Rhace Tarrin
On Top Of The World- No, Wait, The Rock
A moment of reflection for any life-bound swordsman was inevitable. Studying the blade tended to turn the inner eye to one's own weaknesses and failures; daily polishing of skills and techniques brought an invariable necessity to understanding one's mind and body to cleanse the imperfections that appeared in the pursuit of mastery. This, coupled with a keen and analytical mind, meant that there was often a purge of the improprieties that infected the spirit.
Was it normal to see someone on top of a large rock practising swordsmanship? No. No, it absolutely was not. However, when a swordsman could benefit from changing their training, then it was prudent to do so. In this specific case, Rhace Tarrin, student of the Granven school of swordplay, was examining his ability to perform his techniques when his footing was uneven. A scarred boulder was ideal for this, where crags and scars were entirely common. Finding something totally flat was almost impossible, for this unpolished stone could show different ways of movement. Every swing of the blade came from a place of almost complete balance, footwork compensated for by absolute core strength. Besides, training on the outskirts of town meant that he wasn't going to be disturbed too much, or so went the idea. Talonia was a neutral ground, which was perfect for a wanderer like him; it meant that there was a far smaller chance for him to be disturbed.
Two hands found purchase on the legendary sword Granveil, its blade glowing a dazzling aquamarine as it sliced keenly through the air to find its mark every time. In the hands of a master, this sword could cut through armies. However, Rhace in no way was a master just yet, which meant that this keenly-sharp blade was simply enough to cut down every enemy in his path, without hesitation. Every cut he made under the burning sun meant that he was pushing himself further and further into the depths of his study. Sometimes, his hands would shake, and he rectified that. Exhaustion was setting in. He was, in fact, tired. This was the second straight hour of the training that he was subjecting himself to.
A few stragglers had come to watch. It was interesting to see a magical sword work through the air, and sometimes it was interesting to see how the blade flicked through small loops in front as if disarming the opponent, before slicing down through a far larger arc to decapitate and destroy the opponent. Every cut was aimed to kill the enemy. Possibly against the tenets of Meliora Vitae, but in a life and death duel, this was the only true solution.
Before the three hour mark passed, someone came up to the stone upon which Rhace trained. It was clear that this was someone on a run, who wanted to take a short break - and happened upon someone doing something a little different.
"Excuse me?" asked the young man, which was enough to draw the attention of the swordsman.
"Yes?" came the response, stern enough to indicate that he was not entirely happy with the fact he had been disturbed.
"I'm sorry, I just wanted to know where you learned how to do all that. You're really good!"
Rhace took a step off the stone, landing on the ground beneath as he reached for his bottle of water. "I study the Granven style of swordplay. It's... rather ancient, and very unique."
"Well, that's really cool. Have a good day!"
Rhace stared, baffled, as this human walked on, doing whatever he was doing - an interruption, for that? Huh. Well, it was nice to be complimented. Still, what an odd turn of events that was. Rather dumbfounded, the swordsman couldn't help but sheathe his blade, take his towel, and stop to ponder that whole interaction. Was he too cold? Possibly. Was it odd that he just asked about it then left? Definitely. Weirder things happened, he supposed, but that had to be the end of that.
Oh well. Time to move on. No point staying here for too long now that he was done training.
MEL @ WW
