♅ My Life for a Halberd Ⅰ ♅
13th of Frost, Year 119, Age of Steel
"Common Speech"
"Silvain Speech"
13th of Frost, Year 119, Age of Steel
"Common Speech"
"Silvain Speech"
♅ The sounds of a warrior hard at work echoed in the derelict building, as Constantine had come here to sharpen a new weapon skill. He decided to learn a new weapon, a pike-spear, and there was no place better than an abandoned building. Standing inside the massive structure Constantine could remember the first time he started using a weapon, training with his mother.
The echoing of steel clashing against each other, the way the blades sang through the air. In that time of his life, he admired his mother and the way she fought, wanting to be like her, fierce and graceful, known for his valor and protecting the innocent. It was one of the sweetest memories he had of her oddly enough.
He knew the best way to be comfortable with this weapon was to use it till exhaustion, learning what he could and couldn't do with it in terms of skill. It was one of the many lessons he took to heart from her. Calming his breathing, he went back to the time when his mother was teaching him how to fight using two-handed weaponry.
He could hear her explaining how to go about training in this particular weapon. Constantine took what he learned at that moment of his life, and applied it to his practice. First came some easy moves, first swinging the polearm from right to left, which would allow him to be able to hit enemies from behind him and to the left of himself, a move he practiced back and forth several times till he felt familiar enough with it.
Putting some strength into it, he swings the pike-spear back to the right, again noting that he would be able to hit enemies behind and to the left of himself, but most of all keeping them at a distance, and distance was key. He was starting to fancy this weapon over the battle hammer he had, granted the latter was a family heirloom of his fathers, but somehow the polearm felt right to him like it was meant to be in his hands. Wiping some sweat he focused and got back to business with his weapon training.
Next came a one-handed move, a light and quick overhead slam which he could follow with a thrusting attack if he wanted to chain a combo. He was beginning to find his own unique rhythm, practicing different techniques from the weak left and right attacks to stronger more reaching attacks with his halberd. He played around with jumping and rolling techniques as well.
"I see why my mother liked this kind of weapon so damn much, this thing is amazing." he admitted with a panted smile, sitting on a nearby seat to catch his breath. The halberd was no were near light in its weight, and it was tiring after an hour of constant training. Now that he had the moves down, he could focus on getting a style for it.
Exhausted he plopped onto the cool floor of the building looking out into the landscape. This training, especially him trying to crank it all out at once was pushing his body to its peak. He knew he was tired, but he didnt want to stop now, no he had to continue on.
As he laid there he allowed the heat of his body to cool against the refreshing crisp of the breeze that blew through the building. Closing his eyes he melted into his surroundings, allowing his body to truly calm and relax, as it was so unnatural for it to move the way it was. He was working muscles and body parts that even he had no idea existed.
Stretching out every inch of his body across the floor Constantine basked in the songs of birds chirping nearby, and was calm, nothing being able to break or disrupt his peace and the utter bliss it brought to him. But nothing ever went as planned for him, he knew this from a young age and was more than willing to accept the hand dealt with him.
Sitting up he looked at his hands, blisters starting to form from his training. It was a small aesthetic price to pay, but it was nothing compared to the alternative for him. Taking much longer in this rest than he liked he got to his feet, and picked up his halberd ready to resume his training.
Staring at the empty in front of him, Constantine was practicing his techniques by using the structural pillar in front of himself to simulate the human body. With each strike, it was helping strengthen his forearms and biceps along with his triceps. This free form training allowed him to put his own spin on attacks as well as fine-tune his technique so that it wasn't as predictable and cookie-cutter as one trained.
He figured that some versatility would do him some good, and it would be easier on his body as well. Though his body ached, the range of motions was easier to handle as the burn wasn't as bad as when doing the other exercises. Somehow though, he couldnt shake the feeling like something was off.
He felt very on edge and knew for a fact this building was indeed abandoned. So what was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end? It was starting to make him paranoid and then as if riding the breeze that blew by like a horse, he heard it. It was a sound reminiscent of snarling. It echoed around the building as the breeze dance along as free as it always did.
Wiping running sweat from his face, Constantine looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of the growling, and when he found it his heart sank, and chills ran up his spine. "Father...w.....why....how?" strained words were all he could force from his mouth, his face broken by his own disbelief of what he was seeing.
"No.....no, no no no no no!" it was all he could say as he fell to his knees, the halberd clanging as it fell to the floor beside him. He began slapping his face hoping the apparition would dissipate from his view, but it wasn't working, his father's visage slipping from the shade projected naturally by the space. Why, why was he seeing things, there was no way his father could have returned from the dead unless by a necromancer.
Finally realizing his father had come within breaths of him, he set his gaze upon the man who was now inches away from his face, so close he could touch Constantine. A disappointed look on his face, a glare. "You failed me...." he said, snarling a bit, which only made Constantine's stomach drop, his heartache. It wasn't something he was keen on hearing from his father.
Tear filled eyes looked up to the fatherly phantom, only to be met by seeing his father morph, transforming into a grotesque beast that lunged at him. "You were supposed to be my pride and joy, but all you have become is a failure!" the grisly phantom snarled in his lunge. Flailing back, Constantine found himself crying out for forgiveness as the apparition faded away in the attack. His heart was beating profusely as he was trying to wrap his head around what just happened. He couldnt believe what he had witnessed.
Was it repressed guilt from that day, or something worse, was he being cursed by his father from beyond the grave? It was a terrifying experience, one he chalked up to be nothing more than a hallucination from overtraining. Calling it a day he forced himself to his feet, retrieved his halberd and wiped the sweat from his brow. Taking a deep breath he could no longer help it. It was time to head home.
Seeing no point to remain here, he hoisted the halberd over his shoulder and made his way out of the building, panting and still shaken by what he saw, knowing that what he saw was merely a figment of his imagination. Even more so, it meant the weight of that day still clung to him heavily.
Exiting the building, he looked up to the sky, the brisk air kissing his skin, sending shivers up his spine. Though he got some much-needed training in, he got an even more strenuous mental work out in the form of a phantom of the past. It seemed no matter how much he tried to put those old memories to rest they wouldn't leave him be.
Shaking his head he set out to return to the capital, as he had enough of solitude for his liking. He needed to be around people, being alone was not in his best mental state right now. Looking back at the abandoned building, he shook his head trying to brush off what he experienced, but it was not something he could easily let go.
Climbing atop his horse, he was escorted back to the capital by the breeze of the Frost wind. ♅
The echoing of steel clashing against each other, the way the blades sang through the air. In that time of his life, he admired his mother and the way she fought, wanting to be like her, fierce and graceful, known for his valor and protecting the innocent. It was one of the sweetest memories he had of her oddly enough.
He knew the best way to be comfortable with this weapon was to use it till exhaustion, learning what he could and couldn't do with it in terms of skill. It was one of the many lessons he took to heart from her. Calming his breathing, he went back to the time when his mother was teaching him how to fight using two-handed weaponry.
He could hear her explaining how to go about training in this particular weapon. Constantine took what he learned at that moment of his life, and applied it to his practice. First came some easy moves, first swinging the polearm from right to left, which would allow him to be able to hit enemies from behind him and to the left of himself, a move he practiced back and forth several times till he felt familiar enough with it.
Putting some strength into it, he swings the pike-spear back to the right, again noting that he would be able to hit enemies behind and to the left of himself, but most of all keeping them at a distance, and distance was key. He was starting to fancy this weapon over the battle hammer he had, granted the latter was a family heirloom of his fathers, but somehow the polearm felt right to him like it was meant to be in his hands. Wiping some sweat he focused and got back to business with his weapon training.
Next came a one-handed move, a light and quick overhead slam which he could follow with a thrusting attack if he wanted to chain a combo. He was beginning to find his own unique rhythm, practicing different techniques from the weak left and right attacks to stronger more reaching attacks with his halberd. He played around with jumping and rolling techniques as well.
"I see why my mother liked this kind of weapon so damn much, this thing is amazing." he admitted with a panted smile, sitting on a nearby seat to catch his breath. The halberd was no were near light in its weight, and it was tiring after an hour of constant training. Now that he had the moves down, he could focus on getting a style for it.
Exhausted he plopped onto the cool floor of the building looking out into the landscape. This training, especially him trying to crank it all out at once was pushing his body to its peak. He knew he was tired, but he didnt want to stop now, no he had to continue on.
As he laid there he allowed the heat of his body to cool against the refreshing crisp of the breeze that blew through the building. Closing his eyes he melted into his surroundings, allowing his body to truly calm and relax, as it was so unnatural for it to move the way it was. He was working muscles and body parts that even he had no idea existed.
Stretching out every inch of his body across the floor Constantine basked in the songs of birds chirping nearby, and was calm, nothing being able to break or disrupt his peace and the utter bliss it brought to him. But nothing ever went as planned for him, he knew this from a young age and was more than willing to accept the hand dealt with him.
Sitting up he looked at his hands, blisters starting to form from his training. It was a small aesthetic price to pay, but it was nothing compared to the alternative for him. Taking much longer in this rest than he liked he got to his feet, and picked up his halberd ready to resume his training.
Staring at the empty in front of him, Constantine was practicing his techniques by using the structural pillar in front of himself to simulate the human body. With each strike, it was helping strengthen his forearms and biceps along with his triceps. This free form training allowed him to put his own spin on attacks as well as fine-tune his technique so that it wasn't as predictable and cookie-cutter as one trained.
He figured that some versatility would do him some good, and it would be easier on his body as well. Though his body ached, the range of motions was easier to handle as the burn wasn't as bad as when doing the other exercises. Somehow though, he couldnt shake the feeling like something was off.
He felt very on edge and knew for a fact this building was indeed abandoned. So what was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end? It was starting to make him paranoid and then as if riding the breeze that blew by like a horse, he heard it. It was a sound reminiscent of snarling. It echoed around the building as the breeze dance along as free as it always did.
Wiping running sweat from his face, Constantine looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of the growling, and when he found it his heart sank, and chills ran up his spine. "Father...w.....why....how?" strained words were all he could force from his mouth, his face broken by his own disbelief of what he was seeing.
"No.....no, no no no no no!" it was all he could say as he fell to his knees, the halberd clanging as it fell to the floor beside him. He began slapping his face hoping the apparition would dissipate from his view, but it wasn't working, his father's visage slipping from the shade projected naturally by the space. Why, why was he seeing things, there was no way his father could have returned from the dead unless by a necromancer.
Finally realizing his father had come within breaths of him, he set his gaze upon the man who was now inches away from his face, so close he could touch Constantine. A disappointed look on his face, a glare. "You failed me...." he said, snarling a bit, which only made Constantine's stomach drop, his heartache. It wasn't something he was keen on hearing from his father.
Tear filled eyes looked up to the fatherly phantom, only to be met by seeing his father morph, transforming into a grotesque beast that lunged at him. "You were supposed to be my pride and joy, but all you have become is a failure!" the grisly phantom snarled in his lunge. Flailing back, Constantine found himself crying out for forgiveness as the apparition faded away in the attack. His heart was beating profusely as he was trying to wrap his head around what just happened. He couldnt believe what he had witnessed.
Was it repressed guilt from that day, or something worse, was he being cursed by his father from beyond the grave? It was a terrifying experience, one he chalked up to be nothing more than a hallucination from overtraining. Calling it a day he forced himself to his feet, retrieved his halberd and wiped the sweat from his brow. Taking a deep breath he could no longer help it. It was time to head home.
Seeing no point to remain here, he hoisted the halberd over his shoulder and made his way out of the building, panting and still shaken by what he saw, knowing that what he saw was merely a figment of his imagination. Even more so, it meant the weight of that day still clung to him heavily.
Exiting the building, he looked up to the sky, the brisk air kissing his skin, sending shivers up his spine. Though he got some much-needed training in, he got an even more strenuous mental work out in the form of a phantom of the past. It seemed no matter how much he tried to put those old memories to rest they wouldn't leave him be.
Shaking his head he set out to return to the capital, as he had enough of solitude for his liking. He needed to be around people, being alone was not in his best mental state right now. Looking back at the abandoned building, he shook his head trying to brush off what he experienced, but it was not something he could easily let go.
Climbing atop his horse, he was escorted back to the capital by the breeze of the Frost wind. ♅
