The sun lay high in the sky that afternoon, its reflection dancing in ripples of its waters and casting its light against old dilapidated boats and piers as it did so. The area around the lake was silent, save for the song of birds and the lapping of the lake against the stone shore. On its southern edge stood a man, perched on a towering rock overlooking the water. Caught within the eye of the sun his shadow seemed to dance upon the rippling surface with its movements. Adhering to his own rhythm, Ian's blade whistled through the air in a graceful arc...all whilst doing so on a single, naked foot. The Vampire's movements were an elegant orchestra of blade and balance, showing no signs of faltering with each shift in stance and each flourishing swing of the glaive. As a normal man, he had been in good physical condition...but even with the martial arts training he had, he would not have been capable of anything near to what he was doing; such a thing was within the realm of masters who were at the peak of human fitness, something which he was well beyond now.
As to why he was out here, it was simple; practice makes perfect. Back in the Junkyard, he could train with his bow and sawed-off shotgun, but the full scope of his physical abilities had to be worked on, away from the eyes of everyone that knew him. Save for his trousers, a sash containing his kris and bracers, the Treasurer's torso and feet were unadorned, revealing a physique that was rather well-built by the standards of this age. Reaching the end of the training regimen, he would leap into the air with a graceful flourish; with a twist, he would bring the blade down in an overhead arc, whilst landing in a low stance.