Completed Harder, better, faster, stronger

[Banir Ironwood]

24th of winter, Mid day 512 AV

The day was a nice overcast as a large hooded and armoured figure standing there. Dressed in a long winter filthy dirty green coat dotted in his grey armour. The dark grey of his cold iron sitting on his shoulders thick and sturdy. The armour along his arm strong and strapped tight to his person. Claw glinting in the light as his bladed fingers wiggled slightly. His gleaves clung to his boots, secured tightly for fast movement. Twice as thick as normal and plenty heavy, it was a good weight but he had hopped to have something heavier, perhaps more armour on his person. Though the trip to the trading post wasn't the experience he had hopped for. But he would work with what he had. With his full gear on he prepared himself for a good daily workout. He took time to stretch out his limbs making sure they'd move when he needed them too. Twisting his top a few times, doing a few squats, doing a wide stance then leaning left. Leaning right, standing tall and letting his arms reach for the sky he bent down to touch his toes. Giving a final grunt as he rolled his shoulders. The leather that held his armour in place was firmly entrenched on his body. Thick muscles helped keep his possessions in place on his person.

Finally all set and done he let out a long and slow breath, forcing and evening out his breathing. Once his breathing was strong and even he began at a fast walk, slowly bringing himself up to a walk. Then a faster walk, speeding into a jog, then an even footed run. Banir wouldn't be going far from the Spires, merely running around the city perimeter. His heavy feet thudded into the ground, the cold iron clattered on his body as he moved. His breath drew in with his long strides, each propelling his body faster. With each pounding beat he looked around as the scenery changed steadily. The greenery passing by along with the long chimes of his jog. His breath coming slow, even, pulling against the weight of air to bring the needed energy to his limbs. On his way around he heard many things, mostly the sounds of nature. Birds chirping far off into the distance, animals howling and barking in a language he would never know or understand. But he didn't need to pay attention to them, not right now at least. They posed no threat to him and neither did he to they, all that mattered now was getting stronger. And with that in mind he tried to pick up the pace and keep his breath even.

Almost a full bell into his run before he began to feel fatigue strike him. The heavy armour made running a little harder than usual but that was his intention. As both the metal and exertion weighed him down, he just needed to clear one more petal and then head off to the training yard. His breath was drawing faster and he could feel sweat forming on his body. This didn't deter his speed though, he was going to push himself. If anything broke or became hurt it would only heal back stronger than before. As he rounded the petal he saw the point to which he began. Steadily letting himself slow to a jog, then to a walk, his breath was a little more rapid. Legs tired from carrying his weight he walked forward for a while. He still had somewhere to go, rest was not an option. His heavy boots trodden upon the ground, leaving in his wake his large foot prints deepened by the metal that covered his brown boots. As he fought to regain his breath he made his way to the training yard. He had worked on his speed and controlling his breath. Now it was time for strength and defense, and though the training yard was more for sparing and practice fights. It would serve fine as a means to work and build muscle.

Within a few chimes he had walked to the yard. His breath still not quite caught in his lungs he took a moment to get it back. Closing his eyes, his muddied thoughts tried to reach coherence but with his lack of breath it was hard. So rather than try to think Banir worked instead to clear the static from his brain. Thinking of nothing, voiding his thoughts, trying to achieve a steady calm that he so rarely gained outside of carving. The minute he felt his mind cleared and his body ready for more he began. Moving to the yard he got to the prone position, his legs up on a slope putting more weight on his arms. Slowly Banir began to pump his arms, his thick biceps pushing him up steadily each time. He did twenty full push ups before rolling over. His feet still at the top of the hill, he brought his torso up, hands behind his head as he reached to touch each alternating knee. His body sweating hard now as he wanted more, he wanted to be stronger than before and there was little to stop his objective. Soon enough a full sixty rounds where done. Tired but not down he moved onto chin ups. These where the hardest in his opinion. Walking to a sturdy branch he jumped up and grabbed it. Bringing himself up until his biceps where parallel with the floor he began to lift. Taking long steady breath's as he worked. Making sure to fully lift his heavy weight until his chin cleared the branch. Working for a solid eighteen reps before having to drop and let his arms rest.

[Banir Ironwood]

After his chin ups he dropped solid to the ground, all two hundred and forty eight pounds thumping hard onto the dirt. Banir hadn't removed a single thing from his person he could feel the weight of his twice as thick cold iron adding to his bulk. It was heavy, tough to do fast maneuvers with it on and it made his punches slower and with less impact. But the armour was also his weapon, the claws lethal little blades atop his fingers. The shoulder pads thick and strong to be used to throw his weight into a charge. Gleaves on his feet to put more weight into a kick. And once the armour came off, he was faster and stronger as his muscles where accustomed to greater weight. Letting him strike and move with greater strength and force. So after doing his run and a single rep he felt his stamina and strength drained a little. Taking a rest he paused as he squatted lightly, bouncing on his thighs then standing with a long breath. Letting it out slowly as he stretched his arms left then right. As a young man of thirty eight he was still just coming into his prime. So after only a few short chimes his breath was back and his strength renewed he began to start his little training session again. Taking a long steady breath he walked to the slope. Putting his feet at the top end and began to do his push ups again. Letting his mind wonder while he worked on himself. Steadily pumping his thick arms up and down he felt something was wrong.

Pausing at the third pump he held still, there was nothing for quite a while. No birds, no small animals running about. Something was wrong, and he had that feeling like there was something looking at him like he was a weakling. Pushing himself forward he tucked into himself and rolled into the middle of the grounds looking around. Eyes slowly turning red, scanning the area around him. He heard sounds of clinking, and not of armour, it rattled and clanked. It was a familiar sound, growing up in a blacksmiths home had some advantages. It was chains, probably steel from the sound, forged to hold stronger races. Slavers, he couldn't tell there numbers but hopefully there where only a few. Bringing his arms up and walking around constantly shifting his footing, following the sounds. Anger steadily pumping into his blood as he clenched his left fist and poised his right clawed hand. He tried to look bigger than he was, giving off more intimidation. Playing on his brutish looks that he had regretted for many years. Now finally coming in handy.

The sound of chains gave pause, perhaps his looks had caused them to reconsider his capture. That he'd be more trouble than he's worth. A noise came from behind and he turned to face it. A man stood there, human too, not much taller than himself. And he appeared to be lightly armoured with a few blades on him. The grin on the man's face was unsettling to him, surely this wasn't the only opponent he had. Sure enough another sound, a snap of a twig. A stocky man just a little shorter than him, the guy had red hair and a beard. Then a third wearing nothing but dark clothes and a hood. There was nothing, only three opponents. Not to bad, they all looked human and that would at least make things even. But wait, why weren't they attacking him? And that's when it hit him, and quite literally by that. Pain struck the back of his head with the loud sound of rattling. Flairs of pain burning on his skin as some petcher ran past him holding the steel chains he had heard but a moment before.

Banir fell forward and tumbled forward and kept bent over as the men moved in and surrounded him. The man with blades moved in drawing one and giving Banir another hit. Banir fell to the ground like a sack of bricks, he could feel two grabbing his arms and lifting him up. They complained about the weight as they tried to get him onto his knees. Dazed Banir looked around, his hood flying off revealing his dirty blonde hair and the top half of his lightly healed scars. They laughed at him and the man now twirling shackles linked by a steel chain walked up. Claiming that they should look at his face, see what their most recent capture had. As he felt a hand move past his head and yank off his scarf his face became revealed. Slowly his vision began to focus and he realized what had just happened. He felt no restraint as his rage took him, his eyes turned a blazed red. Loaded with rage and the will to use it now. Adrenaline flooded his body, what Banir liked to call the Surge. His muscles tightened and swelled, his breath drew fast as pure hatred flooded his mind.

Practically jumping to his feet Banir lifted the dark cloaked man and the man with blades right from the ground. Pulling them together hard he heard their skulls knock together. He pushed them away, he felt something hit his back. The small red haired and bearded had struck his back, the pain was practically not even there. Taking the red haired man by the shirt he began to assault him pounding his fist into the smaller man's face again and again. It was his right bladed hand, each punch was brutal as it brutalized the bearded man's face. With the last punch he brought it back and put an elbow for a final blow. He heard something beating on his back and he dropped his opponent, a chain hung in the air. Moving he grabbed it, it was the damn lead slaver. He wrapped the chain of the shackles in his left hand and then ripped it from the grip of the human. Putting his right hand on the man's shoulder he swiftly brought the fist covered in chains into the mans gut. Slamming his fist into him again and again roaring and verbalizing his rage. Picking the man up off the ground he reeled back his head, the scars on his face in full view. It would be the last thing the man would see for quite some time. As he brought their heads together by pulling the man down and rushing forehead to meet his. They connected and hard.

Banir was tough, he'd taken hits to the head plenty of times. But the man who was on the receiving end of the attack was less fortunate. His forehead was split open and bleeding rather badly, did he just manage to crack his skull? Honestly he couldn't tell, and it mattered little seeing as how the human had passed out. Tossing him to the ground his rage focused on the two he had slammed together before. Getting down low he ran at them shouting at the top of his lungs in his blood rage. They where dazed but one managed to pull out a small mallet. Raising it up high hoping to intimidate Banir in the middle of his berserker rage. He didn't pause for a moment as he launched himself at the men tackling them both to the ground. Again there was no pain, only rage, the blinding sensation of anger and the need to destroy. Taking the man on his left, the one with the mallet, he began to scream with sheer torment of his emotions. With his armoured right arm he punched. Midsection, ribs, chest, left arm, face. A new destination with each blow he reeled back. Then something hit the back of his head again. Turning his attention it was the cloaked man.

Getting to his feet and charging he used his shoulder pad to hit the man and hard. Watching him fly a few feet before landing hard on the ground. Another feral scream echoed from him as he set his sights back onto any moving target. The bearded man was attempting to get up and run away. Banir charged him, he had removed his scarf, shown his face. He jumped and tackled the man to the ground. Sitting up he took the man and turned him over and unleashed every ounce of rage he had on him. Repeatedly beating him again and again. Chains wrapped around his left fist and a bladed armour covering his right. Repeatedly he slammed his fists into the man's face. As the other slavers managed to stumble to their feet. A all with bruises and a few with broken bones, they took their remaining comrade and fled. Leaving the shorter bearded man to his fate. Banir didn't stop punching, not for a full thirty seven chimes. And by that point both hands where covered in blood, his rage eventually dulled. Energy spent, his body tired as the berserker wore down.

Taking long exasperated breaths Banir fell off the man, the face an unrecognizable mess of blood, cartilage and bone. If the bearded man wasn't dead now, he'd be wishing he was. Looking up at the sky and trees Banir tried to steady his breath. He had just killed a man in anger, but he felt no remorse for it. Why did they have to remove his scarf? Why did they have to force open his rage? Closing his eyes he sighed, there was little point in worrying over it now. They had planned on enslaving him and selling him off, to a life far worse than this. Looking at the body beside him he figured it'd be best to at least make use of him. Sitting up he groaned, the pain was starting to set in now, his back hurt, sides, his front, and his head had the worst of it. When he stood on his knees he wobbled as he could feel something, off, with himself. What in the name of Izurdin had just happened? Or perhaps in the name of Ivak would be better suited for this situation. Regardless he shook his head and placed his hands on the man. Patting him down and looking for anything useful. All he found where a few copper mizas, a hand ax and a little hammer. Nothing particularly useful, but maybe he could sell the ax and hammer for something more than the few coppers he had found.

Sighing he stood on shaky legs, he'd gotten a little more than he had bargained for today. Particularly where he got a good fight in from some unexpected company. Which reminded him, he had this steel chain and shackles on his left hand. Taking a moment to think he decided he could sell these for something too, maybe even get one whole gold miza for it if he was lucky. But that was for another day, right now he needed to get back to the Spires. Find a nicer Petal to pass out on for a few hours, then maybe walk to Garth's for a warm drink. By Morwen's frosted breath he was tired, he just needed to sleep it off for a little while. But petch he was hurting right now, he groaned and then stopped to look at the body. Turning he sighed, he may as well make a prayer to Dira for the man. "Dira, please embrace him with, a gentle touch. He probably led an, incident life. I apologize for the, state you must see to him. I had not intended, for you to take a soul, today. Please, may your ventures be, short and your days at ease. Dira, till I meet your own, embrace when fate wills it."

He bowed his head for the dead, with his respects paid to the goddess and his apologies for the body he left. Dira had probably already taken the man's soul, even so he doubted she'd care much to hear his prayer. But when you do something that involves the domain of a god or goddess, its better to pay respect then ignore them. With this in mind he walked back to the Spires, and in a decent amount of pain as well. This had been a damn long day.

[Capricious]

Banir

Award

Skill	XP Earned	Lore Earned
Brawling	2	• Praying to Dira for the Murdered
Running	2	• Clearing Ones Mind for Excercise
Body Building	4	• It's More Difficult to Run with Armor
Meditation	1	• Mama, I Just Killed a Man
Intimidation	1	• It's Better to Show Respect to the Gods and Goddesses
Unarmed Combat	1	• Lore

Banir, you only have novice in body building and running. With such a skill level, I'm uncertain if Banir would be able to run for a whole bell with armor on, much less have such ease in body building. Remember: Struggle!

Banir will suffer from a minor concussion that will need to be looked over by a healer. He will also suffer from headaches for the next five days, as well as slight dizziness. Sporadically on Banir's body are bruises of varying degrees, which will fade in five to seven days.

From this thread, Banir looted twenty copper mizas, a hand ax, and a tiny mallet. He also earned a worn pair of shackles and chain.

If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, please send me a PM and we can figure it out.