[Flashback] When the real education began (solo)

[Faylon Kwanda]

13th of Fall, 504 [Occasionally Faylon sat longing for things to go back to the way they were but ever since the bar brawl he was involved in two seasons ago it seemed as though the town of Denval had changed for him. Not all for the worst but in many unexpected ways. He and Brock were both sentenced to forms of community service and garrisoning for what was considered their part in starting the brawl or so the stories went and several of their friends, also former farmhands, joined them in one or the other though lighter sentences had been passed in many of their cases. Maybe he just missed working on the farm and having little in the way of expectations but Faylon also found any sort of garrisoning or patrolling to be tedious work that wasted time. After all Denval was surrounded by a huge mass of rock and rubble and aside from the wilderness captured inside of that there was relatively little threat from the land as far as Faylon knew.] [It was the early morning now, weather had started to get colder, and Faylon sat in a scantly wooded area between three small trees next to a fire he’d made. He wasn’t a woodsman by any chance but he knew enough to gather the driest wood he could find and then try to light a fire to keep himself warm. Wet wood invited failure. When he had gathered enough wood he crouched over the dry would and manipulated it into a tent shape so that he could slide grass into it. Next he took his flint and steel and started to spark them together and this became the longest of his tasks.] [Attempting to spark a fire always looked easy when it was done by someone who knew what they were doing but Faylon was quick to note that he was not one of those people. Crouching over his small pile of dried wood it took him at least a quarter bell before he had sparked flame and when he did he would lean closer to blow just a bit on the embers of the grass as they shown, fuelling them as much as he could safely, and then at least his labours were rewarded with a fire. It was small and it would need a bit more wood to keep it going but it was warm for this hour of the morning.] [Faylon and others usually patrolled around Denval at night which was the main reason that he was outside right now. Mainly they stuck close to the town and on the outskirts of the farm but sometimes they ventured further away or went all the way to the road where they could watch the workers. When they were patrolling the armoury gave them Padded Armour, a Longsword and a Spear but not much else. All of this had to be returned to the armoury of course. As Faylon had surmised this was more a punishment then a necessity but it also helped anyone who did it learn the lay of the land around Denval.] [Wearing his Padded Armour Faylon kept his sword sheathed and had leant his spear against one of the trees. He looked over and saw Brock still asleep on his bedroll and shook his head a few times. When he looked in the other direction he could watch as some of the men who worked on the road, chiselling away at the rubble, began to move in their direction to start another days work and he raise his hand to greet them from afar. They returned the greeting and continued on their way. Sometimes Faylon wondered how long it would take for the road to be complete and whether or not it could be done in his life time; he surmised that it would take years to actually make any significant progress though and that if he did see it he might well be an old man by then.] [Mumbling as he crouched down near the fire, extending his hands towards it for warmth, Faylon could be heard saying a few words under his breath. Recently he’d started to learn Denvali after hearing members of the town speaking it. Because Faylon was not a native of Denval in the sense that he was never born in the town even though he had lived the majority of his life in it he had never learned the language growing up but he showed some interest in it now for the sake of communicating with older members of the populace that seemed to have a preference for the tongue. His mastery of the language so far was limited to phrases like... “Yes. No. Thank You. Right. Left. Food.” ...and so forth but at least when people were talking in the language he could now recognize a bit of what they were saying without understanding the complexities of it or being able to participate in the conversation himself.] [While Brock slept Faylon practiced his language skills and found more wood to thrown on the small fire. It wasn’t long now before they were both off shift, though Faylon seemed to be the only one still on duty, and would be able to return to the town. Faylon had other obligations though and wouldn’t be asleep until the afternoon at best, and then he would need to report for this duty again by the 23rd bell. Inwardly he was groaning a bit.]

[Faylon Kwanda]

[Faylon practiced his Denvali for the better part of half a bell before he had enough. While the language did bare some similarities to basic common it was a bit dry, scholarly some might even say, and Faylon found that without a consistent base in it he became a tad irritated attempting to master some of the more difficult pronunciation. Reaching for his water skin he’d uncork it and take a drink before standing and moving away from the small fire. Brock still had a few more minutes to rest so Faylon would work on a few things while he did.] [Shedding his Padded Armour so that he was only wearing a tunic and breaches he cracked his neck from side to side once.] [Walking around one of the trees he found the thickest branch within his reach and leapt up to grab hold of it with both hands. Spacing his arms out equally he ensured that they were a shoulders width apart and then he began lifting himself. Pulling himself up Faylon would tighten his chest and arms, hold for a silent count of three, and then release so that he could lower himself back down before repeating the exercise again. Pull ups were an excellent way to build upper body strength and promote good physical fitness and Faylon had developed a small regime that he would do for himself daily now to ensure he was in good shape. When he did pull ups it was three sets with eight repetitions each and a thirty second resting time between each set. He kept time by counting silently because he’d discovered that counting out loud tended to distract him from his work out.] [It didn’t take him long to finish the first exercise before dropping down from the branch of the tree and back onto his feet. When he had done this he moved onto push ups. Laying down on the ground with hands shoulder width apart again he’d keep his back straight and feet together before pumping his arms and pushing himself higher, off the ground, until they were fully extended and then lowering himself back down onto the ground. Another strength building exercise for the arms and upper body mostly; Faylon liked to complete three sets of push ups with a minimum of twenty repetitions in each and another thirty second waiting period between sets. Usually by the time he had finished them he could feel a decent burn in his limbs and a bit of tightness in his chest but it wasn’t over yet.] [Next were Planks which comprised of Faylon lifting himself onto his elbows, tightened his stomach and holding the pose for a minimum count of ninety. It wasn’t easy either. While holding himself in the correct position it wasn’t uncommon for Faylon to begin to shake a bit keeping himself aloft and his stomach tight. He tried to do this three times but often he settled for twice with no shame. It wasn’t necessarily hard to do a plank but the longer a person was able to hold it the greater their workout was and it wasn’t always comfortable. No pain, no gain though or so he had been told.] [Last in this small exercise regime were sit ups. Rolling over onto his back Faylon drew his knees higher and interlaced his hands together behind his head. Then he’d begin to curl himself upwards until he touched his brow to his knees before lowering himself back down and repeating. Tightening his stomach as he went and ensuring that he breathed correctly by inhaling as he went down and exhaling as he came back up. Sit ups were his most disliked exercise but he did them to help tighten his stomach further. Thirty repetitions and three sets with a minute of rest in between the sets. Faylon was more lax on himself when completing these but he had long since stopped caring considering that when he stood up afterwards he could usually feel it in his abdomen.] [By the time Faylon had finished he had built a light sweat for himself and discovered that the cooler weather had become more of a boon to him, in fact the heightened circulation through his body because of the workout helped to cancel out the cold much like the cold effected his overall warmth, he felt almost comfortable.] [Moving back to the Padded Armour he’d removed Faylon took it and went back to a tree to find a branch that was high enough for him to hang it off of and still ensure that he could reach it comfortably without having to outstretch his arms to far. Pushing the Armour backwards he’d press it tightly against the tree so that it created a cushion for impact but little actual give.] [Faylon was backing up then. Bobbing on the balls of his feet and ensuring his footwork was light and malleable he would pop out a jab. Punching the padded armour as though it were the torso of a man which it was meant to resemble after he had hung it from the tree. He’d pop off a few more jabs after the first keeping them in tight one, two and sometimes three combinations that were quick and direct. Whenever he threw a third jab Faylon made sure to switch his posture. If he was jabbing twice with his right hand he would shift his body and bring his left side forward to deliver the third jab while his right was withdrawing.] [Backpedalling after every series of jabs that he delivered Faylon always made sure he bobbed and weaved. Darting his head from side to side and raising his arms so that he could block or falling into a half crouch so that he could cover up. Half crouch stance being recognized as the middle ground between a boxer who is on the offensive and defensive. When he came back in towards the armour he’d hung from the tree he’d throw hooks to the body, always in a one, two either both from the same direction or one from the right and the other from the left. Changing up his tactics occasionally so that he was less likely to be predictable in a real fight.] [Boxing, as always, was something that Faylon had always loved and he continued to progress and define himself by developing his style. He had powerful punches due in part to being in good physical condition but his main strength had always been his speed and cardio. His breathing was always kept slow and steady, manageable so that he wouldn’t tire himself out to quickly and he taught his hands to be fast by working them constantly, he was able to pepper off three jabs before most men knew he had delivered the first.] [Faylon was ready to go again when he finally heard...”What’s all that racket. Can’t a man sleep around here.”...signifying that Brock had finally roused himself out of his sleep and was now sitting up looking at Faylon while yawning. Looking back at Brock he would shake his head and laugh before replying...”At least the King awakens. Get dressed, we’re done and you can go home and sleep in your own bed.”...but he didn’t have to tell Brock who was already getting back to his feet. Wiping his brow Faylon would take the padded armour back off the tree and dress himself in it again before retrieving his spear and sword.]

[Faylon Kwanda]

[On the way back to Denval the two men made small talk. It consisted mostly of women and local gossip. Brock also muttered about finally finishing this patrol duty they had been forced into doing ever since the bar brawl that had occurred a few seasons back but Faylon knew that for all his griping the man had begun to enjoy himself. When Faylon looked at Brock he saw a man who could spend his entire life in Denval but Faylon had other dreams, other aspirations, and they had begun not long after he was sentenced to this type of service.] [During a routine patrol through Denval he had happened upon a man, in his forties at least, and the two got to talking. He told Faylon about the old world and introduced himself as Petr. Petr was also schooled in the one thing that had always astounded Faylon since he was a boy, Magic, and he offered to make the young man his apprentice if he would help him with his experiments. Even though Faylon understood he’d have to learn much he readily accepted if only so that he could see the astounding work the man was capable of doing. Thus whenever Faylon done patrolling he would search out Petr, who lived in a small building just outside of Denval, essentially the outskirts of the town but closer than a farm, and assisted him with his work.] [Faylon’s thoughts had been drifting more towards the fabulous things he’d seen while helping the man more often now. He’d never actually seen a completed project of Petr’s but the both of them toiled for long hours over objects and Faylon watched as the man had obsessed over the most minor details in items. Any flaw, even one that was all but unnoticeable, and Petr deemed that the item was no longer fit for creations and at times Faylon himself wondered just how much of his trade he had mastered but certainly it was enough.] [When Brock and Faylon had finally made it back into Denval they went to the armoury where they turned in their gear. Everything was on lone to them while they preformed their duties and both of them were responsible for keeping the equipment in good order. Handing over the Padded Armour, Longsword and Spear each of them were given the man in charge of the armoury would see them later tonight and bid them farewell for now. After they’d both handed in their equipment they bid each other a farewell and would meet here later on at the 23rd bell. Until then Brock would make his way home and likely go back to sleep after a meal and Faylon would seek out Petr so that he could help the man with his experiments.] [Travel through Denval wasn’t difficult for Faylon, he knew all of the streets and the quickest route to get to wear he was going which is why before long the buildings and houses had grown more sparse and he was approaching the building Petr dwelled, or at least preformed his experiments, in. Knocking on the door he was greeted by the older man who wore thick bifocals and exclaimed...”Oh good! Faylon, I was wondering when you’d be here. Come inside!”...before moving aside and allowing Faylon, who walked inside with barely contained enthusiasm, to enter the building. ] [Inside the building it smelled of smoke, wood, metal, dust and a thousand other things that Faylon couldn’t identify. Tables were arrayed everyone and there was a hearth and forge near a chimney that billowed out of the building. It was hot inside and Faylon could already feel a droplet of sweat beginning to form across his brow as he moved around a table set up with various beakers. Glyphs were visibly etched into the wooden floor of the building, some of them scratched into the surface of the floor and others painted onto it, and in the center of the room isolated from everything else was a pedestal. Lenses to look through and mirrors hung over it.] [On the pedestal was a sword that Petr had obviously been working on and looking at Faylon he said...”That is our project for the day. Something I’m hoping I can perfect with a bit of assistance from you. Well no time to waste lets get to work.”...to which Faylon himself would reply quickly...”Of course.”...before moving into the work area. Everything that wasn’t essential was prohibited from entering the work area near the pedestal and Petr was very particular about what he let near his project which was why Faylon always moved and acted with the utmost care.] [Approaching the pedestal he was handed a pair of thick leather gloves as he moved closer, Faylon knew his role in this procedure so when he found a large pair of tongs he would take them in hand and turn around so that he could begin to assist Petr. Regardless of what they did here it was always interesting for Faylon and he looked forward to the results both successful or otherwise with an equally proliferate eagerness.]

[Faylon Kwanda]

[With the tongs that Petr had handed him Faylon moved around so that he could stand to one side of the pedestal while the Mage went to the other side and instructed him...”Now follow my lead. When I strike the blade then you make a silent count of three and strike it here.”...then Petr would indicate where Faylon was to use the tongs which was near the base of the swords blade. Nodding Faylon waited for his cue as the Mage stood across from him with his own tongs before raising them higher to make the first blow against the sword on the pedestal.] [Petr brought his tongs down on the sword as Faylon watched him creating a loud creating a loud crack before sparks flew from the site of impact and similarly, as instructed, Faylon would strike the sword with his own tongs creating a much similar reaction as sparks flew. Soon both men were working in unison. Petr would strike with his tongs and Faylon would count to three in the back of his head and then Faylon would strike the sword with his tongs and Petr would follow suit with his own silent count. On and on it went in tandem as the two men hammered away at the sword. Faylon would notice how Petr was looking through the lenses positioned over the pedestal as he worked, though what he saw Faylon couldn’t fathom, and eventually the man would hold up his hand to halt the next blow that was t come.] [Looking pleased with the progress Petr would smile and be heard saying...”Good. Good. The sword is charging nicely but there are a few more paths yet to open. Give me those tongs boy.”...and without hesitation Faylon would hand over the tongs to Petr who took them, quickly, and turned back towards one of his work benches. While he was busy Faylon dared look through one of the lenses nearest to him and was astounded at what he saw. It was as though the sword itself was alive and charged with a vibrant glow that seemed dimmer in certain areas and even though Faylon had no idea what the intricacies of these were he was sure they had something to do with the project and the paths that Petr had mentioned to him just now. When Petr turned back he saw Faylon looking and remarked...”Astounding isn’t it. Now take these; I want you to hold the sword steady with them while I hammer out the last of what I need to do.”...then he was handing him what looked like a set of metallic prongs that Faylon could use to hold the sword in place. Petr was also holding a hammer now.] [With one final look at Petr Faylon would nod his head as he placed the prongs around the sword to hold it in place before saying...”Ready.”...and then watching as the Mage looked back through the lenses at the sword as though judging where he would strike it. Suddenly Petr was hammering the sword and Faylon saw sparks sizzle and fly in all directions with ever blow. Red hot embers exploded with each impact of the hammer to the steel and Faylon found it increasingly difficult to hold the sword steady, it was almost as though the blade was polarized and wanted to begin turning itself in the opposite direction, but he heard Petr calling...”Steady! Steady now!”...and he tightened his hold with the prongs, his arms growing tense due to the opposing force.] [As Petr hammered down the final blow the sword grew loose again though, the steel and whatever force had begun to grow around it diminishing quickly, and the Mage stepped backwards with his hammer while shouting...”Quickly! Place it in the water. There!”...before Faylon dropped the prongs and took the hilt of the sword in his hand still wearing the leather gloves he’d been handed. Moving towards a trough of water laid across the floor nearby Faylon would take the sword and douse it in the water, burying it all the way and laying it flat, before releasing his hold. Like almost everything else in this building the water was special, and charged, as Petr had once explained to Faylon and it helped to focus the new properties of the sword.] [Watching the sword in the water for a few moments longer Faylon would see it appear to glimmer briefly before he turned back to look at Petr who informed him...”Only the first stage. That sword has many days of work ahead of it.”...and even then, as had been explained with other projects, it wasn’t guaranteed to be a success. Nodding his head Faylon spared one more glance to the object before saying...”It’s fine work regardless. Like everything you’ve shown me. Maybe one day I will be able to create as great a things as you can.”...he was being sincere in his opinion and his appreciation as much as he was with his interest when it came to the craft. Maybe that’s why Petr had allowed him to become his assistant after such a short amount of time and he’d also shared other secrets as well...”Well that needs to cool. What say we work on your lessons now.”...and with that Petr bade Faylon to follow him through building to a door that would lead out behind it.] [Faylon followed of course...}

[Faylon Kwanda]

[Another reward Petr had given Faylon for helping him was to induct him into the art of Hypnotism which he was quite eager to learn. His induction consisted of being locked inside a room for several days with only a mirror. He stared at the mirror for hours on end, at first as though expecting that it was a test in itself, but when nothing had occurred Faylon was mildly stumped. He called for Petr to unlock the door and let him out of the room. At one point Faylon even tried to break the door down but to no avail and he eventually heard the Mage on the other side telling him that he would only come out of the room when he was ready or he would die in there. Understandably when Faylon had heard that his reaction was not exactly calm; he pounded his fists against the door and shouted for the Mage but he received no answer and eventually he was reduced to attempting to bargain and even, sadly, begging before he accepted that there was no escape. It was roughly a day and a half before all of that happened.] [With nothing to do but solve the riddle that Petr had intended for him Faylon sat across from the mirror and stared hard at it. He closed his eyes and tried to center his mind. He tried to focus his thoughts and make sense of the unheard question but it was all to no avail. Sitting cross-legged across from the mirror it would all start with a simple question such as...”Well what do you think I should do?”...and then it would proceed from there as Faylon had stared long and hard at himself as though the answer was somewhere else. What started as a simple question posed to himself in the mirror would soon evolve into full fledged conversations and then, occasionally, hysterical laughter. You have to understand that it had been three days with no other human contact and that Faylon had not eaten either; he was starting to hallucinate and he knew it once it looked like the image in the mirror was answering him.] [On the fifth day the solution finally came to him. It was while he was staring at his own reflection and mumbling, thinking he heard it mumble back to him that Faylon finally discovered the meaning of it all and that it was entirely insignificant. It was as though his own reflection and sense of self had melted away briefly to reveal to Faylon that the sense of self was a lie, a carefully crafted illusion, and that with the proper influence others could be made to see and do as he wanted them. In other words he could craft the reactions of others if they unconsciously chose to accept them. When Faylon finally approached the door and asked to come out, calmly and with a voice possessed of something different Petr had finally opened the door and let him out.] [That was a season ago.] [Now Faylon was following Petr through another door, he stepped outside into the open air, and when he did so this time he almost fall backwards and over himself as he saw a growling and teeth filled mouth lunging at him. Only the chain that the dog had been attached too had stopped it from mauling Faylon and clamping its teeth down onto him. Propping himself up onto his shoulders Faylon started to recover when he looked over at Petr and heard him say...”Well, I’ll leave you two alone. When you get the key from behind you can comeback inside.”...and then the door was closed. Locked. Muttering, Faylon chastised himself for not seeing this kind of lesson coming.] [With only a chain and collar wrapped around the dogs neck separating him and Faylon, Faylon began pushing himself backwards. He was climbing into a crouch next and playing the scenario through his mind. When the dog seemed to get tired of trying to stretch out its chain it had went back to the corner where the key was and laid down but the instant it appeared as though Faylon went to move closer it would growl and, snapping, leap at him.] [Focus. Focus, the word seemed to ring out through Faylon’s mind.] [Looking across the small distance that separated himself from the dog Faylon would catch its eyes first and stare into them. His gaze was penetrating, hard, and looked deep into the animal as though it were attempting to unravel the mysteries entwined with its soul and infused in its very essence. It was a primal stare that looked for the most basic instincts and recognition in the dog which had begun to look back at Faylon and was now sitting up on its haunches. When he stared at the dog Faylon wasn’t just looking at it anymore he was looking through it as though its eyes were the windows to another world that were hidden from him.] [It was through this base connection, the intermingling of their eyes, and the subtle influence of his mind on the animals that Faylon finally managed to seed only the smallest Suggestion inside of the beast that would ring out as though it were true. Pack, we are the same pack. Perhaps Faylon had pushed his psyche a little too hard or attempted a suggestion that was to complex but he could taste a strange metallic substance in his mouth even as he pressed with his will. Despite this he would ease closer to the dog who instead of growling would move ahead to greet him, Faylon crawling on his hands and knees would do the best to reciprocate, he appeared to have been successful even though he knew it would not have been the same on another human.] [Crawling on hands and knees Faylon was met by the dog which licked him, accepting him as one of the pack as the suggestion Faylon implanted had meant to achieve, before he reciprocated as best he could by placing his hands on the animal and pressing his face into its neck. Dealing with animals wasn’t his forte but Faylon seemed to be managing well enough. When he finally reached the area where the key could be found just beneath a small mound of dirt he relaxed and the dog laid near him, curling itself again Faylon, and Faylon who was mentally exhausted stayed there with the animal for a time. Breathing steadily and relaxing he looked up towards the sky and saw that it was almost the late afternoon.]

[Tabarnac]

XP Award! Faylon XP Award: Wilderness Survival +2; Observation +2; Body Building +3; Boxing +2; Magecrafting +2; Hypnotism +3 Additional Notes: Hey, interesting stuff, though I wish you’d develop more of this in threads with other people. And don’t forget you can’t NPC anyone with skills beyond Competent. If you need anything beyond that, you need me to moderate. But I could probably make use of Petr anyway, so I’m open to doing that for you. Feel free to PM me if you have any questions or concerns. Keep writing!