What it Means to Live as a Warrior

Coeus · 06-14-2012, 03:30 AM

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ooc here

Word Count → 340

When Coeus had left the courthouse, he departed to watch the pack train. He had not confronted anyone on training him, frankly, the weapons intimidated him. However, he hoped watching them spar would somehow get him into the spirit of combat. Toting a book in hand, he strolled into the yard and found his eyes drawn to a young female. Though he had wholly intended to read the old tomb about some dignitary that had solved some mystery condition, the sparring was much more interesting. Every day he watched, he wore a one handed practice blade awkwardly on his hip and the way she handled the weapons made him almost made him want to hang his up for good. For several minutes, he sat there absorbing her techniques and admiring her skill.

In the end, he rose from his soft, grassy seat to approach her. "You have quite the skill," he praised lightly, "I have been quite, ah, cursed with the use of the weapons. Mind giving a few tips?" He posed an smirk of chagrin, the look of the canine was one of many months younger than him. She was certainly very skilled and had more energy then he could even think about possessing. He would have preferred to read than get the fluff beaten out him, but he had to start sooner or later.

Meekly, he grabbed the sword from belt, fumbling slightly to pull it from its sheath. As he yanked it out, he nearly dropped it. Flushing with embarrassment, he grabbed the wooden sword from the ground and clenched it in his paws. "Uh, yeah, I do need a bit of work." Many animals had the natural instinct with handling weapons, but Coeus had none of that. To him, it was like wielding a large block of wood. Tooth and claw were his weapons of choice, but in a situation when others had swords and axes, teeth were just not going to cut it.

Code by the Mentors; photo courtesy to Astrid Walter

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