Post by Touma on May 24, 2018 16:57:56 GMT -5
“They say,”
“Patience is what makes a warrior,”
“Discipline,”
“Is vital,”
“Focus,”
“Is the surefire form to victory,”
“Too bad, though,”
“I'm just a farmer,”
Heat. Sun. Warmth. Words associated with the hot, hot sun and it's horrifically blazing rays. Touma had gone and blast himself many times for choosing to live in the more agricultural lands than the city like many of his fellow Saiyans. Once again, the young man had found himself at work. Standing in knee high grass, he had just finished slicing apart rows of high, unkempt weeds that plagued his crops. It turned out his investment in a scythe had proved useful after all, just as he had thought. A smile lined the tanned man's lips, as he found himself satisfied with his labors and what rewards they had brought unto him. His arm lifted, the forearm of his right arm sliding cross his forehead. Wiping the hot sweat from his near sticky brow. “Phew,” He sighed.
“Now, time to collect my harvest.” Touma smiled, rushing forth to the various plants he had in place for various crops he had grown. Firstly, he had collected his rice. Reaping the crop and dumping much of it into a wheelbarrow he kept close by. The grains falling quite smoothly, as it's fate was to be transferred into two containers: One, for personal consumption. The other, for commercial use. He'd sell a great lot. As he packaged twelve large bags of rice, each weighing roughly three pounds apiece. Several trips made, every one to drop each bag into a sack. The next crop was his roots. Various heads of vegetables protruding from the ground.
The young man rushed about. Zipping from row to row, collecting fistfuls of carrots, beets, burdock, radishes, turnips and taro. His hands dirtied from the dirt that manifested itself on the root veggies. No worry manifested in the males head, though. As he washed the vegetables clean using a well he had installed near his home.
These too, found themselves neatly packed into a separate sack. All the while, Touma was quite excited and grinning from ear to ear. Labor was labor, working to survive was one thing as well, but something about supplying his fellow Saiyans with the nutrition they needed felt oh so wholesome and worthwhile that he couldn't hold in his giddiness. Plus, he had recently come across some new “products” to utilize. Or, in other words he had been sold some new livestock. Some brand new Ostritch Chicken. A weird animal that was rather beloved for it's uses, from food to transportation. Touma was quite giddy to give his a try.
Throwing each sack over his shoulders, the male approached the stable he kept for the bird. Attaching each sack to the saddle acquired with the animal, he mounted the avian creature comfortably. Lucky for him, his mount was a strong one. Bred for travel and delivery. Touma led the bird out, directing it into the capital city of Sadal. Hand clutching the reign and a great grin on the males face. Time to earn his due. Earn his bread. Satisfy his financial needs so he had time to satisfy his fighting spirit's desires.
As Touma bounced atop his steed, he couldn't help but think. “Yeah..” He chuckled lightly. “Just a farmer.” He looked forth, focusing on the path ahead. The city was a good few miles ahead. “Too weak to join the forces, or serve whoever's at the helm of our people,” Touma's eyes glazed over the palace belonging to the ruler of Sadal in the upper distance. “Too strong to be satisfied with what I got,” Another chuckle followed him. “Maybe sometime," He sighed. “I dunno what's bugging me, I practically have everythin' a farmer could need,” He made a bit of a face as he thought to himself. “Oh well,” He shrugged. Seemingly nonchalant and relaxed, he kicked his avian steed in the ribs lightly. Rushing forward and barreling directly into the market zone for Sadal's capital.
“Patience is what makes a warrior,”
“Discipline,”
“Is vital,”
“Focus,”
“Is the surefire form to victory,”
“Too bad, though,”
“I'm just a farmer,”
Heat. Sun. Warmth. Words associated with the hot, hot sun and it's horrifically blazing rays. Touma had gone and blast himself many times for choosing to live in the more agricultural lands than the city like many of his fellow Saiyans. Once again, the young man had found himself at work. Standing in knee high grass, he had just finished slicing apart rows of high, unkempt weeds that plagued his crops. It turned out his investment in a scythe had proved useful after all, just as he had thought. A smile lined the tanned man's lips, as he found himself satisfied with his labors and what rewards they had brought unto him. His arm lifted, the forearm of his right arm sliding cross his forehead. Wiping the hot sweat from his near sticky brow. “Phew,” He sighed.
“Now, time to collect my harvest.” Touma smiled, rushing forth to the various plants he had in place for various crops he had grown. Firstly, he had collected his rice. Reaping the crop and dumping much of it into a wheelbarrow he kept close by. The grains falling quite smoothly, as it's fate was to be transferred into two containers: One, for personal consumption. The other, for commercial use. He'd sell a great lot. As he packaged twelve large bags of rice, each weighing roughly three pounds apiece. Several trips made, every one to drop each bag into a sack. The next crop was his roots. Various heads of vegetables protruding from the ground.
The young man rushed about. Zipping from row to row, collecting fistfuls of carrots, beets, burdock, radishes, turnips and taro. His hands dirtied from the dirt that manifested itself on the root veggies. No worry manifested in the males head, though. As he washed the vegetables clean using a well he had installed near his home.
These too, found themselves neatly packed into a separate sack. All the while, Touma was quite excited and grinning from ear to ear. Labor was labor, working to survive was one thing as well, but something about supplying his fellow Saiyans with the nutrition they needed felt oh so wholesome and worthwhile that he couldn't hold in his giddiness. Plus, he had recently come across some new “products” to utilize. Or, in other words he had been sold some new livestock. Some brand new Ostritch Chicken. A weird animal that was rather beloved for it's uses, from food to transportation. Touma was quite giddy to give his a try.
Throwing each sack over his shoulders, the male approached the stable he kept for the bird. Attaching each sack to the saddle acquired with the animal, he mounted the avian creature comfortably. Lucky for him, his mount was a strong one. Bred for travel and delivery. Touma led the bird out, directing it into the capital city of Sadal. Hand clutching the reign and a great grin on the males face. Time to earn his due. Earn his bread. Satisfy his financial needs so he had time to satisfy his fighting spirit's desires.
As Touma bounced atop his steed, he couldn't help but think. “Yeah..” He chuckled lightly. “Just a farmer.” He looked forth, focusing on the path ahead. The city was a good few miles ahead. “Too weak to join the forces, or serve whoever's at the helm of our people,” Touma's eyes glazed over the palace belonging to the ruler of Sadal in the upper distance. “Too strong to be satisfied with what I got,” Another chuckle followed him. “Maybe sometime," He sighed. “I dunno what's bugging me, I practically have everythin' a farmer could need,” He made a bit of a face as he thought to himself. “Oh well,” He shrugged. Seemingly nonchalant and relaxed, he kicked his avian steed in the ribs lightly. Rushing forward and barreling directly into the market zone for Sadal's capital.