Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25038310-20160405011238/@comment-7203512-20160506053047

Holding his throat, Aelwin glanced at Jericho, then back at Dunistair, unsure what to say. He was a bit taken aback by Jericho's sudden introduction.

"A-anyt-thing w-would do. I-I'm j-just t-trying t-to s-survive, y'k-know..." he shrugged, looking at the blade.

He then limped towards the flattest part of the cemetery, gravestones before him, in two minds about the idea of training in such a place. He had no choice, though.

Young Hawksly took an awkward stance, before changing his mind and simply raising the blade up to his torso, his left hand stretched slightly forward, as if he was holding a spell. He then sighed, placing his hand on the blade's hilt, his pinky finger resting on the pommel and the index finger of his right hand tapping the cross-guard.