KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
The other kept using his mind to speak, and it irked Korbin. The presence of someone else's thoughts in his head was unwelcome, and he cringed visibly with every new sentence.
"I don't use my shift like that," he told Loren, with tightly clenched jaws. "I have no intention of fighting in it, nor at all if I can help it. All you did was brawl without intent or purpose, and I told you I don't do that."
He removed another layer, peeling off a heavy woolen tunic until he was down to the long sleeved undershirt, also made from wool. Ursur, actually, and tight fitting with a high neck. It showed off a lean torso of wiry, tough muscle, that shifted and played as he rolled his shoulders. It was biting cold, but Korbin endured it without seeming to notice.
"I came to train," he snapped. "Now keep your fucking thoughts to yourself!" He turned his back to the badger and went for a weapons rack, where he found a heavy spear. The tip was real steel, blunt but dangerous all the same... and intent on ignoring the other man, Korbin settled into a familiar routine. Moved the weapon through forms, motions of blocking and spinning, thrusting and twisting against an unseen opponent. Moving slowly at first, it wove into a graceful dance, with deadly intent. It was clear he knew what he was doing.
"I don't use my shift like that," he told Loren, with tightly clenched jaws. "I have no intention of fighting in it, nor at all if I can help it. All you did was brawl without intent or purpose, and I told you I don't do that."
He removed another layer, peeling off a heavy woolen tunic until he was down to the long sleeved undershirt, also made from wool. Ursur, actually, and tight fitting with a high neck. It showed off a lean torso of wiry, tough muscle, that shifted and played as he rolled his shoulders. It was biting cold, but Korbin endured it without seeming to notice.
"I came to train," he snapped. "Now keep your fucking thoughts to yourself!" He turned his back to the badger and went for a weapons rack, where he found a heavy spear. The tip was real steel, blunt but dangerous all the same... and intent on ignoring the other man, Korbin settled into a familiar routine. Moved the weapon through forms, motions of blocking and spinning, thrusting and twisting against an unseen opponent. Moving slowly at first, it wove into a graceful dance, with deadly intent. It was clear he knew what he was doing.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
