Dawn by the lake.

[Grayell]

(This is open to any player or GM for that matter, not looking to run off and kill a bunch of stuff but meh. Just some RP.)

It was still dark when Grayell finished his night roaming the woods and arrived at the lake. The waters were serene, almost still and the early birds had started their day in anticipation of the sun.

He walked along the lake for a time, mind filled with thoughts that had their share of troubles but mercifully lacked the recent complications of women. He smiled, feeling like he might be making some progress with his personal affairs and the Guard as well and looked across the water, watching the fog recede and roll into the foothills.

Light started to grey the sky and whilst the sun had not yet crept over the horizon, he found a pleasant spot and went about stripping down to nothing but his pants. He began with sitting, a silent mediation; focusing on his stillness of mind and breathing. It was not his entire focus but more a preparation.

With the first rays of the sun starting to weave over the far hills, Grayell stood on the sand and rocks, feet cold but feeling the textures and movement beneath him. His hands were palms up, fingers almost touching in front of his diaphragm, his feet together. His head was bowed, his eyes closed.

With the first breath, a slow, controlled and easy breath, his left foot lifted, dragged his toes through the sand in an arc and settled in front of him. His hands turned, pushed palms outward gently and his eyes opened, staring into nothing. His knees bent slowly, his back leaned forward and with a fluid rotation that rolled with the ebb of the lake, his hands parted, his right before his left, fingers casually open.

[Grayell]

He reached there for a moment, his breath completing. As he drew in new breath, his hands wound in, his left palm up once more and his right, as if holding a cup. He turned at the hips, his right foot leaving the ground, his knee parallel to his waist and with an elegant but deliberate rotation he came to face the other direction. His left leg stretched, his right foot turned out before setting down and leaning forward, his left hand rested at his side whilst his right drifted out. His arm bent at the elbow, his right hand wavered in the air as if balancing a tea cup on a saucer until it then stood still.

His hand unwound and folded over, pressed a lazy palm out whilst his left hand left his side and copied the motion, his arms outstretched. His left foot lifted and crossed over behind him, his body lowering as he stepped through and twisted - bringing his knee to the ground. His torso leaned and he swept, his chest almost skimming the sand in a slow spin, arms arched out and up like a bird who would fly over the water.

The turn gained momentum and as his right leg was brought up, his knee pulled high, above his waist, his foot pointed down but toes pulled back. He rocked onto the ball of his left leg and his arms rose high above him before rippling down like water to his waist, then pulled back. His fingers met his thumbs like he was plucking a grape and his right hand coiled to rest behind his left, both in line with his eyes.

Still standing on his left leg alone, he stretched higher and his waist bent, shoulders rolling forward to curve his form up and slightly forward. He hissed out a breath, slow and controlled and swayed, much like an insect in the breeze.

[John Harding]

Early morning swims had always been something of a favorite past time for Jonah, ever since he was in tribal diapers. Immersing himself completely in the intense and refreshing chilly waters had repeatedly been the best way to start the day, so when the tribesman had heard about this lake not too far from town he knew he had to go and have a look for himself.

As he made his way towards the water's edge, breathing in the cool morning air, he noticed someone else a little further down the shore; another early starter, it seemed. Whoever it was, they appeared to be in deep concentration so Jonah chose not to interrupt. The tribesman began removing his shirt and sandals.

[Grayell]

Grayell's right leg raised, his foot extended to point skyward before folding, then stepping out. causing him to lunge far forward. His hands pulled back to this right side before rolling, heels of his palms pressed together and then extending, both hands pressed out as he lowered. Exhale slowly and.... he had company.

Grayell stood up and waved.

Ho stranger. Good day for it.

[John Harding]

Oh, morning there.

Jonah waved back after kicking off his last sandal. Suddenly the tribesman thought he recalled seeing this man before. He scooped up his things and moved closer to confirm his assumption.

Hope i'm not intruding. Aren't you the guy from town - the one who called for a council?

[Grayell]

Grayell had crossed the last of the distance between them and smiled when Jonah asked.

Well yes actually. We ah... haven't met. Grayell.

Grayell offered a hand.

[John Harding]

The tribesman shook Grayell's hand.

Jonah. I was one of those random voices in the crowd.

He laughed.

So Grayell, you come out here to clear your mind before a busy day in town? Have to say, I don't blame you. It's quite a sight.

He looked back over the gentle waters.

[Grayell]

Grayell followed his gaze and smiled, breathing deeply.

Yeah. It certainly is.

Grayell looked back to Jonah.

You're not from around these parts. Makes two of us then.

[John Harding]

Thought as much. I'd imagine this town would have been whipped into shape years ago had you been one of the locals. Heard you've made quite a few changes.

Jonah didn't want to delve too much into council business. Grayell probably didn't want to about work when he was out here trying to relax.

Traveled long and far too?

[Grayell]

Grayell looked at the ground and scratched the back of his head with a shrug.

Yes. Yes I have. North Western plains, the fánaí. A long ways from home you might say. Yourself?

[John Harding]

Yes, i've spent the best part of a decade traveling here and there. I'm originally from the Vulkurian Valley, out in the Yonderlands. I've been back to visit many times but the call of adventure always brings me back out into the big wide world.

So, what brought you to Wistvale?

[Grayell]

A drunken stupor.

Grayell laughed and shook his head, laughed some more.

It is true though. Rough times I suppose. I'd heard Wistvale was a great place to pick up some work if you were a mercenary, which I was at the time.

[John Harding]

Sorry to hear that. I'm assuming things have picked up for you now though.

Jonah had seen many men throw away their lives to the bottle. It was never a pleasant thing to witness but he was glad to see that Grayell had managed to put himself back together again. The tribesman asked for no details; Grayell's personal life was his own business and if he wanted to explain further it was his choice.

So you were a merc, eh? Ever encounter a dragon? I've always wanted to see one, Jonah said, emphatically, but every time I've followed a lead - most of the time some local folk tale - it ends with me spending hours delving into a deep, dark cave and finding nothing but a disgruntled troll or a short-tempered minotaur. He sighed. Oh well. Good things come to those who show great patience.

[Grayell]

A dragon huh?

Grayell drew in a deep breath and slid onto a log. He stared the lake a moment, eyes drifting back to the memory.

Yeah. Yeah I have. On the ice. Nasty piece of work it was.

[John Harding]

Wow, what happened? Were you on your own?

Jonah's eyes widened, his fascination clearly showing on his face.