Post by The Last Berserker on Jun 15, 2022 17:54:43 GMT -5
South Blue
It must’ve been so early into the day… With the night still amassing overhead this island with the dusk and shade, coating the environment and all with its somber chill than its normal tropical warmth. Not a bird was a stir in the town and the islanders were at rest, finishing their previous days' work and having safely got into their comfortable homes or returning to pleasant inns so as to sleep away the exhaustion in comfort.
*Woooosh.* A small tide came onto a beach from a time away, carrying on it was a simple boat. It had been small with a simple sail raised that it had been pushed along by the night winds, it's wooden planks were black but not natural. Rather; it appeared painted on.
It flew no flags - If anything; it was flying... The pelt of a wolf at the moment. A grey-furred wolf that was nicely skinned and its fur was practically sparkling at the moment given the water in which came up and splashed against it.
All in which and soon enough - This little boat of a kind had successfully made landfall!
Raising a clenched fist through the darkness as the fading moonlight shined down, it displayed a man. A younger-man or rather; an older teenager who grin was as wide as they come. His hair was long, his clothing was strange, wearing odd bits of jewelry and even odder clothing but a sizable poncho-like vest was worn over his torso.
"Okay! Managing To Survive!" But whatever could this lad mean?
If one hadn't exactly known but the previous night - Miles away from Cinna Island, a global power in the export of Sugarcane - A noteworthy storm had come rumbling from the east had made sea-travel a life-worrying issue for sailors...
But how in the hell did such a small-boat not exactly... Sink away in large-waves and turbulent tides?
Well... If one had a knack and a bit of luck, you could survive almost everything and this teen who hopped off his boat. Pushing it along further on land with ease despite it being a full-sized boat and by all means, not a light item in the slightest and yet... Brought along by large-hands that this teen had pulled onto land.
"Okay... Step 1. Make Landfall. Step 2~..." The grin on the lad's face contorted into an even bigger grin of somekind til he sort of leaned over, reaching downward into the boat as the sounds of clanging and clunking were heard.
Til he lifted up a large item - Taller than average fellow but as weighty given the imprint in the sand-filled beach where the large-tip of the weapon had been placed downward. Near the series of leather-like bindings and wraps to keep the item safe, bare-feet sank downward and leg muscles flexed.
Taking on the appearance of a squat, the man's eyes' closed where his squat shifted into the likeness of a kneel and his face was one of focus.
...
Eyes' opening, he slowly stood up and began to remove the leather in a singular untying motion. Notable lengths fell onto the beach's floor that then revealed the item in all of it's glory. A one of a kind greatsword whose jagged-edges were like that of beasts' - Engraved with adornments which gave it that bestial-like shape and attitude.
Lifting it upward, the man's face shifted into a lax smile and only spoke to himself in a cool and calm tone...
"Training On A Beach!" An exhale followed where he then took his stance. A stance that was both strong and loose - One of a swordsman.
Swing his large blade in a singular motion that retains a sense of control and grace onto it. This level of manipulation enabled the lad to have. Feel its balance and weight at the moment where a smile firmly arouses onto his face, his smile reappearing as he took a firmer form.
"Let's Go!" Hours Later
With the morning sun ablaze high in the cloudless sky, Cinna Island was in full-swing! The market-places and vendors were spreading their wears - Beli was exchanging tightly clenched hands from bartering terrorists or freely paid in full from townsfolk snagging up items that they so desperately desired.
Traveling through the streets were bars and the like fully opened up with folks packing them to brim with rowdy exchanges and flavorful debates on what type of Sugarcane was better out of the rest for example.
Liquor was served, food was eaten, people who couldn't last fell asleep or had to rush outside so as to not cause a tremendous mess of relieved stomach-contents of the wooden boards of the Bar-floors.
Santa Barbados had been in full-blast right now!
...
And yet onto a different site - Near a growth of palm-trees and a bundle of sand which has been tossed up into a small mound. That same exact figure who had unsheathed that equally odd sword was swinging away through the air, slashing at nothing or rather - Aiming at something that hadn't been there.
Those moves all contained explosive power where the whipping crackle of the air breaking and bursting away with every impactful strike had been presented to cause heavy *Whooshes* that flocked and flapped through the wind.
A windy-breeze came by as the figure's dripping form had paused - No more strikes and attacks were made as his heavy-breathes sounded like a horse, as if all of the moisture was leaving him in droves but he was pushed through the pain as best as he could!
The ground beneath had changed from the sparkling white to a sour-brown, his blade was covered in dozens upon dozens of specks that had been sand blown up and about… But his hair - Long and silky mane found strands split in twain over this discord being this training.
Ideas of a pitch-black looked out, more intense than the fangs of a beast they had been with a stare intended to kill.
"Hi-yarh!" A piercing bellow from where the lad leap forward - Great and strong legs covered by cloth pants til his muscles exploded with power! Sending this tall man hurtling through the air with an elongated front-flip in a singular moment and bringing about a heavy downward slam upon landing!
Slamming the ground in twain with a singular blow as the sand and the like pooled upon the impact as the lad rolled in tandem, shifting his weight over and continuing the leap into a long and heavy sword-slash that reached out.
Rushing forward after landing - Twirling into a trifecta of piercing stabs with the blade's sharpen tip combined with a stamp to the lead foot before retreat with another attack. The follow-foot planted and was used to pivot to follow with another strike.
Following this, he hopped backwards and then... Lowered; his legs' took a heavy step and swung for the fences!
This attack was big as the turf was ripped up in a blinding flash of sharpen-steel!
*Fwoosh!*
...
...
....
"*Exhale* Oh Yeah!~ I think I'm gettin' better." A cheer came from boy who raised his sword above his head with a yell of victory in away. This intense outage was a display of talent but hard-work as after a trip to be certain, he trained for some time.
For who would do such a thing?
Well; Beowulf Grenz.
At the moment as the light on the blade's surface sparkled and shone a peculiar light - This blade was something of a peculiar gift... It had been... A blade of a higher than average caliber!
'Wazamono' or Rather ‘Grade’ weapon.
The last of 3 - ‘The Hīe Hrunting’ it was and It happened to be a one of a kind weapon. A weapon befitting a savage warrior of some kind - Yet it weapon was one of renown and history, tradition and passion it was through craftsmanship.
Easily shifting the blade’s weight with one hand til it had ended up residing upon one of his shoulders, he turned over onto his other shoulder to peer off into the distance at the waters that led afar into the great, vast blue.
Looking past the Hustler; his private-little ship. Looking past the coastline which held rocken-like ramparts that broke the waters' surface, far and away to distance... As if Beowulf's own focus changed somewhat and his eyes' closed.
*Inhale.* That warm beach with large-trees which shook over - A wordless call came from beyond which forced him to turn... Turn to see the smiling image of his family who called him to enter supper.
*Exhale.* Running off with a smile and grin, waving away at the towns' folk where some were barking out angrily. A particular fishermen and his wife had been shouting profanities so loud that they could be heard even when the island was over the horizon.
*Inhale.* Sweating heavily where his clothes were covered in scuffs, his skin was bruised and a notable welt formed over his right eye. Harsh breathes as a figure opposite to him was free of damage holding a wooden-sword where Beowulf held his wooden-sword... Inhaling and exhaling; he lunged forward to attack.
*Exhale.* In a small tavern, surrounded by kind strangers. Beowulf had been just turned 18 years... Which meant; his promise to his father was kept and he could drink! The taste of the liquor, it had been... Dreadful however the company was incredible! The men wanted to drink him dry and a particular girl cheered him on... Even when he was utterly hammered, that same girl still helped him out.
*Inhale.* There he stood - Our dozens of crying men and woman, boys and girls, seniors and teens. There he watched as a large pry burnt a hefty blaze to symbolize the beautiful life and to honor those who had passed on... And who had passed on? His mother - Captain amongst several dozen of the individuals - Reliable Godmother to some, Life-Long Friend to others.
Lunging out into the flames with tears in his eyes - Ignoring the pleas' and shouts of others as he pulled out something from the flames... Her great and mighty sword - Called as 'The Hīe Hrunting' where it may have not seem so grand... It had been so incredible... And despite the red-hot steel burning away at his palms, forcing the boy to drop it to the snow-covered ground as people surrounded him in worry.
...
He'd honor her.
*Exhale.* One day - Beowulf as a 17 year old man... On his own with his mothers' blade, his own thoughts and his 'own' ship. The first time out of his homeland... He had suddenly come across someone that he couldn't turn away from. A man with wings... Wings just like Beowulf himself that he had kept hidden. Seeking to challenge this man, he had done so... And by doing so; he learn something about himself.
Someone who happened to be so much stronger... Much, much stronger than what he was... Beating him down with ease as he thrashed, crash and blown away like nothing... But one moment, he was overwhelmed by a strange attack... One which hadn't struck his flesh but he felt it upon his interior.
This 'shockwave' had sent him flying off til he slammed into a wall, his conscious disappearing in a flash and his eyes' closing slowly. Once last glance at the figures' form but he couldn't make out any details...
When he opened his eyes once more... His field of view was blurry and he was still reeling from the attack... But... He noticed a strange shell and a letter.
'Awaken To Your Other-Side.'
...
Beowulf hadn't known what that meant... But it must've been something extreme to knock him out... So he took it and discovered something odd, this shell was something akin to magic to the now-venturing swordsmen. 'Perhaps' - This could lead to something powerful of note, his mother stated to take advantage of whatever you can to become stronger.
This has to be it - Something that may push him over the edge...
His recollective thoughts vanished as his breath relaxed and his mind ceasing to recall those numerous memories, his attention quelled on the past and such thoughts that had once came over him disappeared.
A sudden-chill flushed over his body where he hadn't realized but he was standing still in a full-sweat for... Hours?!
The traveling swordsmen hadn't exactly realize it but his eyes widen when he saw the sun setting over the horizon, the once cloudless sky had become... Well, cloudy.
"Aaaah, crap! I got to rest up for tonight!" Speaking swiftly to himself, he then felt a sprinkle of liquid hit his nose.... 'Uh Oh.' A series of droplets continued in which Beowulf had to hurry along, getting some of the items that he would need in town and grabbing several things from his boat before he pulled it further onto shore.
Not too long afterwards - His boat was tucked away, a semi-decent fisher's hat was donned and he was off into town. The now-landfallen swordsmen was sprinting off into the town for the purposes of finding some-place to rest up.
Walking through the streets as rain continued to fall profusely downward onto his hat, Beowulf came along. His barefeet coming down onto the soaking-wooden of the docks' where despite his height, the lad hadn't managed to stand out too much in comparison to other citizens who were either drunk out of their minds to notice a hat-wearing stranger or busy as a figure who wasn't causing any trouble came on by.
As he went onward - Beowulf was scooping out relatively any places which were quiet, dry and seemed warm...
The overall area however... Held nothing of the sorts. Dozens of loud bars which were filled to the brim with people who were enjoying life at the moment - This just so happened to be included with things that Beowulf if he hadn't done training would've enjoyed.
Food, Drinking, Partying and People... 'Why did I train~?' A groaning thought erupted in the lad's head where he journeyed in the busying streets of this islands... 'Santa Barbados' - The overall vibe that he was receiving happened to be incredible, pleasant one.
These people... This was something that he could get behind, baby!
It was just... The ache in his muscles, the heaviness in his chest, he'd have to postpone the lazy desires of thrilling activities to get what he really needs. A nice, long-rest!
Shaking off some of the water that was on the hat he was wearing, Beowulf however did notice one thing... One place which was as quiet and still as the dead itself... Walking over towards it, he peered onto the sliding doors of wooden make, the cloth blinds which held a name upon them and a numerous... Scratchings?
As if the place had been defaced to some degree which left it in a state of disarray.
...
Welp - Nothing else seemed so quiet where Beowulf happened to head over - His feet churning and stomping onto the ground whilst he'd been grinning as well... Go over and placing a hand onto the doors, he slide them open...
And what was to see?!
...
An empty-run-down-place...
"Perfect!" Exclaiming to himself, he marched off to a little-corner in the shack of a former-dinner and quickly fell asleep however he wasn't alone.
Three figures appeared in the dark and awaited their chance to strike... Looking down on the lad whose nose twitched and a snot-bubble appeared from it.
...
"Wait A Minute." Groggily speaking to himself, the lad reached into large bags and pulled out!
A black and yellow striped?
Cushiony and fluffy?
Comedically ugly plush?
Of a teddie-bear?
The odd-looking item caused the figures' to pause and look amongst themselves where they cam to watch the lad rest his head on the teddie-bears' stomach - It's face distorting into a dumb-looking sight but it still didn't mean much considering that Beowulf was still not fully asleep.
His stirs and shuffling movements were ones' of concern amongst the figures' who were slow to come near the man who happened to arise from his slumber at moment before falling into an ever deeper sleep.
...
A minute passed and Beowulf hadn't moved.
...
A three minutes had passed after the first and Beowulf's snores were the only thing that could be heard in this shack of a former bar.
...
At long last, ten complete and uninterrupted minutes of sleeping that was done by Beowulf... This lead to the figures' striking - They moved over in tandem with one and another, this rhythmic movements as they peered and lifted up items which belonged to the swordsman.
One of them however was forced to wait for others' with an impatient foot-patting up and down, the other two were struggling with a long and large item... That same item happened to be Beowulf's sword in which they were barely able to pick it up let alone bring it along with themselves as they heard a snort from the lad.
The three watched in fear as his nose twitched, his breath quickened only to unleash a heavy-sneeze that expelled a loud nose which caused the shack to shake even by it's power!
...
"Scary Weirdo." One of the two who had been struggling to lift the wrapped-blade was shushed by the others' who heard Beowulf suddenly shuffling again in his sleep, the group had stayed here long enough and they needed to head on their way.
...
In moments, they had fled away as the rainfalls outside muffled their fleeing steps... Where Beowulf had easily been relaxing in his sleep however as he turned around... His hands' outstretched - An instinctual grasp towards item.
That wasn't there.
*Pop.* "H-Huh? *Yawn.* What th-" A cold-realization as Beowulf arouse from his slumbering-state, his hands had reached for his blade's handle however it was not there.
It wasn't there.
It wasn't there which drove him to panic!
"WHAT THE HELL?! WHERE'S MY SWORD?! WHERE'S MY THINGS?! OH NOOOOOOOOO!" Hands flew up to the sides of his head, fingers digging into his hair and a cold-fit of shock, panic and fear welled up from within.
In a moment - He recalled something... The image of a furious woman... His mother.
"NEVER LET YOUR BLADE BE STOLEN! I DON'T CARE WHO IT IS, NO ONE SHOULD EVER TAKE YOUR WEAPON FROM YOU!"
That was one things she had been firm in teaching him in life... Now?
He had lost his things... Or rather... They were stolen.
A grimacing look as he headed over towards the shack's doorway and look out.
It was dark... It was cold... It was raining.
...
"Crap." Was his only statement.
It must’ve been so early into the day… With the night still amassing overhead this island with the dusk and shade, coating the environment and all with its somber chill than its normal tropical warmth. Not a bird was a stir in the town and the islanders were at rest, finishing their previous days' work and having safely got into their comfortable homes or returning to pleasant inns so as to sleep away the exhaustion in comfort.
*Woooosh.* A small tide came onto a beach from a time away, carrying on it was a simple boat. It had been small with a simple sail raised that it had been pushed along by the night winds, it's wooden planks were black but not natural. Rather; it appeared painted on.
It flew no flags - If anything; it was flying... The pelt of a wolf at the moment. A grey-furred wolf that was nicely skinned and its fur was practically sparkling at the moment given the water in which came up and splashed against it.
All in which and soon enough - This little boat of a kind had successfully made landfall!
Raising a clenched fist through the darkness as the fading moonlight shined down, it displayed a man. A younger-man or rather; an older teenager who grin was as wide as they come. His hair was long, his clothing was strange, wearing odd bits of jewelry and even odder clothing but a sizable poncho-like vest was worn over his torso.
"Okay! Managing To Survive!" But whatever could this lad mean?
If one hadn't exactly known but the previous night - Miles away from Cinna Island, a global power in the export of Sugarcane - A noteworthy storm had come rumbling from the east had made sea-travel a life-worrying issue for sailors...
But how in the hell did such a small-boat not exactly... Sink away in large-waves and turbulent tides?
Well... If one had a knack and a bit of luck, you could survive almost everything and this teen who hopped off his boat. Pushing it along further on land with ease despite it being a full-sized boat and by all means, not a light item in the slightest and yet... Brought along by large-hands that this teen had pulled onto land.
"Okay... Step 1. Make Landfall. Step 2~..." The grin on the lad's face contorted into an even bigger grin of somekind til he sort of leaned over, reaching downward into the boat as the sounds of clanging and clunking were heard.
Til he lifted up a large item - Taller than average fellow but as weighty given the imprint in the sand-filled beach where the large-tip of the weapon had been placed downward. Near the series of leather-like bindings and wraps to keep the item safe, bare-feet sank downward and leg muscles flexed.
Taking on the appearance of a squat, the man's eyes' closed where his squat shifted into the likeness of a kneel and his face was one of focus.
...
Eyes' opening, he slowly stood up and began to remove the leather in a singular untying motion. Notable lengths fell onto the beach's floor that then revealed the item in all of it's glory. A one of a kind greatsword whose jagged-edges were like that of beasts' - Engraved with adornments which gave it that bestial-like shape and attitude.
Lifting it upward, the man's face shifted into a lax smile and only spoke to himself in a cool and calm tone...
"Training On A Beach!" An exhale followed where he then took his stance. A stance that was both strong and loose - One of a swordsman.
Swing his large blade in a singular motion that retains a sense of control and grace onto it. This level of manipulation enabled the lad to have. Feel its balance and weight at the moment where a smile firmly arouses onto his face, his smile reappearing as he took a firmer form.
"Let's Go!" Hours Later
With the morning sun ablaze high in the cloudless sky, Cinna Island was in full-swing! The market-places and vendors were spreading their wears - Beli was exchanging tightly clenched hands from bartering terrorists or freely paid in full from townsfolk snagging up items that they so desperately desired.
Traveling through the streets were bars and the like fully opened up with folks packing them to brim with rowdy exchanges and flavorful debates on what type of Sugarcane was better out of the rest for example.
Liquor was served, food was eaten, people who couldn't last fell asleep or had to rush outside so as to not cause a tremendous mess of relieved stomach-contents of the wooden boards of the Bar-floors.
Santa Barbados had been in full-blast right now!
...
And yet onto a different site - Near a growth of palm-trees and a bundle of sand which has been tossed up into a small mound. That same exact figure who had unsheathed that equally odd sword was swinging away through the air, slashing at nothing or rather - Aiming at something that hadn't been there.
Those moves all contained explosive power where the whipping crackle of the air breaking and bursting away with every impactful strike had been presented to cause heavy *Whooshes* that flocked and flapped through the wind.
A windy-breeze came by as the figure's dripping form had paused - No more strikes and attacks were made as his heavy-breathes sounded like a horse, as if all of the moisture was leaving him in droves but he was pushed through the pain as best as he could!
The ground beneath had changed from the sparkling white to a sour-brown, his blade was covered in dozens upon dozens of specks that had been sand blown up and about… But his hair - Long and silky mane found strands split in twain over this discord being this training.
Ideas of a pitch-black looked out, more intense than the fangs of a beast they had been with a stare intended to kill.
"Hi-yarh!" A piercing bellow from where the lad leap forward - Great and strong legs covered by cloth pants til his muscles exploded with power! Sending this tall man hurtling through the air with an elongated front-flip in a singular moment and bringing about a heavy downward slam upon landing!
Slamming the ground in twain with a singular blow as the sand and the like pooled upon the impact as the lad rolled in tandem, shifting his weight over and continuing the leap into a long and heavy sword-slash that reached out.
Rushing forward after landing - Twirling into a trifecta of piercing stabs with the blade's sharpen tip combined with a stamp to the lead foot before retreat with another attack. The follow-foot planted and was used to pivot to follow with another strike.
Following this, he hopped backwards and then... Lowered; his legs' took a heavy step and swung for the fences!
This attack was big as the turf was ripped up in a blinding flash of sharpen-steel!
*Fwoosh!*
...
...
....
"*Exhale* Oh Yeah!~ I think I'm gettin' better." A cheer came from boy who raised his sword above his head with a yell of victory in away. This intense outage was a display of talent but hard-work as after a trip to be certain, he trained for some time.
For who would do such a thing?
Well; Beowulf Grenz.
At the moment as the light on the blade's surface sparkled and shone a peculiar light - This blade was something of a peculiar gift... It had been... A blade of a higher than average caliber!
'Wazamono' or Rather ‘Grade’ weapon.
The last of 3 - ‘The Hīe Hrunting’ it was and It happened to be a one of a kind weapon. A weapon befitting a savage warrior of some kind - Yet it weapon was one of renown and history, tradition and passion it was through craftsmanship.
Easily shifting the blade’s weight with one hand til it had ended up residing upon one of his shoulders, he turned over onto his other shoulder to peer off into the distance at the waters that led afar into the great, vast blue.
Looking past the Hustler; his private-little ship. Looking past the coastline which held rocken-like ramparts that broke the waters' surface, far and away to distance... As if Beowulf's own focus changed somewhat and his eyes' closed.
*Inhale.* That warm beach with large-trees which shook over - A wordless call came from beyond which forced him to turn... Turn to see the smiling image of his family who called him to enter supper.
*Exhale.* Running off with a smile and grin, waving away at the towns' folk where some were barking out angrily. A particular fishermen and his wife had been shouting profanities so loud that they could be heard even when the island was over the horizon.
*Inhale.* Sweating heavily where his clothes were covered in scuffs, his skin was bruised and a notable welt formed over his right eye. Harsh breathes as a figure opposite to him was free of damage holding a wooden-sword where Beowulf held his wooden-sword... Inhaling and exhaling; he lunged forward to attack.
*Exhale.* In a small tavern, surrounded by kind strangers. Beowulf had been just turned 18 years... Which meant; his promise to his father was kept and he could drink! The taste of the liquor, it had been... Dreadful however the company was incredible! The men wanted to drink him dry and a particular girl cheered him on... Even when he was utterly hammered, that same girl still helped him out.
*Inhale.* There he stood - Our dozens of crying men and woman, boys and girls, seniors and teens. There he watched as a large pry burnt a hefty blaze to symbolize the beautiful life and to honor those who had passed on... And who had passed on? His mother - Captain amongst several dozen of the individuals - Reliable Godmother to some, Life-Long Friend to others.
Lunging out into the flames with tears in his eyes - Ignoring the pleas' and shouts of others as he pulled out something from the flames... Her great and mighty sword - Called as 'The Hīe Hrunting' where it may have not seem so grand... It had been so incredible... And despite the red-hot steel burning away at his palms, forcing the boy to drop it to the snow-covered ground as people surrounded him in worry.
...
He'd honor her.
*Exhale.* One day - Beowulf as a 17 year old man... On his own with his mothers' blade, his own thoughts and his 'own' ship. The first time out of his homeland... He had suddenly come across someone that he couldn't turn away from. A man with wings... Wings just like Beowulf himself that he had kept hidden. Seeking to challenge this man, he had done so... And by doing so; he learn something about himself.
Someone who happened to be so much stronger... Much, much stronger than what he was... Beating him down with ease as he thrashed, crash and blown away like nothing... But one moment, he was overwhelmed by a strange attack... One which hadn't struck his flesh but he felt it upon his interior.
This 'shockwave' had sent him flying off til he slammed into a wall, his conscious disappearing in a flash and his eyes' closing slowly. Once last glance at the figures' form but he couldn't make out any details...
When he opened his eyes once more... His field of view was blurry and he was still reeling from the attack... But... He noticed a strange shell and a letter.
'Awaken To Your Other-Side.'
...
Beowulf hadn't known what that meant... But it must've been something extreme to knock him out... So he took it and discovered something odd, this shell was something akin to magic to the now-venturing swordsmen. 'Perhaps' - This could lead to something powerful of note, his mother stated to take advantage of whatever you can to become stronger.
This has to be it - Something that may push him over the edge...
His recollective thoughts vanished as his breath relaxed and his mind ceasing to recall those numerous memories, his attention quelled on the past and such thoughts that had once came over him disappeared.
A sudden-chill flushed over his body where he hadn't realized but he was standing still in a full-sweat for... Hours?!
The traveling swordsmen hadn't exactly realize it but his eyes widen when he saw the sun setting over the horizon, the once cloudless sky had become... Well, cloudy.
"Aaaah, crap! I got to rest up for tonight!" Speaking swiftly to himself, he then felt a sprinkle of liquid hit his nose.... 'Uh Oh.' A series of droplets continued in which Beowulf had to hurry along, getting some of the items that he would need in town and grabbing several things from his boat before he pulled it further onto shore.
Not too long afterwards - His boat was tucked away, a semi-decent fisher's hat was donned and he was off into town. The now-landfallen swordsmen was sprinting off into the town for the purposes of finding some-place to rest up.
Walking through the streets as rain continued to fall profusely downward onto his hat, Beowulf came along. His barefeet coming down onto the soaking-wooden of the docks' where despite his height, the lad hadn't managed to stand out too much in comparison to other citizens who were either drunk out of their minds to notice a hat-wearing stranger or busy as a figure who wasn't causing any trouble came on by.
As he went onward - Beowulf was scooping out relatively any places which were quiet, dry and seemed warm...
The overall area however... Held nothing of the sorts. Dozens of loud bars which were filled to the brim with people who were enjoying life at the moment - This just so happened to be included with things that Beowulf if he hadn't done training would've enjoyed.
Food, Drinking, Partying and People... 'Why did I train~?' A groaning thought erupted in the lad's head where he journeyed in the busying streets of this islands... 'Santa Barbados' - The overall vibe that he was receiving happened to be incredible, pleasant one.
These people... This was something that he could get behind, baby!
It was just... The ache in his muscles, the heaviness in his chest, he'd have to postpone the lazy desires of thrilling activities to get what he really needs. A nice, long-rest!
Shaking off some of the water that was on the hat he was wearing, Beowulf however did notice one thing... One place which was as quiet and still as the dead itself... Walking over towards it, he peered onto the sliding doors of wooden make, the cloth blinds which held a name upon them and a numerous... Scratchings?
As if the place had been defaced to some degree which left it in a state of disarray.
...
Welp - Nothing else seemed so quiet where Beowulf happened to head over - His feet churning and stomping onto the ground whilst he'd been grinning as well... Go over and placing a hand onto the doors, he slide them open...
And what was to see?!
...
An empty-run-down-place...
"Perfect!" Exclaiming to himself, he marched off to a little-corner in the shack of a former-dinner and quickly fell asleep however he wasn't alone.
Three figures appeared in the dark and awaited their chance to strike... Looking down on the lad whose nose twitched and a snot-bubble appeared from it.
...
"Wait A Minute." Groggily speaking to himself, the lad reached into large bags and pulled out!
A black and yellow striped?
Cushiony and fluffy?
Comedically ugly plush?
Of a teddie-bear?
The odd-looking item caused the figures' to pause and look amongst themselves where they cam to watch the lad rest his head on the teddie-bears' stomach - It's face distorting into a dumb-looking sight but it still didn't mean much considering that Beowulf was still not fully asleep.
His stirs and shuffling movements were ones' of concern amongst the figures' who were slow to come near the man who happened to arise from his slumber at moment before falling into an ever deeper sleep.
...
A minute passed and Beowulf hadn't moved.
...
A three minutes had passed after the first and Beowulf's snores were the only thing that could be heard in this shack of a former bar.
...
At long last, ten complete and uninterrupted minutes of sleeping that was done by Beowulf... This lead to the figures' striking - They moved over in tandem with one and another, this rhythmic movements as they peered and lifted up items which belonged to the swordsman.
One of them however was forced to wait for others' with an impatient foot-patting up and down, the other two were struggling with a long and large item... That same item happened to be Beowulf's sword in which they were barely able to pick it up let alone bring it along with themselves as they heard a snort from the lad.
The three watched in fear as his nose twitched, his breath quickened only to unleash a heavy-sneeze that expelled a loud nose which caused the shack to shake even by it's power!
...
"Scary Weirdo." One of the two who had been struggling to lift the wrapped-blade was shushed by the others' who heard Beowulf suddenly shuffling again in his sleep, the group had stayed here long enough and they needed to head on their way.
...
In moments, they had fled away as the rainfalls outside muffled their fleeing steps... Where Beowulf had easily been relaxing in his sleep however as he turned around... His hands' outstretched - An instinctual grasp towards item.
That wasn't there.
*Pop.* "H-Huh? *Yawn.* What th-" A cold-realization as Beowulf arouse from his slumbering-state, his hands had reached for his blade's handle however it was not there.
It wasn't there.
It wasn't there which drove him to panic!
"WHAT THE HELL?! WHERE'S MY SWORD?! WHERE'S MY THINGS?! OH NOOOOOOOOO!" Hands flew up to the sides of his head, fingers digging into his hair and a cold-fit of shock, panic and fear welled up from within.
In a moment - He recalled something... The image of a furious woman... His mother.
"NEVER LET YOUR BLADE BE STOLEN! I DON'T CARE WHO IT IS, NO ONE SHOULD EVER TAKE YOUR WEAPON FROM YOU!"
That was one things she had been firm in teaching him in life... Now?
He had lost his things... Or rather... They were stolen.
A grimacing look as he headed over towards the shack's doorway and look out.
It was dark... It was cold... It was raining.
...
"Crap." Was his only statement.