((Hey folks! Â Originally this thread's intent is to get reacquainted with some RP friends recently rediscovered that I've not had the pleasure of rping with for quite a while, but as I'm always eager to meet and rp with new people, if you'd like to cast your lot, by all means!))
"So let me get this straight, you came to Gridania to convince the Wood Wailers and Gods' Quiver to use you as a target dummy for their training regimen?"  Mother Miounne couldn't help the amusement that curled the edge of her lips as she shot a level gaze to the silvery haired gentleman standing across the counter top to her.
"Well...it sounds daft when you say it that way.  Ahem..."  He cleared his throat and took a breath, suppressing the laugh that came naturally to the absurdity of her claim.  "I am offering myself as a training tool to help their brave and noble members perfect their skills while I ask for nothing in return.  Any experience taking a strike or fending off another is a welcome experience."  He flashed a quick grin while reaching over to grab the two mugs of whatever they had decided to give him when he simply asked for two mugs of the 'local special'.
Miounne couldn't help the stifled laugh that slipped past her lithe fingers covering her lips. Â "You realize how hard it is to believe that looking the way you do?"
Jeris Guillford gave a look of disbelief, teasing as it was. Â "I don't know what you mean. Â Clearly the wood wailers took me up on the offer." Â He lifted the mugs to her with a nod and a grin. Â "And folks say they can be unkind to outsiders!"
Turning from the bar, he made his way to a nearby vacant table, sitting the mugs down and carefully easing himself into a chair. Â He wore a simple wool tunic, his armor carefully stored away in the room he had rented at the Carline Canopy, but from head to toe (wherever it was visible that is) he was covered in off-white linen bandages, all the way up to his jawline with a few strips about his brow and nose. Â The faint blue streak of a tattoo peaked out from the side of his cheek, with a faint grey hint of a beard beginning to take shape along his jawline. Â He was older than many of the adventurers he'd come across, but aside from the long silvery hair pulled into a ponytail and the hint of white hair filling in the recently shaved sides of his head that matched his 5 o'clock shadow, he held a distinguished youthfulness in his features.
Not that any of that would stop the teasing from some of his peers back in Ul'dah. Â Far too many hot heads join the Gladiators with far too much confidence and a severe lack of tenacity to back it up. Â In fact, it was that unwavering tenacity that earned him the nick name 'the Iron Blooded.' Â His graying hair had been the source of many jokes at his expense, but it quickly became a symbol for just how tough he had been. Â After even the most furious assault, it was rare for him to be brought low, as if his very veins were made of iron.
That was Ul'dah however. Â He'd gained that toughness by doing exactly what he hoped to do here with the Pugilists guild. Â It was an agonizing process but the punishment yielded results.
It certainly needed it's recovery time however, and while he'd gotten the healing process to a science at this point, it was nothing miraculous and painless.  With a grunt, he eased the mug up to his mouth to take a long few gulps, welcoming something to take the edge off the ache that permeated throughout his entire body.  Wincing, he sat the mug down and took a deep breath.  It didn't have the spice of a desert drink, but he could already feel a soothing tingle in the pitt of his stomach that sent a smile of relief across his face.
"Gridania...." Â He thought to himself, casting his eyes about the tavern. Â "What sort of folk are in Gridania....?"Â
"So let me get this straight, you came to Gridania to convince the Wood Wailers and Gods' Quiver to use you as a target dummy for their training regimen?"  Mother Miounne couldn't help the amusement that curled the edge of her lips as she shot a level gaze to the silvery haired gentleman standing across the counter top to her.
"Well...it sounds daft when you say it that way.  Ahem..."  He cleared his throat and took a breath, suppressing the laugh that came naturally to the absurdity of her claim.  "I am offering myself as a training tool to help their brave and noble members perfect their skills while I ask for nothing in return.  Any experience taking a strike or fending off another is a welcome experience."  He flashed a quick grin while reaching over to grab the two mugs of whatever they had decided to give him when he simply asked for two mugs of the 'local special'.
Miounne couldn't help the stifled laugh that slipped past her lithe fingers covering her lips. Â "You realize how hard it is to believe that looking the way you do?"
Jeris Guillford gave a look of disbelief, teasing as it was. Â "I don't know what you mean. Â Clearly the wood wailers took me up on the offer." Â He lifted the mugs to her with a nod and a grin. Â "And folks say they can be unkind to outsiders!"
Turning from the bar, he made his way to a nearby vacant table, sitting the mugs down and carefully easing himself into a chair. Â He wore a simple wool tunic, his armor carefully stored away in the room he had rented at the Carline Canopy, but from head to toe (wherever it was visible that is) he was covered in off-white linen bandages, all the way up to his jawline with a few strips about his brow and nose. Â The faint blue streak of a tattoo peaked out from the side of his cheek, with a faint grey hint of a beard beginning to take shape along his jawline. Â He was older than many of the adventurers he'd come across, but aside from the long silvery hair pulled into a ponytail and the hint of white hair filling in the recently shaved sides of his head that matched his 5 o'clock shadow, he held a distinguished youthfulness in his features.
Not that any of that would stop the teasing from some of his peers back in Ul'dah. Â Far too many hot heads join the Gladiators with far too much confidence and a severe lack of tenacity to back it up. Â In fact, it was that unwavering tenacity that earned him the nick name 'the Iron Blooded.' Â His graying hair had been the source of many jokes at his expense, but it quickly became a symbol for just how tough he had been. Â After even the most furious assault, it was rare for him to be brought low, as if his very veins were made of iron.
That was Ul'dah however. Â He'd gained that toughness by doing exactly what he hoped to do here with the Pugilists guild. Â It was an agonizing process but the punishment yielded results.
It certainly needed it's recovery time however, and while he'd gotten the healing process to a science at this point, it was nothing miraculous and painless.  With a grunt, he eased the mug up to his mouth to take a long few gulps, welcoming something to take the edge off the ache that permeated throughout his entire body.  Wincing, he sat the mug down and took a deep breath.  It didn't have the spice of a desert drink, but he could already feel a soothing tingle in the pitt of his stomach that sent a smile of relief across his face.
"Gridania...." Â He thought to himself, casting his eyes about the tavern. Â "What sort of folk are in Gridania....?"Â
