Summer 3rd 505 A.v [ Flashback ]
Today a harrowing summer wind rolled in, and sent chills throughout Hollands body. He felt as if he wandered about aimlessly. Lost and without any sense of direction; he gave up. The Mountains weren’t a place for a young fifteen year old teenager. Not one like Holland he had no experience in navigating through woods. He heard the blood curdling screams of nature, and didn’t like it one bit. Having been alone and felt isolated from the world he didn’t quite know how to react. He shouldn’t have been out and about today, and he should’ve listened to the tales his father told him about The Cobalt Mountains. Rolandor Rolandus told him that “Tis’ not a place for young men to be traveling alone.” Holland didn’t want to believe what was going on at the moment. He couldn’t even see very far and felt as if he was surrounded by a thick fog. He’d already lost any and all sense he had of direction, and couldn’t even think. Holland thought he would be able to turn around and walk away immediately. Yet, the more he thought about the fact that he’d walked this way for many bells. He knew that he wouldn’t simply be able to escape the wild-lands without some sort of obstacle standing in his way.
He turned about in a complete spherical motion. Following backward the several prints of his boots found within the soil. Attempting to track himself back to his initial location, and get back home to his father. Rolandor was much more of a man who believed in learning by experience. Holland knew he wouldn’t even be in trouble when he returned home. Trial and error was his fathers’ favorite method of teaching, and Holland hated every bit of it. Disciplinary action followed majority of everything else he did in his life. Yet, when it came to dangerous things of this nature his father didn’t care at all whatsoever. Holland was quite the rebellious child at heart, but he honored his fathers’ words. Holland looked about swiftly, making several observations about his surroundings. Making sure he paced himself to endure the incredibly long walk back home. Burning and stinging occurred in his heels as his feet grew numb from walking the incredibly long distance. The sheer ache was absolutely agonizing, and enduring the pain was far beyond him. Even if Holland had to crawl he would attempt making it home. Holland typically wasn’t the type of person to give up; especially if giving up potentially meant that he would die.
Holland carried no more then his rapier at his side that he constantly trained with. Holland thought of an idea rather swiftly. “Why don’t I train as I go so that I can both improve my endurance and my skills with this blade?” His conscious spoke as he clasped the hilt of his rapier. His right hand grasped hold of it in a strangulation, and he drew the blade from its scabbard immediately. Holland had already been training as of recent and got a feel for the light-weight steel. The full blade length extended 38.7 inches outward and the haft length in combination to that added an additional eight inches.
Hollands trembling hands held the rapier. For the first time he discovered that the weapon was not simply one handed. Holland coiled his right hands fingertips around the haft of the weapon. Whereas his left hands palm was placed beneath the pommel of the weapon. Holland swung once in a vertical cleaving motion the blade descended from heavenward to the ground below. The weapon collided with the dirt kicking up a bit of the sediment and vibrated within his hands. Holland felt the difference in force when he swung the blade like this.
Today a harrowing summer wind rolled in, and sent chills throughout Hollands body. He felt as if he wandered about aimlessly. Lost and without any sense of direction; he gave up. The Mountains weren’t a place for a young fifteen year old teenager. Not one like Holland he had no experience in navigating through woods. He heard the blood curdling screams of nature, and didn’t like it one bit. Having been alone and felt isolated from the world he didn’t quite know how to react. He shouldn’t have been out and about today, and he should’ve listened to the tales his father told him about The Cobalt Mountains. Rolandor Rolandus told him that “Tis’ not a place for young men to be traveling alone.” Holland didn’t want to believe what was going on at the moment. He couldn’t even see very far and felt as if he was surrounded by a thick fog. He’d already lost any and all sense he had of direction, and couldn’t even think. Holland thought he would be able to turn around and walk away immediately. Yet, the more he thought about the fact that he’d walked this way for many bells. He knew that he wouldn’t simply be able to escape the wild-lands without some sort of obstacle standing in his way.
He turned about in a complete spherical motion. Following backward the several prints of his boots found within the soil. Attempting to track himself back to his initial location, and get back home to his father. Rolandor was much more of a man who believed in learning by experience. Holland knew he wouldn’t even be in trouble when he returned home. Trial and error was his fathers’ favorite method of teaching, and Holland hated every bit of it. Disciplinary action followed majority of everything else he did in his life. Yet, when it came to dangerous things of this nature his father didn’t care at all whatsoever. Holland was quite the rebellious child at heart, but he honored his fathers’ words. Holland looked about swiftly, making several observations about his surroundings. Making sure he paced himself to endure the incredibly long walk back home. Burning and stinging occurred in his heels as his feet grew numb from walking the incredibly long distance. The sheer ache was absolutely agonizing, and enduring the pain was far beyond him. Even if Holland had to crawl he would attempt making it home. Holland typically wasn’t the type of person to give up; especially if giving up potentially meant that he would die.
Holland carried no more then his rapier at his side that he constantly trained with. Holland thought of an idea rather swiftly. “Why don’t I train as I go so that I can both improve my endurance and my skills with this blade?” His conscious spoke as he clasped the hilt of his rapier. His right hand grasped hold of it in a strangulation, and he drew the blade from its scabbard immediately. Holland had already been training as of recent and got a feel for the light-weight steel. The full blade length extended 38.7 inches outward and the haft length in combination to that added an additional eight inches.
Hollands trembling hands held the rapier. For the first time he discovered that the weapon was not simply one handed. Holland coiled his right hands fingertips around the haft of the weapon. Whereas his left hands palm was placed beneath the pommel of the weapon. Holland swung once in a vertical cleaving motion the blade descended from heavenward to the ground below. The weapon collided with the dirt kicking up a bit of the sediment and vibrated within his hands. Holland felt the difference in force when he swung the blade like this.
