Training in the woods.

a guest Sep 17th, 2019 95 Never
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  1. This appeared to be as good a spot as any. Natural sloping downward terrain, surrounded by stone cliffs on all sides. It was like a naturally forming arena of sorts. Tillion had previously fought demons and others alike in this arena. But now he was here alone, no enemies, no allies. Everyone kept telling him that his goal was a foolish one, a goal to be abandoned. A goal that would make him into a villain. How could it be though?
  3. His goal was simple, it was a small list. Ever fine, ever specific. Kill Cromwell. Kill Crow. Kill Sors. Granted as one went down that list the difficulty jumped in leaps and bounds but, was it truly something entirely beyond his grasp? It couldn't be, in fact Tillion almost refused to believe it.
  5. So now here Tillion was, shortly after having his injuries repaired and plague cured, he was out beneath the light of a full moon in the woods seeking out his own training. There was much he could potentially focus on, be it his speed and agility, his stealth, or even he could push his illusion magic even further.
  7. Granted his illusion magic is what saved him from a life of servitude and was his primary way of combatting opponents. Perhaps that would be a place to start. Drawing his blade he would focus in on his own arts, twisting and manipulating his mana to create a sort of clone of himself infront of him. When one is alone who else is there to train with other than your self?
  8. (Tillion)
  10. Cloaking himself in illusionary magics Tillion would begin visibly shaking, the image of his form flickering and fading, as if he were there but not there. Infact this cloak of mana would allow him to be almost transparent to an extent. This was one of his spells he relied on so heavily in combat, the ability to confuse your opponent, make them second guess on where to strike, second guess the few inches of difference there was between Tillions true form and the form the illusion displayed.
  12. But something told Tillion this effect could be pushed further, the true power of an illusionist and an assassin was misdirection, draw your opponents attention one way and strike out at them from another. It was truly a most dangerous and terrifying art, but it was also incredibly difficult to master.
  14. For hours on end Tillion would combat his clone, using his hands or body to drag their attention else where then striking out with his dagger once they were deceived. Of course his clone was granted some level of intelligence and thus could adapt to this strategy, but that wasn't exactly the worse thing for the sake of training. The more the clone adapted the more Tillion was forced to improvise, the harder Tillion had to push himself. Every successful strike on the clone was a successful adaptation to a constantly adapting opponent. And for someone focused purely on the idea of a raw swift offensive approach? This was truly valuable training.
  15. (Tillion)
  17. Hours would pass of this consistent relentless sparring, the only breaks taken would be when he or his clone were completely knocked off their feet. And that break would only consist of a few swallows of water and catching his breath. Then it was back to the training. The night would be filled with the sound of clashing steel and pained grunts from one or the other receiving a successful strike. Nothing but the burning desire for vengeance fueled on his training.
  19. He was by no means a master assassin at the end of this, barely could he even be considered an assassin infact. He was still some scrawny teen with a dagger and some illusions. Drenched in sweat and in some places blood, Tillion would dispel his clone, take a few moments to breath, and then begin the long walk back into Gehenna.
  20. (Tillion
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