BART
“This place really needs a gym, not a medieval training pit dirt patch,” Bart mutters to himself as he treks along through the outskirts surrounding the settlement. He’s not real keen on finding a swordsman to train him - a little too new to the area and perhaps a bit prideful - but he sees no harm in dusting off his skills the old fashioned way. Even when those skills are almost entirely related to brawling, fighting dirty, and evading getting pinned or cornered.
Dropping his bag he dutifully wraps his hands, medical training clearly apparent in the perfectly laid patterns. The mat had been harder to obtain, and the stuffing would fail far faster than modern foam, but for now it will work fine. Strapping it to the tree, Bart shakes his hair out of his face and throws his first punch. Falling into a moderate rhythm that slowly works up a sweat without tiring him out, remembering the proper angles and throws as time progresses.
Dropping his bag he dutifully wraps his hands, medical training clearly apparent in the perfectly laid patterns. The mat had been harder to obtain, and the stuffing would fail far faster than modern foam, but for now it will work fine. Strapping it to the tree, Bart shakes his hair out of his face and throws his first punch. Falling into a moderate rhythm that slowly works up a sweat without tiring him out, remembering the proper angles and throws as time progresses.
Even if I do a little just to get me through the night
Always getting me in trouble, smoking like I wanna die
Always getting me in trouble, smoking like I wanna die
