(solo.)

Working suited Attikias. It gave him opportunity to zone out, to focus on one task rather than let his overactive mind wander. Plus, it helped to keep up his body and prevent it from going to waste when he wasn't hunting. Trees surrounding his abode showed wear and tear from excursions into the physical studies of his own strength. A torn piece of bark here and there wasn't uncommon, though even more likely were the slashes across various surfaces that laid around his home. He was almost like some sort of territorial creature- if he'd been doing this out of the range of his hut, at least. No, instead, he looked like some eccentric designer.

In any case, all of it was lost on him as he rolled his chosen weapon in his hand. His cot needed replacement, he duly noted, before he rocked to his bare feet onto the soft, beaten dirt of his den's floor. The spear was heavy. A new piece of metal shone on its tip- sure, yes, rust coated its edges, but a rough rock Attik had gathered long ago took good care of the point to bring it to a nice sharpness. Experimentally, he thrust it into the empty are with his right arm- good. He should get warmed up. He had free time to kill, anyways. Soup simmered softly with the remains of prey he'd managed to capture a little bit ago and he did not want to risk something stomping through his grounds again at the smell of his cooking food.

Maybe he could find something to fight. He didn't need food though- didn't need to hunt, did he? Maybe tomorrow, yeah, but that soup would last him a while. So, killing was out of the question. Not that he was morally against it, just. Unnecessary killing would mean food going to waste. He could use some feathers for a new project of his, but again, no, not hunting right now.

With that squared away, Attik emerged from under the canopy he'd built and flexed his hand over the smooth wood of the weapon. Right. His target was hanging just above eye height, a cut piece of branch he'd crudely sawed off in search of material for his crafts and hung specifically for this purpose. His right arm reared back in a practiced motion, his left shooting out as high as it'd let him to help him aim. One step back. Aim. Square off, lurch forward, and release.

The shot rang true. With a satisfying thunk, the spear jostled the hanging target and hit it against the branch it loomed down from. Yep, he's still got it. A satisfied smile wormed its way across the elf's face as he paced forward to retrieve the spear. With his left hand pressed against the base, a solid jerk with the right retrieved his prized possession from its entrapment.

That was a nice, solid hole it left behind. Nice. Confidence ran through him as he took a step back to admire his handiwork.

But! What's this! Someone behind him? With a theatrical grasp, Attik spun on the spot and made to slash his spear against the trunk behind him, knowing full well that there was no one there. Might as well make your own fun, ey?

A smile ran across Attikias's face as he felt the spear's head swipe across the bark, creating one of many slashes across the bark. It barely cut, though- he'd have to work on that.

He paused in his attacks. Sneaking forward, he made to kneel down and run a hand across the injured tree. The texture reminded him of when his skin was soaked, yet so much more harder and-

Ah, shit. He got a splinter. Wincing, Attikias picked it out with chewed down nails, grumbling at the stinging running up from his calloused hand. Well, that sucked. At least his spear was smoothed out a little. But, he'd warmed up enough with that; returning to his hut, he let it down softly next to his leafy cot. Right. Next up, a new weapon he'd picked up. It had a short hand and long blade- a lot of metal laid under the rust he'd worn away over time. An axe, his mind supplied him as he retrieved it and lobbed it gently into the air.

Its weight rested heavily in the elf's hand. Hm. Backing out of his tent, he swished it about with his eyes locked onto it. It seemed to slice through the air with ease- it was certainly a lot different than his spear.

With his interest piqued, Attikias returned to the tree he'd swiped at moments before and reared his right arm above and behind his unburdened shoulder. Right, how was he gonna do this... Eyes squinted, Attikias took a single step back before throwing his arm forward and down, hoping to slash across the tree with a strong hit.

That would do it. The swing felt more natural, stronger, with more weight to it and control. To be fair, though, he wouldn't use the weapon when hunting, but perhaps he'd carry it about his person just in case. He'd have to see. It did feel as though it didn't swipe as clean, but that could be due to the amount of available cutting edge on it.

But that was just a swipe down. What about with more intent to it? He could swing more diagonal, see how much damage this could really do when he aimed for the side rather than the front. Bracing his left arm against the tree, Attikias stanced up and raised the axe more off to the side, as if he were making to cleave off a piece of meat from bone. Breathe in, breathe out- taking the axe in both hands (and wincing at the strain on the muscles along his left shoulder), the elf let out a soft grunt as he swing down with force.

The damage was evident as a resounding 'thunk' sounded into the living flesh of the tree. Oh, this was good. Yeah, he'd definitely keep this on his person now. Peeling back the axe revealed a shallow mark into the tree. Even if it wasn't the greatest swing, even if he didn't know how much he'd use it, he wanted to see more of it.

He wanted to see how deep he could make this. The urge to destroy was strong, now- the urge to mark something as his. He was getting into a rhythm now. Another noise through clenched teeth sounded out as he reared back the weapon before bringing it back down into the thick of the tree, aiming for the deeper wound he'd made on it.

It's like instinct ran through his veins with this weapon, as if this is what the axe was actually made for. If only he knew its history.

Well, it hit this time, definitely. Except it was in the completely wrong place, and, uh. Tugging on the item, Attikias discovered a small problem.

It was stuck. Great, now he had this to deal with. Yeah, it cut nicely, and it made that sick-ass noise again, but this wasn't good for keeping it on him if it was just gonna be here 'till the end of time. Sure, he could wait before taking it out, wait for the tree to weaken around the deadened area, but nah. Bracing a foot on the tree and tensing around the handle of the axe, the elf strained his back as he tugged back hard to free his well-earned weapon.

Losing access to one of his feet was a bad decision, he'd realized as he stumbled back onto the forest floor. His back hit dirt quickly, but he'd got the item free, at least! Huffing out a noise of satisfaction, Attikias used his new vantage point to look at the axe while turning it about in his hand. The craftsmanship on it was nice, definitely. If he had to try and cut something again, though, maybe he should try at more of an angle.

It was kind of nice here. He let his arms lay out to either side of him as he stared up into the trees as he was wont to do, taking in the smells of fresh greenery from his expenditures about him. Ah, this was nice. He couldn't think of anything better he could be doing.

Weeeelll, he could be looking around. He'd been moping about his hut for a while, now that he thought about it, and he sat up with unease at this predicament. He wasn't gonna move his home, but he may not be as knowledgeable about his surroundings he'd noticed as he reflected. Hm. Bringing a thumb to his lip, Attik sat in thought before moving to kneel, slowly getting up. Yeah, he had to fix that. The axe tucked easily into the makeshift belt easily, at least.

He couldn't go far, though. He had food to worry about, after all! He could look around the surrounding area, at least. Maybe- He could practice spells? He was done for a bit on battling plantlife, at least.

But, he kind of wanted to work on actually making his home pretty. He stretched as he straightened up fully, arms out in front of him. Right. Trudging into the surrounding woods, Attikias kept out an eye for anything he could find interesting.

It didn't take him long to find anything interesting. 'Course, he didn't want to go far, with his food coming, but he'd managed to find a nice bush of berries he knew to be safe. Nestled in the red dots was a light blue feather. It must've been lost recently. He could use it for... Something? Maybe it'd look nice on him. Though- He didn't know if it would rot or anything? Did he have to preserve it?

Well, in any case, he had some makeshift twine he had strewn about his hutch he could use with this for... Something. Maybe he could hang it about his neck? It was a small little item. Would that even look good against him?

He returned home not long before he would have to take off the bowl of broth from the heat, hands dyed red from the berries in them and the taste of their sweetness on his tongue. He was getting a little impatient for food, yeah, but the berries wouldn't fill him up anyways. The soup was the main course, after all!

The feather twirled in the man's free hand as he squeezed in under the hut. The heat enveloped him even as the fire was dying. Curious to see the progress, Attik took a smoothened stick and swirled it about the clay-covered wooden bowl. Yeah, that looked done? He really didn't know how long he should keep it simmering, but he could probably take it off and let it cool down before sipping it now. Before that, though, he made sure to place the feather in a place he'd remember in his collection of items. Right, with that settled, Attikias kicked some of the loose dirt onto the dwindling fire below the propped up bowl.

He would find the soup nice- though, perhaps, without much taste. For now, though, he was content to watch it while his hands fiddled with his little prize he'd collected.

;exit attikias (more of an end thread but! enjoy little soup time)