(Imass's Room) We march to Zeltiva in three days. (Solo)

[Imass]

43rd Day of Summer, right after midnight.

Taking his sword in hand, Imass kissed the flat of his blade.

He cleared his mind and meditated.

“May my sword strike true. May my heart follow the will of the Windoak. May my soul uphold the values of Tyveth,” he said flatly. This is how he started every meditation session.

Imass spent some time looking at the shimmering sword. The polished metal gleamed in majestic glory. It was a simple broadsword, however it was his very own. There were many blades like his among the order, but his was special; his blade did the handiwork of gods. Starring at the perfect weapon, Imass got completely lost in it.

He stared at every notch, every scratch, every curve, and every single part. The Akalak studied his weapon meticulously. He had a story for every imperfection. Imass almost treated his blade as he would a child.
After several minutes, Imass took a piece of cloth and dipped it in cleaning oil. He had borrowed a small piece for oil from the armory.

He started to clean his sword.

The process of cleaning a weapon was in and of itself meditation for Imass. By completely immersing himself in the task at hand, the knight would be able to balance his dark side.

The knight took deep breathes. He closed his eyes and pictured the sword in his mind. He envisioned himself holding the sword. Imass adjusted the grip on the handle. He swung it over his head. He felt the vibrations of the blade swinging. He took note of the weight and proportions of his weapon. Everything felt good. Breathe in, breath out. Clenching the pommel of the weapon, the Akalak was ready to apply the oil.

Taking the foul smelling oil cloth, Imass lightly brushed the flat of the blade in small clockwise circles. Breathing in and out always. He closes his eyes again. From now on he would feel the blade instead of just looking at it.

Small circles. Over and over. Never too rough.

He started at the hilt and slowly, ever slowly, moved towards the tip of the blade. He focused at the task at hand by controlling his breathing and his technique. His whole being, his whole mind was bent on preparing his weapon. Soon the knight was in rhythm; his mind was blank and totally focused on constant motion. Minutes may have passed or perhaps hours; the Akalak did not keep track of the time.

After finishing one side, the blade was briskly flipped over. He went directly to work without skipping a beat. He focused on the rhythm of the polish. He needed to be in tune with the weapon. This time however, he brushed clockwise. This was simply routine and a test to his mediation. It was a small test to make sure that he was in tune with his blade. Keeping in rhythm was also how he subdued his dark side.

After finishing the cleaning and brushing, the Akalak wiped his blade clean and opened his eyes. The broadsword shone brightly now. He could see the flection of his stone cold face. The little gold beads that where his eyes glimmered and dance in the hearth light. The Akalak suddenly realized he was grinning.

Ignoring this fact, Imass continued to focus on the task at hand. Dropping the rag on the table, the knight now picked up his soaking Whetstone. It was time to sharpen his blade.

[Imass]

Holding the dripping whetstone in hand, the knight just took in everything around him. He would let many thoughts enter his mind, but if the thought was akin to his dark side, he would literally say the word STOP and envision the word spelled out. He watched the room and focused on the little things.

The room was simple. It had a hearth, a bunk, a table, a stool, and a chest. The hearth was roaring brightly, illuminating the whole room. Imass pictured the trials that waited from him on the journey. In two days’ time he would not be able to enjoy the luxuries of living comfortably in Syliras. Once they marched, it would turn into hard work and sweat. There would be no breaks, no room for errors. The knight would not let this faze him though.

Imass opened his eyes and looked down the edge of his blade. Holding the weapon up to his face, he was able to focus in on the weapon. He took note of each and every imperfection. He even took note of the dull parts and the sharp parts.

Imass began controlling his breathing again. He took deep, slow breathes and exhaled slowly. Controlling his breathing would lower his heart rate and increase his mental focus.

The knight began to sharpen his sword. Holding the whetstone at a thirty degree angle, Imass sharpened the blade in long strokes. He didn’t go back and forth, instead he started at the hilt of the blade and stopped at the tip. It was imperative for maximum sharpness to get into rhythm and only go one way.

Just like before, the Akalak got in a rhythm. He would pass the stone over four times, then he would soak it in water. The stone needed to be wet to work. One, two, three, four, soak the whetstone. He got into such a mindless flow, he was even able to account for each notch and groove in the weapon. The knight tried to remember why the sword had each imperfection. As he sharpened, one experience came to mind; Imass meditated on his first spar with Moustache. He remembered all the bruises and all the failures. The Akalak was losing bad, but he never gave up. He his back as hard as he possibly could.

Imass meditated on this lesson well. He remembered the feeling of total despair (knowing there was no way to win). Should Imass encounter this situation on the epic quest, he would fight anyways. Imass would do everything in his power to do the work of the order.

Imass finished one side, then flipped the sword over. He did not skip a beat and remained in constant rhythm. He once again focused on the task at hand. Imass needed to do this to maintain his state of mind. One, two, three, four, soak. He did this over and over. His mind was bent on the singular will of the sword. It was through the sword in his hand he would make a difference. Through trials of combat, the Akalak would show his worth to the Windoak, the order, and Tyveth. He would uphold the values of honor, integrity, truth, and justice. Through his sword, Imass conquered his dark side. Now he was doing the work of the gods. Imass viewed himself as one of Tyveth’s many hands.

Finally the knight could actually feel that his sword was sharpened to perfection. The Akalak dropped the whetstone and wiped his blade with the oil cloth. It was done.

Taking to his feet, Imass marveled at the weapon that shined before him. The gleaming edge sparked as he moved it about in the fire light. The flat of his blade was like a mirror reflecting distorted images of everything around.

The blade was truly battle worthy now.

[Imass]

Now Imass readied his shield. The large metal disc was his secondary weapon. He did not use the shield defensively. He used it as opportunism attacks. This didn’t mean he couldn’t switch to a defensive stance. Imass had trained under several martial arts instructors over the years, but even so he was always learning new styles and techniques. His style is a fast aggressive style with a lot of Akalak influence.

He checked every bit of the forty inch diameter weapon. This was his life-line in a fight. The utility behind the shield was amazing. It did almost everything in melee combat. Coupled with a sword, brave men used this weapon to fight anyone even spearmen and archers. When it came to melee nothing beat the shields function. It was one of the knight’s weapons of choice.

The shield was round and made of iron. As an Akalak he had an advantage in strength and size, so he was able to use the large shield in real combat. The “board”, as the knight playfully called their shields, had a fat boss in the middle and a double layered rim. The handle was made from thick boiled leather. There was even a sling on it so he could hang it on his back when not in use.

After everything was in proper order, Imass flipped the shield over and gazed at the dull image of the Windoak. He was about to leave on a dangerous journey. In two days’ time, they would be embarking into the wilderness. This was all beginning to hit him hard. He was putting his life in danger for the Knights! Doubt entered his mind.

Imass used his meditation technique, “Stop,” he said flatly. He envisioned the word stop flashing in his mind. The thought slowly dissipated. His mind would occasionally wander, but he refused and kept picturing the word stop over and over.

Time passed and Imass finally began shining his shield. Taking the oiled cloth, he began to shine it counterclockwise. He buffered the shield over and over, but ever lightly. He could clean it faster, but that would ruin the paint job. The image would fad if he scrubbed too hard. He wanted people to see the Windoak clearly. His opponents would know exactly who he represented. Imass did not hide behind shadows and showed his motives to all.

He got into a mental rhythm. His arm and shoulder circled precisely and always at the same speed. He closed his eyes and meditated. He almost felt the tree come out at him through the shield. He could feel every dent, every scratch. He tried to remember the stories behind such imperfections. He felt one dent near the top of his shield; he pictured the mage Andresciel and the combat training they did together.

He also focused on his breathing. Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Imass opened his eyes again and wiped his shield down with a clean rag. It shined brightly in the fire. He could not see his flection on the shield, but the image of the Windoak was vivid and bright. Imass set the shield against the wall and admired it for a few minutes before moving onto his Lakan.

[Imass]

Sitting back down, Imass meditated. He needed to focus his mind on the task at hand, which was sharpening his Lakan. This weapon was the most special. It was the only object the Akalak had from his past life. As he pressed his fingers over his racial weapon, he remembered the fateful night Galys offered passage to Syliras on his sturdy Casinor. At the time, Imass left the port as quickly as possible, without truly looking back. It wasn’t until the next morning did he realize what he had done.

The Akalak controlled his breathing. He took deep breadthes until his heart rate dropped. He let every muscle relax. In his mind he pictured his father’s hammer forging the very Lakan he was holding. The pounding sound rang throughout his body. He focused and meditated on this very sound. He felt the Lakan in his hand. He got in tune with the weapon within his right hand. Imass picked up the soaking whetstone and went to work on the blade.

Sharpening the curved blade was a lot different than his straight- edged broadsword. He had to sharpen small lengths at a time and focus even harder to maintain a thirty degree angle. Imass could not yet do it with his eyes closed.

And so he sharpened away. He passed the whet stone over the edge in short quick bursts. He pressed ever lightly. He grinded the edge to be a thirty degree angle. The edge was tough and razor thin.

Imass got into a rhythm; one, two, three, four, soak the whetstone. He did the same repetition for what seemed hours in his mind. The shirtless Akalak began to sweat. There was a glistening sheet over his body. However, he finished sharpening the weapon already. Dropping the whetstone away, the Akalak picked up two oiled cloths and cleaned the weapon briskly.

The Lakan now shimmered in the hearth light. Imass held the weapon in front of his chest then paused. Something was off.

Although he had been meditating, his dark side was still leaking through. Imass decided it was best to go take a walk. Maybe that would clear his head.

[Emblem]

Congratulations! You Get Glorious Experience! Imass Skills Meditation- 4 XP Weaponsmithing- 2 XP Lores Meditation Before the Quest Weapon Upkeep (Sword and Shield) Comments : Very nice meditation thread, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I awarded weaponsmithing as well due to the upkeep of your weapons, such as sharpening and polishing. Any other questions or concerns, shoot me a PM!