weaker, but not redeemable. It's a minor setback." A-a minor setback? Well good to know that the man thought that Kaelan could make a rebound and that he wasn’t completely useless. Much to his relief, Donalbain left his side and strode to a glass cabinet that held an array of weapons. Kaelan turned his head to watch the man. After a moment his eyes strayed to the neatly displayed weapons. From what he could see that wasn’t blocked by the man’s hulking figure there were a number of swords, a mace, and a spear. There were a few daggers too, but what else the cabinet held, Kaelan didn’t know. His eyes went back to Donalbain as the man spoke once more. Yes, yes he had been an archer and yes, he knew that it wasn’t really going work for him anymore. One kind of had to have two arms to shoot a normal bow, and he, obviously, was lacking one. So that was out of the question. Kaelan was thinking though that he could specialize in magic or perhaps gunmanship. He didn’t have to have two arms to become good at those. Hm? Well that was something odd. Like Kaelan had been expecting Donalbain to create some special bow for him? No. No he hadn’t. And no, Kaelan didn’t want to become an exception either. He was going to continue and he was going to carry on. Kaelan was not about to give up so easily on something he dreamed about for so long. Besides, what kind of life could he live if he went back to his village? It wouldn’t be much of a life, because he wouldn’t really be able to do anything there. No, this, here among the Drakonrhedi, was where he was meant to be. Without warning, the man sharply turned, a sword in hand, and said, “Here,” tossing it in the same movement. Kaelan couldn’t have been more thankful for his reflexes in that moment. He managed to catch the blade, just glad that he didn’t drop it and look like some fool in front of Donalbain. The young man looked over the sword and repositioned his grip on it. It was a lighter blade, one meant for quick motions, which was dulled. It felt strange in his hand though, like it didn’t properly fit him. Kaelan looked up to Donalbain as the man talked, moving back to his desk and leaned against it. Kaelan nodded back. Sure try a few swings. Easy… right? The few times he had actually held a sword and had been given a lesson or two about the basics, it had all been with his left hand. But the movements had to be the same, how wrong could he be? "And quickly please, Avallochson, I don't like people who waste my time." Kaelan nodded again, racking his mind for the few things he did know about swordsmanship. He then gave a few swings. Nothing fancy like Donalbain had said. It definitely wasn’t the best the man had probably seen; he just hoped that it wasn’t the worst. Tags: Thorulf DonalbainInspiration: What is this thing called inspiration. Notes: I hope so.
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Post by Thorulf Donalbain on Jul 25, 2014 20:01:01 GMT
There was a look in young men - boys - that escaped no individual; the stubborn, petulant child. No matter how polite, how reserved, how well-mannered they carried themselves, aggravate a lad well enough and his countenance will surely show it. How they chose to handle such irritation however, varied. Kaelan was certainly no exception - Thorulf's mental prodding had clearly highlighted this, but the Pryfektus was satisfied to observe that this particular young man was taking the...strict mentoring with a touch of grace. Good. He liked a warrior who could carry himself with dignity. The tiro caught the sword with a steady grip, despite obviously being caught off guard and Thorulf bounced his head with genuine approval. There was a moment in which Kaelan adjusted himself to the blade, and Thorulf keenly noted the ways in which the boy's eyes flicked over the instrument as he judged its suitability. Another note-worthy trait; a warrior who could correctly adapt to any weapon. On the other hand, a good warrior could decipher what was most appropriate and effective for him, a judging by the briefest of disapproval that flashed in the depths of the boy's eyes, he had the scrapings of potential. Thorulf would be keeping a very close eye on this boy. He was old enough and experienced enough in this field to see failures long before they had surfaced. But on the other hand, he also knew the makings of excellence. Kaelan had much to prove, certainly, but Thorulf wasn't about to loose hope anytime soon. The boy swung his blade once, twice, three times more. Several swings. Thorulf watched in silence without any indication of approval or otherwise. He simply observed. Once he was certain Kaelan had completed his little demonstration, Thorulf raised his head and removed himself from the edge of his desk. Taking a few long strides towards his new pupil, the aged officer firmly reached out with unexpected speed and whipped the sword handle out of Kaelan's hand, " Certainly an archer by nature," he begun, placing the weapon back in its cabinet, " -but admittedly not my best blade. I take it you're learning to work with the hand you are not used to. Giving you anything heavy would simply be too difficult for you." As he spoke, he hand fell on the handle of another weapon. A mace. A heavy mace. Thorulf plucked it out of its holster, turned swiftly and handed the device to Kaelan with a single, raised (and very expectant) eyebrow, " But ah, what's life without a few challenges, hm?" Once the weapon had left his holding, Thorulf moved back behind his desk and pulled out two swords that he kept underneath when he didn't have them strapped to his waist for work purposes. His prized weapons; long, sleek, glistening blades, bronze handles, varnished to within an inch of their life - Thorulf liked to keep his possessions in the best condition. Again; presentation. He held each sword in either hand and stood firmly, feet shoulder width apart, shoulders broad. "Avallochson," he announced, voice strong and clear, one corner of his lips tugged slightly upwards, threatening to smile, "-I understand you might have been expecting a formal meeting. Life-" He swung one of his blades suddenly and swiftly at Kaelan without warning, but deliberately aiming for the steel stem of the mace so it chimed with a heavy, metallic twang against the blade, but missed Kaelan entirely, "-is also full of surprises." "This room is not the best for sparring, admittedly, a little too enclosed for my liking. But then again, I don't think you'll be swinging too much." At the suggestive inflection in his voice, Thorulf slyly gestured to the stump of Kaelan's missing arm. There was a challenge in his voice (living dangerously was something he did with expertise), but the coy smile on the Pryfektus' face was evidence enough to show it was in jest. He was all for reminding his pupils where they stood, but he was above genuine bullying. Thorulf slid the blade away from Kaelan's mace, "Can you surprise an old man, I wonder, Avallochson?"Tags: Kaelan Avallochson
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