Zan ran a hand through his hair nervously as he accepted his staff from a guard, distraction evident in his face as he looked towards the impassive face of his grandmother. This wasn't his usual training staff, mostly harmless but designed for extensive use. This was the [i]family[/i] staff which only left the house on special occasions. He trusted its dark, polished wood, but not in his own hands. After a few tentative spins, he decided it was eerily easy to remember how he had used it last time in a spar and [i]lost[/i].

His own opponent was both younger and slightly shorter than he was, dark haired and using some sort of long spear weapon. It was similar in length to his own staff and, if he was honest with himself, the whole thing seemed premeditated; however, he believed the best of the Moreno family. He wouldn't doubt them.

"Hi," Zan said with an unusual amount of cheer. The boy named Girim glared back at him. [i]Ooookay then.[/i]

As the fight started, he held back from initial instinct to rush and rush [i]now[/i]. He was not nor would he ever be an aggressive fighter – not since his grandmother had trained him out of that particular bad habit. Going on the offensive was for blades and idiots, or idiots [i]with[/i] blades. Clearly Carlisle didn't have the same problem, but the staff was a nobler weapon than some gauntlet monstrosity.

The distance between Zan and his opponent was made longer by the combinations of long-distance weaponry; however, he knew Girim would attack first. That's what spears were for!