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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.
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.
"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..."
"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.
"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?"
"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.
"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?"
"Ow..." Jarquin groans as he slowly rises. When the headache subsides, he thinks back to when he blacked out, and recalls the two monks who showed up right at the end. "So it was just a test..."
Jarquin attempts to grab hold of the Mwangis leg as it slides off of his shirt, his intention being to twist it painfully if he does so. However that turns out, he says, "Forward or down, friend; forward or down."
Jarquin climbs back to his feet, dusting himself off. "Not happening," he replies, before returning to the attack; attempting to grab the Mwangi by the arm in order to twist it behind his back. He really hopes that he's right and this is just a test; and that he isn't in the middle of getting himself beaten to death...
Jarquin lands lightly on his feet, only a little surprised by the speed of the large man in front of him. He throws another punch at his opponent's jaw but misses; it was never intended to hit, merely to create an opening in his opponent's stance.
"Then so be it. I'll see to it that you get a decent burial if you'll promise the same," Jarquin says sadly. He moves to throw the first punch; a vicious strike aimed at the kidney.
"Be that as it may, friend, I have travelled too far to be turned away by any but the master himself," Jarquin replies bluntly. "I am only leaving here in one of two ways: that way," he continues, motioning in the direction he's been travelling, "or that way," he finishes, pointing straight down.
Jarquin stops, trying to size the man up; certainly strong, but would he be as fast, being that size? "I'm Jarquin Lariathon, and I am here to train under Master Gond," he says.
Right, I'm pretty sure it's all sorted now. |
