[Flashback] This was an average day. (Solo)

[Faylon Kwanda]

81st of Spring, 502AV [Morning came early in Denval for Faylon Kwanda. One minute he was asleep in his bed and the next his father was rousing him awake with the firm shake of his hands and the sounds of “Get up boy. No time to laze about.” And then the next Faylon was wide eyed using a hand to help him stifle the yawn that threatened to spill from between his lips. Life consisted of a daily routine and this was part of it for young Faydon here, his father woke him up every morning and then he had breakfast and tended to chores before he moved on to other activities.] [Lounging in bed for to long was often met by the sound of his father’s voice calling him again and he knew that if he wasn’t up, and quickly, the old man was likely to come drag him out the second time he was forced to roust him. Grumbling Faylon rolled out of his bed and went towards the kitchen after sliding a tunic over his head and pulling a pair of breaches onto himself. Maybe it seemed curious that his father was always calling him but his mother had died a little over three years ago; Faylon remembered her well but was over his grief.] [Making his way to the table Faylon would sit while his father dished out a bowl of steaming hot porridge for him and tossed it down in from of him with the handle of a wooden spoon poking out so that he could shovel the food into his mouth. “Don’t forget to see to your chores. You need to take of them before heading off for the day.”...was the reminder his father gave him in a stern voice while Faylon was shovelling food down his mouth and into his belly, the porridge was largely tasteless but it happened to be filling, and after answering the man with a few moans of confirmation while eating Faylon watched his father leave. His father was quite the blacksmith, competent and hard working, which was one reason his family had been accepted in Denval but Faylon had little interest in the trade himself and so left it at that.] [After he’d finished eating Faylon would clean his bowl with a damp cloth and set it on a shelf with other standard dishes and utensils. The Kwanda household was not large but it was bigger than a cottage. In the span of 600 square feet they fit a main room that served every purpose from cooking to entertaining and two bedrooms where Faylon and his father slept. Faylon would clean up the leftover mess that had been left around the household before starting on the rest of his chores. Washing any other dishes as well as the pot his father cooked the porridge in with the rag he’d used on his bowl Faylon would then set it aside before moving out to the task at hand.] [Daily chores for Faylon were fairly basic, he was to chop blocks of wood with an axe and haul them inside or to a wood box just beside the home once they were split. This was daily chore. Better to prepared for winter than not he was always told and even when the colder evening it wasn’t uncommon to see a fire lit inside.] [Walking outside Faylon found the wood chopping block and the axe used to split pieces of wood nearby and went about his job. Taking a piece of wood he’d set it vertically on the chopping block before gripping the axe in both hands and raising it over his head. Usually it took him one blow from the axe to cut the average piece of wood in half but if it was larger, or stubborn, it could take two or more and this was sometimes accompanied by cursing. Altogether Faylon preformed these motions anywhere from twenty-five to thirty times, splitting pieces of wood in half, until he had a small pile around the chopping block. It was then a simple task of gathering the wood. He’d use his left arm to carry it while stacking the pile with his right hand. Simple as that sounds it was a frequent pain if the stack was uneven as he’d generally drop a bit of wood in the process then.] [It was a fairly good workout all things considered though. Chopping wood and hauling it took a bit of time and by the time and when it was over Faylon’s arms were tense, tighter than normal, but he felt good about it all. Nothing wrong with a bit of a workout. In the morning more wood would need to be chopped though. His father made deals with some of the other citizens to bring him wood that wasn’t need and in return he would shoe their horses, etc at no charge to themselves. Fair trade.] [When everything was done Faylon was off to his morning practice though...]

[Faylon Kwanda]

[Leaving his home after his chores were complete Faylon would move through Denval unabated. He’d wave and be pleasant to many of the locals and they in turn to him but he never stopped or let something sidetrack him from his destination. He was already late which was actually an average occurrence for him regardless of how he endeavoured not to be. Faylon did have a good accounting of time but that really didn’t seem to matter for some reason.] [Up ahead of him, after he’d travelled through the town for awhile, he’d find a square were other youths in their late teenage years were practicing. Boxing was the sport of choice for these men and they had all the equipment necessary, it paid to have them fit and able and trained so that they could be a boon to Denval. The Square wasn’t large but it only had to fit a dozen men who squared up with one another to spar and train themselves so that they could become better at the craft. Everyone in this group knew one another and while they trained hard with each other they were always ready with a hearty slap on the back and a few words too.] [Today as Faylon approached he heard a voice call out...”There you are you lazy sod. Finally decided to join us did you!”... causing Faylon to look around until he saw a large man who stood a few inches taller than him and well muscled too. It was Brock, Faylon had known him for years now since his family arrived in Denval, and the two were amiable friends though most of the time they only saw each other during training and practice. Slapping Faylon over the shoulder Brock would say...”I’ve been waiting for you. Let’s get warmed up and then we can have a go at one another. What do you say?”...to which he’d hear the answer...”Sounds great. I’ve been looking forward to laying hands on you all morning.” Both men laughed and then they were off, crossing the practice square together.] [Wrapping his hands in linen Faylon bound his fists tightly so that he could make a harder fist. Testing the tightness of the cloth by shadowboxing a few moments with himself he’d jab once, twice, three times and the deliver a right cross. Bobbing his head back and forth between blows as though he were dodging punches aimed for his head at the same time he kept his body in the upright stance to signify that he would have been on the offensive at this time.] [When Brock was ready Faylon would move toward a dummy that was set up for practice. Several of them could be seen in the square at this time. The Dummy consisted of a manikin made of two layers of straw with a thick piece of hide that had been boiled stiff in between them to create the feeling of resistance when it was hit. Usually one man would hold the dummy from behind while the other punched it, really it was like a makeshift punching bag made to resemble a man.] [Pumping out two quick jabs to begin with Faylon would test the resistance of his dummy while Brock steadied it from behind. Bobbing and weaving back and forth as though he were dodging punches again Faylon would make two more quick jabs with his left hand and then step in for a third heavier blow with his right. Hearing the crunch of straw when he struck the dummy Faylon could feel the impact his fist had on the leather after every blow. Once he delivered the quick combination he started to let his feet carry him backwards while lowering into a half crouch that was considered the middle road between offense and defence so that he could counterattack if his imaginary opponent came after him.] [Another quick drill followed a few moments after. This one was a combination. Faylon would start by jabbing with his right and then stepping in and jabbing with his left as the right came back and down out of its blow. Once he completed the second jaw he’d shoot his right arm up in a powerful uppercut meant to take his opponent against the jaw and knock him prone. Of course it was easy to complete these kinds of combinations against a straw dummy but the theory was there.] [Finishing a few more rounds of warm up that consisted of basic jabs mixed with some hooks and crosses along with the occasional uppercut Faylon would step backwards and raise his arm to wipe the back of his hand across his brow. Brock was coming around the dummy then and he could be heard saying...”Well you look like you’re ready! Let’s have a go at it shall we?”...to which Faylon would not and respond...”Sure Brock. I’ll go easy on you.”...and then both of them were walking towards a smaller circle in the square were men sparred with each other.]

[Faylon Kwanda]

[Walking towards the smaller circle where men sparred Faylon noticed the attention that he and Brock got as others who were training stopped and turned to look at the both of them. Whenever someone fought it usually gained a bit of attention. There were no official rankings on who was the best fighter around but amongst these small groups there always seemed to be an unofficial list kept in the back of everyone’s mind. Brock tended to rank fairly highly on most people’s lists due to his size and strength which was considerable regardless of his often easy going demeanour.] [Entering the circle across from one another Faylon looked at Brock as they squared up with one another. There was no padding in these matches but since it was only a spar both combatants usually only hit at about half strength to a third with half strength being the rule of thumb. Accuracy and technique were emphasized over laying your opponent on his back even though that was often the secondary goal of most men seeing as how they could claim a clean cut victory in those cases. As for himself though Faylon was only interested in getting better, he had some talent with his hands already but there was room for a lot of improvement, even though this was considered training he thought of it almost like recreation.] [With arms raising Faylon would wave Brock ahead and say...”Alright you Ox. Let’s see what you can do.”...a little friendly jeering before a touch of the knuckles never hurt anyone. Well at least not most of the time but you didn’t want to get cocky and let your guard down. Walking towards one another the match began quite like any other with both men meeting in the middle and beginning to circle around one another slowly as they entered a feeling out process that consisted of distance as well as individual strengths.] [Bobbing his head back and forth instinctively Faylon would lean backwards and to the side as Brock popped a jab at him, avoiding it but barely, and then answer back with two of his own that hit his opponent square in the face. Brock only smiled though. Bouncing and light on his feet Faylon would continue the circling process, he was clearly faster than Brock so he only need stay out of his reach and away from those big hands of his. Popping off another stiff jab Faylon would see Brocks head jerk backwards slightly but that was all as the both of them continued round and round.] [Footwork being key here Faylon kept his guard high as he continued to fire off jabs from his right arm until Brock began to parry them and then he switch to his left. It didn’t actually look like much of a match until Faylon snapped a jab to late and Brock answered with a hook that caught him across the side of the mouth and sent him stumbling, the side of his face throbbing, back a few paces before he recovered but Brock was on him.] [Swinging for the fences Brock connected with another shot, a cross this time, that wobbled Faylon whose arms came up to defend him and block most of the incoming shots. God he’s strong. Then when Brock when for an overhand right Faylon was using his quicker footwork to slip to the left, under Brocks arm, and circle around behind him to keep from being trapped near the edge of the circle. Brock stumbled ahead and then turned around to begin stalking Faylon again with a bit of a grin on his face his nose bloodied a bit from the jabs he’d taken beforehand.] [Waiting Faylon had decided to change his strategy, he could hit Brock in the face all day and the man would probably never fall down, and as Brock drew nearer he snapped out a few more jabs to bait the man closer. Popping out the jabs was demoralizing when Faylon saw how little they were doing which is why it was good he decided on another attack. Baiting Brock closer he waited until the big man threw one of those horrendous hooks of his before falling into a half crouch and slipping underneath his arm while driving his own forward into Brocks stomach. Success! He heard him groaning afterwards.] [As big as Brock was the one thing that stood out was his stomach so after he heard him groan Faylon came in tight once they squared up again and started delivering bombs to his midsection. One, two. One, two. Using quick and simple combinations, nothing fancy, Faylon began chopping down his opponent but he still had to be careful of his counters. He was reminded of that when he just barely got an arm up to defend a blow that might have ripped his head off and was still sent stumbling aside and Brock still wasn’t firing his shots that hard.] [His face throbbing Faylon could see that Brock was winded though and he went in for one more back and forth. One, two. He shot out his gloves at Brock’s midsection as they came in tight but this time only one punch landed and Brock answered with a shot that turned Faylon’s head to the side. Both men were hurt after that and they clinched together. The fight was over and they knew it. It was a draw. Their peers cheered and applauded their efforts.] [“Good go you lazy dog.”...Brock congratulated Faylon while they were together...”And you.”...he heard back through a few deep breathes before both men separated. Training here was done for the day but this still had another exercise to do together. Sword training. Before that they’d both need to get cleaned up though. Faylon would ice his face where it throbbed and hope to minimize bruising and swelling while Brock stuck some cloth up his nose to staunch the bit of blood flow coming out of it.]

[Faylon Kwanda]

[After they’d both rested a few minutes and cleaned themselves up Brock and Faylon would head to another small circle where wooden longswords could be found. An emphasis was put on the idea that they shouldn’t train with real swords at this time seeing as how they were both novices and no one in Denval wanted to see someone dismembered or injured because of their lack of experience. Repetition they were told after being shown the basics was a great way to advance ones skill. In fact as you became more comfortable with the basics there was no harm in attempting something a little more advanced, especially with a wooden sword where all that you would receive for your mistakes were a stiff bruising and maybe a broken bone.] [Faylon wasn’t quite as eager to train with the sword as he had been to box though. Maybe this stemmed from a general lack of interest in learning swordplay or maybe because he knew that Brock was much better with the sword than he was. He approached the circle though and took the hilt of his wooden sword as Brock turned to hand it to him before weighing it in his grip.] [Wooden Swords like these weren’t actually all that different compared to their authentic counterpart. Obviously they were wooden and couldn’t do the same kind of damage but they were shaped to look realistic and weighted so that they’d feel similar is a user hand. Training weapons like these had been built with novices in mind so that if they made mistakes it wouldn’t go to badly for them and accidents did have a way of happening when swords were involved.] [Walking into the training circle Faylon would square up with Brock again and stand across a distance of about a dozen feet with him. Holding the training sword, meant to resemble a longsword, Faylon would take it into a low guard while nodding towards the larger man who said...”Whenever you’re ready. Remember to stay focused!”...before Faylon answered...”Ready as I’ll ever be. Lets get to it.”...and then they both moved towards one another.] [Brock was the first to act bringing his sword overhead and chopping it down in a heavy blow that Faylon parried by bringing his own higher out of his low guard and to the side so that he could catch and deflect the attack over to the side. Brock was able to recover quite quickly and he let the momentum of the parry carry his sword out to the side before lifting it overhead and turning it on a 180 degree angle to bring it around swinging for the opposite side of Faylon.] [THUD! Faylon screamed once and was gritting his teeth when Brocks sword hit him against the forearm, sure to leave a large bruise, and left it with a bit of a numb feeling. “That’s your arm! You lost it.”...Brock was laughing after he hit Faylon and backed away to reset his stance while Faylon mumbled...”Thanks. I hadn’t noticed that all sensation was lost in it you ape.”...and then he, likewise, reset himself across from Brock. Both of them took up the same stances they’d used before.] [Unlike the first time Faylon was the first to act after a brief feeling out period. Both of them were circling and then he rushed forward towards Brock. Brock usually kept his sword in a high guard so as Faylon ran forward he decided to give him a bit of an obstacle by delivering another downwards chop before manoeuvring himself into a better position. Faylon parried again bringing his sword high from the low guard and using it deflect Brock’s weapon but instead of slowing down he continued to barrel ahead. Turning as he went Faylon would twist at the waist until his shoulder was aimed right for Brock’s stomach and when he collided with the big man he made him stumble away.] [Backpedalling Brock panted for his breath and Faylon brought his sword back across to swing at the mans midsection but only managed to skim his tunic just a bit. Brock was reversing his momentum then and coming forward himself while Faylon reset his sword and swinging his weapon Brock aimed to knock Faylon upside the head. Another lift and parry later though and they were in much the same stalemate however as Faylon locked swords with Brock the big man pressed both weapons together using his size and strength to his advantage to bully Faylon backwards before a hefty shove of both arms sent Faylon wobbling away and onto his back. Brock was staring over him when he looked up again, training sword pointing at his sternum, and shrugging once with a bit of a smile.] [“Not bad.”...Brock remarked before withdrawing his training sword and offering his hand which Faylon took while lamenting...”Not the best either. Glad we’re not fighting for real.”...causing Brock to laugh and give a large and toothy smile while he took the training sword from him.] [Brushing himself off with both hands Faylon would crack his neck to one side before saying...”We’re done for the day then. I’ll see you tomorrow Brock.”...they’d exchange goodbyes and Faylon would be off towards the last part of his day which was likely to be the longest before he returned home.]

[Faylon Kwanda]

[When he left the training square, bidding the group he trained with goodbye for the day, Faylon was a bit sore in the arm from the sword blow still but he could wiggle his fingers and roll his shoulder so it must not have been too bad. As he left the square Faylon would move onto one of the many town streets before proceeding out of town. Not far out of town though, he was only going towards one of the farms set aside for agricultural use.] [Always funny, he noted to himself, that his feet felt heavier when he was going towards something he didn’t look forward to as much. He was expected to help provide for the community though and seeing as how he wasn’t actually of mature age yet Faylon did this as a labourer on a farm where he helped to manage crops through watering, weeding and seeding. He worked with good people and enjoyed their company but most of the time he worked rather independently and away from all of them. Faylon enjoyed a bit of solitude in his work.] [Today when he arrived at the farm he was greeted and given instructions to walk the fields and see to any weds that might be sprouting up and then he would have others tasks waiting for him after that was accomplished.] [Walking the fields was a simple task, especially during the spring as compared to the summer, but it required a critical eye so that a person could recognize the weeds for what they were. Crouching down whenever Faylon saw a weed he would take it by the stem and further down near the dirt so that he could take as much of it out of the ground as possible, roots and all, before tossing it into a sack he’d brought with him for just such a purpose. Occasionally he’d move some other objects too like rocks and sticks so that the soil would stay even and undisturbed overall.] [Hours later when he was done that he’d return to the farmer and hand over the bag of weeds which could be ground into feed for some animals he imagined and wait for his next task. This one would be a tad harder. Handing him a large, tightly woven, basket the farmer would explain to Faylon that he wanted him to go back out into the fields and row by row spread these seeds. Seeds had already been spread weeks before but it never hurt to have more out there to ensure growth and the farmer pointed out a section that might have been sparser than the others which is where he wanted Faylon to spend most of his time.] [It wasn’t exactly a booming job of course and Faylon was no farmer but he tried to remain optimistic as he went back out onto the field and started to spread the seeds out of the basket he’d been given. Taking handfuls of them in his palm he’d try to toss them down in a wide spread so that they’d distribute evenly as he walked the rows of the field. That was really all there was to it when it came to seeding as far as he knew at this point. It was quite boring really and Faylon couldn’t imagine how anyone would want to spend all of their time doing this. Working and walking in the fields like this did bring on a bit of a sweat though even in cooler weather when the circulation started and the blood pumped hot through your limbs.] [Weeding and seeding. That was what he did and it took him most of the remainder of his day besides a few menial tasks here and there. When the 18th bell struck Faylon was finished and bidding the farmer a good day he’d head back in the direction of home.] [Walking home with others that had the same job as he did Faylon could make small talk with several others his age. Subjects usually ranged from the weather and what they’d be doing on their days of rest to things like local women in the town and other such gossip. Nothing out of the ordinary really though occasionally there was some mention of magic and this is what truly peeked Faylon’s interest. Not the craft itself but the wondrous items that could be created and in the back of his eyes a keen intellect started to shine just a little brighter when he thought about it.] [When Faylon returned home he and his father spoke, ate and when to bed. There was family time of course but not an abundance of it and while the two of them were close they also enjoy the silence.]

[Tabarnac]

XP Award! Faylon XP Award: Bodybuilding +1; Ax +1; Boxing +5; Longsword +3; Agriculture +3 Other: 4 gm for a day’s work at the farm Additional Notes: Excellent training thread. Hopefully your awards make sense, but I don’t have a whole lot to say otherwise. Feel free to PM me if you have any questions or concerns. Keep writing!