Tweet
OOC: This isn't a closed thread! I encourage anyone to join in if you feel you should! Would love to see more interactive RP threads!
Hano stands encased in the padded room of the Triumvirate Temple.. Sweat beads down his face as he stands facing a training dummy with sword in hand. Recollecting himself he becomes lost in deep thought.
"Syran...?"
Breaking his concentration he lunges toward the Dummy, charging with sword at side and then abruptly dodges as if the Dummy were attacking. Hano dances around the Dummy attempting to feint attacks and penetrate the imaginary enemy's defenses.
Swinging and dodging, while grunting and panting between each failed charge and swing.
"..Syran..?"
Widens his eyes and dodges - Tries to collect himself with ungraceful swiftness as if the tide of the battle turned against his favor. He turns his sword to his side and lowers his blade preparing himself for a powerful assault.
Hano charges the Dummy, boots clashing against the padded floor with blunt thuds, sword beside him with it's tip gliding gracefully above the floor by only a few centimeters - His eyes flicker with passion.. No, perhaps rage. He takes the momentum of his charge, forcing it into his shoulders to carry his blade, lifting it from the ground to start his swing.
He immediately pauses mid swing, halting his charge.. He loosens the grip on his sword, tip resting gently on the padded floor. He clutches at his heart, eyes wide and thinks to himself, "Damn.. This is no good.."
Hano had apparently declared himself defeated by his imaginary opponent. He frowns kneeling to the ground to once again recollect himself. He mumbles to himself, "How can we prepare for an enemy we know nothing about? Marcus.. I'm not even half the man he was, but he was destroyed all the same." Hano regains his stance and posture, reaching over to the stool in the corner for his sheath.
Sheathing the sword mid-way he reassures himself, "No.. They had to have used some kind of trick to catch him unguarded. They may have claimed one of our Heroes, but more will rise." He looks down to his sword and smiles, "Stronger Heroes will come forth and bring light to the people of Sundren. They.. We.. Will be lighting the way down the tough road before us. I promise this.." His stare intensifies toward the sword as if speaking to it. "We will not faulter.. The Truth will guide us - We will prevail. By Torm's will and our faith, you will be the means to Sundren's end. I'll not rest until I'm able to weild you for such a great purpose."
Hano nods to himself confidently and sheathes the sword down to it's hilt. He takes the sheath and works the sheath's strap across his shoulder, concealing the blade and sheath under his cape, revealing only it's hilt angled above his right shoulder. He sighs for a moment, wiping the sweat from his brow. "In any case.. Fighting myself here will not show much progress."
Hano marches out of the room, turning in hopes to approach Balthasar.
Hano stands encased in the padded room of the Triumvirate Temple.. Sweat beads down his face as he stands facing a training dummy with sword in hand. Recollecting himself he becomes lost in deep thought.
"Syran...?"
Breaking his concentration he lunges toward the Dummy, charging with sword at side and then abruptly dodges as if the Dummy were attacking. Hano dances around the Dummy attempting to feint attacks and penetrate the imaginary enemy's defenses.
Swinging and dodging, while grunting and panting between each failed charge and swing.
"..Syran..?"
Widens his eyes and dodges - Tries to collect himself with ungraceful swiftness as if the tide of the battle turned against his favor. He turns his sword to his side and lowers his blade preparing himself for a powerful assault.
Hano charges the Dummy, boots clashing against the padded floor with blunt thuds, sword beside him with it's tip gliding gracefully above the floor by only a few centimeters - His eyes flicker with passion.. No, perhaps rage. He takes the momentum of his charge, forcing it into his shoulders to carry his blade, lifting it from the ground to start his swing.
He immediately pauses mid swing, halting his charge.. He loosens the grip on his sword, tip resting gently on the padded floor. He clutches at his heart, eyes wide and thinks to himself, "Damn.. This is no good.."
Hano had apparently declared himself defeated by his imaginary opponent. He frowns kneeling to the ground to once again recollect himself. He mumbles to himself, "How can we prepare for an enemy we know nothing about? Marcus.. I'm not even half the man he was, but he was destroyed all the same." Hano regains his stance and posture, reaching over to the stool in the corner for his sheath.
Sheathing the sword mid-way he reassures himself, "No.. They had to have used some kind of trick to catch him unguarded. They may have claimed one of our Heroes, but more will rise." He looks down to his sword and smiles, "Stronger Heroes will come forth and bring light to the people of Sundren. They.. We.. Will be lighting the way down the tough road before us. I promise this.." His stare intensifies toward the sword as if speaking to it. "We will not faulter.. The Truth will guide us - We will prevail. By Torm's will and our faith, you will be the means to Sundren's end. I'll not rest until I'm able to weild you for such a great purpose."
Hano nods to himself confidently and sheathes the sword down to it's hilt. He takes the sheath and works the sheath's strap across his shoulder, concealing the blade and sheath under his cape, revealing only it's hilt angled above his right shoulder. He sighs for a moment, wiping the sweat from his brow. "In any case.. Fighting myself here will not show much progress."
Hano marches out of the room, turning in hopes to approach Balthasar.