Singing Mountain Clan
Singing Mountain
Focus, control your breathing. The mental state of a young man, well a young slave spoke across his mind. At first he thought he should slow down a bit, but now he didn't want to. Wood after wood, piece after piece was cut by the individual the slave. Sweat falling from his brow and beads of sweat rolling across the corners and smooth edges of his body until it found a rough spot and then just broke apart entirely. It was a rather humid day outside, given a task by those who commanded him. The slave had never disobeyed and order from them. This life he didn't find hard, nor even painful. The slave through his earlier years being born into this life was hardened at much younger age. And while those who were placed into this life later in their life. The man had found himself at a point to help them, while he never made friends with them he did give them some counsel as he could. Sometimes they would accept it or reject it. Either way them accepting it mattered little to him, he offered what help he could and by his own right he felt that to be the right choice.
The slave kept to himself for most of the day especially on this day. He hardly talked to anyone apart from the occasional newcomer from time to time. However with that being said, the slave had also taken a keen interest into the abilities displayed by the members of the Singing Mountain Clan. During his time here had seen enough to pique his interest that he wished to learn these traits. The slave was never sure if they could teach their abilities, powers to someone of his stature. He soon found out several times later as he was rebuked several times, today marking the third time. The slave wasn't upset or angry, he just wished for something more than this. He knew it was out there somewhere, he just had to find it. Whatever way that could be, or if it was something that would be stumble upon him. Either way, twilight he hoped would be on the horizon soon, figuratively of course.
The loud sound and snapping of wood could be heard still, as the axe came down hard against the log and it split in two. Again and again, over and over, not in an angry way, but more graceful then ever. The slave dressed in a brown torn tunic with a dirty tattered white shirt as an undershirt was all he wore. Covering up what was important as for the rest he hardly cared. With a firm slam down to the side of the tree stump being used as a workplace the axe stuck there. The slave moved to the side and started to place the logs onto a small cart nearby for further transport and some distribution throughout the village. After several minutes he placed the last piece onto the cart and he turned around and took a long steady deep breath. He used the back of his hand to wipe some of the sweat from his brow as he continued with what he was tasked to do.
@Satara Hawk
Singing Mountain
Focus, control your breathing. The mental state of a young man, well a young slave spoke across his mind. At first he thought he should slow down a bit, but now he didn't want to. Wood after wood, piece after piece was cut by the individual the slave. Sweat falling from his brow and beads of sweat rolling across the corners and smooth edges of his body until it found a rough spot and then just broke apart entirely. It was a rather humid day outside, given a task by those who commanded him. The slave had never disobeyed and order from them. This life he didn't find hard, nor even painful. The slave through his earlier years being born into this life was hardened at much younger age. And while those who were placed into this life later in their life. The man had found himself at a point to help them, while he never made friends with them he did give them some counsel as he could. Sometimes they would accept it or reject it. Either way them accepting it mattered little to him, he offered what help he could and by his own right he felt that to be the right choice.
The slave kept to himself for most of the day especially on this day. He hardly talked to anyone apart from the occasional newcomer from time to time. However with that being said, the slave had also taken a keen interest into the abilities displayed by the members of the Singing Mountain Clan. During his time here had seen enough to pique his interest that he wished to learn these traits. The slave was never sure if they could teach their abilities, powers to someone of his stature. He soon found out several times later as he was rebuked several times, today marking the third time. The slave wasn't upset or angry, he just wished for something more than this. He knew it was out there somewhere, he just had to find it. Whatever way that could be, or if it was something that would be stumble upon him. Either way, twilight he hoped would be on the horizon soon, figuratively of course.
The loud sound and snapping of wood could be heard still, as the axe came down hard against the log and it split in two. Again and again, over and over, not in an angry way, but more graceful then ever. The slave dressed in a brown torn tunic with a dirty tattered white shirt as an undershirt was all he wore. Covering up what was important as for the rest he hardly cared. With a firm slam down to the side of the tree stump being used as a workplace the axe stuck there. The slave moved to the side and started to place the logs onto a small cart nearby for further transport and some distribution throughout the village. After several minutes he placed the last piece onto the cart and he turned around and took a long steady deep breath. He used the back of his hand to wipe some of the sweat from his brow as he continued with what he was tasked to do.
@Satara Hawk