<strong>Name: </strong>Henrik<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Top<br/><strong>Tagged: </strong>Open<br/><br/>"Anybody else?"  Yes, it was tiring. It hurt; his muscles ached from the strain. But how could he possibly get better if he wasn't willing to push himself to the edge, and beyond? Don't stop until you drop, as one of the men he's trained with in his youth, had said.<br/><br/>However, it was unlikely he'd find too many other challengers willing. If nobody volunteered for it after a few minutes, he'd put the swords away, and head back towards his things. He would sit down by them, taking the sheathed sword and laying it on his lap, on his knees.<br/><br/>With one hand holding the grip of the blade, and one resting on the bottom-most portion of the metal-studded scabbard, he would shut his eyes, clear his mind; and bring stillness and clarity to his mind...<br/><br/>Well, it would be still. But, there was still plenty of activity nearby; many ripples, some small and lost beneath the more moderately sized ones. Still, in its own way, the ripples were relaxing and enlightening; he watched as they formed, stretched out, eventually ebbed and faded away; consuming or being consumed by other ripples.