Log file from Jaihyn.
12/30/99
Jaihyn is in the corner stretching out, chatting with a couple of other Hounds who are prepping for some leisurely combat as well. He starts at small joints like ankles and wrists, working his way up to smaller muscle groups, then to larger muscles. When he's sure he's loosened up those areas, then he turns to the larger joints, carefully stretching.
Altair already stretched earlier, walking in and looking rather chipper, a loose bounce to his step. He wears no armor, nor even a shirt, his well-trained, powerful torso left bare. Leggings cover him from the waist down, and even as he enters, he proceeds to remove his sandals and set them aside. He holds a staff in his hand as he takes a moment to look about.
Giving a last joshing and jostle to a friend of his as said friend goes off to enjoin in a good scrapping, Jaihyn shakes his head laughing. Another Hound pokes the Varati in the side with an elbow, "Psst, just make sure you don't get whacked in the head again, eh?" she snickers, pointing with her chin towards the door. She goes off to engage in hand to hand training with the huge Jatarri. Jai looks up and waves at Altair. Whacked in the head indeed. Besides, there's no crazy Empyrean BirdFace here to distract him this time.
Altair looks to Jaihyn as he waves, waving in return as he approaches. "Ave, Jaihyn! Looking for a sparring partner?" He gives a playful little grin as he holds his staff in a loose, relaxed ready position. "I'm sorry about last time. I think we both had a certain distraction, in the form of my cousin."
Jaihyn chuckles and catches up his own staff. "I'm always looking..." he says with a wink. There is no impropriety among the family the Hounds make, it seems! He twirls the staff around comfortably. Looks like he's been at work practicing what he can remember from that ill-fated lesson. At least all that stuff that came before the head blow!! He sets one end down and drops with graceful ease into a ready and at attention position.
Altair arches a brow at Jaihyn as he smirks, his hands tightening around his own. "I await your attack the, my friend. Let the games begin!" His stance changes, widening to give him a more stable platform as he prepares for the Varati.
Jaihyn grins, okay. Although he's not one to take the initiative first, and in general Hounds probably often aren't the ones taking the first swing, he gauges carefully and then with a little pop, springs into action. Left end of the staff snaps up for the groin, following right behind with a half-moon twirl, aiming right end at the junction of neck and shoulders.
Altair pushes the groin thrust aside with the lower half of his staff, the other coming over to block the thrust to the neck. Then, pulling his hand up from the lower half, he swings it about to lay a nasty blow to Jaihyn's hip!
Jaihyn twists to one side and brings the staff to one side, blocking the smack to the hip. A small skip back and a swing out in a full circle, brings him right back into the fray again. He's grinning. Well, not an unusual sight, especially when watching him spar. A foot flashes out to try and catch that right knee of the Reeve. Hand to hand really is his best after all.
Altair arches a brow at Jaihyn as he sees that foot come out, grinning slowly as he tries to slide the end of his staff under the calf and lift. If fruitful, this could be very bad for Jai. More lumps. "Might I suggest sticking to one sphere? Unless you want to go at it weaponless?"
Jaihyn snakes the foot out of the way like a dancer. "Nah, I like the combining the two. Harder to do with the staff of course, but very effective with the sword." he should know, he used to practice with an Agni-Haidar in the courtyard of the Atesh-Gah. He drops a little, knees bending low and thrusts an end forth, before popping back up, to the side with a swift sharp snap of the staff to the rib area with a loud, punctuated "Hai!"
Altair chuckles, raising his staff still as Jai's foot slips away, swiping at the offending staff and knocking it clear. "You think I don't know that, Jai?" he says with a grin as he moves to press both staff and body forward into his midsection. Altair is rushing Jai!
Jaihyn grins, "Well then, why ask to abandon to one or the other?" he asks tauntingly, all in good fun of the spar, as he meets up with that rush, but not straight on. With the soft movement, he tries to subtlely hook one end of the staff beneath his opponents so that he can twist under and away, hopefully disarming him while rolling, almost back to back with Altair. Boy's getting better that's for sure. He ain't no slouch at practicing. Maybe he's been using poor Sentire Chryseis as a target practice dummy again...
Altair doesn't exactly work that way. Rather than letting Jaihyn twist away and take his staff with him, he turns the staff towards Jaihyn and thrusts it out ahead of his body. What the result will be, he doesn't know. What he hopes to do is become the wrench in the gears, preventing Jaihyn from completing the turn.
Well, that definately works, stopping the Varati's spin. He's got two choices here. Jaihyn can continue with brute force and get himself hurt in the process, although probably making a hit, or he can figure out something else. In a split second he has examined, analyzed, and processed the situation. Might as well try something new. Another half moon with the staff, sort of truncated brings both staves level with each other, and Jai tries to wrap long fingers around both, which would trap Altair's fingers between them.
Altair arches a brow, his smile gone as he looks at the potential finger-squeezing situation. So that's how he wants to play it? Altair decides to try and get away from Jaihyn, pulling his staff back a little and thrusting it hard into Jai's gut. Hopefully that will stun him enough to back off. "Never underestimate what a good weapon in the gut will do, Jai!"
Well, that certainly takes him by surprise. At least a little bit. The end grazes him with a glancing blow just as he manages to suck in his stomach. Hey, Jaihyn has never not been one to try and trim a few inches off a near or almost full hit with such a tactic. Of course, like most Hounds, there aren't much for inches there to suck in. But he manages maybe a couple. He lets go of Altair's staff and stumbles back, still needing to search for air even after the not so full blow. His staff is up and ready though, despite his coughing and rapid gasps to try and get some air back in.
Altair pulls back his staff, regaining a defense position as he arches a brow. "I like the fact that you're trying to innovate, Jai. Every battle is part Evocation, Innovation and Perspiration. Just don't try something so new and so foreign unless you /know/ it will work. Understand what I mean?"
Jaihyn nods a touch weakly and mumbles through that still searching for breath voice. "Evocation, Innovocation, Perspiration." he says hoarsely. "Respiration." he chuckles, starting to look a little better. "Now, how do you know something is or isn't going to work unless you get to try it out on your teacher?" he says with a chuckle, even knowing that he's starting to come to a level of equal skill with that very teacher.
Altair chuckles, arching a brow at Jaihyn as he smiles. "It won't be something new. I could see the unsurety in your eyes. You'll know it works because it comes to you and you can put all your worth into it. Being unsure... Well, let me put it another way. Doing something and not knowing just what it will do besides one certain thing you need, that's good. Trying something new because you can't think of anything else, that's bad. That's the time when you should be trying to back off and regain both focus and stance."
Jaihyn nods thoughtfully, "That certainly makes sense, yes." he files that with his priestly photographic memory, the proces visible on his face as if one can see the little filing drawers being opened and sorted. He nods again, absently, thinking and then his staff snaps out, makes a feint for Altair's head and drops for an oddly aimed blow down. It seems unaimed at first, almost as if wavering, but the Varati knows exactly where it's going, towards the knuckles of the forwardmost hand of the Reeve. His reflexes have been getting better too, he didn't even telegraph the move.
Altair, still caught in teacher mode, is caught off guard by the blow and releases the hand from the weapon. "Ouch!" He looks to Jai with a peer, swinging the staff forward, /hard/, with one hand. "Whatever happened to warning that you were going to attack?"
Jaihyn bounces back out of the way of that staff coming back in his direction. He cocks his head. "Always be ready." he says with a half-tease, half-serious tone. He's not a teacher. Well, he has been a teacher before, for many years, as a Priest. But usually he dares not teach the teacher. But lately he knows that his skill is beginning to level with Altair's in the staff and perhaps it's time to trade a little knowledge for a little knowledge. They both have things to teach and to learn from the other. He sets his staff down at his side. "Sorry about the knuckles." he says apologetically.
Altair shakes his hand out a bit, chuckling soft. "In training, give warning. There is a time for fighting and a time for teaching, and there should be a fine line between the two." He smiles and places a hand on Jai's shoulder. "I need to be getting home, Jai. Shall we continue tomorrow?"
Jaihyn grins, "I recommend ice. And sometimes a good little smack makes you remember. My teacher at home used to do that all the time to me. I'm always on guard." he puts up his stuff, drying his face with a towel.
Altair laughs, nodding a bit. "I've had one or two like that. Its why I don't teach that way." He motions to the door. "Come with me? We can chat along the way." Altair steps through the wooden door to the courtyard beyond. Altair has left.
Leaving the training hall and armory behind, you return to the courtyard.
Jaihyn and Altair proceed on a stroll towards Altair’s home. Only to run into a familiar face on the way.
Seaside and Primoris - Haven
Palatial homes of stone and marble line the street, widely spaced with gardens between. Arched windows invite fresh air, and residents have taken advantage of the breezes to hang delicate crystal and pearl wind chimes. Nothing is painted, useless with the wearing away of wind and water, but columns and pediments are carved into elaborate animal shapes.
A steep beach of fine white sand slopes down to a low stone wall which holds back the rushing waves. Wooden benches allow one to sit and contemplate the water, or feed the gulls soaring overhead. Between each house, ending at the sand, is a garden. The gardens have an exotic similarity, filled with trailing vines, heavy-scented flowers, and elaborately carved statuary.
Contents:
Altair
Caius
Kelis arrives from the west along Seaside. Kelis has arrived.
Jaihyn is waving a hand, explaining something to Altair. "Oh by Khalid's name, you should have /seen/ his face. We told him to scrape his jaw off the Bastion floor before the HeadMistress found it stuck there and went at him a second time!!" The Varati Hound is animated, talking to his friend. Neither are in Hound uniform for once and it definitely is the first time Caius would ever have seen Jai in clothes other than his Hound armor and uniform.
Two powerful warriors enter into the scene from the north, talking and chuckling with each other rather merrily as they walk along. One being Jaihyn, in a sleeveless shirt, leggings and sandals, the other being Altair without a shirt at all, leggings and sandals. An old armory sword hangs at his side, his body glistening from the sweat of a good, hearty workout. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes a moment and shaking out his long, blond mane as he enjoys the day. His armor is present, the leather and metal attire hanging in a sack behind him. "Oh by the lone of Zeus! You've got to be kidding me!"
Jaihyn shakes his head, "Nonono!! I'm quite serious! He really thought the stuff would help her polish the furniture. So he replaced her regular polish with this stuff we gave him. Well, when we told him what it really was.... it was too late by then."
Enter onto this scene of swearing and fellowship, a third warrior...one whose presence has long been absent from these streets. Two moons since the tall golden winged form of Caius Antoninus walked out the doors of the Domus Solum, but now he returns, armor present, and immaculately polished, as ever. Typical as well is the regal set of his helmeted head as this eagle steps out into the morning.
Two kaftan clad characters emerge from the west, sharing thoughts of good times (verbally). Beside a tall Atlantean is a shorter Empyrean girl, in the same cast as he, so it appears. The young Rea Kelis, seems too cheerful considering all of that he has been through...
Altair just laughs, before looking to Jaihyn incredulously. "Oh please don't tell me she got to the Archon's desk! /Please!/ That thing's an antique!" He looks ahead towards home, arching a brow and frowning a bit as he sees whom just came out of the Domus Solum. "Uh oh. Don't look now Jai, but here comes trouble. It's that gargoyle of a Praetor..." He looks to Jaihyn as he walks slower. "Let me do the talking, if we have to do any at all."
Jaihyn snickers, "Fortunately no, she didn't..." and of course, you can't tell a Hound, a Varati, AND an ex-priest NOT to look. He looks up and groans. "Well, just perfect. Maybe you can practice that gut jab...." he says out of the side of his mouth to his friend. And besides, how could Jaihyn do any of the talking anyway when the Hawk predictably will ignore him. "He's all yours, friend." he says with a smirk.
Caius pauses a moment once outside to stretch his wings to thier full span...a luxury, that stretch...if one were looking, the flecks of brown in the Praetor's plumage show clearly in the morning light. Casting a slow glance about the street, the Ceterion's azure eyes note the pair of Hounds...or rather, Altair, and a Varati in no particular uniform. It is upon these two his attention holds for a long pair of heartbeats, before his broad golden wings are folded again at his back.
The two stop, to talk amongst themselves when Kelis spots out another familiar face. With a wave, he signals Altair and talks while he waits for him to reply. He must be busy...
Altair takes a deep breath and releases it in a sigh. "I don't want him," comes Altair's quiet reply as they approach the Domus Solum. He looks right at Caius and offers him a slow incline of the head, his expression going quite stony and unemotional, until he sees Kelis' wave, to which he waves back with a smile.
Jaihyn gives a pleasant nod to Caius as they approach. A rather friendly one, it seems. He follows Altair's glances, "Who's that?" he asks, gesturing towards Kelis. It would be very beneficial for all if it stayed right at that level. And despite the rather genuine nod, the man almost did break his friend's arm while she was defending his God in the line of her Duty. That alone almost has him twitching and wishing for a sword in the Hawk's presence.
The eyes of Caius gaze back at Altair unblinking. The Praetorian does not break that gaze even as Altair does. No, instead as the Hound looks away, the taller Empyrean takes the first of many steps towards his rival. No comment is offered until he is within comfortable speaking distance of the pair, at which point, the solider halts his slightly limping steps and sets the butt of his pilum to the ground underfoot. The Varati is ignored, but after the news Caius has heard this day, the fire creature should count that a mark of great mercy.
Altair looks back to Caius as he approaches, blinking a moment and leaving Jaihyn's question unanswered. His expression resumes its quiet, unemotional, stony appearance, perhaps looking out of place on him considering his attire, or lack thereof. He takes a deep breath, chest expanding with it, then releases it without audible sigh. "Ave, Ceterion. Is there something I can do for you?" Polite, quiet, unemotional.
Jaihyn stays quiet, letting himself be ignored, studying a cloud formation with great interest. The man isn't going to acknowledge him anyway. He could do stupid pet tricks until he had permanent arthritis and still Caius would ignore him. Better to avoid the aching joints. So thus, the clouds are awfully interesting. He does keep one eye on the two however. Just in case.
Caius draws a breath and intones without inflection, "Ave Hound. The Reeve is aware of my opinions towards him?" In form a question, but a statement in tone and measure. The man's cold blue eyes look down to meet those of Altair, unblinking...Wings are rigidly composed at his back.
Kelis seems not to notice them, engulfed in his own conversation. Maybe he'll go over there in a second. Well... Maybe not. Kelis has left.
Altair looks to Caius, his eyes just as unblinking. They close a moment as he inclines his head to him, his expression saying and showing nothing at all. "Yes I do, Ceterion. I have for some time, now."
Yeah, no kidding. A brow arches delicately as the Varati Hound, still astutely studying that fantastic looking, puffy and fluffy wyvern formation, hears Caius' question. He gives the faintest of snorts. Just about /everyone/ knows exactly how Caius feels about Altair. Jaihyn runs a hand through his hair casually.
Caius spares only the smallest of nods, "Good." he states curtly, "Then you shall be under no delusions beyond those out of my power to remove when I relay to you my thanks for your conduct in the incident involving my sister." throughout these... words the soldier’s voice does not alter in the slightest. No emotion beyond the touch of anger which seems to permeate his every breath, his every look, and apparently...even his thanks.
Altair inclines his head to Caius again, his eyes closing a moment as he does so. "I was just doing my duty, Ceterion. She was a person in danger, thus I moved to help her. No thanks are needed, though they are most gratefully appreciated." He would smile. He really would! Only this is Caius. Smiles don't do anything with Caius. Thus, he stays stonefaced.
Jaihyn looks back down from his fluffy wyvern now turning rather whale-like to look at Caius curiously. He studies the man intently. Oh yes, he had heard of that one. He'd been off duty at the time. Not that he would have wanted to tangle with a drunken Varati anyway. One arm crosses his chest and the other props atop of that one, hand in chin. Fascinating. That must have galled the Ceterion to no end to speak such words to the Reeve.
"Thanks are /never/ needed, Reeve Chryseis. You are as aware of this as I." Well, one of these two is in no danger of smiling at any rate... No, Caius' face neither smiles nor frowns. "I have no wish to leave you under any illusions, Reeve. I still think you a coward and a very great fool, but I will no longer call you a hypocrite, your actions have proven that much at least."
Altair takes a geep breath, releasing it without audible sigh as he inclines his head to Caius yet again. "Thank you, Ceterion. From you, that means a lot." Of course he focuses on the good side! Altair ignores the 'coward' and 'fool' remarks, his expression still remaining cast in granite. No emotion here.
Jaihyn is apparently finding all of this of great interest as he still continues to look at Caius. Well, maybe stare would be a more appropriate word? Not a full out stare but a very intense and examining look. It's hard to tell if he's re-evaluating the Hawk or merely sizing up his fighting skills. He /DID/ almost break a friend's arm, after all. But the man hasn't made a single move, motion, or barely a different form of breath since they all stopped to talk.
Caius concedes only a sharp, curt nod to the Reeve's words. "Very well then. Vale to you, Reeve Chryseis." After all, no cause to dally...words between the two of them have a nasty tendency of exploding from angry words into angry deeds...no need to wait and see how long that will take. the Praetor begins to turn, and prepares to depart the company of the Hound (and the Hound).
Altair bows his head to Caius, his expression, even now, unchanged from when it started. "May you have clear skies, Ceterion Antoninus." A deep breath is taken, and just held a moment. That wasn't so bad now, was it?
Jaihyn isn't exactly blown away by this 'cordial' meeting. He knew it was there, as long as both participants kept their heads. He still studies the Ceterion thoughtfully, nibbling at his lip. His face is a bit solemn now. And particularly then it's very hard to tell just what he is thinking or processing. Analyzing.
Safe to say, any curiosity as to what occupies Jaihyn's thoughts are the /least/ of all things in the hierarchy of Caius' worries. Without further ado, the golden winged 'gargoyle' turns and takes several steps away from the Havenite pair. A leap, several hard strokes of his feathered appendages, and the armored man is borne once again into the sky.
Altair's expression /finally/ relaxes, the emotion that of simple fatigue, energy drained as he watches Caius fly off. "Gods, that man is irritating. I swear, I must have shaping magic." He looks to Jaihyn now, shrugging a bit. "How else can I keep my face from showing emotion?"
Jaihyn shrugs a little bit in response to Altair's probably hypothetical question. His face narrows a bit and he looks well, not happy, still watching after Caius. "He almost broke Lyra's arm." Not to mention he attacked Khalid at the same time. "Although I heard he apologized to her for that as well. Indirectly." but maybe one day he can pit blade to blade with the man. Oh, that would be quite sweet. Like the Missing Fire itself.
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Caius
Empyrean. This much is obvious in this man's proud bearing and classically striking features, as well as the presence of his angelic wings. Caius' cold blue eyes stare out from beneath a crested Centurion-style bronze helm. His regal, clean-shaven countenance rests in an expression of solemnity. Much like a crack in a pane of glass, a thin scar runs three finger's width down the contour of his right cheekbone. The broad wings typical of his people are mostly of a deep golden hue, touched here and there with flecks of brown.
The well kept bronze scales of his Corium taper from unusually broad shoulders down to the wide leather belt at his waist, from which hangs his gladius. Beneath the slotted leather skirt of his armor can be seen a red tunica, ending above the knees. The leather straps of his sandals reach to the tops of his calves.
His arms, whose muscular builds defy the concept of 'those frail Empyreans' are decorated at each bicep by a bronze band. In his left hand is carried a Magnus Pilum, over his right shoulder is slung a great tower shield, rare among Praetorians, whose four foot height rivals his own six and a half foot frame. It's polished bronze and brass face is decorated with the Two-Headed Eagle, emblem of the Antoninus family. The same crest adorns the amber jewel, set in the iron signet ring he wears. His pride is visible to all save the blind.
Altair
As you look at this Empyrean Warrior, you note a great strength and determination in his stature. He stands around 6' tall, with long blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, and a warm, comforting smile. His hair is tied together by a simple, blue cloth ribbon at the neck level, making something of a loose ponytail. Tan of skin, his body is well muscled, toned, giving the impression of a great cat's power and skill. Metal plate armor covers his torso and shoulders, similar metal bracers also encompassing his forearms over the back of his hands. Metal greaves also encompass from just above the knee on down, making metal boots of a sort over his feet. All the metal is black, polished to a fine sheen that one could see his reflection in. There are only two decorations on the armor. One on the front plate is a classic rendition of Cerberus, done in Indigo, that fairly matches the Cerberus Statues outside the Haven Bastion. The other is two silver stripes on each metal shoulderplate, with a gold diamond on each. This marks him as a Reeve of the Hounds. Under the metal he wears a cotton undershirt and jeans of a sort, both also in pure Indigo color. The shirt is usually short-sleeved in the warmer months, displaying a tattoo on his right bicep, a much more powerful, wolf-like rendition of Cerberus in an attack posture, claws ready to strike at an unpictured enemy. Usually either upon his head or in the crook of his arm is a metal helmet, shaped to a perfect wolf's head design. It's a glossed black like the rest of his armor, with blood red sapphires that shine when hit with sunlight. An Indigo, military chlamys hangs about his shoulders, clasped in front with a bronze disk. Great-feathered white wings sit folded behind him, looking quite strong and pristine, stretch to 25 feet in wingspan when in flight. A bronze and steel broadsword sits sheathed at his side, again bearing a silver omega on the pommel. All in all he is a young, skilled Warrior. A dedicated soldier, not easily trifled with.
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