He had only been living in Sunberth for a few years. Every day he woke up and was thankful for being away from the wizard. When he had hiked out of the woods, he was a wreck, the whole griving proccess was taking place. The fact that his best friend and father had died, along with many "uncles, cousins, and brothers" had died at the hands of the man. It took him awhile to clear his mind, linger thoughts of the man had caused him to see him as a saint, a defenseless old man. But in reality he was lonely and looking for some one to keep him company.
It had been hard at first adapting to a knew life one of little travel. He tended to stay in his home and continue to work his body and mind. Occasionally working on his magic, though lately he felt the need to practice more magic.
He sat up slowly, his bed very uncomfortable, and rubbed his eyes. Swinging his legs from his bed he stood, moving to the thick shutters on the single windowed house. He opened them briefly checking the time of day. As usually the sun was still not up nor would it be for another hour or so. He stretched his arms above his head and raised onto his toes. He walked to side of the house that was cleared, his wooden practice dummy off to the side. And he got onto all fours, bringing his knees up. He let gravity pull him down, till his chest was almost touching the deck, his back was straight and his eyes forward. Then pushing himself up he began to do his routine pushups. His arms, and chest worked tirelessly as he warmed him. His breathing was rhythmic and his muscles began to warm slightly from the nights sleep. After he could feel the stiffness and soreness building in his arms, he began to count his repetitions aloud. "One, two, three, one. One, two, three, two, One two three, Four..." Once he reached sixty he stopped. His knees falling to catch his tired body. He panted softly, a sheen of sweat forming upon him. Catching his breath, he rolled onto his back, crossing his arms so that his finger tips rested on his collar bones. He brought his elbows up so that they touched his upper thighs then went back down. His motion was fluid and perfect as he continued to do the reps. The burning sensation filled his stomach, and once again counted his reps. "One, two three, one, one two three, two" He stopped after his sixty were done, laying down for a moment hoping the burning would subside. Then again he positioned his arms on his collar bones, now bring his opposite elbow to the opposite thigh. His stomach already cramping he didn't bother to count, but kept up a fast pace until he felt he was going to retch. Laying down once more he rested awhile before getting up. Finally he stood his body was sore, but he paid it no mind. To over come weakness was strength and pain was weakness. He walked over to his bed where his Gladius rested. He drew the blade from its scabbard and walked to the practice dummy, he pulled it out from the wall and lined up with it. Looking at it intently. He'd never been one for swords mostly brawling and even then he hadn't had much experience. For being a Merc's son he felt ashamed. Though he knew he had more experience in other things.
The practice post was retrofitted in the fact that he couldn't afford it a weapon or armor so after one of the riots they had had, which was not uncommon, he picked up a few pieces of woods, some class and bits of metal pans. Also after the riot he had scored a decent pot for cooking but also for bringing water, and it currently resided on the dummy's head. " Hello Verl, ready for our match today? You won't win as easily as last time." He spoke softly to the dummy, what he now considered his only and closet friend. He always started slowly first striking the right hand, which was the normal person's dominate hand. The left hand swung, it had a board for a hand and generally hurt when he was struck. He brought up his sword to deflect the left arm, and then the right came around he brought his left arm up taking the blow from the counter weight. Though at this speed it didn't hurt but when he built up speed it could leave bruises. Soon he was in the rhythem of things. Sword strike, Block, Block, Jab, Block, strike, catch, elbow. He built up quicker and quicker and finally he was moving quickly enough to mimic real life combat, his arms reacting out of muscle memory deflecting, jabbing, stabbing, ducking and punching. After awhile light began to show through the shutters, not much but enough to let him know it was time to eat. He caught the swinging arm and relaxed. Moving back to his bed he sheathed his weapon and took a seat at the edge of the bed. he'd left kindling in the hearth, after a moment getting up he walked back to the practice dummy pushing him to the wall and taking his helmet from his partner and threw on a shirt, and pants. Walking out side he moved to the nearest water source filling his pot and walked back to his home.
He hung the pot on a hook stepping back he took time forming res slowly in the palm of his hand, concentrating and willing the res to go where he wanted it. he slung a small ball of flame into the kindling igniting it the dried wood. He stretched out his limbs out, and eventually the water boiled he rose to his feet and moved to the wash bin dumping the boiling water into the human sized container, he left with the pot quickly filling it once more and walked back within moments. He put the kettle back on, moving to the wash bin he tested the water with his finger the water was still scolding. After a while the water had cooled enough. He stripped down and dipped into the water washing the filth from his body. Afterwards, he opened the window and dumped the washbin out of the opening, closing it quickly setting up the bin. He scrubbed his clothes down and rinsed them out thoroughly Sliding on his undergarments he set about drying his clothes, grabbing some spare lumber from the corner of his one room house. He set the chunks inside the hearth, and used his reimancy to ignite the fuel, hanging his clothes over the fire on the wire, he sat back and watched the steam rise off of them, he leaned back grabbing his waterskin, and some dried beef from his pack. He enjoyed the steam it reminded him of a time in the old camps when it would rain and he'd get to sit and relax till his clothes were dry. They were like mini holidays. He chewed on the dried beef and occasionally took a swig from the water skin. After the clothes were dried, he got to his feet taking his clothes off the wire setting them onto his bed. He got dressed and went over to his make shift cabinet and drew out one of two books he head. The one he drew he had been keeping notes in, while the other was blank. He moved over to Verl, sitting next to him, also where he kept his quills and ink. He uncorked the first bottle dipping his quill in briefly and began to write. He wrote his thoughts on The flux, and some of his theories about The Flux, He wrote about Reimancy and the initiation. He wrote about mostly magic. Drawing Diagrams, or Theories on Incantations, or hand gestures that made it easier for him to caste or use the flux. He wrote about his hypnotism experiences.
After a good half hour of writing he let his thoughts dry. He put up his ink and quill set the book aside, and got to his feet. He looked Verl up and down, then pulled the man out. HE focused bringing his hands in as if to bow, his left hand balled into a fist while his other one wrapped around it. His focus sharpened and he moved the res through his body filling his pectoral muscles and arms, he gave a sharp open palm hit to the center of the dummy the Verl rocked and as he came around to retaliate he quickly brought his other hand up. he had unnatural strength and speed each blow would rock verl he could bring his hand up deflecting the blows easily. He stood back before he could work up a sweat letting verl calm. He then sat on the ground crossing his legs, clearing his mind. He began to focus his drjed through his body shifting it to each general part working on focusing it in his limbs. He took his previous stance and used all his might to focus, slowly he began to force it to move into his left arm he could feel it creep up from his chest and towards his arm, at this point his body was shacking. Finally he let it go. Taking in a sharp breath. Getting up he moved to the window opening it, it seemed to be about noon.