The Grey Tower

Bastian was slow to get up, but he did get up and turned to face the small but mighty woman in front of him. A different person might be frustrated in the same way Timon had been frustrated when Bastian put him on his arse once more. Bastian was amused.

From the start of the spar, Bastian had taken an offensive stance and charged in without much thought. Perhaps it was time to change tactics. He dusted himself off as he looked back to the Gaidin and smirked, “It is true, what they say. . .the bigger they are, the harder they fall, but I’m no delicate flower. I’m ready to keep going if you are?”

The Drin knew the Gaidin wouldn’t be close to tired, and given how things had gone thus far, nowhere near ready to throw in the towel. He smirked as he settled into a more defensive posture, “Perhaps once we finish this spar, you might be willing to take me on as a student and show me where I’m going wrong?”

“You went wrong when you accepted her challenge,” Timon teased.

Looking over his shoulder, Bastian’s smirk grew, “I’m not one to back down from a challenge.”

“You should have. . .she’s humiliating you, Bas,” Timon continued.

Looking back to the Gaidin, Bastian shrugged, “I don’t feel humiliated. I just consider this a learning experience.”

Lysira listened to the exchange, and appreciated that the big one was not as full of self-importance as she had suspected he was at the beginning of this. That was good. Ego rarely served a Gaidin well. The entire being of a Gaidin was trained to subject one's life to the service of another, after all. To protect that person before one's self.

She was intrigued by his question, and they would "talk" about it once this was over.

When Bastian looked back at her, she smiled a little and gestured that she was ready to continue as well. She was still in her defensive posture and gestured for him to come on. She would give him one more chance to take the initiative before she took it for herself.

The Drin watched as the woman sunk into a defensive posture and motioned for him that she was ready. He was 0 for 3 when it came to initiating an attack, and had feeling he was about to be 0 for 4. He noticed she didn’t answer his question about taking him on as a student, though given she used her hands to communicate, he wasn’t all that surprised.

“I didn’t know you were such a glutton for punishment, Bastian. I’m tellin’ ya, this is the best entertainment I’ve seen in some time. . .and that includes the blonde bard at the Tavern the other night,” Timon teased.

Ignoring his fellow Drin, he shuffled his feet forward and did his best to keep his center of gravity low. In a real battle, indecision could be a person’s undoing. The woman before him was too smart to fall for a feint, at least from him. Instead of trying to fool her, he opted for a more direct approach. He led with a right hook and then tried to follow it up with an uppercut.

Unsurprisingly, the Gaidin easily blocked each, but Bastian didn’t stop his attack there. Instead of another right hook or uppercut, he tried a slightly different tactic, and aimed a fist for her mid-section.

He's learning, Lysira thought as she deflected his right hook and outright avoided his uppercut. The mid-section hit almost got her, but she was tiny and lithe and had decades of experience. It just grazed her shirt and the skin beneath it, but didn't land enough to cause her any pain but a faint twinge to her own ego.

Of course, she was equally amused and impressed.

She shuffled back a couple steps to reclaim some distance, but instantly swung from defense to offense. She didn't give him a moment longer than that to regroup his thoughts before she was She lunged forward with a right cross, just slow enough for him to block or catch her fist. But as he did, she gripped his wrist with her left hand and spun under his big arm.

With her back to him, she show her left elbow back and put her boot down on his left foot. All much lighter hits than if she had been really trying to hurt him, but it was enough to make her presence known if they landed. With each hit launched, she dropped to the ground and rolled away, coming back up and turning on her feet again.

It wasn’t lost on Bastian that he almost landed a blow on the much smaller Gaidin, but almost was not close enough in a real battle. The woman’s transition from defensive to offensive was so quick that the Drin almost didn’t have time to regroup. He thought he had her when he blocked the right cross, but it was a feint, and again, she took advantage of his size to come up behind him. The elbow landed, and had she not been pulling her punches, would have caused him a great deal of pain, as it landed approximately where his kidney would have been.

The large Drin tried to step away from her, but that was when her boot came down on his foot, causing him to stumble. As big as he was, Bastian wasn’t a total klutz and managed to keep himself from falling before turning to face his challenger. He offered the woman a warm, broad smile and held up his hands, “I yield. I don’t think I’ll be able to do any better than I’ve done, and clearly, I have a great deal to learn.”

“Quitting, Bastian? I didn’t take you for a quitter,” Timon taunted him, and a few of those watching laughed with his fellow Drin.

“Sometimes, it is just as useful to know when one is beaten and to retreat than to march headlong into a bloodbath,” Bastian answered. “I know my limitations, and I doubt I will be able to get a touch on the Gaidin. I don’t think there is any shame in knowing where one’s limitations lie.” Outwardly, it was easy to let Timon’s taunts roll off his back, but inwardly, Bastian was growing tired of it.

When the trainee capitulated, Lysira certainly didn't think less of him. She smiled a little and offered a small bow, although one might notice that she never lowered her eyes. After that, however, she turned towards the crowd that remained around them. She met the eyes of the Ji'val who had been acting as her translator--at least Bella is pretty sure it was a Ji, she's too lazy to look--and gestured him to her.

She began signing, and he began speaking.

"A good Gaidin will know the time to fight and the time to walk away. There is no shame in a thought out, tactical retreat," she said, her eyes on Timon. "Just like it can be tactical to taunt an enemy. You can make them act rashly and foolishly. However, to taunt a comrade is something else. Should you attain the fancloak, you shall be brothers and sisters in arms. Remember that."

Tilting her head, still staring at Timon for one more long, intent moment, she said, "And if I hear that you cannot control your tongue any more than you can control your body in a spar, you'll be having a meeting with the Mistress of Training. Now disperse, all of you." She nodded and they fled.

"Not you." She put her hand on the big man's arm. "You did well. If you would like me to train you, I will."

Bastian was amused by the Gaidin’s admonishment of Timon, but kept his amusement in check. It amazed him how quickly everyone scattered when she threatened to send them to the Mistress of Training. He was about to head off as well when he felt her hand on his arm.

She was offering to train him? He looked to her translator for a moment, but then back to the Gaidin, “I would be more than honoured to train under you, Gaidin. I learned how to wield axes thanks to my father, and unarmed through the class. I can see how I can apply some aspects of unarmed training to other forms of combat. Beyond that, I don’t want to rely on axes alone.”

The Drin looked around the yards for a moment, and then back to Lysira, “When can we begin?”