Aneirin approached the large, pale building with a small amount of apprehension building in his breast. He had been a long time in the heart of nature, and out in the changing wilderness that he called his home, there were few encounters with other people. Still, now he found himself walking across the rolling grasslands, purposely searching out this arena and the contact with other men and women.

It was a bright, crisp morning when he finally arrived; the sun still hung low and full in the sky, burning with what seemed like a fierce passion today. A few low, wispy clouds scudded across the sky, trailing pearly white streamers across the washed-out blue of the skies. A few small groups milled around, chatting and relaxing in the cool of the morning, waiting for fellows to join them, or perhaps some other insubstantial sign that would trigger their progress further into the training grounds. Aneirin eyes began to pick out various people in their parties, almost as if his mind was constantly searching for danger, even subconsciously. This was what must have come from living in the dangers of the wild for so long. There was the whip-thin man, standing tall, with muscles stringy and lithe; probably an archer, besides a broad hulking figure. The hilt of a broadsword poked out from his hip, just above thighs that seemed like tree trunks. A thin shirt barely covered the ripple of his muscles, and Aneirin shuddered. Facing that in battle would not be pleasant. A third character completed the party – a ratty woman with a long, thin face, brown hair falling in ringlets around her face. A rapier hung on one hip and a long hunting-dagger curved around the other. Her muscles weren’t as large as the man beside her, but Aneirin could tell there was a wiry, tough strength to her. He shook his head as he passed them, and corrected his earlier thought. None of them would be pleasant to face in a battle.

Seeing more and more groups like these, Aneirin began to feel very out of place - a chubby woodsman in the middle of these soldiers. Soon enough, however, he found himself standing at the edge of an empty fenced-in arena. Leaning on one of the fence posts, he let his hand drop to the smooth handle of his mace and was surprised to feel his palm trembling gently against the wood. Still, he took a breath, and gazed about, his eyes sparkling with a challenge. With the current wind of change that he could feel blowing through the world, it seemed that he might need more martial practice...

(OOC: kept to over 200-300 words, please!)

The day was still very early and only a small glimmer of light showed that the moring was just over the horizon. The air was full of crisp, fresh air that said so much about peace and serrenity. But all men knew that if there was peace, war would follow soon after; whether it was a small brawl or a complete war.

Will looked up into the sky to notice a few funny shaped clouds, one which looked like a man riding a vilga beast, yes a vilga beast; a very tough and hardy creature at that. The name portraited that of what you think be a name for an animal like a goat up in the errod annon mountains but in fact it was just a coinidence that the the word "Vilga" was even part of the creatures name.

The word "Vilga" originally meant valor, but they thought that the name valor beast would be to inviting. So they did a little research on the word valor in many names and found the translation "Vilga" which they thought gave it a tough, rough and mean edge to it.

Will snapped back to reality and looked across the horizon, the sun had just risen a little since he had began day dreaming. The thought of what was to come within the next twenty-four hours was a thought that required a bit of pondering. He hoped that he would meet some new people, without getting into a brawl or having to kill someone.

Will noticed that there was a training ground filled with people not to far from where he was now, he decided that he would go practice a little and hope that he could stumble upon someone who was willing to pair up and draw blades with him.

When he arrived he could see that a log stood in the center of the tiny arena, he drew his blade and began slashing at the log. In the corner of his eye he could see someone entering the arena as well.

Sitting cross legged on the soft grass talking to a few of the other people that had been there to train, he looked rather out of place with his emerald green glasses and long coat he seemed to look like more of a scholar not a fighter, however he was decent enough with a weapon having to learn to defend him self against devil hunters and the such.

Standing, with a loud laugh he smiled and waved to the group of people his good hand with an odd "XIII" tattoo on the top of it grasped the scabbard of his simple long sword, his copper hand pushed his glasses up the tip of his nose until they met his face, fitting snug against his eyes moving quietly through the crowd of people gathered into a tight circle around the fighters he moved a bit away from that group out into a more open space.

Falling to the ground with a loud thud he laid there letting his weapon land in the grass somewhere next to him, simply staring at the sky with the green tint added through his glasses he let out a rather loud and long drawn out yawn he glanced around the sounds of the combat still close enough that he could hear it.

Sitting up after a few moments of relaxing in the grass he grabbed his scabbard looking around for someone he might challenge, after all he was here to fight someone and he might as well get some practice in while he was here, he could hold his own, his gears weren’t that rusty so to speak. Drumming his copper and brass fingers against his face he looked around for someone that wouldn’t just tear him in to two pieces.

Starting his walk around the area a small smile played upon his lips as he looked for someone that stood out to him, someone he thought he might have an equal match with, Alacults smile grew a bit when he stumbled upon Aneirin, kind of off to the side by him self and looking kind of nervous a lot like he was at the moment.

Making his way towards him, with his free hand he started waving at the stranger calling out to him loudly.

"..Hey! You over there! Random, Guy with mace!.."

"It is only dark, peaceful, quiet. That is all I ever get to see. How unfortunate that those who see are unable to know such peace? Deprived of one's senses, it is so easy to lose all preconcieved notions of what is beautiful and what is ugly." A chuckle, barely audible in the Arena, escaped the man's lips. "All the people...no. Control your thoughts. There are many people here who are powerful, perhaps even some mind-readers. No, this is not the time for explaning away all my plans." The man, a priest of the sect of Sha'zul, approached the center of the ring, and flipped back his hood, revealing matted and somewhat dirty hair. His brow was covered with sweat from several days travel, and he leaned heavily on a staff, which he used as support for a dreadful limp. His eyes were bandaged with a clean, white strip of cloth, thick, so thick that it blocked the sun from reaching his empty sockets.

His robes stirred the grass around him. If the bottom of his robes could have been seen, they would have been seen as in need of a wash. Dust had stained them, dirt had defiled them, and even blood had spattered on them. Yet, inspite of both his poverty and his unkempt appearance, the preacher smiled. His jabbed his staff into the earth, and pointed around the arena, despite being unable to see it. He spoke, his voice now booming and commanding, a voice that could be heard even beyond the Arena.

"I wish to practice a few of my techniques, but not on simple logs. I do not hack and slash. My style is more sophisticated than that. Come now," He motioned towards his eyes, the area on his face that he had ingrained into his memory, "Whom among you shall spar with a blind man?". The blind prophet abandoned his staff, limping in a circle around the arena, challenging those inside. "Who here will fight a cripple?" He spit on the ground, insulting those who would not face him, further enticing them into a fight. "I will fight anyone in this stadium. The only two conditions are these; No Magic, and No Killing. I do not want anybody to die here." He dragged his injured leg back to his staff, and smiled at those around him. The smile was malevolent, evil, and yet at the same time, it hid something that could not be properly identified unless one was familiar with it.

Will turned his head to notice that a man who appeared blind was challenging everyone that stood around the arena. He noticed the fur on a female Khajit stand on end as anger began to flow through her. Will took the chance before she could. I'll fight you. he said loudly, making sure the man could hear him.

He thought about the way this man was talking, it did not surprise him that this man was interested in a fight but there must be more to it. This man must have increased senses or some sort of mental ability that aided in his battles.

Will flipped the blade in his hands a few times, then stopped, making sure the flat side was closest in striking. Will mumbled a few words in praise of this man's courage, and he only thought that this man would pull some sort of trick.

He looked towards the man, the sunset just jutting from behind the man's head. it was a beutiful sight but it would not matter, for he would see it time and time again. If this would be the last time that he saw it, he would be glad that it was this beutiful.

Will took a deep breath and began sprinting towards the man, bringing his blade down at full force before jumping in the air and landing behind the man, just bring his blade to the man's neck. Is this challenging enough for you. Will said with a smile. Will thought playfully and only wanted to have fun, and he hoped secretely that this man would be just as playful.

Will laughed then walked a few feet away and turned back to the man. Now it is your turn.

A laugh, very cold, very frightening, erupted from the lips of the blind priest. He unwrapped the bandage around his eye, and retied it around his hand in a practiced motion. "Foolish! To reveal the speed to your opponent before the battle has even begun!" exclaimed the man, filled with the joy of the upcoming duel. His face turned grim, the empty sockets black with the shadows of the coming night, two windows in the oblivion that awaits the dead. "You well trained with a sword, but you are not well trained with your mind. You do not expect," with these words, he slowly revealed the palm of his hand, in which was a slit, like the lid of an eye. Exactly like the lid of an eye, as a matter of fact. From the mind of the man came the silent casting of fear on his target, his overwhelming prescence attempting to force it's way into the conciousness of his opponent. The lid opened, the eye emerged. ", The unexpected."

The eye regressed into his body, which took on a jet black appearance, swallowing all his feature with the exception of his clothes, which remained on him, stretched thin like a secondary skin. His body changed, from that of a man, into that of a wolf. He emerged from the clothes after his transformation, his eyes a terrible red, his maw like the gates of hell itself. The voice from the mouth was dark, like the rumbling of thunder of the grass around him. "Do you think I have lived in this world, traveled these lands, and swam in the sea without learning how to survive? Do you think that I am normal like those around me? Fool! I will fight you now if only to teach you a lesson that you need. Things are never what they seem!"

Blood red rays of the sun intermixed with the obsidian fur, creating an even more fearsome vision before his opponent. "I am Dionysius, the wolf of hell, and I shall be your opponent!" roared the Shapeshifter. It was the roar that signified the start of the fight, a roar followed by Dionysius ducking beneath the tall grass, moving with deadly speed towards his opponent. The swiftness of his canine body allowed him to get behind his opponent. He lunged, maw agape, his teeth open in an expression of sheer bloodlust, his paws outstretched, aiming for the challenger's back.

Will watched as the man transformed into a wolf and dissapeared into the tall grass. This man was a shapeshifter and that made Will very unhappy, he had never been to contempt being around shapeshifters. If you were to ask Will about shapeshifters he would say there were unworthy of living on this rock we call Arda.

Will was completely aware of this mans movements, he was always aware of his surroundings. Will thought about a time when he had been ambushed, but the fact was he had planned on the event. The bandits had been following him for a day or two and when he lay his head down they thought it would be a good chance to loot him. But Will surprised the fools, with a draw of his blade and they froze exactly where they stood. Wondering whether it would be a good idea to continue their ambush or turn and avoid a fight.

Unfortunately for Will they turned and ran, he never saw them again. Will snapped back to reality and noticed a slight brush in the grass to his left, he only smiled and watched as the wolf lunged from beneath the golden grass. The red eyes showed bludlust, but Will only believed it to be a trick. Will only side stepped and avoided the wolfs attack.

Don't underestimate me, you may think quick movements will give you the advantage. But being aware of your surroundings is the key to success. Will quickly sprinted off towards the man and rolled and pushed off with his hands and arching over the wolf figure, landing softly in the grass behind it. Will took his foot and swung it out with great force, trying to trip the wolf up. If the wolf happened to evade and counter, Will's sword would be right in his hands.

Aneirin looked up and around the practice grounds, scanning the crowds for anyone willing to come and train with him. His sparkling green eyes instantly picked out an elven swordsman entering one of the other training areas, a long cloak draped carelessly over his shoulders. He slicked over the ground like a shadow, silent as the oncoming of night. Clambering over the fence outside the arena, he withdrew a long, silvered Katana and began hacking viciously at a thick log in the centre of the field.

Aneirin's eyes skipped away and passed over the people again. Another face leapt out at him – a blindfolded visage, surrounded by matted, filthy hair. Long robes partially hid a wounded leg, which caused the man to limp forward into a clearing between knots of people. He began to speak, calling out a challenge to anyone who would face a blind, wounded man. Aneirin shook his head. No-one would call out a challenge like that if they weren’t certain of their own talents. Definitely a fighter to stay away from, at least for today... Aneirin stood for a moment longer, watching as the elven fighter turned and approached the cloaked man. Drawing a silvered blade, the elf stood opposite the blind man, ready for the battle to begin. Aneirin shook his head and looked away, just as he heard a call.

“Hey! You over there! Random, guy with mace!”

Aneirin looked up, seeing a young man striding confidently towards him. The sun glinted with a metallic sheen off his left arm, a copper colour shining through. “Some sort of armour...” Aneirin thought to himself, and glanced down, thinking cautiously of his own vulnerability. As he got closer, however, Aneirin could make out that the man’s arm was, in fact, made entirely of bronze, and a number of cogs and wheels whirred and clicked as he moved.

“Aneirin Ture,” he called back, “and you are? More importantly, are you here to chat, or to fight?” the bravery in his words belied the slight nervousness he felt in the pit of his stomach, as he prepared to fight another human. Animals had patterns, ones you could track through fights, to better them. Humans on the other hand, could adapt, could change. They were far trickier. Still, he hefted his mace all the same, and prepared for what the young man had to say.

Making his way towards the man that seemed to use a heavy mace, as well as a heavier look in his eyes, but alas Alacult did not understand why everyone here was so serious, sure it was a place to test one’s skill in battle but where was the fun in being so serious all the time, well to Alacult there was no fun in that and he was not about to start sharing the same outlook about this place that these poor saps seemed to, nope not him. With a small smile playing upon his lips he came to a slow walk towards the wild looking man he tilted his head to the side a bit, a bit of a confused look also playing upon Alacults face as the man asked him if he was here to either fight, or to chat? Well why not both huh? Didn’t make much sense to Alacult as he kept a playful tone about his voice in his simple reply.

”..My dear friend! Why can we not do both at the same time? I think we should try to challenge each others minds as well as our skills in battle, that only seems fair, am I right?..”

With a soft chuckle, he reached up with this only good hand and pushed the copper frame of his emerald shaded glasses up to the hard bridge of his nose. Tilting his head a bit Alacult gazed across the battlefield through his shaded view of countless warriors of brute strength, ah but if they only understood what a powerful tool the environment around them was, combat was not all about who could swing a sword harder or even more precise for that matter, it was more of matter of knowing your surroundings and utilizing them to your advantage. Snapping back into the here and now, he shook his head quietly and returned his gaze back to this man.

”..Forgive me my friend, my name is simply Alacult, I have no title or other name than that, and if I recall you said your name was Aneirin? Well I think I might call you just Rin for short, Alright?..”

His simple words followed by a few laughs as Alacult leaned his head back a bit, half gazing behind him looking around for a spot they might be able to test each other in the dance of combat, spying a small building not to far from where they were standing now, a smile curled its self upon Alacults lips, he needed a better look but more or less that would do for him. Placing both of his hands into the pockets of his faded black pants, he kicked up a small bit of dirt and dust as he shuffled his feet slowly walking past the man, he gave him a small pat on the shoulder with his cold lifeless copper arm, the smile still playing upon the gear smiths lips.

”..Come my friend, I believe that may be the place where we can square the circle so to speak..”

Still holding the scabbard to his long sword in his hand, simply gazing down at it as he walked, at this point the man might think him to be a simple warrior of a simple primitive weapon, the long sword, now while this weapon has seen Alacult through some intense battles more or less the blade was retired, and not his primary weapon by any means. Coming near the building Alacult stopped along the way to pick up his belongings he had left near the edges of this outpost when he first arrived. To Alacult, the simple art of misdirection was more powerful than most of the spells mages wielded, if someone thinks your going to fight one way with a certain weapon, then you already have the upper hand in battle so to speak.

Whistling a soft tune to him self, he leaned over grabbing a worn looking black leather messenger bag, that was originally meant for potions and other alchemic supplies, but alas Alacult found it more useful as a general purpose bag, his copper arm grasped a large looking weapon that seemed to be a spear of sorts wrapped loosely in a large piece of wool cloth. Hoisting the loosely bandaged weapon over his shoulder, he glanced over his shoulder to see where his little combat friend was at the moment.

”..Well Rin, what brings you out here anyway?..

Alacult asked, trying to make small talk with the man.

The outstretched foot provided a tempting target for Dionysius, but throughout his life he had learned that the most appealing prize was often a trap. Rather than attempt a counter attack, the man in wolf's clothing leapt forward, using his quicker, more agile body to get thirty meters away from the man. "Excellent. He's alert, good with a sword, and apparently agile enough to jump over a wolf. His knowledge of anatomy seems to be weak, and his speed is far slower than my own, although his strength is most likely greater. Information has been gathered, now for the application." Thirty meters put enough distance between the man and the priest to allow Dionysius to once again shapeshift.

Wolf's skin pulled back, the skull morphing like a bubbling cauldron, the eyes retreating into the body. The skin disappeared from the surface, organic tissue simply being pulled into other areas, cells converted for other uses. The lean muscles of the wolf compressed together, becoming dense and powerful, while the skeletal structure mutated and extended, the body standing upright once more. Huge arms, far larger than the legs that supported this new monstrosity, were covered with jagged areas of bone, forming crude blades that would be used to smash opponents into the ground. Glands moved to areas that would be impractical for anything but combat; acid flowed from the creatures mouth, taking the place of saliva, small pockets of grass burned away where the acid dropped.

A foot moved. The creature was the size of a man, but the density of it allowed for Dionysius to generate a great deal of force in a charge, although shifting momentum was always a problem. Rushing forward with his bone-blades in a defensive cross over his vulnerable chest and face, the monsterous priest rushed at his opponent. "When you cannot use stealth against your enemy, simply overwhelm them. When you can bypass their greatest advantage, the fight is yours." thought the priest triumphantly. As he came crashing down on his enemy, he swung his right arm down towards the man's head, his left arm swinging in a sweeping motion, the flat side of the bone acting as a large paddle. His enemy was trapped between a swinging blade going down, and a swooping strike from the left, cutting off his ability to sidestep effectively.

”..My dear friend! Why can we not do both at the same time? I think we should try to challenge each other’s minds as well as our skills in battle, that only seems fair, am I right?..”

The man’s dark copper hair swung in the slight breeze as he gave a small laugh; a flash of pearlescent teeth bright in his face. Aneirin smiled softly to himself. It seemed that this was not a man of the same calibre as those that surrounded them. An educated man in the centre of brutes and savages. “Of course,” Aneirin replied, “it is simply that most men in come to this place for one thing at a time, and could not handle the idea of talking while their bodies are busy elseways.”

Aneirin watched the man’s – Alacult’s? - head turn and his eyes flit from side to side, looking for something. Aneirin scowled internally at the moniker that this man had developed for him, but smiled outwardly. “Tricks to disarm your opponent before fighting them were just as handy as those used during a battle itself.” The words of an old temple drill-master floated through his mind, and his smile widened slightly. Maybe some old reactions would return to help him.

Following his gaze, Aneirin picked out a small building in the distance. As Alacult began to move off towards it, Aneirin’s smile couldn’t fade. Inside or around, there would still be enough distraction and stuff for him to feel right at home. Not quite as good as the protection from the woods, but still, good enough.

“Well Rin, what brings you out here, anyway?” the man’s voice drifted languidly along the breeze, carrying nothing but the tone of someone completely at ease with their surroundings, and the weapon that he held in his hands. Aneirin studied it. The bandages that covered it made it impossible to tell precisely what it was, yet the length and width of it seemed to suggest a spear or polearm of some sort. Aneirin shrugged mentally. It didn’t matter precisely what it was - it still gave good practice. He cast his eyes about, appearing calm, yet collecting himself mentally, and keeping an eye out for any move from his opponent.

Not a waver in his voice, he replied with a shrug, “just... a need for practice. It has been a time since I have been with others like me, and it is good to return on occasion.” Nothing about the change that was set to whirl through this world, but all in good time. “What about you? Is it normal for you to stay here?” A few simple words, but the art of conversation was not yet back with him.