1 Ymiden, 719 AV
Northeast Housing Quarter
6th Break
Northeast Housing Quarter
6th Break
The Outer Perimeter, free from the limitations that city walls enacted on a space, had developed haphazardly over the centuries. While the circular layout was still maintained for its cartographical aesthetics, no official oversight had ever been given by the government in regards to layout or design. Neighborhoods were erected without consideration on how it would fit in the larger scheme of things, creating a hodgepodge maze of streets and alleys, each with defining features that balked at the concept of uniformity. To the average citizen who had a home to return to at the end of each trial, they probably paid it little mind; it was little more than the character of their locality. To someone like Fur, however, it made the world of difference. Perhaps even life and death.
He had found this particular nook a fortnight ago, nestled between two abandoned buildings. An alley ran between the structures with a protruding roof providing partial coverage overhead. At one point, it was probably the most common route from the home to the business beside it, but now no one walked its length save for Fur. The alley floor was caked dirt with the highest point in the center of the alley, creating a run-off in two directions for precipiation that made its way into the space. It was, in a way, an island on which the young Ithecal rested, hopeful that no passerby would spot and try to conquer. Thus far, he had been lucky, but he did not take that for granted.
Fur opened his eyes, letting them adjust to the shade for a few brief trills before he sat up. His back was stiff from sleeping on the ground, but he had long grown used to the aches. Nothing a bit of stretching wouldn’t ease. He spread his legs into the v-shape, bending forward to press his hands palms down on the empty space between them. Hold the middle for ten trills, then to the left foot, and then to the right. He repeated the cycle twice more before sitting straight up again. The tension was still there, but he could already feel the cracks.
He loosened the muscles in his arms and shoulders next, rolling them forward a dozen times in a windmill rotation and then backwards another dozen. Then, grabbing each arm by the elbow, he pulled the limb across his chest, feeling the tendons creak and stretch. The hold was repeated behind his head afterwards, forcing his appendanges into a multitude of positions. It always paid to be limber, he had learned. Plus, he had learned that his routine took his mind off the gnawing in his stomach that he usually awoke to. Some trials, it was the only reprieve he would get for the entire day.
A few bits later, after Fur had finished up his sets, he flipped over onto his knees and rolled the bedding up into its usual wad. Then, finding his feet, he ran his hands across the exterior wall to his left, groping for something unseen in the dim lighting. Fur had discovered a noticeable indent in the structure when he had first moved in, large enough to stow his more important items away when he was out for the day. He could probably get by with carrying his belongings with him where ever he went, but he was afraid some of it would make him a target. Better to stash it and hope it was unmolested when he returned. Thus far, it had worked.
Fur shoved the bedding into the crevice alongside his backpack, which was filled with his armor, his second set of clothing, and his hygeine products. Four of his knives were there as well, while the fit was tucked in the waist band on his pants. His shield formed the base of the pile, while his most prized possession sat behind it all, out of sight. Very rarely did Fur bring it out, and to-trial was not one of those occasions.
To him, there was nothing special about the trial at all, despite what some people would say otherwise.
Fur checked one last time that everything was properly stowed before glancing overhead. He didn’t usually like waking up this early, but he couldn’t justify sleeping in either, not when he hadn’t worked a job the night prior. Begging was more of an early bird business, sadly. He sighed and turned away, making his way to the alley exit, hopeful that he would return later to find that nothing had changed.
Or perhaps, that everything had.
He had found this particular nook a fortnight ago, nestled between two abandoned buildings. An alley ran between the structures with a protruding roof providing partial coverage overhead. At one point, it was probably the most common route from the home to the business beside it, but now no one walked its length save for Fur. The alley floor was caked dirt with the highest point in the center of the alley, creating a run-off in two directions for precipiation that made its way into the space. It was, in a way, an island on which the young Ithecal rested, hopeful that no passerby would spot and try to conquer. Thus far, he had been lucky, but he did not take that for granted.
Fur opened his eyes, letting them adjust to the shade for a few brief trills before he sat up. His back was stiff from sleeping on the ground, but he had long grown used to the aches. Nothing a bit of stretching wouldn’t ease. He spread his legs into the v-shape, bending forward to press his hands palms down on the empty space between them. Hold the middle for ten trills, then to the left foot, and then to the right. He repeated the cycle twice more before sitting straight up again. The tension was still there, but he could already feel the cracks.
He loosened the muscles in his arms and shoulders next, rolling them forward a dozen times in a windmill rotation and then backwards another dozen. Then, grabbing each arm by the elbow, he pulled the limb across his chest, feeling the tendons creak and stretch. The hold was repeated behind his head afterwards, forcing his appendanges into a multitude of positions. It always paid to be limber, he had learned. Plus, he had learned that his routine took his mind off the gnawing in his stomach that he usually awoke to. Some trials, it was the only reprieve he would get for the entire day.
A few bits later, after Fur had finished up his sets, he flipped over onto his knees and rolled the bedding up into its usual wad. Then, finding his feet, he ran his hands across the exterior wall to his left, groping for something unseen in the dim lighting. Fur had discovered a noticeable indent in the structure when he had first moved in, large enough to stow his more important items away when he was out for the day. He could probably get by with carrying his belongings with him where ever he went, but he was afraid some of it would make him a target. Better to stash it and hope it was unmolested when he returned. Thus far, it had worked.
Fur shoved the bedding into the crevice alongside his backpack, which was filled with his armor, his second set of clothing, and his hygeine products. Four of his knives were there as well, while the fit was tucked in the waist band on his pants. His shield formed the base of the pile, while his most prized possession sat behind it all, out of sight. Very rarely did Fur bring it out, and to-trial was not one of those occasions.
To him, there was nothing special about the trial at all, despite what some people would say otherwise.
Fur checked one last time that everything was properly stowed before glancing overhead. He didn’t usually like waking up this early, but he couldn’t justify sleeping in either, not when he hadn’t worked a job the night prior. Begging was more of an early bird business, sadly. He sighed and turned away, making his way to the alley exit, hopeful that he would return later to find that nothing had changed.
Or perhaps, that everything had.
