Welcome to Gaia! ::

Sparkei tilted his head at Myst. "At......ease?" Oh well, Sparkei figured she wasnt listening...but Sparkei wasnt paying attention...so he stood up and looked around. "Your in the Black Company gardens...the dojo is just over there." He pointed in that direction, "And the forest is that way..." He pointed towards the forest. "Oh, and that reminds me...why did you say that I wasnt green? Were you looking for someone green?"

Sparkei nodded at her remark about everything else being green. "Yea...I guess it is..." He looked around and relaxed, his ears slowly layed to the back of his head as he admired the view of the garden, and the clouds as they formed shapes in the sky. His ears snapped back and he popped up and tilted his head. "Eh? I'm not sick...why would I be sick? It's not because I have the ears and tail is it?"

Sparkei's head tilted further, "Why would that make me sick? My skin is naturally dark...not green." Synjii flicked a ladybug from his knee and looked back to Myst. "Were you saying something else besides asking me if I was sick? I dont remember...sorry if I was rude." He smiled innocently and his tail wagged slightly.

"Might as well get started.... just hope I remember where some things were."

Focht pulled a blade out from the sheath from his back and tossed it at the tallest standing object. The blade ended up lodged in the remains of a retaining wall that wasn't more than 2 feet high. Shrugging off his shirt and the sheath, he tossed them over onto the grip of the blade. There were scars covering a good portion of his torso had scars from numerous different sources. On his stomach, there were the faded signs of a number of tear like scars meeting at a single focal point.

Looking around, he found what remained of the big oak tree. Heading to the charred log closest to the old oak, Focht figured using the old oak as a place to put the logs would give a place to start that wouldn't be in the way of the Dojo construction. Testing the burnt log to see how sturdy it was, finding it was mostly intact. With the usual blade of air, he cut the log in half so it would be in 2 shorter sections. Moving one of the halves of the log so they would be parallel, he cut down the length of both sections with one air blade. Picking up one section in both hands, Focht threw it toward the fallen oak. The log ended up landing close enough to the intended target so it could slide the rest of the way on the now flat surface. Shrugging at the results of his effort, he sent the 3 remaining pieces along similar arcs, each going about the same distance. His muscles were re-adjusting to the stress such manual labor put on them.

Seemingly satisfied that time hadn't dulled his skilled with the blade nor had it dulled his blade. Focht stepped up on the oak log, and wedged the blade into the cut and began to trying to pry the 2 sections apart. Before long the 2 pieces were a few inches apart. Putting the tip of the blade in the center of the 15 foot section and pushing down on the hilt of the blade. The 15 foot section lifted up slightly and began to slide away very slowly, the blade curved with the strain from the forces on it. After just a few inches, Focht gently removed the force on the crude lever he was using, shifting the sword so it would give him a little bit better leverage.

Applying his weight to the blade, the log lifted you and began to move again. Focht figured things would proceed slowly, and that was just fine in his opinion. Not many knew or would know he was back and that was just fine with him. Letting his mind wander wasn't the best thing since the strain on his sword was pushing the limits of the material. Suddenly there was a loud pop that snapped Focht out of his day dreaming. He looked down and saw what he thought had caused the noise; the edge of the tree the sword was pivoting on had buckled slightly.

Continuing to move the 2 logs apart, Focht applied more force to the sword and the log he was moving. The log lifted and began to slide but came to an abrupt stop, catching an old root or rock. He put more effort into it, not going to look what had caused the log to stop. Before long, it looked like Focht was going to finally force the log to begin moving but fate had something else in mind for him.

It wasn't the log he was using as a pivot point that had popped, it had been the sword. The moment that what had halted progress gave, so did his sword. Snapping almost clean at about 2 feet from its tip, the sword sprang up at him. It seemed to have missed at the very last instant after it leapt from his grasp. It took a moment for what had just happened to register with Focht. The hilt landing solidly behind him in the charred earth, a small cut appeared on his cheek that was right below the strap that held his eye patch in place. The scars that once had peeked out from the eye patch were just memories now, but the damage to the eye itself and what had replaced it remained.

"Son of a....."

Reaching into the decent sized gap, Focht removed the few splinters of the blade that were on the ground there and tossing them over to where the hilt had landed.

"Doubt there is any way to replace that around here..."

Focht had been intentionally doing the manual labor for this; finding that in the process of rebuilding, a “hands on” approach was better. Lacking the tools to technology would offer, he used the other abilities available to him in order to get things done. Going to the other end of the log he had been moving, he found it in decent enough shape for his plans. Using 2 blades of air and making an 'X', he sent them down the length of the log cutting it into 4 parts and then turning sharply at the gap before reaching the part he wasn't ready to cut. The 2 blades separated and arced wide before reaching their starting point and clearing the bottom 2 feet of branches. With this work done, now came the fun part. Next to the log he had just cut, he made the 2 air blades draw lines for a rectangle, 10' x 20', in the dirt.

A cold breeze blew across the scorched area that had been the garden, a clear sign that winter was approaching fast. Wanting to speed things up to get his plan finished before the first frost, he gave up on his notion of not using his full abilities. Focht stomped the splintered end which had been the base of the tree making all 4 parts stand straight up. With this impractical move, Focht manipulated the air so the 4 parts split apart and moved so the cut edges lined up just inside the lines on the ground at the corners. He seemed in an almost meditative state as the logs moved and rose up into the air. As he opened his eyes, the 4 timbers shot straight back down with enough speed to force them into the ground a couple of inches. The 4 timbers continued downward with slow progress, being driven down by an unseen force that worked like a hammer. Each timber moved about a quarter inch per hit, and there was an impact every 5 seconds.

This methodical pace suited Focht just fine. It gave him time to think about the rest of the design and about what supplies he would need to get in order to complete this project of his. Most of what he needed to finish anything but the basic frame; he couldn't make and didn't have any idea where to get it... yet.

[edit]

He didn't pay much attention any visitors, just going about and keeping busy with his own devices.

Sitting down, as the 4 timbers continued to be pounded into the ground, he reached over and began writing in the dirt. What he was writing couldn't be seen from afar but it was just some basic math to see how much area he needed to cover with the outer walls of this soon to be building. His wolf like ears twitched at the approach of another person but there wasn't any sign of interest from Focht.

"Excuse me, could anyone give me directions? I've been wandering for a while now."

The blank man's face splits in the parody of a mouth to speak, a voice like steel wool rasping against iron. Abruptly he begins to shift, taking on the appearance of Focht for a moment right down to the clothes. However these features shift, growing a prominent widow's peak and brillaint electric red hair. Cheek bones narrow and raise, eyesockets hollow downwards and the chin comes to a rakish point. His ears shrink slightly and angle backwards, his eyes become a light almost yellow brown. His jeans repair themselves, go dark blue, then black, before settling on a dark grey. the rest of his clothing elongates and stiffens, becoming a chinese-styled overcoat of the same dark grey with small skulls for buttons marching down the length of it. His long limbs are now almost covered to the ankles and wrists by the garmet, which on a normally proportioned man would have overshot hands and feet dramatically. Long thin chain earrings with spiked skulls similar to those of his buttons drop out of his earlobes and settle into place. His shoes are still similar to Focht's, though a bit sturdier looking and again in dark grey.

The whole process took mere moments, and was accompanied by the eerie groaning and creeking of bones rearranging themselves.