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The sun peaked its way into the immaculate room, well kept and dirt free. It sidled and squirmed its way past the desk with numerous Legion reports and arcane writings. It slid across the floor and up the padded pillow on the ground and illuminating the elven figure trancing in a meditative position. As soon as the sun barely touched the elf's remaining eye, the lid opened without an instant of hesitation.
Peridan yawned, scratched his armpit and with a groan of bones well used stood to face the day. He was naked from the waist up, the scars that littered his body shone as the light filled the room. His muscles rippled under his amber skin, his frame smaller but packed with muscle from a very long time at soldiering, and a longer one at smithing.
People had commented on the scars, his eye, and his general appearance. Maia in particular had commented that he was a 'foolish and vain man' to keep them. He had only given the beautiful elf a wink and joked that women loved scars. But to be honest, he never considered beauty as being like the rest of his race, smooth, ageless, and perfect. He felt as though each and every scar was a record of his life, his duty to protect and defend. He could tell stories of each and every one. Unfortunately, a lot of the time those stories were more like nightmares to be relived, and he got enough of that as it was. He walked over to the wash basin and the pitcher of water sitting beside it. He poured the water in, and cupped his hands to wash his face.
He did this seven times, even though his face was perfectly clean after the second. He reached down to do an eighth, and stopped. He placed his hands on the sides of the basin, and lowered his head. Water dripped onto the floor in virtual silence for one minute. Two. Three.
Finally he lifted his head. "All right. Another day." He prayed quietly. "Corellon, grant me grace today." He walked over to the center of the floor and began a series of stretches that worked out all of his muscles, leaving him limber. He picked up an old blade lying in the corner and practiced several lightning fast strikes, parries, and counters. Nodding, satisfied, he tossed the blade onto the pillow and shrugged on a tunic as well as the eye patch lying on his desk.
He snapped his fingers. "That's right, Jones needed someone to pick up things from the market for the Watch." He walked over to his wall, and banged three times in quick succession against it.
"Kaizen, wake up! Got a job for you today."
((Next post hopefully will be done by Blurry))
Peridan yawned, scratched his armpit and with a groan of bones well used stood to face the day. He was naked from the waist up, the scars that littered his body shone as the light filled the room. His muscles rippled under his amber skin, his frame smaller but packed with muscle from a very long time at soldiering, and a longer one at smithing.
People had commented on the scars, his eye, and his general appearance. Maia in particular had commented that he was a 'foolish and vain man' to keep them. He had only given the beautiful elf a wink and joked that women loved scars. But to be honest, he never considered beauty as being like the rest of his race, smooth, ageless, and perfect. He felt as though each and every scar was a record of his life, his duty to protect and defend. He could tell stories of each and every one. Unfortunately, a lot of the time those stories were more like nightmares to be relived, and he got enough of that as it was. He walked over to the wash basin and the pitcher of water sitting beside it. He poured the water in, and cupped his hands to wash his face.
He did this seven times, even though his face was perfectly clean after the second. He reached down to do an eighth, and stopped. He placed his hands on the sides of the basin, and lowered his head. Water dripped onto the floor in virtual silence for one minute. Two. Three.
Finally he lifted his head. "All right. Another day." He prayed quietly. "Corellon, grant me grace today." He walked over to the center of the floor and began a series of stretches that worked out all of his muscles, leaving him limber. He picked up an old blade lying in the corner and practiced several lightning fast strikes, parries, and counters. Nodding, satisfied, he tossed the blade onto the pillow and shrugged on a tunic as well as the eye patch lying on his desk.
He snapped his fingers. "That's right, Jones needed someone to pick up things from the market for the Watch." He walked over to his wall, and banged three times in quick succession against it.
"Kaizen, wake up! Got a job for you today."
((Next post hopefully will be done by Blurry))
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