(no subject)
OOC: Krummolt log.
Central Bowl
Krummolt is currently swinging a staff with dangerous looking precision. He appears to be going through some sort of routine at a great rate of speed. He finishes it over by the wooden training dummies where he whacks one of them off its moorings and onto its side. Display finished, he looks down on his handwork with evident satisfaction.
Uriala emerges from the barracks, wearing training clothing and clearly looking for someone. When her eyes fall on Krummolt, she lifts her chin slightly, a sort of emotional tic that indicates a target locked. She sets a course over towards him, moving cautiously: Respect the big stick. "Krummolt," she calls in greeting.
Sevareth boggles, brown-frosted head attempting to follow the staff's movements. And failing. He succeeds, however, in causing his multi-faceted eyes to roll comically in their sockets. That is fast.
Krummolt is not feeling too jumpy. He has a good thick weapon to hand, and he is fairly certainly no one is in the area he just went through with a spinning staff. He gives it a somewhat unnecessary twirl and props it up to lean, apparently unaware of any draconic audience. "Uriala. Am I taking up space you need to practice?"
Uriala is slightly more aware of the dragon watching, though her eyes flicker over towards the brown for only a moment before they focus in on Krummolt. "Not at all," she says simply. "I hope I'm not interrupting. I wanted to ask... your staff training is done on your own time, yes?"
Krummolt nods slowly at Uriala's question, which is apparently just a smidgeon unexpected. "Uh, yeah. Staff was part of the routine down in Crom, so I got plenty of practice then. Not really...well, not /official/ around here, so I just do what I can to keep up with it." He glances down, remembering his dropped dummy and stooping to pull it back upright with an effort. They are meant to stay upright under all but the most extreme abuse, which is exactly what Krummolt was going for, and why he was satisfied by its success.
Uriala moves forward to lend a hand, getting a grip on the dummy and helping haul it back up into position. "Are you interested in a partner?" she asks, her voice even. "I haven't any experience, but given time I might make a more satisfying workout than lone drills."
Krummolt waits for a moment when Uriala comes to help, and they succeed together with considerably more ease than either could have apart. "Well, experience, we can fix," he replies. "Wouldn't mind having someone to spar with now and then, I have to agree." He stoops to retrieve the staff again. "Didn't guess you'd really wanna take up the weapon..."
"I'm interested in learning," Uriala says simply. Her eyes rest on the weapon in Krummolt's hands for a moment, then move up to his eyes. "It's another set of skills that may come in useful. I remember hearing at some point that staff is a useful weapon to know, because it is easy to find a makeshift staff if you are otherwise disarmed."
"Yeah," Krummolt agrees, "it's not too hard to find something that'll serve." He looks down at his staff and runs his hands along it. Though battered and dented, Krummolt's staff is clearly not a makeshift item, but a sturdily crafted weapon. The look he gives the weapon is more affectionate than he typically gives to small fuzzy animals, small children or ...well, sometimes beer might compete. "It's an excellent weapon. Better'n'a sword if you've got the skill, and you've got the choice of going non-lethal 'cause there's no blade."
Yes. It depends what number beer it is for the evening. Uriala nods at that, pauses a moment, then says, simply, "If I can get a practice staff made up by tomorrow evening, could we start then?"
Krummolt looks back up at Uriala and frowns for a moment, then shrugs. "Sure," he replies. "Don't really wanna spend more than an hour, hour and a half a day at this. 'specially not on top of a full day's duty. And, ah, no offense, but I don't think I'm gonna wanna spend /every/ night doing this. You wanna aim for every other day to start?"
Uriala nods her agreement with that, then pauses a moment. "I appreciate this," she says simply. "Thank you."
Krummolt chuckles abruptly. "Hey, it'll be nice to have someone to cross staves with. Haven't really had that since Crom. Even if it'll probably be a Turn before we can start takin' off the kid gloves, it beats runnin' around in circles alone."
Uriala offers another nod, then jerks her head over towards the lake by way of gesture. "I was going to go get a jog in. I'll see you tonight, probably."
Krummolt lifts his chin. "Have a nice jog," he replies. "See ya later." And he moves back to the center of the practice area, settling himself in a ready stance, presumably to go back to running around in circles and swinging heavy hunks of wood through the air.
Uriala lingers only long enough to give a final nod, then heads off towards the lake at an easy jog.
Central Bowl
Krummolt is currently swinging a staff with dangerous looking precision. He appears to be going through some sort of routine at a great rate of speed. He finishes it over by the wooden training dummies where he whacks one of them off its moorings and onto its side. Display finished, he looks down on his handwork with evident satisfaction.
Uriala emerges from the barracks, wearing training clothing and clearly looking for someone. When her eyes fall on Krummolt, she lifts her chin slightly, a sort of emotional tic that indicates a target locked. She sets a course over towards him, moving cautiously: Respect the big stick. "Krummolt," she calls in greeting.
Sevareth boggles, brown-frosted head attempting to follow the staff's movements. And failing. He succeeds, however, in causing his multi-faceted eyes to roll comically in their sockets. That is fast.
Krummolt is not feeling too jumpy. He has a good thick weapon to hand, and he is fairly certainly no one is in the area he just went through with a spinning staff. He gives it a somewhat unnecessary twirl and props it up to lean, apparently unaware of any draconic audience. "Uriala. Am I taking up space you need to practice?"
Uriala is slightly more aware of the dragon watching, though her eyes flicker over towards the brown for only a moment before they focus in on Krummolt. "Not at all," she says simply. "I hope I'm not interrupting. I wanted to ask... your staff training is done on your own time, yes?"
Krummolt nods slowly at Uriala's question, which is apparently just a smidgeon unexpected. "Uh, yeah. Staff was part of the routine down in Crom, so I got plenty of practice then. Not really...well, not /official/ around here, so I just do what I can to keep up with it." He glances down, remembering his dropped dummy and stooping to pull it back upright with an effort. They are meant to stay upright under all but the most extreme abuse, which is exactly what Krummolt was going for, and why he was satisfied by its success.
Uriala moves forward to lend a hand, getting a grip on the dummy and helping haul it back up into position. "Are you interested in a partner?" she asks, her voice even. "I haven't any experience, but given time I might make a more satisfying workout than lone drills."
Krummolt waits for a moment when Uriala comes to help, and they succeed together with considerably more ease than either could have apart. "Well, experience, we can fix," he replies. "Wouldn't mind having someone to spar with now and then, I have to agree." He stoops to retrieve the staff again. "Didn't guess you'd really wanna take up the weapon..."
"I'm interested in learning," Uriala says simply. Her eyes rest on the weapon in Krummolt's hands for a moment, then move up to his eyes. "It's another set of skills that may come in useful. I remember hearing at some point that staff is a useful weapon to know, because it is easy to find a makeshift staff if you are otherwise disarmed."
"Yeah," Krummolt agrees, "it's not too hard to find something that'll serve." He looks down at his staff and runs his hands along it. Though battered and dented, Krummolt's staff is clearly not a makeshift item, but a sturdily crafted weapon. The look he gives the weapon is more affectionate than he typically gives to small fuzzy animals, small children or ...well, sometimes beer might compete. "It's an excellent weapon. Better'n'a sword if you've got the skill, and you've got the choice of going non-lethal 'cause there's no blade."
Yes. It depends what number beer it is for the evening. Uriala nods at that, pauses a moment, then says, simply, "If I can get a practice staff made up by tomorrow evening, could we start then?"
Krummolt looks back up at Uriala and frowns for a moment, then shrugs. "Sure," he replies. "Don't really wanna spend more than an hour, hour and a half a day at this. 'specially not on top of a full day's duty. And, ah, no offense, but I don't think I'm gonna wanna spend /every/ night doing this. You wanna aim for every other day to start?"
Uriala nods her agreement with that, then pauses a moment. "I appreciate this," she says simply. "Thank you."
Krummolt chuckles abruptly. "Hey, it'll be nice to have someone to cross staves with. Haven't really had that since Crom. Even if it'll probably be a Turn before we can start takin' off the kid gloves, it beats runnin' around in circles alone."
Uriala offers another nod, then jerks her head over towards the lake by way of gesture. "I was going to go get a jog in. I'll see you tonight, probably."
Krummolt lifts his chin. "Have a nice jog," he replies. "See ya later." And he moves back to the center of the practice area, settling himself in a ready stance, presumably to go back to running around in circles and swinging heavy hunks of wood through the air.
Uriala lingers only long enough to give a final nod, then heads off towards the lake at an easy jog.