Richard awakened in a training room, feeling surprisingly motivated. He had fallen asleep after observing some sparing, boring stuff honestly, they’d quit after the most minor of scratches. He rose, eyeing a line of training dolls. He extended Keyll, the chain giving off a ferocious clattering. He spun the chain, extending it from his right. With a simple flick of the wrist it flew and stuck into the first dummy. He pulled back, the blade cut straight through its head and returned to him. He sighed, realising how simple this was. He caught the sharpened blade before walking up to the next one, he pondered how many hits he could get in before it fell apart. Hands curled around the blades he began to rip up a storm, he started by slicing into the thigh before lashing at it with the left. The left arm came clean off. He sighed, realising he wasn’t skilful enough to be gentle. That was probably a good thing in this line of work.
There were three dummies left and yet he hadn’t even worked up a sweat. He rearranged them, standing them in a triangle formation. He threw the blade, intentionally missing all three before he pulled back. He caught the right one in the back of its head, dragging it into the air and towards him. He began to slash ferociously with the left blade, starting with a straight uppercut. Then, his right claws unsheathed, he slashed, bringing it back down. A sharp kick to the chest and it was done, head split and bleeding stuffing. He pulled the right blade from its head, he now targeted the left. He threw the chain in an arc, as it wrapped around the dummies neck he ran straight at it. He burled the left blade into it around kidney level. He ran the blade up, slicing straight along its left side. One left, he pounced at it knocking it to the ground and using the chain to create a strangle hold of sorts. A simple swipe of his claw and the head was removed.
He sighed, dummies weren’t really doing it for him. He noticed something out the corner of his eye, it looked like a glorified baseball pitcher. He walked over and realised that was exactly what it was, a gun that shot projectiles for people to practice blocking. He switched it on and walked into its line of fire. The first ball surprised him, hitting him square in the shoulder. The shots were stronger than he’d anticipated. He timed it and cut the second ball in half. He began to pin the chain, creating a shield in front of him, as the pace picked up. The balls battered against the swinging chain to little avail, all of them bouncing off in different directions. He quickly switched arms, now spinning from the left blade. Keeping up the continuous speed was wearing him out. He felt the pace pick up again, this time the chain was knocked back upon impact. He spun faster still, feeling his muscles twang. He took a step back and promptly fell over. He had slid on one of the many balls that had collected around his feet. The gun stopped firing, no longer detecting him. He staggered to his feet with an annoyed yawn before heading off to his room to sleep.
There were three dummies left and yet he hadn’t even worked up a sweat. He rearranged them, standing them in a triangle formation. He threw the blade, intentionally missing all three before he pulled back. He caught the right one in the back of its head, dragging it into the air and towards him. He began to slash ferociously with the left blade, starting with a straight uppercut. Then, his right claws unsheathed, he slashed, bringing it back down. A sharp kick to the chest and it was done, head split and bleeding stuffing. He pulled the right blade from its head, he now targeted the left. He threw the chain in an arc, as it wrapped around the dummies neck he ran straight at it. He burled the left blade into it around kidney level. He ran the blade up, slicing straight along its left side. One left, he pounced at it knocking it to the ground and using the chain to create a strangle hold of sorts. A simple swipe of his claw and the head was removed.
He sighed, dummies weren’t really doing it for him. He noticed something out the corner of his eye, it looked like a glorified baseball pitcher. He walked over and realised that was exactly what it was, a gun that shot projectiles for people to practice blocking. He switched it on and walked into its line of fire. The first ball surprised him, hitting him square in the shoulder. The shots were stronger than he’d anticipated. He timed it and cut the second ball in half. He began to pin the chain, creating a shield in front of him, as the pace picked up. The balls battered against the swinging chain to little avail, all of them bouncing off in different directions. He quickly switched arms, now spinning from the left blade. Keeping up the continuous speed was wearing him out. He felt the pace pick up again, this time the chain was knocked back upon impact. He spun faster still, feeling his muscles twang. He took a step back and promptly fell over. He had slid on one of the many balls that had collected around his feet. The gun stopped firing, no longer detecting him. He staggered to his feet with an annoyed yawn before heading off to his room to sleep.
