5th Of Summer, 513 AV
Strike. Slash. Cut.
K had been practicing in the woods for about five bells now, sweat beading down his face, he was forcing himself to train. For Kise's boxing outmatched his skills with the scythe, and that was purely unacceptable. He sat in a clearing, the clearing he somehow always managed to find, with two logs separated by a dead camp fire. Flaking with ember, it still gave off a nice firm heat, enough to get the masochistic mind of K revved up a bit. He would train in his scythe, and every time he made a mistake he would go do ten full body dips. Using his old judgement scythe of course, he wasn't ready to use the new one Haddy had made for him, he'd rather used something more comfortable. Of course in the end, both scythes were invaluable and priceless, it's just that he preferred to keep the new one scratchless as long as possible.
A horizontal swing from right to left, cutting the air and whispering back to the wind, he held a firm southpaw stance. Holding his scythe low, and at midsection, slashing the air horribly. "Hyah! Huh! Die!" He yelled as he spun, his moves were awful, but he was learning. He was getting stronger, tackling the little stuff every moment. Holding the scythe over hand, with both hands, he swung down as hard as he could. Losing his scythe as it was plunged into the earth, he was now weaponless, defenseless, and overall weak. Well besides his boxing, but that's not what mattered to him, it was the fact he lost his scythe. "Aaahh! Dammit!" He groaned as he walked over to the two logs, placing one hand on both, he felt the warm nice heat under him. Down, one. Down two. Down three. He was already thirty percent done, and that's when he felt it, the huge burn of the fire. As the heat began to rise, he would have to finish this training soon or he would be burnt, odd thinking that this was one Ser Corben had taught him.
Shouting out loud to put his mind some where else, he tried not to think of the burning sensation in dhow buttox, but failed miserably. "Down, four! Down five! Down, ... Six! Seven! Ei-ine! Ten!" He yelled, quickly jumping off of the punishment zone, rolling a bit on the ground. "Oh dear gods! Sweet mother of... Petch it, the pain is gone anyway.." He rose up to his feet and used his strength wiggling the scythe, eventually yanking it out of the ground, dirt flying up like ants. Starting of with a basic southpaw stance, he jabbed the scythe like it was a pole or spear. Quickly spinning he swiped the air, making a full revolution, then he did something unexpected. He swung on an inverted and irregular angle, his scythe lunging into the ground again. Except this time he went with it. He decided to follow the flow of battle like his master had taught him to. Swinging off of the pole, he jumped forward, using the momentum and strength to manipulate the weapon. Holding it overhand once more, he yanked it from the earth, hauling it in a vicious speedy arc. "Hyah!" He yelled as it finally slash the ground, not plunging into the planet but definitely leaving a huge gash in mother nature.
"Finally..." He said after huffing and puffing a bit to himself. It seemed that his master's teaching were paying off, not only was his body getting buffer every week, but he was getting stronger. It all was coming together. This was just a small piece of a gigantic puzzle. But then again...
What did you expect from Syliras prodigy.
Strike. Slash. Cut.
K had been practicing in the woods for about five bells now, sweat beading down his face, he was forcing himself to train. For Kise's boxing outmatched his skills with the scythe, and that was purely unacceptable. He sat in a clearing, the clearing he somehow always managed to find, with two logs separated by a dead camp fire. Flaking with ember, it still gave off a nice firm heat, enough to get the masochistic mind of K revved up a bit. He would train in his scythe, and every time he made a mistake he would go do ten full body dips. Using his old judgement scythe of course, he wasn't ready to use the new one Haddy had made for him, he'd rather used something more comfortable. Of course in the end, both scythes were invaluable and priceless, it's just that he preferred to keep the new one scratchless as long as possible.
A horizontal swing from right to left, cutting the air and whispering back to the wind, he held a firm southpaw stance. Holding his scythe low, and at midsection, slashing the air horribly. "Hyah! Huh! Die!" He yelled as he spun, his moves were awful, but he was learning. He was getting stronger, tackling the little stuff every moment. Holding the scythe over hand, with both hands, he swung down as hard as he could. Losing his scythe as it was plunged into the earth, he was now weaponless, defenseless, and overall weak. Well besides his boxing, but that's not what mattered to him, it was the fact he lost his scythe. "Aaahh! Dammit!" He groaned as he walked over to the two logs, placing one hand on both, he felt the warm nice heat under him. Down, one. Down two. Down three. He was already thirty percent done, and that's when he felt it, the huge burn of the fire. As the heat began to rise, he would have to finish this training soon or he would be burnt, odd thinking that this was one Ser Corben had taught him.
Shouting out loud to put his mind some where else, he tried not to think of the burning sensation in dhow buttox, but failed miserably. "Down, four! Down five! Down, ... Six! Seven! Ei-ine! Ten!" He yelled, quickly jumping off of the punishment zone, rolling a bit on the ground. "Oh dear gods! Sweet mother of... Petch it, the pain is gone anyway.." He rose up to his feet and used his strength wiggling the scythe, eventually yanking it out of the ground, dirt flying up like ants. Starting of with a basic southpaw stance, he jabbed the scythe like it was a pole or spear. Quickly spinning he swiped the air, making a full revolution, then he did something unexpected. He swung on an inverted and irregular angle, his scythe lunging into the ground again. Except this time he went with it. He decided to follow the flow of battle like his master had taught him to. Swinging off of the pole, he jumped forward, using the momentum and strength to manipulate the weapon. Holding it overhand once more, he yanked it from the earth, hauling it in a vicious speedy arc. "Hyah!" He yelled as it finally slash the ground, not plunging into the planet but definitely leaving a huge gash in mother nature.
"Finally..." He said after huffing and puffing a bit to himself. It seemed that his master's teaching were paying off, not only was his body getting buffer every week, but he was getting stronger. It all was coming together. This was just a small piece of a gigantic puzzle. But then again...
What did you expect from Syliras prodigy.
