Ache walked through the woods just outside the city. He'd chosen a small set of old ruins to rest at, they offered a good view of SYNE accademy and Bellmuse city below him. There was plenty of room for his duffel bag and his sword case beside a fallen pillar he was using as a makeshift bench as he began committing the Major roads and land marks of the city to memory.
"Memorize your surroundings brat, Scrolls can be jammed and you won't always have the luxury of pulling out a map."
It was one of the many lessons his aunt had taught him and in almost any other situation it might have been a fond memory of a concerned mentor, but it was slightly soured when just ten minutes after being told what to do he was blind folded and dropped in the middle of the woods.
"I must have been born under a star, whether its lucky or not is still up for debate." Ache mused pulling his sword from its case.
The weapon was almost as long as he was tall but he hefted it easily in his right hand thanks to its balance.
He was taught several different sword forms, they ranged in style and purpose. Single combat, showmanship, group warfare. He learned to use the weapons weight and balance to fight people as well as grimm. Grimm were easy comparatively, they were all instinct and lacked tactics, wide sweeping strikes with claws or direct lunges to latch on with teach or tusks. But people or faunus were sentient and Wiley, they'd try to get inside your guard.
Ache walked a few feet deeper into the ruins, tall grass slightly concealed the ruined floor and rocks, he'd have to mind his footing, but that didn't matter. The ferry he'd flown in on had run a bit a head of schedule and so he had time to get a bit of Form training in. The repetitive movements were meant to train his body to respond from memory, that way his mind could focus on the next move of the fight rather than worry of what to do in the present.
He moved slowly but purposefully as he randomly imagined varied opponents. It used to be his Aunt would call them out to him.
Beowulf, Bandit, Nevermore, Whitefang..
each with a different method of strike and direction. He would respond with the first reaction he thought of
he could block, duck, parry but he had to react quickly if he hesitated for even a second she would attack him for real with that stick she used instead of sword when training, and he never blocked that no matter how hard he tried.
"Memorize your surroundings brat, Scrolls can be jammed and you won't always have the luxury of pulling out a map."
It was one of the many lessons his aunt had taught him and in almost any other situation it might have been a fond memory of a concerned mentor, but it was slightly soured when just ten minutes after being told what to do he was blind folded and dropped in the middle of the woods.
"I must have been born under a star, whether its lucky or not is still up for debate." Ache mused pulling his sword from its case.
The weapon was almost as long as he was tall but he hefted it easily in his right hand thanks to its balance.
He was taught several different sword forms, they ranged in style and purpose. Single combat, showmanship, group warfare. He learned to use the weapons weight and balance to fight people as well as grimm. Grimm were easy comparatively, they were all instinct and lacked tactics, wide sweeping strikes with claws or direct lunges to latch on with teach or tusks. But people or faunus were sentient and Wiley, they'd try to get inside your guard.
Ache walked a few feet deeper into the ruins, tall grass slightly concealed the ruined floor and rocks, he'd have to mind his footing, but that didn't matter. The ferry he'd flown in on had run a bit a head of schedule and so he had time to get a bit of Form training in. The repetitive movements were meant to train his body to respond from memory, that way his mind could focus on the next move of the fight rather than worry of what to do in the present.
He moved slowly but purposefully as he randomly imagined varied opponents. It used to be his Aunt would call them out to him.
Beowulf, Bandit, Nevermore, Whitefang..
each with a different method of strike and direction. He would respond with the first reaction he thought of
he could block, duck, parry but he had to react quickly if he hesitated for even a second she would attack him for real with that stick she used instead of sword when training, and he never blocked that no matter how hard he tried.