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Post by Walker R. Willis on Mar 4, 2009 18:27:07 GMT -8
As Walker wanders through town for no apparent reason, he happens by the army's training grounds. He leans against the timber fence surrounding the practice area and watched the new Battleschool recruits going through their weapon drill. The drill Was of a standard format. Each boy, wearing a chain mail shirt and helmet and carrying a shield, stood before a padded hardwood post the height of a man. There was no point practicing sword work unless you were burdened with shield, helmet and armor, as would be the case in battle. It was important they became used to the restrictions of the armor and weight of the equipment from the start.
"Thrust! Side cut! Backhand side! Overhand!" called the drillmaster. "Overhead backhand!"
Walker had the look of longing as he recalled his own training, or lack thereof. He had never undergone any sort of training during his Squirehood. He had tough himself everything he knows, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it is not a good thing either. Even though he had survived more than most because of his self tough skills, he had no real form to his swings and he wanted nothing more than to join the raw recruits in their drilling, to start from the beginning and learn to add a little finesse to his swings, but he knew it was impossible.
His mind wandered as he watches the men train.
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Post by Walker R. Willis on Mar 7, 2009 16:36:34 GMT -8
Walker snapped back to reality when he realized the drillmaster had stopped calling swings and was instead eying him, wondering who this spectator with plate and leather armor was. A few of the recruits had looked at the drillmaster, curious as to why the calls had stopped, and followed his gaze to Walker. Feeling a little embarrassed, Walker rearranged his gear and, with a small sigh, started on his way.
Walker had made it a whole 30 feet before his mind once again began to wander. He remembered the endless hours spent in the shade of his little oases he had found outside of town spent practicing with the various weapons in his stash of weapons that was barley considered as an armory. He also remembered the many life threatening encounters he had encountered during his training sessions, thus was the downside of training outside of town, out of sight of the city walls.
Remembering his long training sessions had rekindled his fighting spirit. He had considerable more muscle than when he had fought all of the many world threatening forces because of all the building he has been doing in Drakemyre, but they were untrained, untempered. They feel weird and throw him off balance. Walker has come to the conclusion a few months ago that if something comes up, he will not survive the battles that would ensue.
Coming to a decision, walker heads out to his training spot outside of Lockling. Even though he no longer has the fear of being forcible recruited into Von Sedow's army, he had gotten so used to training alone, he would feel weird if someone were watching. He heads outside the gate and approaches a small patch of forest near lake Mina. As he entered the trees, there was almost an immediate change in climate. The temperature dropped some 20 degrees as he entered the shade, and a cool breeze fluttered in, cooled by Lake Mina. As he continued into the trees, he emerged into a clearing covered in a lush grass about 20 by 20, shaded by the trees overgrowth above him. There are a pair of training dummy's in one corner,dusty from lack of use, which where no more than the ones the battleschool had, and several targets made of entwined hey tied to several trees behind the dummy's, positioned at varied distances and heights.
When he practiced archery, he never shot at the same target twice in a row, always switching targets so at to never let himself get used to one distance. He never gets used to one distance and height, making sure that he actually fine tuned his skills, having to constantly adjust distances and compensate heights. He had seen the archers of a different land practice in this way, which was so much more effective than the normal target practice which did nothing else than train your muscles.
With a sigh, he walked to a small tree off to the side and removed his armor and tabard. the plate armor and the bracers never left contact as he dropped them, sliding down his leg and resting at his feet. after he removed all of his random things, all except a gold ring on a black cord around his neck which he stuffed back into his shirt, he reequipped his armor, grabbed his two handed sword, which was barley longer than a longsword, and began to practice various combat maneuvers on the two dummies.
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Post by Adrian on Mar 9, 2009 20:40:25 GMT -8
"Leave!"
A man with long white hair peeks from behind a larger tree.
A man at first glance, at least. A closer look finds this man with pale white skin. He wears no clothing, and a great deal of his skin has rotted away. His skull is half broken, and his brains are still intact.
"Its not safe here. Go back behind your walls!"
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Post by Walker R. Willis on Mar 17, 2009 17:28:19 GMT -8
Walker could smell the Undead long before it made its presence known. After months of exterminating the vile pests he had learned how to detect them long before they could detect him, usually giving him the advantage. In this case he could smell the Undead filth almost as soon as he entered his oasis, and could feel its dead eyes on him when he entered the clearing, not to mention the evil aura that surrounds ever Undead.
When he stripped himself of his useless effects, he did so on the opposite side that the Undead was on, you know, for quick access. When the Undead made its appearance to Walker, he mearly began to speak, not even slowing down his exercises.
"You defile my little oasis, which has been mine long before your ever thought you would have the misfortune to become Undead, disturb my training, and tell me to retreat behind the city walls like i was some farmers housewife..."
Walker stops his exercises and turns toward the Undead, all the while taking a few steps toward his gear. He had realized that intelligent Undead were once alive, and thus had emotions, however dulled they were, and putting doubt in their minds is always a good tactic.
"Tell me of this petty danger before i automatically disregard everything that comes out of your defiled maggot infest mouth and give you release from your torment of undeath!"
Walker pauses for a moment and menacingly adds, just as the Undead was about to speak, cutting it off, "And i hope, for your sake, you were not referring to yourself."
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Post by Adrian on Mar 17, 2009 17:40:13 GMT -8
The thing lets go of the tree, falling to all fours. The small impact causes its brains to slide deeper into its skull, and one of its eyes to fall out of its socket, out of its mouth, and onto the grass. As the undead crawls closer to Walker, the eyeball is squished under its rotten hand.
"Leave! Its not safe here. Go back behind your walls" "...back behind your walls."
Another limps shortly behind the first. Waterlogged. Its rotten feet slosh with every step.
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Post by Walker R. Willis on Mar 17, 2009 17:45:15 GMT -8
Walker, kinda disappointed that this was, in fact, not an intelligent undead, just walks up to it and executes it with a few swings, each strong enough to kill a normal undead, and quickly dispatches the other. He then looks through the trees looking for more, his blood pumping and a look of excitement on his face. He will retreat before he is really threatened, but these minor undead are quick and easy to kill. If there are more, he dispatches them, following the path, maybe even outside of the forest. If they get more and more difficulty, he begins to be a little more careful, but continues on anyways. But not before gathering the few small pieces of equipment me dropped.
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Post by Adrian on Mar 17, 2009 17:57:15 GMT -8
Some distance down the forest path, Walker happens upon 3 more of the creatures. All of them are waterlogged, flesh still mostly intact. Maggots infest thier stomaches. 2 are about the same size, but the 3rd is small. Once a child.
A gruff voice, "Leave! Its not safe." A soft voice, "Leave. It's not safe here." A small, high pitched voice, "Go back behind the walls!"
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Post by Walker R. Willis on Mar 17, 2009 18:03:46 GMT -8
Walker takes pitty on the small child, and in fact all of them, and quickly dispatches them. A ping of doubt begins to could his mind. He really hopes this is not comming from lake Mina. If it is, Draylen will need to be informed. He pulls out the bow and puts a signle arrow into each of them as he walks. Each one is strong enough to kill a simple zombie in one hit, and it it survives, he will put a few more into it, and if it still survives and is not throwing magic, he will pull his sword and dispatch it. The arrows are collected after each kill. He follows the trail of fresh corpes, killing them as he goes, waiting for the stronger ones, which are bound to come, all the while trying to see where they are comming from.
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Post by Adrian on Mar 17, 2009 18:08:09 GMT -8
Not many more undead are encountered after the family, but Walker's fears are confirmed when he takes the road to the Lake, and finds it stirring near the shores. Stirrings too large for any fish.
Instead, a hulking, rotting humanoid rises from the surface. It doesn't leave the waters.
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Post by Walker R. Willis on Mar 17, 2009 18:12:32 GMT -8
Walker puts a 'Warning' shot into its bulk, trying to get a guage of how strong it is. He never goes near it and keeps his distace from the shore.
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Post by Adrian on Mar 17, 2009 18:19:15 GMT -8
The arrowhead sinks halfway into the thing's mass. It would take countless arrows to even penetrate its thickness. Its enormous mouth grins, and opens to speak.
"If you value your life, you will leave this place. If you value the lives of your friends, If you value the lives of your townspeople, You will leave. Go back behind your walls."
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Post by Walker R. Willis on Mar 17, 2009 18:25:01 GMT -8
Walker takes the advice of the huge undead that he knew he could not take on himself. He would return when he has more people, maybe during a market day. that is the only time he can get ahold of people these days, they dissipear otherwise. He leaves, heading back towards the town. He goes straight to a familuar place, Anya's tavern.
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