Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-29461586-20150206093315/@comment-29458028-20150207024122

(Damnit. No MMA. Gah. I was totally going to triangle choke Erys)

Raphael walked off, loosening his wrists by twirling his hands, as he drew his personal sword and found a quiet spot, starting to practice his fencing again. His weapon swirled around him in flowing movements, all his moves seemingly part of a seamless flow.

Raphael started to recall his past, when he was about 20. He was an angry young man, trained in the art of sword and spell by his family. He was tired, very tired, as he walked away from his burning family home. In his right hand, his current sword was held. In his left, a green bladed katana with a black hilt was present.

Raphael had collapsed from severe burns and blood loss eventually. He himself wasn't the exemplary fencer he was today. It was lucky he was found by a certain girl whose name he could no longer recall, nor did he want to recall.

She was a talented blademaster who was totally hapless with magic, except restoration. Raphael was treated by her for a week before he could stand again. She trained him in blade combat and Raphael found himself staying far longer than he should. He was trounced nearly every day, but as he got better, the fights equalized.

Seven years later, Raphael developed his own fighting style, as he defeated the lady who cared for him in purely physical combat. The formerly skinny bookworm was now a muscular, good looking man. He remembered the exact moment where he placed his blade on her throat, their eyes locking, as his hand pressed the back of her neck. They were so ... close. She was so ... pretty at that moment, staring into his eyes, pleading to be let go of with only her expression.

Raphael adruptly stopped his display of blade skills as he supressed the memory that sprung from the fight. He realized his was crying. He hoped nobody saw him. It was embarassing. His hood was down and his mask was not on his face. Nothing would conceal him from the world.