| L3 Longsword, Self-Mod Approved |
|
|
TS: 34th darkening of Optia, in the season of Summer, Era XIV PF
The descending suns bathed the sky in a vibrant, brilliant orange light, shot with streaks of crimson and gold as the rays played across the lingering cloud formations. Old men stopped to watch and appreciate the natural splendor, and young children ran laughing down the street, playing at some local game or another. Their youthful eyes fell on the figure of a young legionnaire walking down the street, garbed in the clothing of the exotic Kemite city, yet immediately identified as an outsider by the thick, flowing mane of golden hair that cascaded around his broad shoulders. The children ran before him as he walked, but it was playful and in good nature, and the soldier smiled as they laughed and played away the last hours of the day.
The man was already waiting for him at the Shisa Gates when Cyrus arrived, languidly leaning against a tree that ornamented the Tortoise District. He was full-blooded Kemite, a veritable scion of their race, with skin the color of honey and eyes so dark brown that the appeared black in the fading daylight. He was slender of build and stood perhaps five and a half feet in height, entirely bald except for a tightly woven braid of black hair, streaked with premature silver, that extended from the back of his skull and hung below his waist. He was garbed in a lightweight, loose-fitting robe of fine white linen, and in the black silken wrap around his waist rested one of the finest katanas that the young soldier had ever seen. Pitch black silk over pearl-white rayskin decorated the hilt, the metalwork chastened with gold in places, and the wooden sheath that housed the weapon was masterfully laquered in a swirling pattern of black and blood red.
The Kemite smiled broadly as Cyrus approached, and bowed his greeting to the blonde warrior.
"
Greetings, Cyrus Marius." The man spoke Common well, though his Kemite accent was very strong. "
You are right on time for your lesson."
Cyrus returned the nod as he came to stand before the man, his left palm resting on the smooth pommel of
Karvaaka that hung at his left hip.
"
Greetings." The soldier's azure eye appraised the swordsman briefly, but the man seemed unassuming and peaceful standing beside his tree. "
Are you the one they sent?"
The man smiled again and nodded.
"
Yes, I am Hiro of the Durai'Torek, and I am here to teach you the art of the katana."