faderift | (no subject)

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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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Sam raises a brow and follows Krem, though keeps the same amount of distance. What was he doing? At seeing the man pick up the weapon - okay that was serious impressive - he stops.

"Pila?" Sam tilts his head to the side, obviously now knowing what the sport - game? - was. "Exactly what would you need to do that would make Lady Montilyet upset?"

Sam narrows his eyes just a fraction, watching Krem a bit more intently. Was he using conversation as well as a distraction? Ugh. He had never sparred someone who focused on physical attacks, this made things so much more difficult.

"A very large, open dirt field. Up here, that spells mud." Krem continues in his slow pacing around Sam, his grip changing subtly on his weapon. He looks up toward the main hall, his free hand on his hip. "It's a ball game, requires kneepads, a small ball, and a pair of hoops, but little else. Teams of eight on either side. Score a point by putting the ball through the hoop. Simple enough."

There is a lot that he isn't saying about it, mainly because discussing the technical aspects of the rules is boring, even if he knows them front to back. His path is bringing him closer to Sam, in such a way that it's putting him within better range to take the mage's feet out from under him.

"Of course, I'd wager there are some that would enjoy the spectacle of a lot of men covered in mud."

"That..." Sam tilts his head to the other side. "Sounds like a lot of fun actually." He cannot remember the last time he had played a game. A physical game. Not chess, which was main game besides pranks he had at the Circle.

"Mud ain't so bad." Sam grins at that. He's Ferelden, a little mud doesn't bother him.

Krem is being to casual. The hairs on the back of his neck start to stand on end, and Sam pauses in his steps.

That pause proves to be Krem's cue, and the moment Sam's no longer moving, Krem lunges and sweeps the maul off his shoulder, swinging it down low as he spins on one foot, grinding the dirt under his boot. He swings it back up and around to build the momentum of it, then brings it up and over his head to slam it down just to Sam's left, something to spur him into motion. It throws fine dust into the air in a cloud that obscures the grin Krem is giving him.

"You awake yet?"

Shit.

At least he sees this one coming. Or rather it is pretty obvious that Krem lets him see it coming. With a heavy weapon like that there could be some serious injury. And Sam doesn't think he's said anything to turn this spar into a blood bath. Just to be safe though he moves a bit to the right.

If Krem was hoping that he'd run off though, he's greatly mistaken. Actually the Charger has given him quite the opportunity.

Even with the dust Sam can see Krem and immediately he reaches out, grabbing the other man by the shoulder. For a split second there's a flash of blue magic as Sam places a barrier around the Lieutenant and himself, before his other hand comes up a couple feet away from Krem's chest.

If Krem can see his face there is certainly a very wicked look there.

"Yeeeap!" No sooner as he's said that his hand bursts into flame and a decent sized fireball shoots out, exploding a moment later as it hits their barriers.

The blast is enough to knock Sam off his feet and onto his back, and besides getting the wind knocked out of lungs there isn't a singe from the fire.

"SHIT-" Krem ducks as soon as he realizes what Sam is trying to do, and as soon as the fireball detonates he's shoved back a foot, only held in place by his grip on his maul, which had barely budged from the explosion. He shakes his head, his hair falling forward over his brow as he narrows his eyes at Sam. Clever mage.

The maul throws dirt into the air as it's yanked out of the ground, swinging forward then back as Krem regains control of it, his hands resting wide on the shaft of it. He coughed then spat to get the taste of ash and dirt out of his mouth after having inhaled some of the smoke, eyeing Sam up and down. He didn't seem to be hurt, just winded from that stunt.

"Not bad," he huffs and stretches his arms upward, maul hefted overhead, then lets it fall as his hands slide to grip near the end, letting the weapon gain as much momentum as possible as he swung it in its wide arc to get Sam moving again. He made sure to keep his movements slower than normal, always giving Sam the chance to move, think of a new way out of a situation.

Well that had gone a lot better then he expected. Granted he was hoping to knock Krem off his feet, but knowing that he caught the man off guard once more was worth it. Was that a glare? Perfect.

Not so perfect when Krem lifts up the maul over his head. Honestly, it was a little unfair at how well he could swing that thing. Actually, if he just ignored the maul it wasn't that bad of a view. Course mauls aren't made to be ignored. And he's pretty sure his barrier cannot hold up against that monstrous thing.

Once again Sam disappears in wisps of blue, then re-appearing at a distance again. He's crouched down, balancing on the balls of his feet, his arms crossed over his knees, and a rather big pout on his face. "Jeez, that thing is scary. I think I liked the dagger better."

"'Scary's kind of the point," Krem replies with a shrug, though he's amused at the sight of Sam pouting like a child whining that it isn't fair. He puts the head of the maul back down on the ground, hand propped up on the end of it. He shakes his head, tossing his hair back out of his face, then leaving the weapon balanced he pulls his knife again, starting to walk it over his fingers. "If you want to call it quits here, all you have to do is say."

Sam watches cautiously as Krem puts the maul back down, shifting ever so slightly in his spot. And there's the dagger again. Ugh, why didn't he just complain about Krem having a weapon period?

His eyes narrow as he watches the dagger now, knowing fully well it could come flying at him at any moment. It's what Krem says that makes him give a snort.

Standing up to his full height, hands on hips, Sam glares at the other man. "Oh, you wish. Did my little fire show scare you?"

"You just look so small and afraid over there with that pout on your face," he teases, his free hand on his hip as he flips the blade around in his hand to hold it proper. "Looked like a kicked pup, now you're trying to be big?"

Even unimpressed as Krem seems, he still appreciates that Sam is being serious. While he hadn't gone into this expecting to fight with a mage it isn't as if Krem is unprepared. But he likes Sam well enough. Hopefully after this the man wouldn't just huff off.

Sam shakes his head slowly. Oh. Dog jokes. Because he's Ferelden. Cute. "Rea-" Nope, doesn't matter.

He knows he doesn't have a good comeback for that. So instead Sam just snaps his hands up in front of him and fires off another fireball. At this distance, Sam aims it towards his legs, knowing that if for some reason he dodges the attack won't leave the ring.

At least this time, Krem is expecting it, and he dodges to one side, though the heat of it catches the edge of his armor, throwing a shower of sparks up as he moves forward with his knife once more flipped around in his hand.

"Gonna get angry at me now?" he continues to taunt, just as Bull did while he was trying to train Krem in defensive tactics.

Sam huffs, cracking his knuckles then rotating his wrists. He can feel that the barrier he had put up on Krem had finally depleted.

"Haaardly," he drawls with a roll of his eyes. "It isn't the first time I've been mocked for being Ferelden." He's gotten used to the quips by now. Some of them were actually pretty funny. The only time he had gotten mad about being referred to as a dog was when another mage had gotten too friendly with petting his stomach. Saying 'good boy' and sneaking lower had earned the man a broken arm. Which he had been forced to heal, but it had been worth it.

Krem would have to do something else to actually get him angry. He was just... frustrated. Things would be a lot easier if he could fight Krem within arms reach, but he was good at reading people too. Sometimes. Krem would destroy him if they got too close. And Sam did not have the mana reserves to keep casting barriers and trying to attack/defend.

"Is that the best you can come up with? Maybe you've taken too many blows to the head to think of something better." He doesn't actually think that, but he can feel that Krem is trying to taunt him. He can do that too, right?

"Fereld- you think I was making fun of you with that pup thing?" Krem looks legitimately bewildered for a moment, then breaks into a massive grin. "Maker's taint, nothing of the sort. Sam, have you ever seen yourself when you get pouty? It's like someone took away a pet's favorite toy." He shakes his head and tucks his knife away, crossing his arms over his chestplate. "If I wanted to fuck with you for being Ferelden, you know I would come up with something better than 'kicked pup'."

Still, if Sam isn't going to take his word for it, there wasn't much he could do about it. He strides over to Sam, as if the match is over, but anyone that's trained with him knows that taking that offered hand won't end well.

Sam gives Krem a look. "Well you obviously aren't giving me a compliment." Alright, so maybe he wasn't making fun of him being Ferelden. He was still mocking him though. He thinks. It certainly didn't sound like Krem was telling him anything endearing.

"Have I looked- I don't exactly have a mirror, and if I did I certainly don't try out faces on myself." It's obvious that Sam bristles at that a bit, but isn't completely offended. At least not in a way that he feels he needs to be on guard - a verbal arguement perhaps.

With Krem putting away the dagger, starting up the chat, and approaching like he was walking up to a skittish animal, Sam seems to settle down a bit. He honestly sees this as the Charger trying to smooth ruffled feathers, and he crosses his arms, fully expecting them to talk.

If Krem is perfectly honest, he thinks Sam is actually rather ridiculous. But that's not such a bad thing. He's still moving around the ring at an easy stride, a bluff that only The Iron Bull could readily spot.

"You can just walk away if you're so miffed at me," he points out, looking up at Sam with an arched brow. "Unless you've made this a matter of pride."

Sam sighs at that, his shoulders slumping as the rest of his guard drops. "You'd have to do a bit better to get me miffed. The dog thing just gets old." Sam makes a face then and raises a brow at Krem. "Do I really look like a kicked puppy?"

Edited 2015-10-22 07:38 (UTC)

"You're giving me a look like you would rather hit me and get it over with then go about your day," Krem points out, then mirrors the face he's making right back at him. "So try it. C'mon, nothing to lose in smacking the smug look off my face." Said in something approaching Bull's tone the last time he'd heard the Chief say it.

"If you're trying to copy me that looks anything but smug." Did he look smug? He didn't feel smug.

Try it, he says. Sam narrows his eyes cautiously at Krem. That sounds a bit too easy. But the Charger is a bit right. He had been very excited about getting into the ring and learning some things, but instead he felt like he was just wasting the other man's time. He'd be better off making himself useful.

"Fine," he huffs as he starts to walk towards Krem.

"It was more of a general statement. Apparently my face looks smug more often than not. Yours looks mostly irritable." No thanks to Krem, obviously.

When Sam starts to move, Krem turns with him, facing him with his hands on his hips. Maybe he should have just gotten a sword; he isn't as practiced with one, bringing him a little closer to Sam's experience level.

"Use your reach to your advantage," Krem advises, starting to walk around Sam, as if pacing while giving a lecture. "You're bigger than I am, probably heavier. Throw it around a little."

His pace slows as he sees Krem change the direction he was walking, beginning to circle. Sam follows the movement, keeping the man in front of him the entire time, suddenly not trusting him to see his back. He tilts his head at the instructions.

Hand to hand?

Sam's brows raise in curiosity, the sudden change intriguing him. He stays quiet though, waiting to see if Krem says anything else. He doesn't, he's waiting for Sam to strike. Sam knows it.

Even knowing that though, when Sam sees the tiniest of changes in Krem's step he lunges forward, right arm arcing down at the other's face.

Safer than using swords, with as inexperienced with fighting as Sam seems to be, and it'll likely help him actually learn how to use his reach to his advantage. Mages didn't ordinarily have to worry about that, being able to attack from a distance, but when someone's mana runs out and they have to face men closing in? Better know how to kick your way out of it, so to speak.

Krem sidesteps the move and puts a hand up under Sam's armpit, twisting in place and socking his hip into Sam's then levering him up and over, putting him on the ground on his ass.

"Left yourself wide open," he explains, patting Sam's shoulder then offering a hand back up. "Try that again, comin' up from under. Better chance of hooking around the neck that way."

Honestly, he expected that he wouldn't be able to land the hit. What he didn't expect was when Krem grabbed his arm and he found himself airborne for a few moments. Hitting the ground was a normal thing for Sam, but it still smarted.

Sam gives a pained groan at being sent to his ass, his face scrunching a bit. "Uuugh, now that's a matter of pride," he mutters when Krem pats him on the shoulder. He was sure to feel that later.

Grabbing a hold of Krem's hand, Sam gets back to his feet. Again, huh? Stepping back he falls back into a stance. Even if Krem said he had reach and weight on his side, the Charger had the experience and being a bit shorter made it easier to dodge his attacks.

Sam waits longer this time, a plan forming in his head. This time when he attacks he takes Krem's suggestion and going attack from below. He can see Krem moving and going for a counter when his punch misses, briefly grazing a shoulder. Rather than getting caught and being thrown again though, Sam slips back into a Fade step. Instead of running this time, like the previous times, Sam takes the chance to reappear behind Krem and hook his arm around his neck.

Now that was what Krem likes to see; Sam was getting serious, and creative on top of what he'd already instructed. He's proud even as his back was forced to arch and stretch by Sam standing with an arm around his neck.

"Good," he grunts, then swings his legs back, before flexing his core hard and bringing his legs up, making Sam so top-heavy that there really isn't any recourse but to fall back again. Krem's boots hit the dirt right behind him, and he brings a knee up into the back of Sam's thigh, dead-legging him to bring him to his knees. "Not bad for a mage by any means." He leans over Sam's shoulder, patting his chest with a cheeky little smile then moving around him and offering a hand up. He was done being a little shit for now, at least.

Sam tries his best not to smile, but at hearing Krem say 'good' he feels that he's at least done something right. Which lasted all but less than ten seconds before Krem did something, and was rolling over Sam's head, only to land on his feet behind him.

Finding himself back on the ground isn't much of a surprise, but how he got there was still making his mind reel. He had already been hugely impressed with everything Krem did, and this was just making it all the more obvious how skilled the warrior was.

The pat on the chest, and the compliment catches Sam off guard though - at least he thinks it's a compliment, it didn't sound condescending. He actually finds his cheeks a bit warm at that, which he chalks up to being from the physical exertion.

Sam blinks at the hand being offered and once again he takes it so he can get to his feet. "How did you do that?"