[Training] I still don't want to be here

"If I can't move the heavens above, I will move Hell" Sah listened intently, intrigued with the beings that held such sway over Caido. His eyebrows furrowed Deimos spoke of The Voice with what appeared to be concealed disdain. He figured there was quite the story behind that but decided against prying. Taking the newly created shingles, Sah began to place them carefully. He focused solely on his task for a moment, trying to ensure he was performing the task correctly. "Creation magic, huh? Seems useful." He noted, more so to himself then Deimos. After placing a shingle he nodded in regards to Deimos' excuse. "Fair enough. I imagine with a population the size of Halo's that the work never ends. By the time you fix one thing, I'm sure another is broken." He spoke with understanding, recalling his own time as an alpha, a leader. There was always something required of him or something else that he could be doing to better the wellbeing of his pack. He imagined it worked the same in a humanoid society. sah There stood the wolf in the winter wind Full of fearsome might There stood the wolf in the winter wind King of the winter night. -Tim Vallie

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame He watched Sah place the shingles accordingly from the corner of his eyes; a speculative, studious glance, ensuring they were concocted and arranged well, considering he wouldn’t want to repeat the same actions anytime soon. With no other nuances or queries about the gods, the beast could settle into other topics, arching his brow slightly at the inclination of his magic. “It has been.” Many times over, in stark, nearly hopeless situations, in predilections of calculations, or merely when he was extending gifts, wrapped in their adornments and beholden details. “Magic does not seem to have limitations here.” In that it grew and grew, until a certain point, and then still more hastened and arrived. Helovia had only had several embedded in veins – his had been death, damnation, and fire, and within these voids he’d gained far, far more. A shrug of the General’s shoulders followed, but Sah’s inflections spoke true. There was always something needing to be done – though it’d been similar in the Hollowed Grounds too. Perhaps it was just the mere nature of life, of humans, of beings who wanted and craved, who sought to improve and advance, all while striving to live. “We have been working on improving the Citadel for Deepfrost, with Frey’s assistance.” To the trenches dug, to the offerings rendered, to the altars created – and hopefully protection embedded within it. "And there is always hunting to do." master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

"If I can't move the heavens above, I will move Hell" Sah nodded, absorbing Deimos' words. "Almost no limits? That sounds amazing albeit overwhelming. I think for now I'll focus on remastering my lighting only looking into the very basics of a second form." He didn't want to push his luck or strain himself. The canine still was unaware of his new body's limitations, something he needed to rectify as soon as possible. As much as this second life was unplanned, Sah was no fool. He saw it as a blessing, one that he would take advantage of, regardless of the frustrations it had already provided. "Deepfrost is the coldest time of the year, correct? I can see how there would be much to accomplish before it fully set in." He noted, remembering how back home his pack had made caches of food and gathered moss and feathers to pad their den. Sah perked up at the idea of hunting. Now that was something he had enjoyed, and excelled at. "Hunting? I'd love to help with that. Though I haven't picked up any hunting skills in this new body. I'm sure they'll be many adjustments I'll have to make." He said with slight frustration. sah There stood the wolf in the winter wind Full of fearsome might There stood the wolf in the winter wind King of the winter night. -Tim Vallie

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame The more amusing notion was that Deimos had never gone looking for other magic. He hadn’t sought out its granules, fibers, or mettle. He hadn’t plucked away at elements. He hadn’t chiseled out any components. They’d merely come to be within his being – absorbed in his veins, traversing and travailing until he noticed them, until he sensed them, until they were a part of him, carved, sculpted, and sketched right into his very being. “Sometimes the magic is simply there.” He had theories; presumed some were family inheritance and legacies, fine-tuned in the wealth of blood and power – fire from his father, water from his mother – the rest were confounding, confusing, or completely unknown, foreign, until they flickered and beat against his bones. “Through experiences and growth.” He shrugged, uncertain beyond that – and sometimes the world merely defied expectations, and had no explanations for the roots, for the stems, for the leaves. With the shingles suitably replaced, he gathered up the remains, his gloves, and began to slowly descend down the ladder, waiting for Sah to follow through and join him along the ground. Zuriel narrowed her eyes at him, and he proffered naught to the unicorn but an incredulous smirk, before settling in back to the topic at hand with the other man. “Yes.” He’d yet to be here for Deepfrost – he’d always been tucked away in the Grounds, preparing for another hellish LongNight. “There is plenty of game along the tundra.” With some other dangerous beings immersed and intertwined across the ivory canvas; to be expected. “You can always practice on the ningos.” He pointed to a flock of birds above; fat, white, and dim, watching as they landed nearby; unfortunately a popular choice for his antics lately. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

"If I can't move the heavens above, I will move Hell" Sah raised a brow. "Similar to affinities I presume? You have to have the magic already in you to learn how to access it. Is that how you see it?" He asked with curiosity. That was how his kind's magic worked but the humanoids in his world seemed to learn magic  beyond their natural affinities from each other and from books. Sah hummed to himself, he wondered what forms of magic this new form was capable of. He was suddenly immensely thankful that he'd retained his lighting affinity, no matter how weakened it was. "Along the tundra? Perfect." Sah grinned as he joined Deimos on the ground, eyeing the ningos with eager eyes. He missed hunting and the tundra was his home turf. Or at least it was. Sah paused and glanced at Deimos. "Humans hunt with weapons right? Where can I get some of my own? And learn how to use them that is." He inquired, both eager excitement and frustration at his new learning curve clear in his voice. He had seen weapons in the barracks but had assumed those had owners. Maybe there was a shop? That's what humans called places to acquire things, yes? sah There stood the wolf in the winter wind Full of fearsome might There stood the wolf in the winter wind King of the winter night. -Tim Vallie

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame The Sword picked up the remains of the shingles, intending to dispose of them amongst the rest, collecting and gathering them for now. Moving around Sah, constantly in motion, the beast grabbed hold of the ladders, returning them to their proper places as the fellow Abandoned sought explanations, and Deimos pondered how best to describe the affiliation. “I am not certain. I know I have never had many of these magics before.” It’d always been death and embers, cinders and damnation – no creation, no water, no air, amongst and amidst the other intertwining measures. “Sometimes it just seems to appear.” He had no other explanation, a shrug to his shoulders as he maneuvered around once more, intending to open the door to the barracks again – Zuriel already shuffling back in, reclaiming her position by the hearth. Maybe as Sah gained abilities, he’d recognize the notions. From the doorway, he surveyed the birds, a piercing slate to his eyes. “Not always. I have used my shifts and magic on game before.” Satisfying in its vehemence sometimes, to rip and tear into predacious, raptorial means, to be an armament in every sense and semblance of the word. “But you are in the right place if you want weapons and training with them. I keep the armory stocked.” Though, if he’d never utilized the items before, perhaps it was best to start with wooden arms. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

"If I can't move the heavens above, I will move Hell" "Interesting." Sah commented, satisfied with Deimos' explanation but still curious nonetheless. Caido's brand of magic was an entirely new concept to him and he wanted to make the most of it. He nodded as Deimos' explained his previous hunts."I would as well apart from the lack of shifts and my magic being so...diluted right now." He glanced at his hands scornfully as if it was their fault that his magic was weakened. "I'd love to get started learning human weapons and eventually relearn how to hunt. It was always something I enjoyed regardless of the necessity of it." Sah was eager to get started on reclaiming his new life. "I miss my claws." He added with both humor and a hint of grief as he eyed the ningos once more. "How do I start?" He asked Deimos, glancing back at the General. Sah knew nearly nothing about human weapons, only that they were often metal, sharp, and in the few times one had managed to strike him, it had certainly hurt. sah There stood the wolf in the winter wind Full of fearsome might There stood the wolf in the winter wind King of the winter night. -Tim Vallie

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame The monolith meandered back inside, amongst and amidst the warmth, closing the door behind them before it could escape through the open aperture. Another glance towards Zuriel and her preferred hearth showed the fire maintaining its blissful conflagration, so there was no further need to tend it. Instead of stopping and ceasing along the front parlor as he’d done earlier, he continued down hallways, turning his head over his shoulder towards Sah. “The armory is this way.” He waited, then threaded within the training facility, bypassing the various apartments, before they came to a large door. He made no comment over the notions of things missed – there were so many aspects, so many semblances, he’d lost through the years, that he could only nod, promote understanding in the depths of his familiar silence. Opening the frame revealed a massive stockade and shelving of the aforementioned weapons, metal and shining, serrated and edged with brutality. From blades, to bows, to staffs, to axes and other bits in between, it might’ve been an overwhelming sight for one not accustomed. For a heathen, for a fiend, for a man who’d spent a majority of his lives as a warrior, it was familiar; set him at ease. Deimos ceased his movement as they wandered by sets of armor and bracers, to a section of wooden training implements. “Perhaps with these. That way you can practice without hurting yourself, or anyone else.” Not meant to be offensive, just a statement of fact – claws and swords were similar in some aspects, and readily different in others. He wasn’t going to permit any of his soldiers to be mauled, nor Sah, simply due to a lack of depth and knowledge. “When I was first trained, we all started with this.” And he pointed to a simple, archaic looking sword – enough to do the trick for a beginner. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

"If I can't move the heavens above, I will move Hell" Sah followed closely behind Deimos, memorizing the route as they went. When he opened the armory doors, Sah froze and took in the scene with wide eyes. There were so many. Sah had seen humans fight in countless styles so it made sense that there'd be countless weapons to compliment them. He was startled out of his awe when Deimos spoke once more. Training weapons, seemed logical. Human bodies were so fragile, it made sense that they had to learn how to use claws, ah weapons, first before using the real deal. Though it was certainly frustrating to have to start from scratch again. Sah walked over and inspected them, picking up the sword that Deimos gestured to. He held it in two hands, just looking it over. "I'm not even going to try and explain how weird this feels to hold." He said with a small smirk. Indeed, holding the sheathed blade felt unspeakably odd for the canine.  Sah was so used to his weapons being a physical part of him, so holding one that was separate was just bizarre. "By any chance is part of wielding such weapons using them as if they were an extension of your body?" He asked, wondering if the mentality was the same. sah There stood the wolf in the winter wind Full of fearsome might There stood the wolf in the winter wind King of the winter night. -Tim Vallie

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Honed with a blade from a young age, Deimos had nearly forgotten what it meant to struggle with the notion of a weapon in his hands. Of the fire, vitriol, and vehemence that came along, amidst, the attachment, the grip, the grasp. It’d become second nature to him, to reach for an armament, to extend his power and demolition into serrated edges in a variety of forms – to be a weapon, physically, mentally, and magically. A contortion, a persistence, within his soul right to the very core, built, carved, and sculpted from the filaments of expertise and armaments, to strike adversaries down, to clear paths with the weight of his convictions, of his precision. So the General muffled any semblance of laughter, waiting for Sah to pick over, to glance, to become something more than overwhelmed or awe-inspired. Which likely wouldn’t be an easy feat, but given his following notion, perhaps he’d pick up the feelings quickly. “Yes.” A pause, and then he maneuvered out of the armory, the blade chosen, taking another route to the training grounds – newly refurbished, targets in the corner, braziers lit, canvas drawn, the snow outside the exterior proportions laden where he’d left it form previous semblances – a hill, meant to trek up and down and forge endurance. “It will become more fluid the more you use it.” Muscle memory, almost not even a thought, how to react, how to blindside, how to slash, how to defend. Within this particular sanction, a respite, a reprieve for the Sword, he permitted Sah another moment to take it all in, grabbing hold of an immobile target, and dragging it over to the center of the enclosed portions. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

"If I can't move the heavens above, I will move Hell" Sah nodded in understanding, watching Deimos' with a critical eye. Now that the shock had warn off, he felt a familiar single-minded focus take over. The same focus that had become normal for him in hunting, in battle, and in defending his pack. Sah tightened his grip on the sword as he moved to stand in front of the target. "How do I start? I've seen humanoids both slash, and stab with such things, which is  preferable for a weapon such as this?" Without even really thinking about it, Sah adjusted his feet to ground himself. He fell into a somewhat decent fighting stance. Not perfect or even fantastic, given the new body. However it clearly showed that in his original form, Sah had been no stranger to battle. sah There stood the wolf in the winter wind Full of fearsome might There stood the wolf in the winter wind King of the winter night. -Tim Vallie

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Ever patient, ever persistent, his eyes caught the segments of a balanced stance, an effective grounding, studying Sah’s form vaguely. Then he drew his own blade from his belt, quick, efficient, and effortless, nodding towards the inquiry. They could start with a basic attack, something long since formed from centuries of techniques and abilities, a nuance he’d instilled in a variety of beginners. “Watch,” was his single command, as he resumed his own stature and positioning. “We will try a strike from above.” He stood before the target, an effigy painted, already faded from earlier assaults and sieges from other training components, that might’ve looked like Zariah in the right light. With his left foot leading, right foot in back, the monolith distributed his weight evenly, hips facing his opponent, and sword held at shoulder level. He waited for a moment or two, for Sah to copy the pose, before continuing; ordinarily a simplistic, fluid movement, he slowed it down for demonstration, bringing his weapon ahead of his frame. “We bring our swords forward as a manner of protection,” to shield from an incoming attack or defensive maneuver; and while the target wouldn’t be offering any such thing, it’d be fine to begin with the automatic nuance, to drive it into the newcomer’s mind. “Step towards your opponent,” and he did so, as if to engage the adversary. “And over to the right, out of the line of attack.” Then he brought his blade down, a slow, treading line instead of one vicious slash in the air, for Sah to witness, to catch, as he did it over and over again. Until finally he showed his true speed, and in a vicious display, scorched along the target’s would-be shoulder. Then he stepped back and away, one hand extended in support of Sah giving it a try, ever the critical eye to his piercing gaze. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

"If I can't move the heavens above, I will move Hell" Sah carefully eyed Deimos and mirrored his stance. It felt somewhat awkward but his weight was evenly distributed. He noticed that Deimos was holding his sword in his right hand. Ah that explained the off feeling. Sah adjusted his stance so that it was opposite of Deimos, with his right foot forward Now that felt more natural. He felt far more balanced and ready now. "Is this how it should be for someone who is left-handed?" He asked before Deimos continued his demonstration. Sah let out a breath as he took in just how powerful the General was with just a sword. He was certainly not someone to make an enemy of. When it was his turn, Sah stepped up and did his best to mimic Deimos' positioning and grip. Eyeing the target, Sah took a few slow practice swings, getting used to the sensation and weight of the sword. Once he was ready he stepped forward, his eyes narrowed slightly in concentration, and he took a swing at the target. The sword made a satisfying noise as it cut in. Sah grinned. His strike had been nowhere near as powerful or cut as deep deep as Deimos' but it had damaged the dummy and if it had been a true enemy, they would have been injured beyond just a small scratch. But not necessarily enough to stop them from fighting back. Sah glanced at Deimos. "What do I need to adjust?" He asked, sure there was something. He was a beginner after all. sah There stood the wolf in the winter wind Full of fearsome might There stood the wolf in the winter wind King of the winter night. -Tim Vallie

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame New inclinations requiring accommodation caused a singular arch of his brow, before he shifted to oblige Sah. He’d been capable of utilizing either hand for a long while, even if he preferred his right, due to injuries and training, not yearning to have a weakness or capability honed only on one specific side or interlude. Adjusting to suit Sah’s needs, he flickered through on another demonstration, reversing the pattern and movements necessary – before taking a step back to watch, witness, and analyze. The basic concept was sufficient. The fellow Abandoned had followed through on the movements and motions, had supplied the necessary assemblages and accord. But since Sah had asked for adjustments, the General stepped forward, keen eyes noticing, scrutinizing. “Shorten your angle here,” within the shoulder, and if the movement was too long, it would give an enemy ample opportunity to strike back, to ensure he’d be on the receiving end of a harsh siege. “Step over more, so that you are not in range of a counter.” Deimos applied and rendered another manifestation, presentation, of the necessary undulations, and then proceeded in the same mannerisms as before; permitting Sah access to the dummy once more. “Again.” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace