Shynthriir was at the arena again today, and why wouldn't he; it was his job after all. He had no students that needed teacher as of yet and decided to practice his own skill with a sword, or two as it was. The day was as good as any to be practicing. The sun was high, but the air was not hot. The wind wasn't strong, but strong enough to blow Shynthriir's long hair out of his face enough that he could leave his hood off his head. He felt free here, as free as anywhere in all of Imythess. He was repected, honored, and most of all, he was wanted. People came to see him for knowledge of weapons, they wanted him. It was something that rarely happened in this drow's life, for he was, after all, drow.

It didn't matter now though. He had time to practice by himself, or until someone else came for lessons. He lifted his scimitars, keeping their tips angled toward the ground. He imagined a target in front of him and prepared himself for a practice run both mentally and physically. He took in a break to calm his nerves and then cleared him mind of everything but the target at hand.

His right scimitar moved up as he started to walk forward. It came out to the side and then up, only to come down at the target that was not there. It didn't matter though, he continued his movements flasslessly. He moved that blade back out and then quickened his pace with his natuaral abilities that he gained through much training. His left blade came up low and then out to the side, his right blade comnig in behind it. He spun around and prepared his left blade for a defense that would have been needed if there was in fact a blade that it would normally have to block. He then shifted his weight to come to a knee and then bring his right blade up to the gut of the invisible target and then he came again to his knees with a follow up with his left blade.

He continued the practice for some time, taking the person that he formed in his mind hit for hit in the attack routines. His movements were practiced and perfected and his movements a blur from being twice as fast as most people. It would hav ebeen a grand sight to most people that were watchinf from a distance, his blades showing their movement by the reflection of the sun's light. It was trely a good day to practice.

As the beginning of a New month arrived, Kore knew as a veteran Weapons Master he had to go around and check on the other teachers. Walking in the outdoor arena, he noticed a man too skilled to look like a student. He figured it was a new teacher. He smirked and approached the elf.

Reaching the area he was in, Kore brought his hand to his sword and drew it slowly. As the sword was unsheathed, the bright glimmer of it reflecting into the face of the elf he stood in front of. Noticeably were several handmade notches by the handle.

You're a fresh face, aren't ya? The name's Kore and I was wondering if I'm not intruding if you'd allow me to practice with you. *He usually practiced with all the teachers, just to keep his skills fresh.* I saw your moves and I for one am impressed. Not many people can successfully wield two swords, so seeing you doing this is a real treat.

One sword matched the other in another bluring motion of his scimitars cutting across the air. He was moving to make his next attack when a light hit his eyes. Normally he would have ignored it, but he knew he was in no danger, there was nothing he was really attacking. He stopped his movements and turned. Shynthriir placed his right scimitar's point to the ground and then used to to lean upon and then lat the other lay over his left shoulder.

The man said his name was Kore, a name that Shynthriir knew he recognized from somewhere. Where, he couldn't think of at the moment. Was it someone that he had met in teh past? No, it couldn't have been, he remembered faces better than that. Then he remembered, the name was on a list somewhere at this school. He was another weapon master here.

Shynthriir simply nodded his head, for he couldn't bow with his weapons in their current situations. Well met Kore. My name is Shynthriir, and yes, I am new here. Shynthriir smiled, he had wanted to be of this position for a long itm enow, finally he had gotten here.

Two weapons? You get used to it I guess, though perhaps you need some practice in the art. Once you get used to them both, it seems to be all one weapon. They simply blend together and you then wish to fight with nothing else.

As for a practice routine, I should not refuse, though I do need a minute of rest if you may. I am a little tired, I have been out here longer than you may think.

*He smirked as he guess was correct.* As you can already assume what my choice of weapon is. This hunk of refined metal has been with me through a lot of times without falter, as I'm sure those scimitars have for you.

*Kore sheathed his sword and left his hand at the handle of his samurai blade* I would love to wield two swords, for the fluidity in it seems entrancing. But Fate decided that I would stay with one weapon.* When he said that, he raised the half of his other arm that remained from the accident in Norwood forest.* I don't mind it really, and when push comes to shove, I can, only for a few minutes, conjure a prosthetic made from the magic I control. I look down on using i, but sometimes I need it and have no other choice.*He shrugged and looked at the spot where the rest of his arm should be.

Acknowledging Shynthriir's fatigue, he laughed and patted his shoulder* Go ahead, rest. And when you're ready, let me know and we shall begin.

Shynthriir looked up to the large, cloudless sky and took in a deep breath, letting it out as he came to look back at Kore, standing not but a few yards in front of him. Everyone has their preference, though finding it is the difficult task. Some believe they have found their weapon of choice, yet they fight miserably, which only shows that they have not, in fact, choice the weapon which calls to their deepest desires. he gave a brief pause to let the words soak in.

I am ready now though, and would surely enjoy so see what you can do with your own blade.Always have I gotten better by taking the peaks of other people's fighting and then adapting it to my own. I will only grow better with seeing the work of a new blade.

Shynthriir drew out his scimitars from his belt with a criss-crossing manner of his hands, the metal glistened in the sunlight. I supposed there is to be no magic allowed? I will fight either way, and will ealve the desision up to you.