By Taliseman

With the sweat pouring off of his forehead, Taliseman raised his iron gladius once more in a powerful side strike to the dummy, he retreated, sheathed his gladius, and let out a groan. He was tired, hungary, and had some minor cuts and bruises, but he was focused. He slowly walked out the arch, waved weakly to Gilven, promising to be back with more denar to train, and slowly trudged towards the baths. Paying little attention to his thoughts as of recient, and training day and night, Taliseman finds himself losing contact with the world around him. Resting in the baths, alone, thinking of restful times... and laughing. Times had never been better. He was training quickly and effiecently, when he needed denar, he would go hunting in the alley at night, killing four or five brutes and a couple of thugs. Running the armor to Venina, grabbing his change, and back for more. Taliseman had given himself a schedual, train in gladius one day, train in the mud pit the next, and that hunt for denar the next. He was on his way to becoming stronger and stronger. The days growing longer and longer, as they all seem to be forewarding his goal of being better. Someday he will have to face his largest fear... and he must, no he will be ready to stand... weither alone or not.....

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