64rd of Searing,
4622
4622
Panting heavily under the bright, searing light that illuminates the City of Monuments, An amber-eyed thief could be spotted in one of the many run-down alleys that litter the rural sections of Genteven. After coming close to a life-threatening event, The scoundrel knew that it was time to practice & sharpen his skills when it comes to combat prowess.
Jared was by no means a fighter, nor was he a sorcerer of great talent, and far from; most of Jared’s skills came from constant repetition, frustration & hard work. Sadly, fortune was not on his side as much as the thief would like the easy way out by being born with exceptional talent, particularly life skills. Most of his self-taught skills don’t help with the margin for error being so high, nonetheless; This does not stop the thief from a training day in and day out, recalling and perfecting his skills with any weapon.
With a make-shift dummy made of some old planks of wood, some hay as stuffing & woven linen made from discarded bags of flour. The thief could be seen a few meters away from the target, sweating and breathing heavily; It didn’t help that the Alistain man had to stop and rest every so often as his body felt frail in nature and over-exerting himself to its toil on his body.
“Huff… puff… huff… puff….”
The thief took a moment to peel off his face cloth that cloaks the lower half of his face as it was saturated in his sweat, and the heat trapped did not make his discomfort any better. Tossing the cloth off to the side, the amber-eyed thief took his stance; crouching low with his dagger angled perpendicular away from his body in his right hand and a leather-woven blackjack in his left hand that was placed behind his back as if he was using parrying dagger.
The novice fighter takes a deep breath, listening to his soundings for a moment before suddenly charging directly at the target dummy with full force. With his short status and keeping his body low to the ground, the amber-eye thief closes the distance on his target, raising the iron dagger at an acute angle that will arc from the bottom-right section and drag itself across towards the left shoulder. The result would leave the make-shift dummy to have a light wound that merely tears the fabric used to hold the hay stuffing and spill minor amounts of the content onto the cobblestone pavement.
Quick to not lose his momentum; Jared continues the action of his arcing motion to generate a spin where his left arm extends outward with the leather-woven blackjack arcing in the same direction the dagger would have crossed but higher in angle as if he was aiming directly at the dummy’s head; A loud thud echoes into the empty alleyway as the amber-eye mage’s blackjack makes contact with the dummy’s head.
Sadly, the thief knew that the blackjack would not have enough speed to make a lasting injury since the amount of force & intent of his strike was light compared to what his iron dagger did, and even that was subpar at best.
Still trying to make his strings of attacks work; Jared changes his tempo to slow down for a brief moment as he places his hands on the pavement before throwing out a ground side kick towards the stomach before transiting towards a sweep which his left leg would make hard contact into the wooden planks. The stinging pain and numbing sensation took a huge amount of effort to silence the pain, making the thief grit his teeth. A testament to show how frail his body is at the moment, but the sheer determination to improve his combat prowess far exceeds his resistance to pain and overall sickness to his body due to early onsets of Mageblight.
Feeling a wave of nausea hit his stomach, chest & head, The novice fighter continues to push forward, treating the situation as if his life was on the line. Completing the sweeping kick, the rogue quickly recovers from his prone position by rolling away from the practice dummy before and conducting a whirlwind kick. Then, generating a wheel-like strike around those close to his body before using his hands to spring back to his crouching stance, to which he quickly conjures a small umbralplasm, throwing knives at the tip of his thumb & index finger. He would then fling the umbralplasm-made knives at the target, which fast spins in a circular motion towards the target but misses by a considerable margin since his aim has not been refined enough for any combat tricks.
As Jared was about to make his charge towards the practice target; the wave of nausea was too much for the thief to handle as his stomach churned, causing the Alistian man to cough loudly and clutch his stomach with his right arm as he strumbled over towards one of the many stonewall buildings that paint Genteven’s rural districts.
Leaning forward and planting his forehead against the wall, the thief couldn’t help but expel the contents in his stomach onto the ground as a slurry of pale greens, chunks of brown & yellow biles rushes out of his throat along with clumps of radioether exits his body. It was not a pleasing sight to stumble upon, and the noise of someone vomiting out their stomach was also not a lovely sound to hear.
After a minute had passed, Jared pushed his body against the wall, stumbling over a nearby well where he quickly pulled the rope to withdraw a wooden pail filled with mineral-filled water—taking off his leather gloves and tossing them off to the side of the well, which slumps over the edge for a moment before tumbling onto the cobblestone pavement—cupping the well water into his callous covered hands before taking a large sip and swirling it around his mouth before spitting it off the side, splashing the remaining water contents on his face to cool & cleanse his face.
Planting his back against the stone walls that make up the well; Jared couldn’t help but sink his head into his knees before wrapping his arms around his curled-up body as he attempted to nurse the overwhelming sense of queasiness.
“Ughhhhh… That is rough; Hard to keep down anything… I can’t let Alistair know what is going… He has his shit to deal with.”
While Jared was with Alistair; His entire process was not to show weakness when possible. Even a hint of hesitation would kill even the most veteran of men & women, which is a skill that Jared needs to forge as his tendency to overthink and monologue to himself.
In either case, he mainly kept to himself and attempted to avoid the conversation of why he was fully dressed in his armour & gear or keeping his entire body veiled with his tattered black wool cloak; It would be too much to explain, and the early stages of mageblight exacerbated his already pale features which almost makes his skin tone a stark white compared to his usual pale hues.
Giving himself another few minutes of rest, the thief could only ponder how he could further improve his training in fighting. He knew that fighting against a non-sentient target can only provide so much insight when fighting something that is still. If it were a guard or another member of the criminal underground, He could stand no chance in a fight to the death, but who could he trust when it came to sparring with someone?
“Alright, enough resting; You need to push yourself cuz if you don’t…. There won’t be a next time….”
Picking himself off the ground and rubbing the remaining water droplets off his chin with an elbow swipe, The Nightfallen Rogue takes a moment to move a few metres back, away from his immovable target. Then, once again, crouching low with his right hand holding his iron dagger in the front and his leather-woven blackjack in his left hand that rests behind his back.
The thief takes a moment to breathe deeply as the annoying wave of nausea pushes through again. Disturbed but narrowing his focus once again, staring direct at his target, assessing what tricks he could try to work or better refine his skills.
“Round four, friend….”
At that point, Jared charges at the training dummy with more vigour than the last, giving it his all in this make-shift training session, fully aware that he would be coming out of this with bruises all over his body, soreness over his muscles and crippled for next few days. Which would be hard to mask against his current roommate, but until then, the scoundrel continues to chip away at his simple combat style. Spending every waking hour he could to hone himself like a raw ore that has yet to be given form, and it would be one of the many quiet training sessions that the thief will undertake to better his chances at living in this so-call cruel world.
