20th of Winter, 513.
Shouldn't have come as much of a surprise that the squirrel enjoyed the Warfields. They were designed entirely for warfare and tactical dominance. Something that he had grown a fascination with that was only slightly short of an obsession. But it wasn't just any warfare, it was modern, in an environment at least somewhat similar to what he would be forced to face, eventually, when becoming one of the knights of Syliras - was he supposed to believe that they never had to deal with disputes inside the thin, narrow walls of the city? So was the Warfields suited in every way for this. It mimiced a view of inside the streets, using advantages of narrow areas and crossings and space, where large weapons would be useless if there wasn't even enough room to swing them. It was what he had been built for - metaphorically anyway - to squeeze between the small areas and to climb up the narrow areas to the safety of above, looking down on them all. Being fast, and being agile. He didn't really know what the monks would have thought of it - a squirrel making more use of the place than most of the monks that he'd seen around it, since they usually had other chores and whatnot to attend to around Nyka than simply training their body in such a place - but he didn't have time to dwell on it.
He was on his way there when he nearly fell, and landed instead in the small lining of gutter around the heaving streets of monks in their usual garbs, some carrying mails and others with torn robes needing to be stitched together, or other materials for the governing buildings, or simply with nothing, on their way to the workplace - or from. It didn't really matter. They all had big feet that he had to quickly skip between, slide around. Some he knocked into, others he managed to slip quietly around without so much as a glance down. But soon enough he'd crossed the busy streets and managed his way immediately up the nearest building and onto the thick and flat stone-roof to make his way across to the next building, and the next, and the one after that...
The roofs were his short-cut. Within mere chimes he'd traversed the majority of Nyka itself and passed through the doors as well, into the outlands with a quick skip in his step as he jumped over few of the travelers making their way inside, and around the edges of the city walls. The thick, red stone guarded high above by the passing shadows of armed monks; it was a beautiful sight from afar. But inside, being trapped by them on all four sides, it was claustrophobic past the point of being amusing; he needed to escape, he found more often than not. And this was the perfect place to do it, as well. The one place where being small and nimble actually had their advantages. Because it certainly wasn't in the streets. Being big and nimble meant that you could just run around people and they'd actually make an effort to avoid you. When you were small, they all just tried to step on you.
Shouldn't have come as much of a surprise that the squirrel enjoyed the Warfields. They were designed entirely for warfare and tactical dominance. Something that he had grown a fascination with that was only slightly short of an obsession. But it wasn't just any warfare, it was modern, in an environment at least somewhat similar to what he would be forced to face, eventually, when becoming one of the knights of Syliras - was he supposed to believe that they never had to deal with disputes inside the thin, narrow walls of the city? So was the Warfields suited in every way for this. It mimiced a view of inside the streets, using advantages of narrow areas and crossings and space, where large weapons would be useless if there wasn't even enough room to swing them. It was what he had been built for - metaphorically anyway - to squeeze between the small areas and to climb up the narrow areas to the safety of above, looking down on them all. Being fast, and being agile. He didn't really know what the monks would have thought of it - a squirrel making more use of the place than most of the monks that he'd seen around it, since they usually had other chores and whatnot to attend to around Nyka than simply training their body in such a place - but he didn't have time to dwell on it.
He was on his way there when he nearly fell, and landed instead in the small lining of gutter around the heaving streets of monks in their usual garbs, some carrying mails and others with torn robes needing to be stitched together, or other materials for the governing buildings, or simply with nothing, on their way to the workplace - or from. It didn't really matter. They all had big feet that he had to quickly skip between, slide around. Some he knocked into, others he managed to slip quietly around without so much as a glance down. But soon enough he'd crossed the busy streets and managed his way immediately up the nearest building and onto the thick and flat stone-roof to make his way across to the next building, and the next, and the one after that...
The roofs were his short-cut. Within mere chimes he'd traversed the majority of Nyka itself and passed through the doors as well, into the outlands with a quick skip in his step as he jumped over few of the travelers making their way inside, and around the edges of the city walls. The thick, red stone guarded high above by the passing shadows of armed monks; it was a beautiful sight from afar. But inside, being trapped by them on all four sides, it was claustrophobic past the point of being amusing; he needed to escape, he found more often than not. And this was the perfect place to do it, as well. The one place where being small and nimble actually had their advantages. Because it certainly wasn't in the streets. Being big and nimble meant that you could just run around people and they'd actually make an effort to avoid you. When you were small, they all just tried to step on you.
It was looking to be super exciting!
