Private Tales Training is everything.

[Heskan]

Heskan Noscales sat meditating in the middle of the beach of Elbion listening to the waves crash unto the shore. Earlier that morning he was hard at work, he was going to take what the old Komodi monks taught him and actually use it for a just cause. He wasn't going to be just a bodyguard he was going to teach those who had a pure heart to defend themselves. You give a man a fish you feed him for a day, you teach a man to smash a stone with his head and he can eat whenever he wants. The night before he spent his time making flyers and posting them throughout the city. At dawn, he spent his time gathering training supplies and setting up wooden dummies that he dug into the sand. He sewed heavy iron weights into a leather vest and made a sled out of beach wood. He found an old heavy rusted hammer, and a large coil of rope he bought from a friendly sailor. He started a fire just moments earlier and was boiling some water over the campfire.

He was only going to train one pupil, one of his choosing. He was going to mold this person into their better self. He recalled a somewhat pleasant memory back when he was just a boy, back when his youth had no end and he was eager to make the old Komodi masters proud.

Great things come from great pain.

He could hear Brother Baylin say that over and over again as Heskan held a squat position over a large metal spike, as boiling water hot water spilled from the pot balancing on his head on his body, as large iron weights were strapped to his thighs and Baylin threw pebbles at him.

The wind suddenly picked up and blew one of his spare flyers into his face. Heskan pulled the flyer off and smiled at his work.

Need to get strong?
Tired of the forces of evil tarnishing everything you love?
Do you crave self-improvement, and desire to gain discipline in your life?
If you answered yes to all of the above, come to the beach of Elbion and look for smoke.
There you will find the path to a better, stronger you.
*Terrible drawing of Heskan giving a thumbs up while he is kicking an evil looking skeleton.*
​

"I'm going to have to have so many potential students show up, all those burning hearts yearning for justice."
Heskan smiled. This was indeed his purpose in life.

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

What am i doing.

That was the singular question Sparhawk was asking himself all the way towards the smoke that rose in the sky.

Sitting in the Pub one day, as he usually did, once again he noticed a flyer on the community wall, where many travellers posted requests for strong warriors, sell-swords, Wizards for hire, or simply labourers to support a building project. Last time he'd followed a Flyer on the wall, he'd been sent on some journey to a Toad Temple, where he almost lost his life in a battle. In summary, very rarely did anything good come from taking up one of these offers.

However, one advert struck Sparhawk as strange; a flyer that offered to help people 'Get Strong'. Rarely did anyone offer their help for free, and Sparhawk doubted that this offer would come without a price, but it did interest him, for one, solitary reason.

He needed to get strong.

His whole life, Magic had been more of a crutch than a power for Sparhawk. Although he did not like to dwell on it, his time spent as a Slave at the fortress in Cerak At'Thul as a young boy had beaten any growth or muscle out of him. His bones were weak and brittle, his skin, thin and fragile. If it weren't for his talent for Magic, he would've stayed a slave, and would have most likely died at a very young age. A truth that he didn't like to admit, but one he couldn't avoid. He was weak.

And up until now, he believed that he would be for the rest of his life.

And the voice in his head agreed with this sentiment;

Your thoughts dwell on physical power, Maho Sparhawk. Imamu has granted you enough power to challenge Armies. You do not require such surface-level strength. The Power of a fist, is nothing in comparison to the Power of a god.
​

Since his journey with Willis and the rest of the group to the Temple however, he'd began to learn that ignoring this voice may be a wiser course of action.

And that brought him here, walking towards this smoking pillar, that seemed to get closer and closer with each step he took. He had stripped down his attire a little, due to the hot climate that time of year, and that he assumed he'd be doing exercise. He took with him only his Staff, his side bag, and his hoodless Robe, thinner than what he'd normally wear, and loose around his shoulders.

He'd realised he'd walked to the Beach at this point, as the walk had been about a 2 hour walk from where he was. He rarely made visits to the beach, going their infrequently during his time as an Apprentice at the College. Once he'd made his way there, he'd seen quite a few people littering the place. Assuming they were there for the same reason as he, he approached the Beach, staff in hand.

He saw the smoke that had been rising, coming from a small fire a small ways off from where he was standing. He saw two men, both visibly well built, training together, one admiring the same flyer in which he'd read at the Pub.

He approached, fastening his staff to his back as he did.

"E-Excuse me, is this where i might enquire about the Flyer i read? I... don't really know where i'm going!" He laughed a little, something he'd relearnt how to do only recently.

Heskan

 

[Heskan]

Heskan quickly sprung to his feet and quickly dusting off the sand from his body. He wore a light gray sleeveless tunic with gold trim his dark green trousers were tucked into his leather boots. He smiled from ear to ear and quickly walked toward the man, he placed his hands on his shoulders and began looking him over. Heskan grabbed the strangers arms a little too eagerly and began patting them down feeling for muscles. He didn't find much, and it seemed that he had his work cut out for him with this one. He grabbed the strangers hands and his smiled faded.

Burn marks?

He pushed up the man's robes and inspected them further, who was this man? His arms have been roasted like a pig. He had no real muscular form but it seemed that he had seen some combat before or at the very least a few scarps, but the burns hinted at something much more.

"Curiouser and curiouser"

When he was done he grabbed the man by the back of the head looking into his brown eyes, he didn't know what he was looking for but he was looking for something, fear, courage, hope, despair all things that he was taught to look for when looking someone in the eye. But Heskan didn't really pay attention to that particular lesson from the old masters, but this man was obviously looking for something or he wouldn't have come, in fact, he was the only one that came but this man didn't know that or at least he hoped he didn't. He took a step back, rubbing his goatee, even if no one else came they didn't have the same aura of mystery as this man did, and Heskan wasn't the type to let someone like that go without a few questions.

"What is your name?"

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

He hadn't even been there five minutes, when the stranger began looking Sparhawk up and down like some sort of specimen. He quickly pattered Sparhawk's arms down, looking a little concerned when all there was to find was skin and bone. Sparhawk felt particularly uncomfortable when the man looked at his hands; they were symbols of his old life. His life before he was bought by Jerik, and become a Sorcerer. They were laden with burn marks and calluses, most notably a mark spread across Sparhawk's right palm, where he'd been marked as a slave. Someone who was owned. Bought and sold for silver and gold.

The man began to move his robes, observing his burnt arms and features. His ordeal at Belgrath had left him with many scars, some physical. Red markings spread up across his bodies, feeling their way to the nape of his back, all the way down to the base of his spine.

Then, to top it off, the man grasped the back of his head, and looked at him dead in the eyes, as if observing a specimen he had just cut up. He didn't know what he was looking for, but he hoped he'd be finished soon. Luckily, his prayers were answered, and he stood back, gave Sparhawk one last look, and stated the simple question:

"What is your name?"

"My name is Maho Sparhawk. Sparhawk is my given name, so... i usually go by that." He said, politely, shifting his robe back into it's natural position.

"Forgive me, but what is this all about?"

 

[Heskan]

"Sparhawk" Heskan repeated. "Sparhawk, Sparhawk ...Sparhawk"

He ignored the man's questions and began to pace in the sand. This was something, something he had never seen before. This man has something, this man could surpass him or get very close to his level. He had to have seen something and done something for him to get all the way here. Everything in Heskans life and this mans life have brought them to this very moment.

"Yes... yes...sympathy, panic, attachment, rapture?"

Heskan paused his ramblings and looked back at the man called Sparhawk quite inquisitively, he took a step forward toward him and stopped and with a revelation only known to Heskan, he quickly smiled and snapped his fingers, and continued his pacing.

"happiness, agitation, weariness and what?....yes of course! Hahahahaha!"

Heskan stopped pacing and stopped and faced Sparhawk. He grabbed the man by his shoulders again and smiled from ear to ear. He could hardly hide his excitement, he was practically bouncing. But Heskan was disciplined, his ways may seem to be off to others, but those same methods made him an Ioth Ir. A chosen of the golden dragon god Roigio. He could smash stones, dent steel and push the very wind. He had hunted those deemed evil and crushed their skulls with his bare hands. He fought baaran lions with nothing but those hands.

" You wanted to know what this was all about Sparhawk?

He aggressively took the man under his arm and turned them both to the ocean. He lowered his head eye level to Sparhawk and kept his eyes right on the ocean. The same inspection and the same seemingly inconsequential ramblings were performed to him when he was but a boy and looking for refuge when he found the old masters.

"Do you know what the final and last word I was going to say?"