Are
The hall, or at least the training field should had been empty at that time of the day, Are assumed. One to favor mornings it took some getting used to, pushing any chores to as close to sunrise as possible to prepare for a day down below. In the cellar below the shop where it was cool enough to think and where the world could be put on hold for a few hours. A place that belong to only him and whatever project laid before him, shoes being more of a necessary evil than anything that had any passion burning, not like before at least.
No, the warrior was far too preoccupied with perfecting what little he knew of the art of keeping himself, and others some day, alive. By chewed sinew and boiled leather, enough to stop an arrow, maybe a dagger, but still allowing for movement. Agility he had taken the evenings to hone. Staggering, awkward steps, all in what he had made for himself. All driven by some base need to prove a point, that he was no coward. At least not like before. Even though he had bent before the will of someone he hadn't even met, he was a warrior with a quest. One for himself, and one for the greater good.
So it was a warrior looking for tools came to the hall as the sun made it's slow descent and again allowing the world to breath. Even though the sweltering heat had abated he was already clammy in the padding and hardened pieces of leather, somewhat uncomfortable just from the short jaunt from his home to the hall.
"Heill!" he offered a greeting to the figure he should've recognized. A greeting laced with surprise at first, but distilling into equal parts suspicion and curiosity. A memory stirred, but nothing came of it, dismissed as the warrior again turned his mind to what he had come for. "You, uh, doing some training? I'm Are by the way, cobbler just up the hill." Are introduced himself, motioning over his shoulder.
Wessex
No, the warrior was far too preoccupied with perfecting what little he knew of the art of keeping himself, and others some day, alive. By chewed sinew and boiled leather, enough to stop an arrow, maybe a dagger, but still allowing for movement. Agility he had taken the evenings to hone. Staggering, awkward steps, all in what he had made for himself. All driven by some base need to prove a point, that he was no coward. At least not like before. Even though he had bent before the will of someone he hadn't even met, he was a warrior with a quest. One for himself, and one for the greater good.
So it was a warrior looking for tools came to the hall as the sun made it's slow descent and again allowing the world to breath. Even though the sweltering heat had abated he was already clammy in the padding and hardened pieces of leather, somewhat uncomfortable just from the short jaunt from his home to the hall.
"Heill!" he offered a greeting to the figure he should've recognized. A greeting laced with surprise at first, but distilling into equal parts suspicion and curiosity. A memory stirred, but nothing came of it, dismissed as the warrior again turned his mind to what he had come for. "You, uh, doing some training? I'm Are by the way, cobbler just up the hill." Are introduced himself, motioning over his shoulder.
