Solo [Misty Peaks] Bullying a rock

[Brandon Blackwing]

The 78th of Fall 513AV The bat paced through the mountainous region that made up a large part of the Misty Peaks. His feet pounded the rocky surface, pushing him onwards. He’d left the celestial city of Lhavit a couple of bells ago. He wanted some time to be alone. To train his body. He hadn’t had much exercise since he’d arrived in the crystal city. Well, apart from the occasional run and his stunts on the roofs. The thief pressed forward. He was getting tired. Walking, walking and more walking. That pretty much summed up his day up until now. Oh well, walking was a form of training in its own. He’d call it endurance training. He nodded internally. Sounded good enough. He sighed. How far would he go? Wasn’t he far enough already? Brandon paused, turning three hundred and sixty degrees to scan the environment. He let his eyes slide over the scenery, snapping his head back a few degrees when he saw something interesting. It wasn’t anything special, just a boulder. As large as himself. One big ball of stone. He whistled in surprise. Walking around the huge boulder with long strides, the bat was pleased to see it was quite wide in terms of diameters. He guessed it was at leased one and a half meter wide, and its height was almost the same as Brandon’s. Approximately one meter and seventy three centimetres tall, give or take a few. He placed the palm of his right hand against the rough surface of the rock and gave it a push. All the strength he had in his arm was put behind that push. The rock didn’t budge. The bat stroked his goatee in approval, content with the balance of the thing. Now, he wanted to get on top of it. Still pacing around the crag, his dark orbs thoroughly perused the thing, looking out for cracks in the rock he could use to climb up. Soon, he noticed the bottom half of the side he was walking past now protruded a bit, creating a small platform, large enough to place a foot on. The bat grinned. Step one of the plan to conquer this rock had been completed. He placed his right foot on the platform, standing thirty five centimetres higher than before. Swinging his arms upwards, he bended his fingers, trying to find grip on the upside of the boulder. He couldn’t find any. He scowled, knitting his brows together. A sneer painted on his face. He’d have to try something else. Bending his right knee a bit, he prepared to launch himself skyward. Then he’d throw his body over the over the crag, hopefully reaching far enough to let his fingers grab the far side of the rock. That was the plan, and that was how he would do it. He narrowed his eyes, focussing on the task ahead of him. He took a few breaths in and out, concentrating deeply. Pressing his foot as hard against the small protrude, his knee unbending itself, launching the bat upwards. Both his feet were lifted from the ground, or rather, only his left since his right was standing on the platform protruding from the rock. When he’d reached the highest point of his jump, the thief hurled his arms forward and shifted the angle of his upper body so it was hanging horizontally in the air. Then, his chest was slammed into the rock, the shock caused a wave of pain to spread over his upper body. The bat did his best not to pay it any attention, but it was rather impossible to do. He did clench his teeth together, bearing with the painful feeling in his chest. His arms, thrown forward slammed on the upside of the boulder less than a tick later than his body. All his fingers spread, desperately searching for something they could hold on to. The two middle fingers, one of each hand respectively, could feel the edge where the rock ended. The problem however was that they couldn’t curve around it. Landing back on his feet, the bat rubbed his sore chest. He wasn’t giving up just yet. He’d wait a bit and then try again. He grunted and let himself plop down on the small platform he’d been standing on. He leaned back a bit, placing his back against the side of the rock. He sighed. This actually reminded him of his training with his mom, seasons ago. The pain in his chest especially. The landscape too, he had to admit that. But the pain… Argh, his mom had been so brutal that time. She’d mauled his ribs because he’d disappointed her with his abilities. Admitted, he hadn’t taken the right action. But to crush his chest for that… A bit harsh if you asked him. The bat smiled at the memories. It seemed so long ago. It hadn’t been one year since he’d left Kalinor. His expression saddened. He missed the company of his parents. He sighed. Better get back to his trial instead of growing depressed. He hoisted himself to his feet and got ready to take another leap. About ten chimes later and he was still making attempts to get on the top of the rock. He refused to give up. He had to get up there, no matter how long it took. He also refused using his bat form, for two reasons. First, it would be too easy. No challenge, no fun. And secondly, the sun would harm his nocturnal orbs, what he didn’t like. At all. Once more, he positioned himself to jump. He’d use everything he had. He’d put every ounce of strength in the jump. He frowned, eyes narrowed. The rhythm of his breaths was becoming faster and faster when the anticipation grew. Then, both his left and right foot broke the contact with the ground, the thief hurled himself upwards. Arching his upper body to a one hundred eighty degrees, his threw his arms forward, pulling the rest of his body after it, slightly. Once again, his body slammed the rock hard enough to knock the air out of the bat. While gasping for breath, his fingers curled around the edge of the rock, anchoring him, his feet dangling above the ground. Using the sheer force of his arms, the thief managed to pull himself up, laying on top of the boulder, exhausted. The bat carefully got up, standing on top of the crag and yelled as loud as he could. It was a primal scream, one of triumph. It didn’t matter that it was just a boulder he’d conquered. To him it was the boulder. It had given him a lot of trouble while he tried to clamber onto it. But now, he’d finally done it. He grinned. Training could start now.

[Brandon Blackwing]

First he had to clear his mind. Thought were forming a maelstrom, scraping the inside of his scull and his focus had shipwrecked. The thief sighed. He carefully sat down on the rock and folded his legs underneath each other, crossing them. Then , when he sat quite comfortable, he placed his left hand onto the other, creating a bowl and laid it down, his wrists resting on his lap. Straightening his back to assure he was not hunching, he closed his eyes. Now, he could hear everything much more clearly. He’d heard the background noises since he’d arrived in the peaks, but he hadn’t paid them much attention since he had been looking for a training spot. But as soon as he didn’t have anything to do but to concentrate on nothing, the sound entered his conscience. It was quite annoying. It distracted him. Couldn’t he try to block it out somehow? Maybe by concentrating on something else first? And when everything except that one thing had disappeared from his mind, he could take it to the next level. Assuming he’d get that far. He needed something to place his focus on. A sound perhaps? But which one? There were many. He let them come at him, enveloping him in themselves. There were the obvious sounds. The blowing of the wind. Or rather howling. It was becoming quite windy all of a sudden. Another sound came to him. the chirping of birds singing their merry songs. Quiet paw steps, the ticking of small claws, maybe hooves. Those were the obvious ones. There were also noises that were harder to detect. The rustling of leaves in the grip of the wind, far away for example. Or the silent trails of voices, not near enough for the bat to understand what they were saying. He suspected it were Shinya patrolling the area. He wasn’t sure though. He could also hear the sound of water drops falling into a puddle. Possibly there was a cavern nearby. The bat noticed he was concentrating on these sounds too hard. He had to relax. And stop thinking. He needed something to distract him from thinking and listening. A phrase he could repeat inside his mind. What was it called? A mata? Mratha? Mantra? Yes! That’s it. So he needed a mantra… Could he pick any sentence or word he liked? He did not know, but he doubted it actually mattered. Pondering on a line he could use, his raging thoughts were pointed at the task at hand. His mantra needed to sound cool. Something he’d gladly repeat to himself. Something that made him relax as well. He couldn’t quite find anything relaxing, but he found something that described part of his being, his late night activities. It was something he’d said before. Something simple and true. He didn’t know if it would do well to serve as a mantra, but he could try. Taking deep breaths in and out he focused on the sentence, repeating it over and over in his mind. He could feel it echo through his skull, creating vibes he’d never felt before. I kill to survive and I survive because I kill. Maybe it wasn’t the best line but it seemed to be working. He felt himself calming down. The storm in his mind had died down, the muscles located everywhere in his body started to feel very lazy. They felt very heavy. He didn’t want to move them. I kill to survive and I survive because I kill. His feet went numb first. The thief didn’t realise it. He was unaware of what was going on outside the calm realm that had been created by the simple phrase. I kill to survive and I survive because I kill The numb feeling crept up higher, reaching his knees already. A terrible itch emerged on the shin muscle of his left leg. It was fed up with laying here so passive. It wanted, or rather it needed to move. I kill to survive and I survive because I kill. I kill to survive and I survive because I kill. I kill to survive and I survive because I kill. In a desperate attempt to hold back his leg and hoping to hold on to the comfortable feeling of relaxation washing over his body, he repeated the sentence faster than before. He didn’t realise he was helping his leg tearing the walls of the tranquil realm down. Then, with a spastic movement of the unruly leg, his meditation was scattered. He was startled by its action, immediately snapping back to the real world. He realised his butt was aching as well as his left leg. Grumbling to himself he got up and stared at the sky. How long had he been sitting there? Observing the position of the sun and comparing it to the place it had been when he’d closed his eyes, it had been only five chimes. Only five chimes? Even in his thoughts the disappointment dripped off the words. He sighed. Standing up, he noticed something peculiar. The thief felt strangely rejuvenated. All the tiredness and exhaustion from the long trek to this place had been wiped away. His muscles were itching to get some training done. That was why he had come here in the first place. Bouncing up and down on top of the boulder, he warmed up the muscles in his legs. Then, when he’d finished doing that, he jumped down from the rock. He landed on his feet, bending his knees on the impact and leaning slightly forward, placing one hand on the underground to keep his balance. The other hand was held up in a diagonal angle, pointing to the place he’d come from. His cloak touched the rocky surface a few ticks later than his body. He grinned. A dramatic way to jump down, I like it!

[Brandon Blackwing]

Standing in front of the big boulder, the bat realised it was quite suitable as target. He could hit it. Like a punching bag. Only … harder and made of rock. He doubted that it would be not painful if his fist should connect a punch on it. Maybe he should practice on imaginary foes first instead of harming his body now. He could refine his moves, and get to know them better, like he loved to put it. Making it so his body would remember, even if his mind didn’t. His conscience mind that is. Mmm. Good plan. Maybe he could mix in some acrobatic moves as well. It would make his combat more … spectacular to watch. And more fun to train as well. He grinned. He could start doing some acrobatics as warm up exercise. So what could he do for starters? Let’s see. Maybe he could try standing on his hands. He hadn’t done that in a while. Placing one leg in front of the other, the last one stretched, the first bend, he held his hands at shoulder level, aiming them at the floor. The thief tested his position by lifting up the first leg slightly, bending forward – replacing the leg back on the ground in the process - and reverting to his former position. After a few times, he took a breath in, collecting his courage, and applying force with his last leg for a couple of ticks. In the same movement, he swung that legs up into the air, forcing his body to rotate, using the first leg temporarily as pivot and placed his palms on the ground solidly, after which his pivot leg also lost contact with the floor when he kicked it upwards. It was a success. Maintaining balance was still hard to do, but he managed (barely) by moving the position of his hands ever so slightly. Now he wanted to do something else. Or actually, try something else. Bending through his arms, trembling with effort since he did it slowly, he tucked his chin against his neck and bended his back. Placing the back of his neck on the ground, he used the curve his back formed to perform a summersault. The thief managed to get some speed during the roll, and managed to land on his feet, crouched. Content with the result, he decided he’d do it quicker this time. It wasn’t so hard after all. After the testing period of his position for a handstand, he once again lifted his legs of the ground while placing his palms on it instead. For the summersault, he’d bend faster, tucking down his head and bending his back all at the same time, as fast as possible. That was the plan. As expected, it worked out just fine. Because it didn’t take even half as long, the strain on his arms was non existent and he ended the roll by getting to his feet instantly. Needless to say he was very pleased with his result. He wanted more. You couldn’t blame him, he’d gotten a taste of success and would try to do everything faster this time. It was a risk he was going to take, but he had to in order to improve, right? Otherwise he’d just stay at the same level forever. Aiming his hands at the rocky underground, the thief licked his lips. Staring at the place where he imagined his palms would be placed, he furrowed his brow. A gulp of air was inhaled and released shortly after that. His left leg was swung upwards, his body rotated around his right leg and his palms touched the floor. Then, his other leg disconnected from the floor. Joining them together on their way up, the bat realised he had a bit too much speed. He was already arching to the side of his back. Not good. As quickly as possible he pressed his chin against his chest and curved his back. Although it was on the way of becoming a roll, it was still to fast for him. Instead of landing flat on his back, only the middle was smashed onto the rocks. Pain shot through his spine, eyes wide. Muscles contracted and released all at the same time. As a doll, he went limp and his limbs uselessly came down. Curses were screamed at the sky, but it did not reply. It never did take things like this personal. Not even when more and ruder insults were hurled upwards.

[Brandon Blackwing]

x

Back on his feet again, Brandon rubbed his painful back. That hadn’t been the most comfortable of landings. He could have done better. But for now, he’d give up to do such stunts faster, he didn’t want to bruise his back more than once. Or something else. He hadn’t accomplished anything yet. If he had to leave due to injury and if he didn’t feel satisfied with the result of training that that would be a waste. No more acrobatics today, only combat training. And maybe a tiny little flip. To practice evasion moves. Yes. That might work. Flips were easy, right?

But that was a matter for a later time. For now, he should keep to fighting invisible, imaginary, highly skilled warrior monks. A whole army of them. Vicious ones too. Their bald heads painted with blood. Patterns of all kinds ornamented their scalp. This one over there had an arrow on his forehead. Another one a star, and yet another the word ‘monk’. Their faces were stern, focused on him. And all were taking on a fighting position. The bat gave a grin and took on a fighting stance himself. The eyes of the nearest monks narrowed. A vein thumped on their fore heads.

Then, the one with the arrow painted on his skull screamed a war cry and charged at him. Sidestepping swiftly, rotating his body while heaving one arm, he made a full spin and let his hand come down in the back of the arrow head’s neck, delivering a powerful chop. The man feinted and landed face first on the ground. Meanwhile another monk had taken on the offence. Sneaking up from behind, he wrapped his arm around the bat’s neck, choking him. Brandon had a solution for that though. Grappling the man’s arms over his head, the thief bended down abruptly, whipping his arms forward, throwing the man over his shoulder and smacked him on the rocks.

The army had now formed a wide circle around the bat, creating an arena with their own bodies. Two warriors stepped into it. Bloodlust could be seen, gleaming in their orbs, but apart from that, one couldn’t see they were enraged. They seemed as calm as a dead man. They started circling around the thief, who turned to follow one of them with his gaze. The man in question had a scar running from his left eyebrow to the right corner of his mouth, crossing the bridge of his nose midway.

Eyes locking with each other, both of the trained monks nodded swiftly, and stormed at the thief from two different directions. Observing the scar faced man, the bat had noticed the quick gesture of their heads and had known that they would try something. (How could he not? They were the products of his imagination after all.) When the one he hadn’t kept an eye on launched himself at him, a foot outstretched in a flying kick, he dodged to the right. There the other one was waiting for him. A fist cleaved through the air and hit his jaw.

The blow was so powerful that the bat was knocked backwards. (meaning: he jumped backwards, throwing his head in his neck to mimic being hit) When he was about to touch the floor, he tucked his chin against his chest, and folded his legs over his stomach, creating a ball. By making a rolling maneuver in the air, he was able to make a backwards summersault upon contact with the rocky underground. Then, when his belly faced the ground, he unwrapped his limbs and skidded a few centimeters to the back, one palm placed on the ground, his legs spread.

He wasn’t safe just yet. They charged again, both coming from the front this time. Getting up as fast as possible, a grin emerged on his face. They had made a mistake. The monks came at him like the reflections of each other in a mirror. Their fists raised behind their head, one left, the other right, their steps perfectly matched the other’s. Symmetry. Beautiful.

Their fists propelled themselves forward, aimed at his face. The thief ducked by bending through his knees. One arm of each monk raced past both sides of his head, slightly above it. The only thing they hit was his hair. Coming back up, Brandon drove both his fists in their stomachs, one for each, landing a powerful uppercut on his opponents. Their eyes turned in their sockets, exposing the white of them. Then, as if all strength had been drained from their bodies, they collapsed, falling down respectively at the thief’s right and left side.

Panting heavily, he looked around the circle of monks, picking out the leader. Locking eyes with the fellow, he was a giant of a man, he placed one hand horizontally on the other hand, which he held vertically, making a ‘t’ shape. “Timeout!” he puffed “I need a break.” Surprisingly, the man did not have any objections. He merely crouched down and crossed his legs, sitting in the lotus position and ordered his men to do the same. “Very well,” he bellowed reasonably “We will continue to eliminate you after a few chimes of meditation to strengthen our mind within our inner realm of tranquility.”

x

[Brandon Blackwing]

x

It was good to sit down. Let his muscles take a well-deserved break. The imaginary monks, still forming a circle around him, had their eyes closed. Sitting cross legged they seemed utterly at ease in this situation. An idea popped up. What if he’d knock them out right here and now? Then he would have beaten them all. They probably wouldn’t even notice what he was doing. Their mind seemed to be absent. And so were their senses.

Jumping to his feet, he sneaked towards the closest monk. Only two steps away. He grinned mischievously. It would only take one well aimed chop in the monk’s neck. Or a knock on his temple. Either way, he would be rendered unconscious. If he was able to do so for all of them, he could win this. He made his fingers curl into a fist, except of his index finger, which he bended so his knuckle was pointing out. Turning his right side to the monk’s temple, he brought his arm to the left, preparing to strike.

Suddenly, his feet were knocked away from under his body. Losing his balance because of that, he fell down, his left side coming dangerously close to the ground. Right before he hit the floor, he barely managed to place his right palm and break his fall. Scrambling back on his feet, he saw a bearded old monk standing in front of him, his hands resting in his long sleeves. A thin smile played on his lips, but his eyes looked dead serious. “It is not so nice to attack people who are meditating. The waves of negative energy that ooze out of your pores disrupted my concentration. Now, apologize.” The man spoke in a polite manner, very calm for someone who was apparently agitated.

The bat did not want to. A crossly look spread over his face. This guy was talking about him being rude and untrustworthy? The man who had attacked the thief from behind? Well, well. In his honest opinion they were both as bad. “Apologize huh? No way. You guys are trying to eliminate me! You are the enemy! I will fish you off by using any means necessary!” While speaking, he made some wide and theatrical gestures with his arms. Even though he was only conversing with a made-up character, he still needed to spout dramatic lines. Well, they were a bit cliché, but the feel was right.

The old man looked a bit confused. “You must be misunderstanding, young lad. I am not one of those monks. I am the guardian of this ancient stone.” he pointed to the huge boulder. “An evil being has been locked up within its core. People thought everything was alright when that happened, but he had servants, followers.” The bat lifted an eyebrow. The man continued “His followers are trying to free him from his solid rock tomb, but no one had ever had the potential…”

“Are you saying these monks are his followers?” The old wise man shook his head. “No. The person who holds the potential to set this awful creature free is you, Brandon Of The Black Wings!” The person in question was taken aback by this statement. “How do you know my name? Who are you? I never heard of that story before! I have never even seen this rock before!” This was going too far. Implying that he, of all people, was just a pawn of evil while he didn’t even knew about that. The man raised his hands, ordering him to calm down. “Easy, calm down, my boy. I mean no harm to you. These monks are the protectors of this boulder as well. You could say that they are my underlings.”

“I am know as Eli, the current guardian of the stone. How I know your name? Well, everyone had heard of you. You are quite infamous you know.” A gentle smile was beamed at the thief. He deflected it with a cool stare. “And?” Eli sighed deeply. He started stroking his long white beard. “I could see that you do not bear the seeds of the evil, nor do you intent to set it free now that you know the truth. Very well, I have decided. I will help you in your training! I will mold you to my liking. I will see to it that you develop enough strength in both body and mind to resist the grip of evil holding you captivated.”

The bat lifted an eyebrow once more. He himself had no idea how he had come up with it. But who cared anyway? It would make his training a bit more interesting. He nodded to his hallucination. Eli smiled in return. “I knew you would accept my offer. So as of this moment you have become my apprentice. You will do as I say, and I will make you stronger! I will grant you some of my wisdom as well, if you pay attention. but for now, we will start with your physical strength as well as your strength of will. Both are very important.”

Brandon listened to his new tutor’s instructions. They, or rather he, would be using the cage of the evil being as punching bag. the old monk explained that it was to withstand the temptations of evil, as well as breaking the barrier that kept him from doing stuff that might cause harm to his body as well. Because, Eli lectured, when you were about to land a hit on a hard substance, like a rock, one held back the power behind the punch to minimize the damage taken by hitting it.

It sounded very logical, so the bat obliged. He threw a straight punch at the rock, at first it sped towards it, but as it came closer, the power that fueled his blow faded and his hand hit the surface of the stone with no force at all. Just like Eli had said. Frustrated, he tried again, and again and again, but none of his punches really landed with enough force behind them to hurt a human, let alone a rock. If rocks could get hurt anyway. He did not give up. Eli cheered him on and gave him hints that seemed to serve no purpose. While working up a good sweat, mentally also, a single thought attempted to get through to the thief. If this rock was so important, and he was the one that would set the evil free, why was he doing his best to pound it? What was Eli’s objective? Something fishy was going on here.

x

[Brandon Blackwing]

x

Sweat was staining his clothes, dark spots appearing under his armpits and around his collar. Big drops of the salty fluid dripped down from his jaw, coming down from his forehead. This took quite some energy. Just the act of pushing against the mental barrier meant to protect, meant to keep one from harming himself, was putting strain on his body. Not to mention the punches he threw at the boulder. And letting go of that energy involuntarily. His breaths had taken the form of ragged gasps of air, his lungs drudging and heaving to provide the necessary oxygen for his organs to work.

Letting himself fall to his knees with a puff, he placed his hands on the ground. His head hung between his shoulders, long locks of grey hair spiraling down, blocking his view like a curtain. He struggled to keep breathing while swallowing the too large amount of saliva in his mouth. His chest puffed in and out, its workout wasn’t over just yet. Eli was pacing towards him, the bat could hear it. His ears rarely misheard something. He was very proud of that fact. The old monk patted him on the shoulder. “Come on, get up! We still have much more training to do. You’re not even near the level I want you to be.”

Cursing under his ragged breath, the bat stood up and assumed his fighting stance. Inhaling and exhaling deeply still, he focused on his objective. His eyes narrowed, his fist clenched itself. His legs moved forward, his arm cut through the air. His mouth became a grimace, showing his teeth. Once again, just before he was going to hit the boulder, he lessened the speed of his fist, decreasing the force of its impact. He still could not do it.

“You are thinking too much, you need to clear your mind. Do not think about the consequences. They will only hold you back. Pay them no heed and the path towards invincibility lays wide open.”

The encouragement held a certain logic. Sure, he could give it a try. He straightened up, bringing his feet back together. Hands dangling by his sides, he closed his dark orbs and indulged himself in his mind. Somehow, he could remember the feeling from that brief period he had experienced it. He only needed to access it again. How had he done it before?

Recalling the memory of something he had been doing just about thirty chimes ago was a bit of a trouble. It was vague. Something with his breathing …. Slow it down probably. He had to relax. Feel at ease. Focus on nothing in particular. Was there anything else? He wasn’t quite sure, but he felt like he was overlooking something. Something that helped him to blur out anything but that one thing. A phrase. How did it sound again? What were the words? Something about surviving. And killing. But what? He tried to find the connection between the words. Something relevant to his daily life.

Pondering on this thought for a few chimes, the line was on the tip of his tongue. Survival makes me kill? No, that’s not it. Killing will help you with survival? Nope. Survival is killing? Killing is survival? Oh, come on! My memory isn’t that bad! Why can’t I seem to recall it? Why does it slip away every time I make an attempt to put my finger on it? Frustrating! He tried out some more combinations of the two words, placing them in random sentences. Until all of a sudden he remembered. I kill to survive and I survive because I kill.

He didn’t like the way his arms hung uselessly and limp by his sides. He brought them up, making one hand into a fist and covering it with his other. He started saying the mantra in his head. I kill to survive and I survive because I kill. I kill to survive and …. It didn’t have the same effect as the previous time though. He calmed down, but he didn’t feel as if he would be able to clear his mind this time. He could try to but if it would work …

When he felt like he could do it, he opened his eyes and aimed a blow at the rock. However, as soon as the thief’s dark orbs opened, his concentration broke into countless tiny pieces. He did not notice it though. He could only think of his task. And once more, he failed to complete it. The blockade in his mind, his instinct, was just too strong. It wasn’t easy to break it. His fist, touching the surface of the large stone, slid down and swung back at his side. It was useless. He still couldn’t do it. All this wasted effort. He growled.

Maybe he could take out his frustrations on the monks. They had suddenly disappeared, vanished without a trace, around the same time Eli had made his appearance. The bat didn’t mind though. On a whim of his mind he summoned one imaginary monk back. The monk gave him an angry glare. Apparently he didn’t like his situation. Not that the bat cared. As long as he could fight. He slightly spread his legs and bended through his knees. His arms held moderately high, he kept his hands at eye level, fingers slightly curled inwards.

They charged simultaneously. The bat struck a low blow, hitting the man’s six pack. Hard muscle caught his fist, negating the power behind it. Brandon was enraged. Drawing his hand back, he drove his other one in the man’s belly, on the exact same spot. The monk still did not flinch. The thief repeated his movements multiple times, moving his arms as fast as he could manage. When he had landed about twelve punches, he stopped and finished the man off with a roundhouse kick to the face. Exhausted he bended over and panted heavily. Sweat streamed off his body. A good workout. He would take a little break and then move on, heading back to the city. He felt he had trained enough for today.

x

[Elysium]

Brandon Blackwing

XP:
Meditation +2
Bodybuilding +2
Acrobatics +3
Unarmed +2
Climbing +1

Lore:
Acrobatics: Somersault
Unarmed: Image Training
How to Fight a Rock
Eli, Imaginary Guardian of Stone

Notes: This was a good training thread. I think you got a bit carried away with the image training, though. There were parts that were written a little too realistically to have come directly from Brandon's imagination. Still, good work! If you have any questions, please let me know.

and so, the journey continues...