4th Day of Fall, 518 A.V.
Quzon chewed of a piece of his thumbnail. It was how he kept his fingers properly groomed most of the time, apart from a sharp blade to shave his head if his hair became longer than a few inches. He spat it out somewhere over the side railing of the Svefra palivar that he boarded passage on to a settlement called Syka. When he'd sought out a ride to get him close to Taloba in Riverfall, he could only find a pod in the middle of departing after resupplying themselves at the coastal city before heading close to Syka where they would trade with a merchant ship. He was lucky that they accepted him on, agreeing to quickly drop him off, only requiring him to work for passage.
Quzon aided in loading the supplies onto the ship, and gladly acted as a guard to defend the ship so long as he was on it. He kept to himself for the four days they said it would take to reach the new settlement, although they told him the pod could make it in two days at top speed, they were in no rush to get to Syka after only recently restocking in Riverfall. And so, the Myrian spent most of his time sitting on top of his large chest that held the largest of his bodybuilding equipment that could not fit into his bottomless backpack, pushing the heavy chest to the side of the ship and claiming the spot as his own, even sleeping there above deck.
Quzon sat on the chest, his eyes glancing up to the tip of the Maw on the distant horizon. It was still too far away to feel any wave of nostalgia at the sight of the jungle. The Myrian passed the time by setting his bottomless backpack in his lap to retrieve one of the other pieces of parchment that were held safely within it, pulling out a delicate piece of warn paper that had clearly seen better days. He held the piece of paper in the palm of his left hand, cupping it as if it were a fragile flame about to be snuffed by the wind with his right hand.
"Aur..Auris, Auristics." He sounded out the words in his head, trying his best to read in Common which was the language he was worst at speaking. The first sweeping pass of his eyes along passage was used to set the words into his mind. Once it was done, he read it through with some legibility.
"Auristics allows a mage to focus their own djed to enhance five senses to perceive the Aura of other things. Everything creates an aura around itself, a flame, a flower, a bowl of milk. An Aurist needs to 'focus' on a specific aura to learn of its physical properties, Internal structure, the feeling of others, and various other natures. For a fledgling Aurist, its best to focus on one aura at a time to discover basic information..."
There was clearly more that the writer of the journal entry wanted to say, but those words were lost to time as old worn piece of a page ended abruptly. There was a sensation that flowed trough him as he looked at the piece of paper, his mind focusing on it for the longest moment. It was as if he'd entered an intense meditation before it was disturbed by the sounds of birds in the distance. He looked up to find the that the he was at his destination. Quzon put the parchment back into his backpack, then thanked the Svefra after they helped him get his chest onto a casinor that took him to the shore some distance north from the Saw Mill, enough beyond it heading towards sharktooth.
Practicality set in near instantly, but its timing came only after old memories of dim days running under the jungle canopy, past moments sitting around campfires with his fang during his days in the army, and the rush of old battles unwound through his mind. It was the remembrance of those past things that held him there, looking out over the colorless landscape. His memory of color the only reasons he imagine the green of the tree leaves on the far treeline.
"Move your ass Rekrut!" The memory of his old Fang Leader Yolotli of The Changing Moon caused a smirk to tug at his lips. Taloba was a long way away and he was rusty in the ways of wilderness survival. He looked down to his large wooden chest, its heavy constants of weights making it too heavy for anyone to steal.
He turned around to watch how the waves encroached onto the shore.
Their was a clear discoloration of displaced sands from the past high tide, showing where the water would lift to. His trunk rested just within the discolored patch, meaning he needed to move a meter away from the shore to be safe. "If I'm going to go through all the effort to move them, I should set up a temporary campsite." The Myrian spoke aloud to himself, keeping himself company as he focused on his own survivability.
It took a moment, but Quzon worked to pitch his tent after removing its pieces from his backpack. He laid the base ground tarp of the tent on the sand, finding the area flat enough to not require reimancy to adjust. He then laid the 'top tent' portion of it on atop the ground covering.
Quzon made sure to have the entrance of his tent face towards the jungle, and not the sea because he always like to keep an eye on dangers from it, rather than the sea. To the right and left his tent laid protruded all the rope strands that would be used to fastened the tent to the ground with stakes.
Quzon used his bare hand strength to embed the first front stakes into the ground after tying the rope around the end of it. He pressed the spike deeply into the sand, then reached back to pull his hand axe from his belt. The Myrian did not have a hammer, but the flat side of his axe seemed to do the trick as he lifted his arm to slam the end of the stake further into the deep ground.
Once that was done, he did the same thing to the stake fastener on the other side, before erecting the first tent pole at the mouth entrance, tying the bottom and top of the tent to the pole that not held the tent upright like a spine with the fasteners as the muscle which kept the front of the tent upright. He repeated the process to the back of the tent, then staked all the other fasteners into the ground. It took him several chimes to do before turning back to his heavy chest. The Bodybuilder knew his limits, so he opened the chest to hand move all the pieces within it first.
He opened it up, reaching down to take out a fifty pound metal circular metal weight. If he were going to move all the weights, he was sure going to make it into a work out. He held the weights high, up around his collar bone while slowly walking to his tent. The sand added extra resistance as he walked back and forth to set his weights down in front of the tent, only to walk back to get the heavier items. His fingers gripped tightly at the metal, keeping control as he made sure not to drop any of them. Quzon stopped mid way to his tent to press the bottom of his palms against the metal, pressing the weight up into the air before retracting his arms, feeling the swell of blood flowing through his veins from the pump of the steel.
His arms started to feel that cold relief of excitement at being forced to carry the strain of heavy metal. It was a sensation Quzon loved, but he knew it was the wrong time to go full force at bodybuilding. "Can't get too out of hand. You've still things to do today." He reminded himself as he Finished moving all of his weights, then putting his chest inside of the tent.
Quzon aided in loading the supplies onto the ship, and gladly acted as a guard to defend the ship so long as he was on it. He kept to himself for the four days they said it would take to reach the new settlement, although they told him the pod could make it in two days at top speed, they were in no rush to get to Syka after only recently restocking in Riverfall. And so, the Myrian spent most of his time sitting on top of his large chest that held the largest of his bodybuilding equipment that could not fit into his bottomless backpack, pushing the heavy chest to the side of the ship and claiming the spot as his own, even sleeping there above deck.
Quzon sat on the chest, his eyes glancing up to the tip of the Maw on the distant horizon. It was still too far away to feel any wave of nostalgia at the sight of the jungle. The Myrian passed the time by setting his bottomless backpack in his lap to retrieve one of the other pieces of parchment that were held safely within it, pulling out a delicate piece of warn paper that had clearly seen better days. He held the piece of paper in the palm of his left hand, cupping it as if it were a fragile flame about to be snuffed by the wind with his right hand.
"Aur..Auris, Auristics." He sounded out the words in his head, trying his best to read in Common which was the language he was worst at speaking. The first sweeping pass of his eyes along passage was used to set the words into his mind. Once it was done, he read it through with some legibility.
"Auristics allows a mage to focus their own djed to enhance five senses to perceive the Aura of other things. Everything creates an aura around itself, a flame, a flower, a bowl of milk. An Aurist needs to 'focus' on a specific aura to learn of its physical properties, Internal structure, the feeling of others, and various other natures. For a fledgling Aurist, its best to focus on one aura at a time to discover basic information..."
There was clearly more that the writer of the journal entry wanted to say, but those words were lost to time as old worn piece of a page ended abruptly. There was a sensation that flowed trough him as he looked at the piece of paper, his mind focusing on it for the longest moment. It was as if he'd entered an intense meditation before it was disturbed by the sounds of birds in the distance. He looked up to find the that the he was at his destination. Quzon put the parchment back into his backpack, then thanked the Svefra after they helped him get his chest onto a casinor that took him to the shore some distance north from the Saw Mill, enough beyond it heading towards sharktooth.
Practicality set in near instantly, but its timing came only after old memories of dim days running under the jungle canopy, past moments sitting around campfires with his fang during his days in the army, and the rush of old battles unwound through his mind. It was the remembrance of those past things that held him there, looking out over the colorless landscape. His memory of color the only reasons he imagine the green of the tree leaves on the far treeline.
"Move your ass Rekrut!" The memory of his old Fang Leader Yolotli of The Changing Moon caused a smirk to tug at his lips. Taloba was a long way away and he was rusty in the ways of wilderness survival. He looked down to his large wooden chest, its heavy constants of weights making it too heavy for anyone to steal.
He turned around to watch how the waves encroached onto the shore.
Their was a clear discoloration of displaced sands from the past high tide, showing where the water would lift to. His trunk rested just within the discolored patch, meaning he needed to move a meter away from the shore to be safe. "If I'm going to go through all the effort to move them, I should set up a temporary campsite." The Myrian spoke aloud to himself, keeping himself company as he focused on his own survivability.
It took a moment, but Quzon worked to pitch his tent after removing its pieces from his backpack. He laid the base ground tarp of the tent on the sand, finding the area flat enough to not require reimancy to adjust. He then laid the 'top tent' portion of it on atop the ground covering.
Quzon made sure to have the entrance of his tent face towards the jungle, and not the sea because he always like to keep an eye on dangers from it, rather than the sea. To the right and left his tent laid protruded all the rope strands that would be used to fastened the tent to the ground with stakes.
Quzon used his bare hand strength to embed the first front stakes into the ground after tying the rope around the end of it. He pressed the spike deeply into the sand, then reached back to pull his hand axe from his belt. The Myrian did not have a hammer, but the flat side of his axe seemed to do the trick as he lifted his arm to slam the end of the stake further into the deep ground.
Once that was done, he did the same thing to the stake fastener on the other side, before erecting the first tent pole at the mouth entrance, tying the bottom and top of the tent to the pole that not held the tent upright like a spine with the fasteners as the muscle which kept the front of the tent upright. He repeated the process to the back of the tent, then staked all the other fasteners into the ground. It took him several chimes to do before turning back to his heavy chest. The Bodybuilder knew his limits, so he opened the chest to hand move all the pieces within it first.
He opened it up, reaching down to take out a fifty pound metal circular metal weight. If he were going to move all the weights, he was sure going to make it into a work out. He held the weights high, up around his collar bone while slowly walking to his tent. The sand added extra resistance as he walked back and forth to set his weights down in front of the tent, only to walk back to get the heavier items. His fingers gripped tightly at the metal, keeping control as he made sure not to drop any of them. Quzon stopped mid way to his tent to press the bottom of his palms against the metal, pressing the weight up into the air before retracting his arms, feeling the swell of blood flowing through his veins from the pump of the steel.
His arms started to feel that cold relief of excitement at being forced to carry the strain of heavy metal. It was a sensation Quzon loved, but he knew it was the wrong time to go full force at bodybuilding. "Can't get too out of hand. You've still things to do today." He reminded himself as he Finished moving all of his weights, then putting his chest inside of the tent.