The battlestand was quite empty today, the arena where people practiced and fought was empty save the training dummies and targets. A young girl walked in, dropping her bag on the ground. Compared to the girl the arena was gigantic, where to a seasoned fighter it would be nothing more than a large room, if one could even call it a room. The girl's hair was done in pigtail buns, one on each side of her head. Today was not a day for adventure but for training. The small child was only fourteen but she was seasoned in teh ways of adventure. She had come to learn how to fight, to practice. One of the things she hated was always relying on others to defend her. She told one of her friends that the next adventure they went on and they were attacked she would defend herself. She was here to learn how.

Not a soul was around as she took her staff and spun it wobbly, she took an erratic stance and thrust the staff forwards stumbling to keep her balance. She reganed her footing and retook another off balance stance. This time she took her staff in both hands and pushed one end forwards and lost her grip on her weapon. She walked and faced one of the dummies as if they were a live being. She took the staff like a beginner at baseball holding a bat the wrong way and swung, she slipped and fell her staff flying off a few feet away. She groaned and sat up holding her arm which was only scratched. "Man this fighting stuff is hard." she said.

"Oh, troll piss." Saral muttered as a sudden breeze blew his hood right off, revealing the remains of his head to the amassed crowds. In an instant dozens of eyes were on him, and in the next moment he was on the run with four men at his heels. With no hesitation, the knight began ducking in and out of alleyways, buildings and even the sewer system. In a lucky break, he was able to find shelter in the sewers for a moment before begining to crawl through the muck, even having to swim when it got too deep. Continuing on regardless, and blessing the loss of his sense of smell Saral checked every opening to world for people. He blessed the opening he found outside the Battlestand as he kicked it open and crawled out, sure to dart inside the amphitheater at his first chance.

Seeing only one lone girl there, he allowed himself to relax and scrape away the bits of less then fresh food and less then unused food off of his cloak and shirt with the use of his left index finger. Examining the girl as she practiced on the dummies, Saral could not help but voice his criticism, "you're holding it wrong, swinging wrong, standing wrong, and you're not moving your body enough. To top it all off, though, you're hitting the biggest dummy." Moving on to cleaning his weapons Saral continued, "And do you know what all of that means?"

Tanya rubbed her arm and got up and looked around for her staff, finding it near the wall she walked over and picked it up. "you're holding it wrong, swinging wrong, standing wrong, and you're not moving your body enough. To top it all off, though, you're hitting the biggest dummy." she heard. She looked up as she saw a cloaked figure standing above her on the stands. She felt embarrased that someone was watching her. The figure looked like he was covered in filth, almost as if he was running through the sewers, but that would be silly. He was cleaning his weapon as he continued "And do you know what all of that means?"

Tanya began to get angry, she did not know how to fight and this guy was giving her a hard time making it look as if she was an expert acting like an amature. "Hey! I am doing my best! Its not like I am the best fighter ever! Besides, this is my first time trying to fight so it is not like I would be the best ever." she said back. "And if you think your so good at fighting...Then teach me. Teach me how to fight 'Mr. I am so good at fighting I can tell an amature they are an amature'" she said to him.

"You could've just answered the question. I intended only to do just that." Sarl answered, putting his axe back in its loop and his sword in its own scabbardless loop, cut with the sword itself into the waist portion of his leggings. Taking one of the training quarterstaffs from a rack in the hall he'd emerged from and holding it with his right hand in the center, his left hand halfway in between the center and end. Going up to another dummy he thrusted foreward with his left hand, giving the sackman a quick rap before swinging the entire great length of wood over his head and at the dummy's, tearing even at the tough canvas and letting sand out.

Saral let the quarterstaff rest and put his left hand on the tip of it, "Lesson one, it's a quarterstaff, not a club. Clubs are just for hitting, quarterstaffs are for fighting." Chuckling slightly at the sand that poured out from his blow, he couldn't help but see some value in the magic that bound him. Little, but some. Saral sat down then, letting his hand slide along the length of the elegantly simple oaken weapon until it reached the other tip, at which point he allowed it to fall to the ground. "If you saw how I held it, try holding it that way when you hit the dummy. If you didn't see how I did it, well, I'm going to have to stand up again so I can look much less impressive when I fail to split the canvas." Saral then waited to observe his temporary pupil, trying to get a much deeper understanding of how she moved when she hit the dummy, and the stance she had beforehand.

((Whoo! Minimum of ARPerness gotten! Second whoo!))

"You could've just answered the question. I intended only to do just that." The man had said. He got down and grabbed a quarterstaff, similar to Tanyas own. Tanya stood aside as he walked up to a Sand-dummy. He rapped it a few times and she watched him take a stance as he ripped the dummy down the middle. She watched sand pour down onto the ground as the man chuckled. "Lesson one, it's a quarterstaff, not a club. Clubs are just for hitting, quarterstaffs are for fighting." he said resting his hand on the quarterstaff. She turned to the next dummy and looked it over.

The man sat down and watched her, "If you saw how I held it, try holding it that way when you hit the dummy. If you didn't see how I did it, well, I'm going to have to stand up again so I can look much less impressive when I fail to split the canvas." She looked at him with a familar look a child has when they are antagonized by someone older than him. Hold it right...I know what a club is, Mr know it all thinks he is better. Hmph he could not beat Shalura or Umbra if it came down to it. she thought. She took an erratic stance but this time she held the staff the correct way. She swung it as hard as she could and a satisfying 'RRIIPP' was heard as she stumbled trying to regain her footing, a three inch tear was seen in the dummy, sand poured slowly out of the dummy. She gave a frustrated sigh, this was hard. She could not understand why she was having so many problems. She looked at the man expecting him to say something mean again.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm helping you, if you don't want my help, I'll get to my own practice." Saral barked out, as he rose up and stood the way he had taught himself to, with his strong leg (left) back, and his weak leg foreward. It wasn't a common stance, as far as he knew, but he found a way to make it work with his wild and powerful swings. Taking it and arranging it so that one tip face directly at it and swinging it like a battering ram, he spoke, somewhat close to gently stating, "Stand like I'm standing, or similarly. Find a way of standing that works for you when you hit it, and move foreward one leg at a time, in sync with your strikes. Your legs are powerful limbs, use them even when you're hitting your foe with your arms."

Not bothering to sit this time, Saral went halfway and stood at ease as he did before, partly leaning on the quarterstaff. Even as he stood there to teach the girl, he started to pick off bits of grime again. A ball of mud here, a few green things he'd rather not know the origin of there, and he continued like this, appearing to become engrossed in his crude grooming. Yet still he retained a good deal of focus at what the girl would do next, his critical gaze absorbing every detail. He was learning effieciently a good deal about her, of how she moved naturally as well as of how much she was able to pick up his lessons. Nothing escaped him, and he continued to watch and see if she kept her proper grip on the quarterstaff. Smaller fighters could often grow lazy and have trouble keeping their arms where they belonged.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm helping you, if you don't want my help, I'll get to my own practice." Saral barked at her as he got up and took a stance. She looked at him as he took his staff and swung it in the open air. "Stand like I'm standing, or similarly. Find a way of standing that works for you when you hit it, and move foreward one leg at a time, in sync with your strikes. Your legs are powerful limbs, use them even when you're hitting your foe with your arms." He said as he stood straight. She looked at him and moved her leg back and stood as a mirror image to him. She took a deep breath and faced the dummy once again. She focused and breathed out long and hard gripping her staff strongly, she took a step, and began to turn on her right foot. She swung her staff as she moved and at the half turn brought it across the middle of the dummy. A satisfying riiiiiiiiiipp filled the arena as the middle of the dummy was torn and sand fell hurridly through the opening.

She thrust her staff in the air, "ALRIGHT! I DID IT!" she said, she turned to the man smiling. "I did it!" she said excitedly as the sand finally stopped flowing. 'I did it Umbra, next time we meet I'll show you and Shalura both that I can fight.' she thought in her mind as she waitied for what the man had to say.

"Correction. You know how to hit. And you can do that one movement fairly well. Now you need to learn at last eight more strikes, and how to block each of them. Firstly, you owe me. In payment, I want one pint of Blackthorn Wine from the Wilwarin Inn and Pub. Tell the bartender that it's for Blackhand, and give him this," Saral said, producing a wooden token, clearly a thinly sliced branch section with the crude image of a bottle carved in. He tossed it to land at the girl's feet, "If you want to learn those eight other attacks, and how to block them, you'd best get going. Otherwise you can learn them from that Umbra woman."

Saral then smugly sat down, rejoicing that he would taste again the greatest flavor he had ever known. It was almost inevitable, elsewise that girl wouldn't learn, and learning appeared to be one of her greater desires. He had concluded that much, along with understanding her skill that came naturally. She had much more potential with the staff then he did.

Still, this was only being deposited in his mind and locked away right now. His only real thoughts were of Blackthorn Wine, and his various experiences with it. First, when he had snuck into the taverns to take a drink, through last. He'd even died drinking it, through poison. It was all in all a very rare drink, not often found outside of Saral's own former hometown, and since the loss of game in the area it had become an incredibally rare comedity, the key ingredient only found in the thorns of certain black vines in the forest around the town. The town itself was named after the wine, he remembered now. Blackthorn Port. Saral cursed himself for forgetting his home shortly, and continued remembering the wine.

((Yeap. Saral's entire life as shown though experiences with an imaginary booze.))