Third Strike - [Action | Accidental Video]
[Early morning has Presea busy. After locating her clothes and axe from the shopping district, she's on her way through town to do what she does best, chop some wood. People may or may not see her at the edge of the forest, dragging her massive axe behind her without batting an eye. Her face is stoic and emotionless as usual, and she trudges onward.
Finding a good spot away from the immediate village, so no one's house would get flattened by a tree, she places her journal down on a rock for safe keeping. As she turns around, the wind blows the book open, and it begins to record her as she picks up that heavy axe as if it were a toy. The pigtailed child faces a tree and swings with all her might.
CRACK.
She pulls back her axe silently, and looks at the enormous dent she placed in the tree's trunk. Silence passes for a moment and Presea passes a finger carefully over the blade she held. Huh, it wasn't dull. That could only mean one thing.]
...Power has decreased substantially. Percentage unknown, estimated at forty-seven point six-three percent.
[Honestly, the power caps are perhaps the only reason why that tree is still standing. Presea was known far and wide to be able to cut down a tree with one blow, not two. The next one, as she strikes, makes the large tree tumble down, and the child mutter a quiet "Timber." as it crashes onto the forest floor.
Now, onto business, she'd need to cut off some of the branches and separate the trunk into more manageable pieces. Even with her strength, she couldn't carry the whole thing back home. And even if she could, she'd have no where to store it, derp. So, for now, she'll be hacking away at the branches, piling them off to one side, and pocketing some of the younger, newer shoots.
She's completely oblivious that her journal is recording, and honestly wouldn't care even if she knew. Feel free to bother her.]
Finding a good spot away from the immediate village, so no one's house would get flattened by a tree, she places her journal down on a rock for safe keeping. As she turns around, the wind blows the book open, and it begins to record her as she picks up that heavy axe as if it were a toy. The pigtailed child faces a tree and swings with all her might.
CRACK.
She pulls back her axe silently, and looks at the enormous dent she placed in the tree's trunk. Silence passes for a moment and Presea passes a finger carefully over the blade she held. Huh, it wasn't dull. That could only mean one thing.]
...Power has decreased substantially. Percentage unknown, estimated at forty-seven point six-three percent.
[Honestly, the power caps are perhaps the only reason why that tree is still standing. Presea was known far and wide to be able to cut down a tree with one blow, not two. The next one, as she strikes, makes the large tree tumble down, and the child mutter a quiet "Timber." as it crashes onto the forest floor.
Now, onto business, she'd need to cut off some of the branches and separate the trunk into more manageable pieces. Even with her strength, she couldn't carry the whole thing back home. And even if she could, she'd have no where to store it, derp. So, for now, she'll be hacking away at the branches, piling them off to one side, and pocketing some of the younger, newer shoots.
She's completely oblivious that her journal is recording, and honestly wouldn't care even if she knew. Feel free to bother her.]