The day started as almost every other of W'zota's days started. Before the sun was even on the horizon, the Miqo'te man strolled out of his room in the Quicksand while munching on an apple. As one could expect from the time, the inn's main room was desolate, save for the Lalafell that Momodi had working the front while she was sleeping herself.
W'zota walked out of the eastern entrance towards the Steps of Thal, walking along the stone streets with the sound of his hard-leather caligae clicking with each step as he made his way towards a particular back alley. Once he reached his destination, the Miqo'te held the apple between his teeth as he began climbing a stack of crates. At the top of that pile, he made a little jump to a ledge built into the side of one of the buildings, clinging to the wall above it as he made his way to another ledge. Some more creative climbing and he was on one of the roofs above the city.
Zota crouched down on the edge of the roof and finished his apple as he watched the sun rise on the horizon. He tossed the core off the edge back towards the alley when he was done, rubbing his hands together as if trying to get rid of some of the juice that was on them. He failed, of course. Once he was stretched out, he shifted his feet fluidly into his favored fighting stance and raised his hands, picturing an opponent in front of him. He took a deep breath and began throwing out quick punches, dodging around imaginary blows that were thrown towards him.
Once he was shadowboxing, his mind was focused purely on his movements. He was constantly striving to improve his form and speed, though they were good enough for what he did at the moment. In his mind, there was always more to learn about his fighting and he would keep trying to learn as long as that was possible or until he could fight no longer.
The sun had risen above the horizon by the time W'zota finished his practice. He smiled as he made his way back down to the city's streets, taking a look around before heading off to start the rest of his day.
W'zota walked out of the eastern entrance towards the Steps of Thal, walking along the stone streets with the sound of his hard-leather caligae clicking with each step as he made his way towards a particular back alley. Once he reached his destination, the Miqo'te held the apple between his teeth as he began climbing a stack of crates. At the top of that pile, he made a little jump to a ledge built into the side of one of the buildings, clinging to the wall above it as he made his way to another ledge. Some more creative climbing and he was on one of the roofs above the city.
Zota crouched down on the edge of the roof and finished his apple as he watched the sun rise on the horizon. He tossed the core off the edge back towards the alley when he was done, rubbing his hands together as if trying to get rid of some of the juice that was on them. He failed, of course. Once he was stretched out, he shifted his feet fluidly into his favored fighting stance and raised his hands, picturing an opponent in front of him. He took a deep breath and began throwing out quick punches, dodging around imaginary blows that were thrown towards him.
Once he was shadowboxing, his mind was focused purely on his movements. He was constantly striving to improve his form and speed, though they were good enough for what he did at the moment. In his mind, there was always more to learn about his fighting and he would keep trying to learn as long as that was possible or until he could fight no longer.
The sun had risen above the horizon by the time W'zota finished his practice. He smiled as he made his way back down to the city's streets, taking a look around before heading off to start the rest of his day.
