Spring 91, 515
Crouching on the floor of his house, 'Ky observed the dummy he had made quite carefully. While he had repaired the sack, after he wrecked it, the myriad of found string and thread he had used to patch it up together gave it the appearance of being a pincushion. One extremely large one. In some places, there were broken needles where the man, completely unskilled in sewing, had gotten frustrated, and finally just rammed it into the thing, string still attached. Sighing and shaking his head, 'Ky recognized that he probably made the condition of the canvas worse, by randomly puncturing the bag, and threading strings through. It also didn't help how many times he had poked himself with the needles, earning a curse each time.
Picking up his sword, and unsheathing it, 'Ky kept his boots off. Even if he knew how to fight properly with his boots on, what would happen if he didn't have them on?
Falling into Sword Stance, 'Ky winced as his feet touched the cold floor. It seemed that, no matter the season, his floor would be petching frigid. Leaping towards the dummy, while executing a diagonal slash, 'Ky landed later than he had expected, and while he slid for about a centimeter, he tripped and dropped the sword next to himself, landing flat on his face. Groaning, he stood up, and rubbed his nose, which now ached. Turning back to the dummy, which swung slightly, as if a breeze had tickled it, mocking him, he picked up his sword, and took a deep breath. He was ready to do this again.
Picking up his sword, and unsheathing it, 'Ky kept his boots off. Even if he knew how to fight properly with his boots on, what would happen if he didn't have them on?
Falling into Sword Stance, 'Ky winced as his feet touched the cold floor. It seemed that, no matter the season, his floor would be petching frigid. Leaping towards the dummy, while executing a diagonal slash, 'Ky landed later than he had expected, and while he slid for about a centimeter, he tripped and dropped the sword next to himself, landing flat on his face. Groaning, he stood up, and rubbed his nose, which now ached. Turning back to the dummy, which swung slightly, as if a breeze had tickled it, mocking him, he picked up his sword, and took a deep breath. He was ready to do this again.
