She barely remembered Taengea, in all honesty.

Nike was not an original Colchian born and bred child. It wasn't hard to see, if one got to know her well. As a trained military soldier and commander of men, Commander Nike was stern and strict, quick to make decisions and unforgiving on minor issues - much like her own commanding officer. Afterall, he was the one who had trained her.

So all in all, if you got to know her on the surface it wouldn't be hard to believe that Nike was a Colchian bred individual. But get to know her a little bit more, and you'll uncover a different facet to the hidden female. She laughs wholeheartedly, eager to tease and finds great joy in bringing a smile to those she cares for. The only difference is that in the life the woman has made for herself in Colchis in the past fourteen years, the situation has made it such that Nike had little, almost no one she cared for.

Well, not many anyway. Her 'brothers' in arms, the men under her command, Nike would ensure their safety above all else. And her general was someone she would safely call her best friend, someone she could even guess before he moves, what he needs. She served as his bodyguard, his commander, his sounding board... but now, she was off duty. At least for the moment.

This was her first return to Taengea, and one would think that she would bask in the return. But it was different. Nike did not leave Taengea with a heavy heart. It was an escape, and when it had been announced that Vangelis would be attending a dinner party by the noble house of Leventi, Nike had cried mercy and asked for one of her many days she had available to be taken off.

Luckily for her, it had been granted, and she had decided to opt away from the hustle and bustle of market place, and even the busy streets, and found herself wandering to the outskirts of the main city, where she found herself in the grassy plains of the countryside. It was only when she arrived there, did her pace slowed, and the crop haired female took a deep breathe of the evening air, before reaching her eyes roamed the area, even as her hands reached for the hilt of a different kind of sword she had brought along with her today.

The sword was special - longer, heavier, made of the same material. The hilt however, was wrapped in leatherskin, with the prongs tilted upwards, and a heavy knob right at the end. Even sitting in the leather pommel strapped around her belt, Nike could tell it was heavier then most.

She had spied it upon their arrival in Taengea, and had proceeded to quickly buy it upon noting its beautiful craftsmanship. The merchant she had purchased it from told her he had obtained it from one of the lands further past the borders of the Aegean sea, lands they have yet to explore. He called it a two-handed sword, or a claymore as he heard the natives called them.

Nike however, was interested in its weight.

With her lightweight hits and smaller frame, despite the copious training provided by Vangelis, it was biologically impossible for her to gain as much strength as her male counterparts. Many years had passed with her somehow making up for it with her wit and Vangelis's sneaky moves, but that didn't mean Nike was not always on the lookout for ways to cover up what she lacked from the luck of birth. The heaviness of the claymore, she thought, would help in adding more weight to her hits.

As she dragged it out of its pommel though, the girl stumbled, and almost fell as the heavy sword slipped out, and weighed heavily in her hand. Even clasped in her two palms, it took all Nike could to hold it upright, much less swing the sword. "How do people fight with these?" the absurdly bewildered thought crossed her mind, as she held it up, feigning a block as she tested the weight, and then brought it into an attacking stance.

Repeating the action, adding in the familiar footwork she would do had she been using the longsword, it did not take long before the upper arms began to ache, burning from the excess weight of the two-handed sword she now held. And even then, her movements were still sluggish and slow, the kind that would've gotten her killed in no time on an actual battlefield. Half an hour into her session, and her hands shivered as she finally let the tip of it drop into the ground, sinking into the grass. Nike dragged the back of her hand across her brow, looking at her new possessions with a half-satisfied, half irritated look.

This was going to take a long time.