Pushing It

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Crafted largely of stone, the Colosseum sits heavily in the midst of the district. Effectively a giant arena, seats form its sweeping sides like the forefront of a great stage. At its center is a stained, stone floor. Each end is overseen by the opposing statues of Kor and Angoron, their arms raised and each holding weapons in gestures of triumph. Staged at a crossroads, their stone gazes stand in eternal challenge over the battlefield floor. Angoron's statue appears to have something of a smirk, opposing Kor's dreadful scowl.

Construction here is on the massive scale. The Arena's stone form was carried piece by piece from the Redridge. Borne on the shoulders of ancient oruch and formed by the tireless hands of the khazad, it is second to none in ancient craftsmanship. Old tribal and clan symbols, nearly worn away, reveal themselves when blood and sweat pools in their minor crevices. Their unusual display brings to life, if only for moments, memories of warrior traditions past. It is for this reason the Arena serves as a diplomatic grounds for some cultures, as well as sport and competition.

Beneath the arena's stage are preparation rooms for competitors, and retiring areas for the wounded. Here, warriors are tended to by aids and medics, by coaches and priests. Tarianic laughter echoes from the chambers on the Angorite side. These unseen areas run alongside a cleverly, khazad-designed system to flood the arena's floor for certain performances. When flooded, the arena draws waters from the nearby Tornmawr. During these occasions anything is possible, as even the Nar-Sektoth have been known to visit from far off Am'shere, and display their powers beneath the gods' banners.

The encircling seats provide a grand view, while vendors often walk the aisle ways between, selling food or taking bets. Clear as blood is the single, red line drawn down the arena's center between the twin statues, daring an opponent to cross.
                
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The Colosseum is quiet, even on this bright, beautiful spring day, its massive archways and stone columns awaiting the next competitors to test the crowds and each other. On one side of the stands, though, a single figure is visible, more noticeable for the movement down there than anything else. His crutch set aside and leaning against one of the stone benches, Asmli stands on another one and focuses intently on the stone bench before him, clearly preparing to jump from one to the next. The sunlight glints off of a leg that is gold-plated from a handspan below the right hip, all the way to the foot, finely-tuned gears within moving of their own accord as he does.

The light clatter of wooden sandals on stone begins to intrude upon the area, until a Gobbo in a red gi appears, a small rolled up mat balanced upon one shoulder. She eyes the Khazad curiously, taking in the artifice leg with a look of approval. Apparently decided upon where she shall sit, she unfurls the mat on the same bench that Asmli currently stands balanced upon. Choler settles down cross-legged, and places the back of her palms upon her knees. Her eyes close and... meditation begins.

Asmli looks over at the gobber, warily at first and then with curiosity, but momentarily turns back to his own exercise. He gauges carefully, then - makes the jump. Or, tries to make the jump. He manages it, but doesn't quite seem to have full control, and his arms flail as he tries to regain his balance on the new bench. Eventually, he steadies, straightens, and walks along the length of the bench, slowly and carefully and in the way of one who does not yet trust himself.

While her eyes remain closed, at least when he is observing her, she does speak. "First day with your new foot?", she wonders, quietly.

"Just had it upgraded," Asmli answers, stopping to look over at the Gobbo. "Don't have all the muscle back in my real one, either." He continues to walk back and forth, slowly, and close examination will reveal that the other leg is, in fact, thinner than it should be beneath the trousers that he wears, given the bulk and heft of a khazad who clearly was once a warrior-type. He jumps again, this time to the next one up, and this jump is a bit more secure.

"Oh? Is that the gold plating? Or do ye mean the internals?" Her eyes open and she peers at Asmli, watching his second jump more closely. "Well, if you are coming here to train, you'll be in fine form in no time. You hired the right person, the artifice is quite good."

"Got both," Asmli adds, grinning at the jump he just landed, the smile brightening his craggy features. "See you know Stirling Ironheel's work, then. Yeah, he's been a big help. Guild got him involved when I lost it, or so I guess. Moves much more smoothly, still can't feel it, though." He shakes his head. "Know I never will, and that takes some getting used to.

Choler snorts and nods. "I am familiar with fine craftsmanship, not his work specifically. Though, I guess you lost it in a difficult place. Normally the clerics can heal it back into place, you know?" She slowly stands and hops to the same bench as he, making the two jumps in quick succession. "I can say I've had chunks taken out of me an' there's nary a scar." The Gobbo approaches more closely, looking more intently at the finer workings of the artificial leg, those that can be seen. "You Khazad live long lives. Could be that between now and your time, they might find a way to make feeling possible. A small hope, perhaps, but maybe something to hope for?"

"Fell in a magma river on a Guild job," Asmli explains tersely, although good-naturedly enough. "Were lucky to save the one, I'm told." He turns the leg, pulling up the trouser leg so that she can see more clearly. "Maybe. Sure is impressive work." He looks down at it. "No matter. What doesn't kill me makes me stronger, right? Sure I'll get used to it. Soon as I can make the climb back to my Clan, might pick up a weapon again." There's eagerness there - he's looking forward to it.

She pffts and shakes her head. "Need to stop skipping leg day, yes?" The Gobbo giggles and nods to him enthusiastically. "Why wait til ye get back up the mountain? Pick up a sword here and ye can get back to murdering things that go bump in the dark." Her hands up come suddenly, and she aims a poke at the Khazad's stomach.

"Know how to use one, but sword's not my weapon," Asmli laughs, but before he can say anything else, there's a poke incoming at his stomach. Swiftly, instinctively, he moves to block it, dropping into a ready stance that, as he said, is not typical of a sword, but of a longer weapon of some type, perhaps a polearm, or one of the khazadi-developed weapons. He seems to do it without thinking, the artificial leg obeying him without question. "Hey! What was that for? Leg day's every day, gobber."

She grins toothily, but continues. Her hands begin to blur slightly, and most of her jabs or pokes are merely feints. Choler swats at his attempts to stop or impede her, attempting to push his guard farther away from himself. But generally it looks as though she is working towards getting a really good poke in. "Defend yerself!", she roars, seemingly increasing her hand speed further.

Asmli does his best, reacting instinctively, but he's clearly out of practice, and she'll get her poke in quickly enough. "Ow! Hey, what was that for?" He roars laughter, though, and comes back again, this time aiming to poke her right back with spread hands, not fists, moving from defense to attack. "You'll pay for that!"

The Gobbo squeaks, both in triumph and then surprise. Laughing, she moves completely to defense, and moves around to keep Asmli on his toes. "Uh huh, perhaps. But consider this: both of your legs did exactly what you wanted them to do, when you needed them to. Flawlessly. Your live one perhaps a bit out of step, but it just needs a good workout and it'll be good, yes?"

Asmli stops short at that point, looking down in surprise. "I - I guess they did." He lowers his hands, flexing the live one experimentally. "It'll be sore tomorrow, but ...." The artificial one seems to move well and hold him just fine - when he doesn't think about it.

Choler grins toothily and nods to him. "See? You are further along that you gave yourself credit for. I learned, while I was training to become one of Kor's monks, that muscle builds up twice as fast as it takes to lose muscle. So if you are only on your back for a little while, you do not lose much. The old you is still there... waiting for you to pick up your tools again and get back to work." Her expression takes on a mischievous look and she lunges forward, the fingertips of one hand aiming at his stomach once again.

"It's ... a little different ... when it burned away," Asmli answers, defending himself as best he can from her pokes. He's good, but she'll get through a couple of times. "Ow! Hey!" There's no real pain in it, just outrage, and it's accompanied by laughter. Clearly, he isn't angry, and soon enough, he goes on the attack again, looking to get a little of his own back.

She stops when he mentions burning away, and will make a pained, unladylike grunt when he thrusts a hand into her relatively soft belly. Four or five quick slaps to the offending hand later, she is bouncing away again, clattering about on her wooden sandals. "So I am called Choler.", she says by way of introduction.

"Asmli, of Clan Stonesmasher." Asmli doesn't stop, or let down his guard, still watching the gobber intently even as he shakes the slapped hand. "Choler, eh? Seems like a good name for a gobber." He grins at her suddenly. "So is this what you do? Challenge people who need it?"

"Well met, then, Asmli of Clan Stonesmasher. That is a proper Khazad name." She grins toothily and offers a shrug. "No, it is not a thing I do. I challenge people because I need it. Need to fight to become better. Need to push myself. Which means pushing other people." Which she immediately attempts, lunging forward in an attempt to push at the Dwarf.

Startled, Asmli instinctively takes a step backwards to brace for impact, putting his full weight on his living leg, and is just about to grab for her wrist when the leg gives way beneath him, leaving him to fall heavily to the stone bench beneath him with a cry, his head hanging off of the edge. "Damn it. I didn't think about that." Grimacing, he tries to sit up.

To add further insult to injury, the Khazad also gets a chestful of Goblin. Her expression goes from mirthful to horrified, and she attempted to grab at the toppling Asmli. She succeeds in snagging his hand, but failed to even slow his descent... taking her along with him. "I'm sorry!", she cries out, after grunting noisily, landing face first. "I didn't mean to push you off!"

"Ya didn't. It gave out on me." Asmli rolls over, then looks at the gobber. "You all right? Sorry about that." Slowly, he sits up, rubbing at the back of his shoulder. "Guess I gave it a good workout." The Gobbo still seems upset, and nods slowly. "I'm okay. But I am sorry. I pushed a little too much." She stands and stretches, a few pops and snaps here and there, and she grunts. She then offers Asmli a hand, intent on getting him to his feet. "How is your head? I uh felt it when you smacked it on the bench."

"My shoulder, not my head." Asmli brushes it off with a cheery grin, still rubbing at the shoulder. "An' you ain't know. I gotta push it to improve it, right?" He starts to take the hand, then thinks better of it and plants one hand on the stone bench he just fell from, the other on the stone next to him. Entirely with upper body strength, he pushes up enough to get first the live leg, then the artificial one, under him, and carefully and gingerly, he stands. "You're right, I have to do it the hard way. You just didn't know that I burned it bad enough that most of the muscle burnt off." No, he won't be fighting tomorrow. "But you showed me something, don't be mad. I can still do it, if I don't think too hard."

Choler wipes at her face for a few moments and nods slowly. "As long as you're sure." She eyes the artificial leg a moment. "I did?" This cheers her up somewhat. The Gobbo grabs at one of his hands and tugs gently on it. "So you'll come back here and do more training?"

"I'm here every day the hammer falls, Choler." Which is the khazad way of putting _I'm here all the time_. She can grab one of Asmli's hands, but he doesn't come with her. "I think I'd better stop for now, though, can you get my crutch?" He points at the wooden thing a couple of benches further down. "Don't rightly trust it..." He tests that live leg, carefully.

She cants her head slightly. "Well it wouldn't fall if you'd pay attention." The Gobbo huffs and eyes the crutch, running to take it up, as well she grabs her small mat. Returning presently, she offers up her mat to him, while she investigates the crutch further.

The crutch is a good, solid length of wood, cut to fit him, and has seen a fair amount of use of late. Asmli takes the mat, looks down at it. "What's this? This one's yours."

"Yes. Could you roll it up for me?" She gives a few test swings of the crutch around, and then holds it to her shoulder. "Pew pew pew." Choler peers to the Khazad, checking on the progress of the mat-rolling.

Asmli scowls, but seats himself on the bench and rolls it up swiftly with meaty hands. When it's done, he holds the mat a little away from her. "Give me the crutch and you'll get your mat." A khazadi grumpy but with twinkling eyes.

The Gobbo offers up the crutch with a cheeky grin, and holds out a hand for the mat. "Thank you!", she says in a sing-song voice. "So when, tomorrow. We need to get in this right away."

"If my healers let me out, yeah." Asmli takes the crutch up and stands, using it to support the living leg. He seems to be a bit more secure for having it, and straightens. "Thanks."