3. Varl Fentra

Varl Fentra

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    Login: AscensionPath
    Character: Varl Fentra

    The broad shouldered young man stepped down the freshly swept steps of the senate building, and walked briskly across the snow covered stone of the city of Peltarch; descending as a stong breeze flicked back his grey robes. The snowflakes that landed upon his dark red-brown hair melted with each step as hemoved toward the Peltarch Fighters Academy. He straightened his grey sash across his chest, proud to display the subtle embroidered image of the symbol of the high one, his mothers gift to him before he was born. For his mother, it was a birth she did not survive.

    Passing him at breakneck speed down the road was a pretty cerulean knight girl in her uniform heading off to who knows where at breakneck speed. He thought to follow her for a moment, to see what he could do to help but he had an appointment to keep. She slowed for the turn in the street then sped off down an alleyway, passing out of view.

    Raising a hand in greeting to the figure within he sat down and opened a slim brown volume tied with a grey cord about its length. He started to read, his hands folded underneath the book his posture good on the wooden bench as his eyes adjusted to the more subdued lighting of the room. Away from the brightness of the freshly fallen snow his mind stilled as he turned the first page calling to mind the postures of the blade fighting techniques he observed within the pages.

    He looked carefully at the clever illustrations of locks and grappling techniques by which an opponents blade could be driven from their grasp, but then thought on the recent circumstances which brought him here.

    The boat from hoaresgate, the previous day was late. On returning from an escort duty for a cargo from the dockside - a task he performed now and again for enough coin to finance his learning and blade tuition. The wavebreaker captain was fair in his payments, but in need of all the help he could get, he didn't want an all sailor crew for this trip.
    Varl had just attended his fathers funeral in the city of Peltarch, his last remaining relative. It was a disease that went untreated for too long, his father remaining stubborn to the end not even reporting to a priest on his ailment. Varl was furious when he realised that with suitable blessings his death could have been avoided.

    His mind wasn't usually liable to drift, bu he was glad to have been out of the city following election time. He had voted, waiting patiently in line to do so, and now he looked up from a complex reverse-handed greatsword technique illustrated in front of him when an aide approached from within the academy proper.

    "The Master can't see you today, come back tomorrow." was the polite if, he sensed somewhat often repeated phrase.

    "There would be little inheritance", he mused, berating himself for such a thought so close to his fathers humble funeral ceremony. "I can see how this academy works, but the high one does not forbid humble and menial tasks. "I Larsen your father, a carpenter works with his hands, and so Varl shall also" his black bearded fathersaid to him once.
    "I can't pay for your fine weapons, nor for training paid forthrough rich trader patronage but the academy was pleased with my work for them and they agreed to see you after the election".

    Varl looked up at the aide, and nodded politely. "Very well, i shall be back tomorrow, and the next day… ", he stood and turned for the door. "And the day after that...." he called out long after the aide had departed, - the only one hearing him was the wind that blew the door shut behind him.


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