faderift | (no subject)

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(no subject)

WHO: Krem and anyone that happens along.
WHAT: Krem is growing fidgety between missions and helping the repair effort, while Bull is out and about doing Important Inquisition Things
WHEN: Any time after the training ring is set up
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Nothing in particular except it's a Krem and he's making a little bit of a spectacle of himself.

If there was one thing Krem was good at, it was winding himself up. While he and the Chargers had their missions, more often than not, he was around Skyhold, and he could almost feel himself atrophying.

The training ring had been set up almost immediately by Commander Cullen's forces, but for the moment, it was empty. Off on assignment, or else occupied elsewhere, this meant that there wasn't much by way of distraction when the bored, slightly agitated Charger when he rounded the posts marking the border of it. He had stripped off his armor except for his leathers, mail, and chestplate, leaving his arms exposed to the air He had his maul in hands wrapped with soft leather, and he seemed to be doing warmup maneuvers with it.

Over time though, it got more complex. Strikes turned into flowing stances, booted feet ground into the dusty dirt and kicked it up when he turned in place. It was clear why Bull valued him as a fighter, with a weapon heavier than the average human could easily wield turned into a blur around him. This was why he was a front-line fighter, how he'd kept himself alive through skirmishes, and how he kept his skills sharp on and off the battlefield.

He was faintly shining with sweat when he came to a halt, slinging his weapon over his back, heading for a bucket filled with cool water and dipping a tin cup into it that was resting on the nearby stones. Part of it was splashed on his face and rubbed through his hair as he caught his breath.

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Galadriel's brows rose and a smile pulled across her face. She had expected neither of the offers he made, though she had perhaps hoped for the latter. That he offered such assistance freely was a pleasant surprise.

"It has been many years since I last used a weapon, even in a friendly match," Galadriel warned lightly. "I was exceptional, but I fear I have not remained so. I would gladly have a match, but I will not be startled if you best me with ease."

He had moved with strength and power, his weapon was impressive, as was the grace with which he handled it. Galadriel had no doubt that she was faster than he, there were few humans who could match elven speed, but she could not say if she was able to match his strength. If their weapons locked, she would not be the victor, but if he was wary of striking her, it would be no match at all.

Ah, but she was thinking far too deeply about it! All her years of careful thought and cunning, though invaluable, would not assist her here. This was a friendly offer from a warrior with far more recent experience than she. Victory was irrelevant in every possible way.

"If you are not tired from your own paces, I would be glad to have a partner."

"Then what better way to brush back up on your skills than with a willing opponent?" Krem offered a smile and a respectful hand to bring her into the ring. He might have little to no shits to give about royalty in general, but he did know how to treat a capital-L Lady with respect. With a small bow of his head, he left her there briefly, heading to the weapons rack until he found a worn polearm of his own, laying his maul down for the time being. This would make them more evenly matched, he figured.

"You came with that new group, right? Heard a lot of them weren't sure what to make of this place," he said as he spun the weapon slowly, getting a feel for the weight of it as he returned to the ring. "You need anything, I can probably tell you who to talk to to get it. Give you a basic rundown of how things work. Whatever helps." He took up a stance when he was back on the hard-packed dirt, holding the polearm in a defensive posture.

Galadriel permitted him to lead her into the ring without argument; though she had never requested it, even the Galadhrim made such gestures on occasion. When he went to retrieve a polearm, however, in place of his maul, her brows rose. She had not seen him wield such a weapon but, certainly, he must have realized he was more formidable with his maul?

He hefted the weapon, tested its balance, and Galadriel watched him re-enter the ring.

"Such an offer may be more involved than you might expect," Galadriel warned and stood, almost at ease with her hands resting loosely on the staff she held. "But I will accept it, if you insist."

There was a more pressing matter, however, than his offer of assistance and education. Galadriel looked to the weapon he held and took in his stance. He was not poised badly, not by any measure, but she was concerned. She had no desire to offend him, nor to make an enemy of one of the native ages of the Inquisition, not over something so slight.

"Are you certain you wish to use that weapon?"

"If I wasn't certain, I wouldn't have picked it up," Krem pointed out with a good-natured little smirk, though he'd noted how she'd looked at him for it. If she managed to trounce him, he'd pick his maul back up, but for now he would really rather not risk hurting her until he knew that she could handle herself against that kind of brute force.

He stood up a little straighter and placed the end of the polearm against the ground, shrugging. "I'd just figured going through the motions first for warmup would at least help both of us get back up to speed before one of us ends up limping out because of carelessness. Better to do that with similar weapons, y'know?"

"Of course." Galadriel bowed her head in agreement and, to some extent, deference. He had chosen his weapon and it was not her place to question his decision.

She had taken a brief measure of her weapon when she requested it. The blades on the arms that rested against the rack were no closer to what she was accustomed to than the blunt end of this staff, unfortunately. The lack of height and weight were differences that required reasonable delicacy to test and, for many reasons, she'd been reluctant to swing any weapon outside of this circle. She debated testing a form now, but cast a quick glance at the height of the staff and decided against it. It was not so different that it would disrupt her, surely.

Galadriel shifted her grip low on the weapon and settled the base against her instep. With a smooth adjustment to her posture, she was in an offensive position. She considered his stance for a moment and, with a somewhat less natural movement, reversed her hold on her weapon, gripping it high near her temple instead. It had been a very long time since she had used this method but, without a blade, there was no merit to the forward form. This way, she would not come up shy of contact, nor accidentally strike with more force than was needed.

"If you are ready?" Galadriel asked with a note of polite uncertainty.

She was unsure how humans began such things, she had neither witnessed nor participated in combat against a human in--had she ever? Not like this, at the very least, and she was leery of attacking him before they had commenced.

Krem nodded, shifting his stance subtly. He would focus on how she came at him, how she could read him before returning her strikes. He knew better than to underestimate an elf, no matter the reality she came from.

"Whenever you are, my lady," he replied with a small nod.

She inclined her head in return and, once she had, she spared no more time before she moved.

It had been some time since she had practiced this art, she was weaker now and the memories ancient, but they were not lost. She had spent centuries upon centuries learning this and even long years couldn't wear that knowledge down too terribly. She was strong, considerably stronger than she appeared, but more than anything she was very fast. Even by the measure of elves, she had always been very fast, and for all her strength had waned, her speed had not.

The individual motions happened in such rapid succession that it would have taken an extremely keen eye to pick them apart. Her stance shifted as she kicked out the bottom of her staff. The weapon slid through her fingers as the end arced upward and her other hand came down to redirect it. She drew the pole back as it swept up and, with a sharp forward thrust and a quick advance, brought the end down just shy of the space between his feet.

About ten inches shy, she noted. The length of the blade her staff lacked.

Her expression pinched with frustration briefly, but she adjusted her strategy swiftly. She brought the shaft of her weapon up and across his, then forced it around in a tight spiral. She had intended to knock his feet out from under him, she had failed, and so disarming him was the best transition. If she had not been too clumsy, there was a reasonable chance she could pull his weapon out of his grasp before he could deflect her.

It was lucky that Krem had spent so much time fighting so many different enemies, or he might have been more surprised at Galadriel's speed, even as out of practice as she'd said she was. He'd stepped back when she'd swiped at his feet, eyes darting here and there on her form, watching her hands and how she stepped, the twist of her hips as she maneuvered. He wasn't fast, not like that, but he could follow her movements with a grace of his own.

Stepping back from the swipe at his feet, it was clear that it would have connected, had her polearm been its proper length. He turned on the spot and brought up his own weapon as she went for another angle, grip tightening as it jerked in her attempts to disarm him. It twisted his wrist rather painfully, but he turned once more and brought the blunt end of the polearm down. Had her breeches not been so highwater, he might have pinned the leg of them to the ground and come in close with an elbow or palm. He tapped the end of it against her ankle before stepping away though, the staff up and held in defense once more.

"Remind me, I'll see if we can't have a proper staff crafted for you to your measurements," he offered, twirling his polearm deftly as he moved, facing her and giving her a small quirk of the lips.

Galadriel smiled, despite how their match had come to naught, and shook her head as she stepped back. She shifted into stance again, settling into idly as a dancer might stand in first position, and leaned lightly on the staff she'd been given. He had followed her with admirable attention, and his grip was very sure--a side effect of hefting the maul he carried, no doubt. She was impressed, yet again.

"I expect if I requested the weapon I am used to, they would be hesitant to provide it," she replied and glanced at the top of the staff. "I am, after all, a stranger here, and my loyalties are not so certain that they would simply arm me with something deadly."

She didn't sound bothered by the idea, and she wasn't. It was inconvenient, yes, but not irrationally so and, she could only assume, if she was to travel into danger with agents of the Inquisition, they would arm her in kind. Until then, she would simply have to settle for what she was given and hone her reflexes.

"If you are ready?"

"Perhaps, unless you bypassed our smiths and appealed to our arcanist. She would undoubtedly take the time to assist you," Krem assured her as he shifted his grip on the pole once more to allow her to come to him. After that first display though, the better a feel she got for her too-short weapon, the more confident he would become in striking first, himself.

Aside from her skill with weaponry, Krem could readily admit to some curiosity. It wasn't that the elves here weren't as capable of defending themselves, far from it. But they didn't seem to hold the same bearing she did, even when they were important to their clans.

"So tell me, my lady," he started as they circled one-another trading blows, "what is your world like?"

"Your arcanist?" The word was unfamiliar but, from its parts, it was not hard to see the potential that such a person could provide.

She considered his suggestion carefully, even as she moved and swung a swift arc toward his shoulder. He blocked her and, as she slid her own staff back, she neatly sidestepped a blow meant to knock against her hip. He managed to block her next swing, and evaded the low strike that chased directly on the heels of that form. He nearly caught her on the backswing of his next blow, but she was able to direct his weapon's arc with a careful twist of her own.

"Arda, you mean?" Galadriel supplied and, admittedly, found it hard to concentrate on both words and the push-pull of sparring simultaneously. "It is not so different and yet, I fear, entirely unlike these lands."

It was a painfully vague answer, one she didn't elaborate on until she'd swept her staff around and deflected a thrust that he'd aimed at her lower legs.

"It is...darker," she said after a moment of contemplation. "The shadow presses far closer and with a dreadful purpose that...I do not sense here. But, it is also beautiful, shining and bright in ways I would be hard pressed to recount."

"It seems nearer than this world, though I fear that makes little sense."

"Arda," Krem repeats as he parries, then turns to return a blow, putting more of himself into the fight, as she deserves nothing less. He listens as she describes it, unable to really come up with a viable comparison that he knew of. But there were probably places in Thedas or elsewhere that were similar that he'd never seen.

"Can't say it does, but I'd love to hear more at some point, if you would perhaps find it in yourself to sit and drink with me a while," he offers with an easy smile, blocking a strike and coming in close with their polearms locked. "I've got a friend, a healer, he'd probably be interested as well."

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