Date: Ash 2, 122
What was once a pristine trunk was now a patchwork of bark.
For three months, the sable-skinned man had done his best to make his way. If it were up to him, the noble city of the north would not be his home. And selling violence to the Houses of the city would not be his bread and butter. Yet, the gods seemed to have other plans. With the ethereal decimation of his home, Barbatos had nothing left of his previous life. His family, his loved ones, all he knew was destroyed in a mere matter of hours. Thus, Barbatos made the hard journey north and settled into a new way of life. He did well for himself, all things considered. He earned a home, earned opportunities, and kept his belly satisfied. And, most interestingly, he was no longer alone. Though all had been lost, he had found a friend.
The knife-eared woman called Faelora was different than any he had ever met.
Outside of the fact that he only interacted with humanity within his hometown, Faelora was a woman of mystique. Though both were touched by arcana in differing ways, she embodied something primal. With bones and talismans adorning her person, she was an intimidating sight to behold. Yet, the Sellsword had learned better. From the start, he found a woman who was kind. A woman who enjoyed laughing and was eager to grow in strength. It was for that reason that, though she was a head shorter than he, Barbatos looked up to the Siltori. No matter what the challenge, she pushed forward, just as he attempted to do. Even now, as the rays of morning began to wane into noon, her determination was made manifest.
Their accord was a simple one: Barbatos would teach her how to defend herself in exchange for a full stomach.
Thus, with a bowl of fresh stew in hand, the sable-skinned warrior watched as the Siltori went through the exercises he put together. They were identical to the tutelage he received from his sire years ago. And, unbeknownst to Barbatos, they hearkened back to the old man's days serving the Imperium. Every stroke of the sword Barbatos learned whispered with the Gelerian heritage he never knew, nor embraced. Now, they were being passed down to his first and only friend. The exercise today consisted of "zones" on a tree trunk. Faelora was given a rather heavy branch to wield, similar in weight to his own bastard sword, and was made to strike at zones on the trunk. Each zone corresponding to a different part of the human body.
The intent? Though she was going to learn how to wield a smaller weapon, she would still need the strength to wield something larger in a pinch. Plus, she'd know how and where to strike the enemy when combat arose. Barbatos slurped his meal hungrily as he watched her perform. "Alright, alright, you've earned a break." he said. "You'd best eat before I devour it all."
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