by Well, he sure was getting good at farming. Still, he still needed just a smidge of funds to afford decent living standard. He was kind of flip flopping around Fiore right now, but he would rather settle somewhere. That somewhere was Ace of Spades, by the way. He heard cool things about the resident Guild there. The Sabertooth they were called. They sounded like the group that could help him get his magic somewhere. Or at the very least, have him do something else than endless farming and seed sowing.
Honestly for how peaceful the whole farming thing was, Tyson was growing slightly annoyed. He had been used to do more excciting stuff than simply planting the stupid seeds he had with him right there. The contractor needed them planted post haste though and would pay him some quick cash to get that taken care of. And hey, while unbelievably boring, he would never turn his back to some easy cash.
The silence was kinda good for meditation. If he needed to suffer through repetitive motions for a whole day, he could at the very least try and do some makeshift training stuff to work on his ability to percieve the Weave. He found out that if he went a while without ManaWeaving his perseption would get rusty.
Dig, place seed, cover up, water. Move over three steps. Dig, place seed. Over and over. By the hundedth seed, Tyson was carrying on by inertia alone. His mind was completely assorbed in his own land. Occasionally he would snap out of his daydreaming to get over to the water well to fill up the bucket he used to water the newly planted the crops.
The Slayer found himself wondering about his choices after another half an hour of planting seeds. It had been a while since he departed from his village. Perhaps he should go back and give a visit to his old man. You know, before he got himself in convoluted stuff. He wondered what kind of stuff would he need to do to join the Sabers. Would they have him fight someone? That would be quite funny.
Imagine the shock when he'd bring out his magic in perfect draconic accent. He'd probably get his ass kicked as it's custom for entry exams and all that gig, but at the very least he'd make quite the lasting impression. He'd wonder if the guildmasters would be there. Probably not, but it was good to dream.
Tyson stood up, stretching his limbs and back. He glanced at the crops. All nice and planted, just like the guy paying him wanted. He even managed to do the whole field in less time than he had anticipated. Well, apparently thinking about fun stuff helped greatly cutting down the perception of time. Tyson dusted himself off and gathered the bucket plus all the other tools he had lying around. He needed to give those back and notify the owner he had fulfilled his task.
After he'd get payed he'll bolt around the first transsport to Ace of Spades. He'll get sick, but at least he'd get there faster. He had done enough body labor as it is.
WC: 541
Honestly for how peaceful the whole farming thing was, Tyson was growing slightly annoyed. He had been used to do more excciting stuff than simply planting the stupid seeds he had with him right there. The contractor needed them planted post haste though and would pay him some quick cash to get that taken care of. And hey, while unbelievably boring, he would never turn his back to some easy cash.
The silence was kinda good for meditation. If he needed to suffer through repetitive motions for a whole day, he could at the very least try and do some makeshift training stuff to work on his ability to percieve the Weave. He found out that if he went a while without ManaWeaving his perseption would get rusty.
Dig, place seed, cover up, water. Move over three steps. Dig, place seed. Over and over. By the hundedth seed, Tyson was carrying on by inertia alone. His mind was completely assorbed in his own land. Occasionally he would snap out of his daydreaming to get over to the water well to fill up the bucket he used to water the newly planted the crops.
The Slayer found himself wondering about his choices after another half an hour of planting seeds. It had been a while since he departed from his village. Perhaps he should go back and give a visit to his old man. You know, before he got himself in convoluted stuff. He wondered what kind of stuff would he need to do to join the Sabers. Would they have him fight someone? That would be quite funny.
Imagine the shock when he'd bring out his magic in perfect draconic accent. He'd probably get his ass kicked as it's custom for entry exams and all that gig, but at the very least he'd make quite the lasting impression. He'd wonder if the guildmasters would be there. Probably not, but it was good to dream.
Tyson stood up, stretching his limbs and back. He glanced at the crops. All nice and planted, just like the guy paying him wanted. He even managed to do the whole field in less time than he had anticipated. Well, apparently thinking about fun stuff helped greatly cutting down the perception of time. Tyson dusted himself off and gathered the bucket plus all the other tools he had lying around. He needed to give those back and notify the owner he had fulfilled his task.
After he'd get payed he'll bolt around the first transsport to Ace of Spades. He'll get sick, but at least he'd get there faster. He had done enough body labor as it is.
WC: 541
