Out of Character:
Jacob Narmolanya sat cross-legged on a soft, grassy field a short hike from Underwood. He meditated with both eyes open, studying the subtle rises and falls of the earth, the curvature of the grass, and the shapes of the trees surrounding the clearing. He was still as a mountain's peak; he was calm as the ocean floor; he was...
... "To Haide with this," the young half-elf muttered. He straightened his legs and leaned back on his arms and slouched. He snared a pack of pre-rolled tobacco cigarettes from his inside pocket and lit one with a practiced arcane flourish. The smoke seeped into his lungs and soothed the crick in his neck better than an hour of proper posture, which was what his instructor had recommended.
Jake took another drag and then removed his cloth cap, letting dirty blond locks fall below his ears. He'd let his hair grow longer than usual, and was considering adopting a topknot after the Akashiman style. Josh said his skill with a blade had long since surpassed that of the average samurai.
Thinking of his instructor caused the wiry youth's green eyes to dart to the line he'd drawn in a section of bare dirt, and the stick he'd jabbed into it perhaps a yard away. He'd measured twice; when the stick's shadow cross the line it would be time to bring Josh back from Dheathain. Jake finished the cigarette and extinguished it on the ground and buried the butt.
He put his left hand on his hip to balance the tonfa strapped there and sprang upright like a snake uncoiling. He unsheathed his liviol fighting stick faster than a crane could catch a litefish and flowed into a one-footed form; the leaping leopard. Jake bent his leg and leapt forward with an overhead strike and then swept across the meadow, fencing with a half dozen invisible opponents at once. Joshua Cronen might consider meditating in the woods for an hour a good use of time, but Jake would always work on his swordsmanship given the chance. He practiced until afternoon fully bled into evening, and then suddenly remembered why he was there when he nearly tripped over the stick.
"Blood and guts" he cursed, realizing he was perhaps five minutes late. He sheathed his tonfa and reached inside his sifan jacket, touching the enchanted quill there more out of familiarity than necessity. He drew on its power and focused his energy with both hands raised and conjured a portal in the shape of a simple oaken door with a brass knob. On the other side of the known world an identical door appeared, and sure as Am'aleh ruled the seas he hoped Cronen would be ready to come through it.
Jake waited tensely for a few moments and then ran to where he'd left his bow and arrows along with his haversack. He knocked an arrow and arranged his feet and waited, relaxing more with each breath. His leather boots ground further into the grass and he half-drew, sighting the oaken door at head height. If anyone came through behind Josh...
The door opened with a bang, or rather it would have if there'd been a wall to bang against. Joshua Cronen tumbled through, rolling to a stop on four points and spinning about until he spotted his apprentice.
"Jake, no! She's a friend!" Josh cried.
The half-elf lowered his bow but kept the arrow knocked, preparing to dismiss the portal as soon as this friend arrived.
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