Date: 8th of Ymiden, Arc 719
Weapons: Trident
Buffs: N/A
Status: Focusing
Weapons: Trident
Armor: Leather
Buffs: N/A
Debuffs: N/A
It wasn't Saun yet, and wouldn't be for some time. But the large courtyard Praetorum stood in had tall walls blocking out any sort of cooling breeze that might have come, and the stagnant, sickly heat made it feel like the worst of Saun days already. Praetorum, already breathing heavily, made a note of this fact, and then shunted it to the back of his mind, ignoring it for now.
The ithecal twirled his trident in his hand, then struck out at the wooden dummy before him, the tines of his weapon jabbing holes in the cloth. One part of him, the soldier and warrior, noted with a critical eye that his aim hadn't quite been steady, that on a human that would have been a blow to the chest, not the gut. This was a sloppy blow, quite unlike him, even while wielding a weapon he was less accustomed to.
The reason for this was that only a part of his brain was focused on his drills.
The other part was watching Marken, standing a short distance away, but still within his line of sight. He was still, right now, but Prae knew that at any moment, he might start—
There! Prae blocked an imaginary blow, then slashed out at the target dummy, forgetting for a moment that it was the trident he wielded, not the scythe. The soldier in him quickly corrected his attacks, raining jabs down on the dummy, striking each of its vital points in turn. The rest of him focused on Marken, and the split colored flag he was waving.
Red-Blue.
Prae darted back to the center of the arena, and took a quick look at the dummies around him to orient himself. The meditative trance that allowed him to split his focus like this was starting to falter as exhaustion seeped into Prae's bones, and it would take bits for him to regain if he lost it entirely. So he took a moment to ground himself, feel his heartbeat in his chest and his breath in his lungs, bringing himself back to the calm, steady state he had found he enjoyed so.
Before Prae had begun this exercise, Marken had given each of the identical dummies a label, two colors, and told Prae to memorize it. He'd thought then that, in the heat of training, he wouldn't be able to recall a single one, but it seemed that a clear head recalled much more than Prae had anticipated. The dummy he had just been attacking was Green-Blue, and if he recalled correctly, Red-Blue had been three dummies widdershins of it.
He moved back into range of the dummy he'd been directed to, and earned a nod of approval from Marken as the human limped his way closer. His trident sank into the wooden dummy's throat, then into its side as Prae circled slightly around it. This training dummy was different from the last, not sunk into the ground like a post, but hanging, swinging to and fro as Prae jabbed and stabbed at it. So Praetorum's next attack missed by a claw's width, and he stumbled forwards, trying to find his equilibrium. He'd almost caught it when—
THWAP
The ithecal twirled his trident in his hand, then struck out at the wooden dummy before him, the tines of his weapon jabbing holes in the cloth. One part of him, the soldier and warrior, noted with a critical eye that his aim hadn't quite been steady, that on a human that would have been a blow to the chest, not the gut. This was a sloppy blow, quite unlike him, even while wielding a weapon he was less accustomed to.
The reason for this was that only a part of his brain was focused on his drills.
The other part was watching Marken, standing a short distance away, but still within his line of sight. He was still, right now, but Prae knew that at any moment, he might start—
There! Prae blocked an imaginary blow, then slashed out at the target dummy, forgetting for a moment that it was the trident he wielded, not the scythe. The soldier in him quickly corrected his attacks, raining jabs down on the dummy, striking each of its vital points in turn. The rest of him focused on Marken, and the split colored flag he was waving.
Red-Blue.
Prae darted back to the center of the arena, and took a quick look at the dummies around him to orient himself. The meditative trance that allowed him to split his focus like this was starting to falter as exhaustion seeped into Prae's bones, and it would take bits for him to regain if he lost it entirely. So he took a moment to ground himself, feel his heartbeat in his chest and his breath in his lungs, bringing himself back to the calm, steady state he had found he enjoyed so.
Before Prae had begun this exercise, Marken had given each of the identical dummies a label, two colors, and told Prae to memorize it. He'd thought then that, in the heat of training, he wouldn't be able to recall a single one, but it seemed that a clear head recalled much more than Prae had anticipated. The dummy he had just been attacking was Green-Blue, and if he recalled correctly, Red-Blue had been three dummies widdershins of it.
He moved back into range of the dummy he'd been directed to, and earned a nod of approval from Marken as the human limped his way closer. His trident sank into the wooden dummy's throat, then into its side as Prae circled slightly around it. This training dummy was different from the last, not sunk into the ground like a post, but hanging, swinging to and fro as Prae jabbed and stabbed at it. So Praetorum's next attack missed by a claw's width, and he stumbled forwards, trying to find his equilibrium. He'd almost caught it when—
THWAP
