Who: Dane Whitman NPCs: N/A When: March 6t, 2009 Where: Castle Garrett / England What: Dane practices his swordplay, mopes for a moment and than gets over it Rating: G
After an incident in which the cleaning lady had wandered by (Dane felt ... weird having a cleaning lady, but he couldn't keep the castle tidy on his own) and tried to tidy up the room by moving the Ebony Blade, Dane had practiced with said blade. He missed practicing his swordplay with a nice, normal, non cursed practiced sword, but he couldn't run the risk. He wasn't sure what the sword might do if someone else picked it up, the ghost who had directed him to said sword had vanished. So he practiced hacking at dummy, with the Ebony Blade, and tried not to think too hard about the fact that he had a cursed sword, had conversed with a ghost, that he owned a castle, and that he now belonged to some sort of group of English people who dealt with strange supernatural things.
As he swung at the dummy, he tired not think about hacking peoples limbs off -- and that wasn't the sword, that was just Dane thinking about Monty Python. Instead he thought about William Gibson. Specifically a line that went something along the lines of "if your technical, go low tech."
Now, Dane didn't consider himself that technical ... and he was sure that you could go lower tech than a sword. Stones. And sticks for example. Or maybe spears. However, he did think that had he known how his life was going to end up, he would have spent more time reading Tolkien and less time reading Gibson. He would have watched that movie with Sean Connery as King Arthur that had seen trailers for, instead of watching all the Star Trek's over and over again.
Feeling a surge of frustration that was wholly his own, he swung at the dummy, working up a sweat as he ground his teeth. He had liked movies with Jedi Knights, not Ye Olde Knights.
Taking a step back, he shook some hair out of his eyes and decided that thinking about all the could have, would haves, and should have's was pointless. He had gone to see his Uncle Nathan and learned about his uncles not so legal actives. He had pulled the sword out of the wall, he had taken up the name of The Black Knight. There was no changing the past. Right here, right now he could control what was going on, like the fact that his hair kept getting into his face when he was sword fighting, he could control that by getting a hair cut.
A hair cut probably help with the helm hair he was experiencing every time he took off the Black Knights helm.
Sheathing the sword, he let out a sigh, and than decided to go into London, and find a barber.