Reokan breathed slow, even breaths, centering himself, eyes closed. A slight breeze tickled his tan skin, bared from the waist up. Eyes still closed, he began to move, all muscles tensed, in a slow settling stance. Opening his summer grass green eyes, he concentrated on the figure in front of him, then with sudden quickness, moved in a series of jarring punches and kicks.

Left, turn, block, heel, knee, kick to the head.

In the man's head, he recited the movements, giving it his all. The figure doubled over, swung to the side, flailed...flopped. Dust flew from the heshan sack dummy, filled with sand, tied to a post. It wasn't the same as a real opponent, but it was good for a work out and practice.

"If you ever get tired of fighting a bag of sand," said a voice from behind him, "I could always go for a rematch."

The voice belonged to Nahot, a humorless and deadpan individual with a collection of knives that outperformed his mother's cutlery drawer. The man didn't smile, but began to pull back his black hair into a top knot as though Reokan had already accepted.

"I think your opponent is tired from the long duel, anyway," he said, showing not a trace of emotion or irony. "He is bleeding dust."

Reokan paused mid swing and turned around, looking for the voice. He spotted the black haired man, already preparing for the battle. A broad grin broke out on the brown haired wicks face, dimple forming in one cheek. He stepped away from the dummy, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders.



The tanned man laughed, nodding.

"I guess I went a little hard on the poor guy. Thats okay, I got you now." His green eyes flashed with mirth as he moved into a settled sort of stance, legs shoulder width apart, ready to move.

Matsi had come running up from the entrance. She had just come from the basin, as she was wont to do. In spite of the run, she was not winded, and carried only a thin sheen of sweat. She hadn't even bothered with the robe, as she had known the run would keep her warm.

She looked around, noting that there were a few people sparring already. Today she was on an upswing, and was ready and looking for a fight. She pulled a strap off over her head, forcing Ruha, her piikii, to change shoulders, "Oop. Sorry."

She settled her shoulder bag on the sidelines and undid the straps around her tonfa. She held the handles and gave them experimental swings, when a challenge met her ears.

It wasn't aimed at her, but she turned to it anyway. A blonde man was entering his stance across from Nahot. She didn't like the man, though they had never met in the ring. He was too serious.

But she was looking for a fight, and so, grinning and swinging the tonfa, she asked, "Would you care to go three ways?"

Nahot frowned at Matsi, but only with the corners of his mouth, not with his eyes. Three people in one fight was not the way things were done.

"You are not of our tribe," he said sternly. "But wait your turn and we will let you use our ring."

He turned to Reokan and bowed deeply. It was a sign of deepest respect.

"May your limbs be strong," he said, assuming the martial stance.

Matsi pursed her lips at the rebuke, looking like a fish in the process. She used the ring all the time. He is present just so often as I, surely he's noticed, her ego bruised slightly.

"I reserve the challenge of the winner," she bowed her head to him, giving way to the elder man.

Reokan turned slightly, easing up his stance. The girl was unfamiliar to the man by name, but he was sure he'd seen her running around the town before. He looked at Nahot, knowing the answer.



Reokan grinned again, his cheek dimpling. She was a fiesty girl, a good example of what a fighter should be. Although, as a woman, he would probably be more at home seeing her cooking meals or sewing clothes, but it was still good to see her gutso. He watched the black haired man bow, acknowledging his respectful move with a bow of his own, before resettling into his stance.



"And your eyes wide." Came Reokan's expected response. It was a fight blessing, always uttered before combat. Watching the black haired man, he waited for the first move. Nahot had challenged him, so he was to begin.

Silly little boys and girls. Thought Natani, as she shuffled over to a proper vantage point from which to watch the fight. She was smiling brightly - and why not, it was a beautiful day. But oh the fun that they have. It seems like only yesterday that was me. Fighting and flirting with a fiery hearted Roek warrior, yes, oh yes. When you can win but lose, and lose but win . . . Poor Vinta never did get over that one time I managed to pin him, and there was certainly no end to my teasing . . . She sat in the sun, enjoying her reverie, the feel of the wind against her face, and the memory of the passionate years when she kept fire in her heart, and in her fingers.

Only a small part of her bothered watching the "children" play, she had seen it all so many times before over the years, that she practically knew the lines by heart.

Nahot began to circle Reokan, moving his legs from side to side and keeping his yellow eyes keyed directly on his opponent. When he finally moved, he struck with the fine-tuned fury of a true Roek warrior, ducking and kicking out to try to dislodge his opponent's footing. His hand hit the sand and balanced him.

Aronel listened quietly to the exchange, then silently padded up to the place from which she had heard the young female's voice. "You. I have heard your voice, before. You speak like a true warrior," Aron smiled, petting Hurteth who sat beside her, his yellow eyes regarding Matsi suspiciously, "You are..." Her own, milky eyes narrowed as she tried to recall, "Matsi, yes? You are well named; a true gift to the ring." She paused, biting her lip; she was talking too much, "Would you like to spar with me, instead?" She tilted her head to the side, awaiting the negative response which was sure to come. Few wished to spar with a girl so small as she, much less one who was blind. But perhaps this Matsi would be different?

Matsi regarded the small girl with only the slightest pang of pity. She had the heart for the ring, but it was apparent that she would have her share of falls. Her small stature and sightless eyes would hinder her greatly. But she would never consider backing down from a willing partner. She glanced over at the pair of men then back at Aron, "It would seem that I have some time before my next match. I would be pleased to spar with you.

"A moment, if you would allow, to set aside my weapons," she was slightly unsure whether or not to bow to a girl who couldn't see it, so she settled into a slightly awkward lean-in with one shoulder. She jogged to the side and laid down her tonfa, patting Ruha in thanks for watching over them.

She jogged back quickly to the girl, "May I know the name of mine opponent?"

Aron smiled at Matsi as she heard the shuffle of fabric, felt the slight disturbance in the air around her as Matsi made what Aron took to be a bow of some sort; she listened to the small paddings of footfalls as Matsi walked away, the tiny sounds of wood tapping wood as Matsi put her weapons away, her sightless eyes vaguely following the girl's every movement. All but those closest to her may have found this strange and perhaps a bit unnerving; how filmy orbs could follow them so easily.



"Ah, yes, forgive me." Aronel made a bow of her own as the girl returned, "My name is Aronel. You can call me Aron." A kind smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Please allow me to set aside my weapons as well." She rest a hand on Hurteth's back, shuffling her feet in an odd manner as she walked; feeling the earth in front of her so she would not stumble. She set aside her sword and her spear, then turned her attention to Hurteth, "Stand and watch my blades, please." She smiled and shuffled back to Matsi, har dog sitting vigilant by her weapons.

When she reached Matsi she gave another smile, before settling back into the familiar stance her father had taught to her many years back, knees bent in a near-crouch, feet shoulders-width apart, arms out in front of her, palms facing forward- a defensive stance. She listened intently for every breath- every rustle of fabric- taking in her opponent's exact location before her. Locked on, she turned her every sense on keeping Matsi in 'view'. She let out a shallow breath, every muscle tensed with anticipation, "By your leave, Matsi of Ethia."

((Matsi and Aron are taking their fight over here))

Reokan kept his eyes on Nahot, following him around as he circled. When the strike came, he was prepared. Kicking out, he aimed to block the move with his shin, stepping in towards the man to reach for his hand and shoulder, attempting to wrestle his arm behind his back and force him face first into the dirt, a grin on his face all the while.