[Bronze Wood] Time to Yourself is Never Overrated (Training)

[Talib Zahir]

First of Summer, 510 AV
Midday

Talib sat silent in the forest, tucked quietly against a tree. Ata, his horse, had been trotting around the area, eating the good grass and entertaining himself. Talib had been sitting in the same spot since sunrise. His eyes were closed, not asleep, but in deep meditation. He was focusing his will power, keeping it steady as a mountain. His mind was already well-trained enough to manipulate his Djed and form Res, but controlling it completely was still impossible to him. He did know, however, that practice and self-training would make him far more powerful and destructive.

It was now, though, as the sun hit the very top of the sky, that Talib opened his eyes. From within the bags next to him he removed three items: a quill, ink, and a single sheet of parchment. From his mind came the lessons of his glyphs, and the wording he wanted. It took him a bit of time, nearly five minutes, but he built a focus, a simple barrier, and a trigger on the sheepskin sheet. He checked and rechecked his work, spending over 20 minutes on this single sheet. The trigger was simple; it would deactivate the barrier and release the magic when anyone spoke the word "fire." The advantage in his case was that the only person in danger was himself, and the horse Ata.

Happy with the runes in place, Talib set it on the ground and weighted the corners with rocks. He focused on his hands as gaseous Res came from his fingertips, swirling and tasting the air. When he felt there was enough - enough being a ping-pong ball sized sphere of dense, green gas. He lit the outer layer aflame, watching it float and flap in the gentle breeze. He smiled and threw the ball at the glyphs, lighting the core a second before it hit the sheet and disappeared from existence. Smug, Talib picked up the magic-infused sheet and held it away from himself, admiring his work. It was entirely possible that his glyph would fail even with how simple it was, and that all the effort was wasted, and his res gone for nothing.

But barring total failure, Talib was confident in his practice. He prepared himself, both mentally and physically. He had only ever done this once, in the presence of well trained wizards. That, and he was only versed in wording, not the application of such. It didn't matter though, because what had been done was done, and there was no turning back in Talib's mind.

He aimed the scroll at a pile of wood that he had collected and arranged before dawn. Slowly, softly, he spoke the word, "Fire."

From the parchment came a swift ball of fire, only visible for a second before striking the fire pit. A smile came to the teenage wizard's face as the kindling caught fire and danced with hot, orange light. The sheet began to crack and crumble, turning to dust before it's pieces hit the forest floor. Talib sat down, not far from the fire, and prayed to Yahal. He thanked his deity for the courage to continue, and for continued protection from the beasts around him. He wasn't far from Syliras, not more than a few miles really. But the extra protection would always be welcome.

Over the next hour, Talib made four glyphs, each one exactly the same as his first. He focused, remembering that over-giving would become an issue if he tried too hard now. He repeated the process from before: forcing res from his fingers, manipulating it into fire, and throwing it onto the parchments. Of them all, one of them burned immediately, failing to contain the magic. The rest seemed to be in working order, but that was yet to be determined.

Talib rolled the newly made parchments into scrolls and tucked them into his robe pockets and stood up. All his training was tiring him out, and a light meal was definitely in order.

[Talib Zahir]

After about 2 hours of searching the nearby shrubs and bushes, Talib had a well-weighted collection of sweet smelling berries. He looked at his fingers, now blackened by the dye the berries had left behind. He thought to himself quietly, quiet as always. If the berries could dye his fingers, they could potentially work on clothing too. Perhaps the bitter-red berries would do the same, though they didn't leave much of a mark when he tried picking them.

The thought entertained him while he quickly ate the berries. He wasn't full, but much less famished than before. He stood, holding his staff like a walking stick. He was never a supporter of violence, especially not physically, but the world was a cruel and hateful place; he would need to learn to use his staff as a real weapon. He stared at the dark, polished wood for a moment. It was simple, light, and easy to use.

He started by spinning it in front of him, nice and easy. His hands weren't calloused as of yet, so he felt every notch in the wood, every break in the grain on his fingers. He grabbed the pole near the middle with his right hand, spinning it up into his left, which grabbed near the bottom. It stung a little, but he focused on the fake enemy in front of him. A quick twist of his shoulders slapped the man in the wrist, disarming him. A jab to the throat would knock him to his back. As a finishing move, Talib brought the staff up and smashed his foe's head.

However, he didn't notice the rock under his imaginary enemy's head. His hands were filled with an instant pain as he dropped the staff to nurse them. After a few minutes of shaking the pain away, he picked up the staff and examined it. The tip was chipped, but the wood had stayed solid and singular. Talib sighed, relieved, and stood up with the staff. Regardless of anything, he needed to keep training. This time around, however, he remembered to leave the finishing blows out of his training as the staff spun around rather flowingly.

[Talib Zahir]

Nearly three bells had passed before Talib noticed fatigue setting in. He had pushed himself hard today, and the falling sun was his alarm that he needed to pack up for the night. He looked down at his hands, which were now aching and feeling weak. The staff was still polished at ever, the only sign of age or use being the chip he left in the end.

Talib sat down in his camp. The fire had died now, the logs that blazed before now reduced to a cold pile of charred ashes. He pulled out the three remaining scrolls and set them on the ground. It was now that he realized his mistake; all three scrolls would activate if he activated one. He sighed and thought for a moment, staring at the scrolls and the pit they lay beside.

An idea struck him and he began to pile logs on top of the scrolls. "Fire," he whispered, and watched his work. Two of the scrolls did absolutely nothing, and the third only fizzled slowly. Talib sighed and crouched over the logs. From his fingers came a thick, gelatinous goo that coated the logs. Just as Talib began to feel himself growing weak, he cut off the flow of djed and sat back. He snapped for effect, manipulating the blue goop into a blazing fire. The logs caught quickly, to the young man's relief.

He was tired, but there was no time to rest yet. He pulled the rolled up tent over to himself and untied the straps. The tent was easy enough to put together: lay the canvas, secure the stakes, tie the canvas, and raise the shafts. It took twenty or so chimes to set up the crude tent, but Talib was glad he finally had a bed and shelter. He crawled into his tent and closed the flap.

"Goodnight Ata," he said, closing his eyes while the fire burned contently, safely outside his tent.

[Talib Zahir]

Talib woke up in his tent, shivering in the pre-dawn air. It was bracing, and it woke him up quickly. Pulling his thick robe over himself, he exited the tent and looked around. Ata was gnawing on grass, the fire pit was a smoldering pile of ash, and he was a pale shade of his normal skin color from the cold.

The young mage looked down at his hands. They were empty, but he looked at them as if he saw something within them. He knew from his training that everything had an aura. As he focused, he felt a small amount of djed leaving his body. He could see a hint of what he felt, but could hardly focus on it. All he knew is that he felt unsure.

But why did he need magic to confirm that for himself? He looked around. He'd been here for days, uncountable now. The forest was the same, his routine was the same. Pack up, move a few miles, settle in for a couple days and try to find himself. But what if he wasn't here? There was nothing here anymore. He looked up at the rising sun and decided it was time to move.

A full two bells later, he was packed and ready. With Ata behind him on a guide rope, he began to leave the Cobalt Mountains.

END

[Dusk]

XP Award! Talib Zahir XP Award: Meditation: 1 XP, Glyphing: 1 XP, Reimancy (Fire): 2 XP, Quarterstaff: 1 XP, Wilderness Survival: 1 XP Lore Award: Creating glyphs (basic), Backlash of weapons Ledger: None Additional Note A good start to a training thread! You can earn more XP by detailing the actual use of the skill more, perhaps adding a few more posts next time? Wonderful writing though, keep up the good work!