Loud growl-like snoring emanates from the big hairy man, then sudden stops and changes into a roar of a yawn, "Oh man, I haven't slept that good since that first spare with Korg at..." The big man mumbles away his talk as he wakes up. He looks at the other two that are awake then stumbles around the small bed frantically looking for his bag. Once he finds his price, a large clay jug, he takes a big swig of the ale then offers it to the others, "Looks like you fellas ran into a fun fight as well HAHA! Want a drink to celebrate the finding of a great fight BWAHHAHAHAHAAHAHA!" The man lets out a bellow of a laugh then looks at the other two that are awake, "I see you noticing my belt, yep I him. Now that you know who I am, who are you two and can you fight?" He asks excitedly and I know you weren't looking at Torgus's champion belt but he assumes everybody does and knows what it is hehe.
You hear a slight creaking as the door to the room is opened and natural light streams into the room from outside.
Torgus looks to the door and bellows,
Nisk awakens to the light coming from the door. "Ugh..." He groans, then as memory floods back he drops from the bed into a combat crouch. "Who are you people?" He asks angrily. An elf, no stability, hit the legs to drop him. The human is big but he can't be fast. Small strikes, back to back. The cloaked one looks strong and fast, but keep him back and I could use my reach. He disregards the figure on the bed, the unconscious are not a threat. "Is this another test?"
After a moment Nisk straightens warily. "You're not a test. You're all just as confused as I am." He smiles. "Which must mean... you're all applicants." The half-elf's smile grows and he throws out his arms in joy. "I made it!"
The door does not reply to Torgus' taunting...
Bandogrim slipped from his bed, still somewhat entranced by the dreams he'd had of large, constricting snakes and halted goals.
"Bit of a noisy lot, aren't you? Bandogrim Cotton. Pleased to make your acquaintance…
"Indeed, Cassadar. I'm Jarquin," the Elf replies, stretching his arms until they click. He turns to Torgus. "Actually, I've no idea who you are. Nice belt and well met though. I take it everyone else here met a big Mwangi <rude word in elvish> who told them they weren't worthy?"
Torgus responds to Jar quin."Well that is strange, I thought all knew of the Ballenwood Champion Torgus Voss!" He says with a proud flexing pose and lets it go. "So I'm guessing none of us defeated that challenge? Wasn't great! They never had one of such skill in the pit fights of Ballenwood."
"Nisk." The man says by way of introduction, then double takes at Torgus. "You're the Brawling Bear...." he says slightly awed. "I got to watch your bout against the Metal Lord. When he had you in that chokehold I thought you were done for." Nisk smiles at the memory. "Met the Mwangi. Choked all of you out too?"
"That would explain it - I've never been to Ballenwood. Anyway, as much as I'd love to just stay here and chat," Jarquin says with a sigh, "I suspect Cassadar is right. There's probably more trials ahead, and since we're all awake, now is probably as good a time as any to face them."
With that, he heads to the door.
"HAHA glad one of you has been to the pits! Yeah the rusty lord almost had me until I was able to rip off that blasted visor from his helmet, one good eye jab also drops hold HAHA. Your a good lad Nisk, and you Jarquin! I'll have to take you to Ballenwood to see the fighting pits, after we all get done here HAHA!" Torgus looks to the door in excite, "More Fights! count me in, lets go through more of these trials HAHA!" Torgus Follows Jarquin.
As you approach the door, you are able to gaze into the room beyond. It is a simply furnished room, with only a single table in the centre of the room surrounded by a number of stools. There are a few windows and natural light in coming through the windows, the rain is no longer falling though the brightness is still muted by cloud cover.
Currently seated at the table is an elderly man in a white robe. He is serving tea from a large pot into six glasses, and the scent of mint tisane wafts on the breeze. Without talking he looks up and offers you a seat at the table by gesturing with one hand.
Torgus sits cautiously, thinking the stool will break under his massive frame. He looks down at the tea and offers the old man his Jug. "You want a swig? It's Olde One Eye, the finest ale in all of Ballenwood."
Settling his gaze on Torgus for a few moments, he betrays no emotion in his features though you sense an element of displeasure. He shakes his head slightly before motioning the others to sit once more, taking a small sip of his tea.
After everyone has sat down:
The old man is silent for a few moments, eyes closed and breathing in the tea's aroma. He then opens his eyes and passing his gaze across all of you making sure to strike eye contact for at least a moment, utters a single word "Why?"
He shrugs at the master and puts away his jug. He looks down at his undesired drink, and gives the master a piercing look as he replies, "The Challenge." He keeps a serious face as he waits for the old man's response.
Nisk walks out near the back of the group, he sits down and takes a tea, looking around for sugar and cream. He looks at the man with a critical eye. Is this the Master? He seems so... old. Stalle had been old, but not this elderly. He'd still been middle aged, still had a few dark hairs on his head. "To Survive." He says in hard answer to the man's question.
Grinning at his compatriots' brevity, Bandogrim contemplated devising such a short-answer, himself, but decided against it. Though short of stature, he had always been long of wind, and his capacity for speech had often been a saving (or damning) grace in his life.
"I have a desire to show my dedication to Irori, through my dedication to self-perfection. Unfortunately for me, my eyes reside within my own head, so I cannot observe my own technique; and my experiences are limited to my own years, so I haven't the wisdom to recognize all of my mistakes for correction.
"Master Gond is not so limited. That is why I have sought his tutelage."
"To better myself," Jarquin replies simply, deciding that a brief, honest answer is probably for the best, having sat down upon invitation. "May I have some tea?"
The man gestures that the tea may be freely taken, before responding "And if training was given, what would be your path thereafter?"
Nisk answers quickly and truthfully. "I don't know. Perhaps sell my services as a bodyguard. At the very least I need to make sure there will always be a thereafter." The dark haired man sips the tea listlessly, wetting his dry throat with its unwanted bitterness.
As Nisk sips the tisane, he finds that the taste is not bitter - but pleasant and soothing.
"Where ever it leads me next, most likely to face the next challenge life brings me. I was born into combat, its almost all I know so I drive myself to be great in it."
He takes a drink of tea, and is suprised that he likes it. [b]"What is this sir? Never had anything like it.
"To be honest, I'm not sure either. I don't know how long training is likely to take, and much could change during that time. All I can say with certainty is that I will remain true to myself," Jarquin replies, waxing a little more lyrical than he'd meant to.
Responding to Torgus: "It is a steeping of mint in water. I find it helps focus my thoughts."
The elderly man remains relatively impassive, though you think you see a hint of a smile "You still have stairs to climb before the front door is opened to you. So far we have tested only your desire, but that is a task for tomorrow." he stands somewhat gingerly, stretching out his limbs.
Pointing to a solitary cupboard at the side "We have left you some food, and there is a well at the end of the path outside if you need for water." and with that he walks outside.
"If training is given, then I shall train. And so on and so forth until the end of my days. Self-perfection, I believe, is a ceaseless endeavor."
"Thank you," Jarquin replies as the old man rises to his feet. Once he is gone, he turns to Torgus. "If you're still offering, I wouldn't mind some of that beer now..."
"No problem my new friend! Let us drink and eat now to prepare for the training and the battles ahead! HAHA!" He takes a swig and offers it to any one else. Goes upstairs and enjoy's a good meal with his new friends.
The next morning, your reverie is interrupted by a booming voice shouting "Up. Up and out." As you wipe sleep from your eyes and move into the light you see a hulking Ulfen man stripped to the waist and sporting the same pants and belt the Mwangi was wearing the day before. His torso is not tattooed, but is cris-crossed by a myriad of scars both new and old. One particularly impressive one on his right side looks like he was bitten by jaws too big for a dog... or bear...
He is holding a bundle of brown clothes in his hand, which he tosses at the first to emerge from the building. "Leave your other stuff here, and put on the robes."
You also take the chance to look around the building you are staying in for the first time. You are about one hundred feet from the exterior wall to the monastery that you saw on your approach yesterday. The monastery proper is surrounded by a low retaining wall, with access in and out barred by wooden gates.
Bandogrim stretches his arms and back, trying to push the drowsiness from his limbs. He takes the robe that the Ulfen man offers, hoping that they remembered not all the applicants are tall men as he begins to don the vestments.
Bandogrim finds a robe that is a little baggy, but is sized roughly correct for him.
With elves not needing as much sleep as the other races, Jarquin was already awake when the man burst in. He quickly finds some robes of about his size, and pulls them on.
"Good morning," he says to the others as they awaken.
Torgus lets out a big yawn, with eyes still semi-open he mumbles "Looks like a promising challenge I think, hehe."
He slaps his cheeks to wake up, and moves over to the robes. He picks through them finding his size, "So big fella we going to fight or what?HAHA."
As he puts on the robe he looks over to his belt and bear hide feeling a little naked with out them, and mumbles to himself "How will people know I the Ballenwood champion with out my belt? Oh well, its worth parting with it for a good fight."
Nisk wakes quickly and moves up like a striking snake at the sound of the voice, relaxing when he realizes there is no threat. He walks out and picks up his set of robes. He quickly strips, without modesty, and tries them on. Good fighting clothes, loose but fitted. He then straps Darkfang over the robes and looks up at the Ulfen. "Another exciting day for training eh?" The half-elf seems in good cheer this morning.
Grunting rather than responding to any questions with words, the Ulfen leads you away and around the right side of the monastery where an open space has been cleared in the rocky terrain and covered with loose sand. In the center of the clearing is a circular arena ringed by rocks about 20ft in diameter.
Leading you off to one side of the circle, the Ulfen addresses you "First, warm up. Second, spar with me. Third, spar with each other. Ok?" The man speaks as though Taldan is a tongue only recently learned. Waiting a few moments to ensure that everyone heard clearly, the Ulfen starts jogging in a wide ring around the clearing.
Nisk nods at the Ulfen and grins. Time to see what these others can do. He thinks while looking around at the others. He begins jogging with the Ulfen for a bit, then stretches for a few moments. He then begins moving through what is obviously a kata, making kicks and punches at the air while blocking an invisible opponent.
With a chuckle and a grin, Bandogrim begins his stretching routine. Legs, arms, back, and neck, warming up his ligaments to prevent a tear in the midst of training. After that, some light jogging-- varying forwards, backwards, skipping, bringing his knees to his chest. He followed this with shadow-boxing, paying distinct attention to footwork and form.
Jarquin starts jogging around the arena, changing direction randomly and sprinting occasionally to warm up his leg muscles. Once he's done that, he moves onto press-ups and sit-ups before finally moving onto a series of simple stretches, working from head to foot. Now, breathing only a little more heavily, he's ready to begin.
After a few laps of the clearing, the Ulfen's 'warm-up' seems to consist solely of going through every single joint in his body and wrenching it until an audible crack or pop is elicited. Starting at his ankles and working his way through to the neck, which he loosens with a few neck rolls.
Nisk will step forward toward the ring warily, half expecting to get struck before any fight begins. "I suppose if we're all ready..."
Seeing that most are ready, the Ulfen steps into the ring "You come one by one. 'Bare your fangs' and show me what can do" as he settles into an open fighting stance with his hands low.
Torgus just simple cracks his neck and grins at the Ulfen man, "So you think you can handle the Brawling Bear as well my new friend, I hope your as tough as the last one HAHA!" With that Torgus lets out a snarl as he levels his elbow into the man's chest. Then follows it up with grapple to gather the man into a bear hug. And slowly squeezes then man until he gives up.
Bandogrim steps in to spar with the large Ulfen. Normally, when simply sparring, the halfling would hold back, focusing more on refining his basics and form than on winning a fight. However, sensing that this is yet another test of his value, he decides to throw just a little more gusto into the Ulfen trainer.
Settling into his offensive stance, Bandogrim studies his opponent for a moment, searching for the opening he needs to strike.
He lashes out with a left shovel-hook, aiming to drive his fist deep under the large man's floating ribs, forcing the wind from his lungs. Cotton then slips to an angle which would make a return strike difficult for his opponent.
Settling in for the sparring bout, now, Bandogrim continues to play his evasive game, striking when he can make proper angles to force the opening.