I walk, trouble follows.
12th of Spring, 516 AV
Theo no longer cared that few of Precious’ passengers had met his company. In fact, he quite enjoyed his lack of acquaintances. He was not the sort for useless friendships, and it seemed to Theo that he would neither hear of nor see these men ever again. Once Theo left the Precious’ rotting salt wood behind he would be back on his real journey. Although he wasn’t so easily admitting of it to himself, the thought of what others would think of him if they found out why he was taking this trip bothered him as well.
Having just almost been kidnapped, Theo was cautious and a bit paranoid of his company. The event seemed so small when it initially happened, just like any other kill, but the more Theo sat on the idea the more the idea did not sit well with him. It was not like a slaver tried roping him down and chaining him. This woman wanted Theo specifically, the note to proved that. Even more frightening was that this woman, whoever she was, was a skilled swordsman and a mage, more so than who she fought. Theo’s missing memory, this woman’s similar talents and intent, the note, they all meant something, but what?
Young Theo would think of these things as he hacked away at makeshift training dummys each day. He was not a good sailor, and so his time, he figured, was best spent preparing for a battle. Very few people welcomed mages with open arms, so his abilities were kept mostly secret and only practiced in dark. Occasionally Theo would blow out a sailor’s candle across the belly of Precious and laugh as he watched the lot blame fright and tell stories of spirits on board, but that was as much as the crew saw his magic.
Right now he practiced his sword arm. Theo was getting used to fighting with one hand with his longsword, and he felt more impressive doing so. Useful practice as Theo had almost lost several times due to his lack of versatility.
The blade was heavy and at first his arm was not up to the task, but, like anything else, when Theo got to hacking the pain in his left’s forearm was out of notice. He would cut from one side to the other, but occasionally the weight of the blade would throw him off balance, so Theo paid extra careful attention to his footing this Spring day. The dummy was marked and chewed by men before him, but Theo made his cuts deeper, made his shots more lethal. Left, right, than back to a two hander for a riposte, the dummy was earning more chips.
Theo always felt dumb practicing, but discipline in combat was only maximized when one spent the time outside the battle preparing for it. Lost words channeled through him: The battle is won or lost long before one even gazes upon the field, and discipline beats fury everyday. Theo much preferred the blood rush to training, but the latter was a means to the former he was learning.
Having just almost been kidnapped, Theo was cautious and a bit paranoid of his company. The event seemed so small when it initially happened, just like any other kill, but the more Theo sat on the idea the more the idea did not sit well with him. It was not like a slaver tried roping him down and chaining him. This woman wanted Theo specifically, the note to proved that. Even more frightening was that this woman, whoever she was, was a skilled swordsman and a mage, more so than who she fought. Theo’s missing memory, this woman’s similar talents and intent, the note, they all meant something, but what?
Young Theo would think of these things as he hacked away at makeshift training dummys each day. He was not a good sailor, and so his time, he figured, was best spent preparing for a battle. Very few people welcomed mages with open arms, so his abilities were kept mostly secret and only practiced in dark. Occasionally Theo would blow out a sailor’s candle across the belly of Precious and laugh as he watched the lot blame fright and tell stories of spirits on board, but that was as much as the crew saw his magic.
Right now he practiced his sword arm. Theo was getting used to fighting with one hand with his longsword, and he felt more impressive doing so. Useful practice as Theo had almost lost several times due to his lack of versatility.
The blade was heavy and at first his arm was not up to the task, but, like anything else, when Theo got to hacking the pain in his left’s forearm was out of notice. He would cut from one side to the other, but occasionally the weight of the blade would throw him off balance, so Theo paid extra careful attention to his footing this Spring day. The dummy was marked and chewed by men before him, but Theo made his cuts deeper, made his shots more lethal. Left, right, than back to a two hander for a riposte, the dummy was earning more chips.
Theo always felt dumb practicing, but discipline in combat was only maximized when one spent the time outside the battle preparing for it. Lost words channeled through him: The battle is won or lost long before one even gazes upon the field, and discipline beats fury everyday. Theo much preferred the blood rush to training, but the latter was a means to the former he was learning.
