Solo Inner Strength

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

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Inner Strength

Postby Razkar on February 6th, 2014, 1:31 am

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43rd Day of Winter
Riverside Isle Park
12th Bell


The tome had aided him greatly, but books and words could only take a man so far. Knowledge was a fine, oft essential thing... but rendered meaningless without practical application. The lessons it had taught him were swimming under the surface of his memory now, just waiting for him to dive under and drag them to the light.

Most crucial for the novice, however, was the peace and isolation to "be at one with your djed". At first the Myrian had thought the words to be a poetical flourish, or a scholar's metaphor. The more he practiced, though, the more he realized there was a whoel world within himself he had never tapped before, aside from his forays into the Power of Bones.

So Razkar had come to the sprawling Parks on the edge of Sunberth, dotted with woods and clearings, oddly unspoiled in a city where there would be no law to punish transgressors who dumped refuse or seized the land for their own purposes. He assumed the place was patronized by some powerful and thus feared figure, but didn't think too deeply into it.

The silence is what matters. The emptiness.

Emptiness. He felt it now, standing upright in breeches and a shirt, his guard against the cold. His weapons harness was with his rucksack off to one side... and he could hear the little chinks of metal in the brisk north wind as he breathed slowly, steadily...

Feel every part of yourself. Know every inch of your frame, for within it is power you never knew.

He knew he was quoting from the book, and that was the point. The scholar who had wrote it gods new how many years ago had leaned towards the verbose in his prose, but he was right.

Razkar clenched his fists... and felt the scar on his right palm. Still it smelled of ash and iron, from where he had prayed alone in the woods outside Syliras for his distant friend Tinnok.

He breathed in, his chest expanding... and the curse of Yahal stretched slightly as he did so, carved onto him by the God of Light himself outside Zeltiva. So too did the still-healing scars on his shoulder and back, claws of monstrous, twisted albatross on the journey across the ocean.

His tattoos... had he ever truly felt them before? The ridges under and just above his skin? Stories and memories and mementos of family, lovers, battles, victories...

Then Razkar felt it, stirring within him. The bones beneath his bones, as the tome had called them. Rippling muscles of djed that fitted from his sightless eyes, always hiding, hard to pin down... but there. Awaiting him.

The Myrian raised his arms and opened his eyes. Swaying, leafless trees waved all around him. Belching smog from the endlessly-burning dump marred the sky. He thought nothing to them or it or anything else. He bent his knees and pulled back his right fist.

"From my Body, Power..."

The muttered words seemed to trigger something in his body: a tingling swelling that traveled from his core, up into his shoulders. Razkar forced himself not to lapse into elation or pride. The blow was not yet struck. He simply willed it, drew it further into his limb-

"To my Fist, Strength-"

-and then threw it forward, a short, controlled right hook that seemed to have a lead weight attached to it. Augmented and empowered by The Flux, it jerked him forwards as if some invisible force was pulling him. But Razkar allowed a tiny smile to alight his face: if it surprised him, just imagine how "stunned" his enemy would be, after being hit by a blow twice what they were expecting?

The Epoch. The first blow you learned. Now... paradoxical as it sounds... try for two.

Razkar breathed deep and felt the icy air cut into his lungs, then imagined his lungs, his heart, his organs, pulsing, beating, roiling in the darkness within him... and glowing with that unseen wyrd coating them. He corrected his stance and drew up his fists again.

Tingling in the arm. Pins and needles. Don't overdo this.

"From my Body... Power-"

He lunged again, right fist swinging forward, ripping through the wind with its unnatural force. He did not pause long that time, breathing in again and willing the djed to slide across his body, into his left side, as his arm pulled back-

"To my Fist, Strength-"

-left fist bursting outward into a cross, a solid one-two combination of punches that would knock down most unsuspecting foes with their sledgehammer blows... if it wasn't for the lengthy pause in between, anyway. Not to mention-

"Ah... here it comes..."

The Myrian winced and growled as the strain and ache of bells squeezed his limbs within the space of ticks. They felt heavy, sore, as if he'd slept on them and was now trying to lift weights. He walked in circles and shook them as best he could, face screwed up in pain.

Overgiving, the mages call it. Pushing yourself past your wyrd... much like running too far, too fast, and going right off a cliff. The effects are... similar.

The scholar who'd written his tome had been explicit, even graphic, when it came to them. Arrogant or foolish wielders of The Flux who had pushed their bodies too hard and broken limbs, detached bones, even burst muscles that rendered them cripples forever after.

Moderation. Always moderation, and caution with your wyrd. He remembered the words and nodded as if they were spoken to him, taking deep lungfuls of air to deaden the pain, waiting for his limbs to be his again and not numb lumps attached to his shoulders.

Razkar rolled his head from side to side and grinned at the clear, frosty Winter sky.

"Getting better, though..."
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My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
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Razkar
War Is The Answer
 
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Inner Strength

Postby Razkar on February 7th, 2014, 5:14 am

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Any pain could be remedied, if given time and the proper balm, but Razkar had learned that the cure for the exhaustion The Flux caused was not simply walked off. It was as much a spiritual fatigue as it was physical, and so after half a bell of pacing and sipping water, the Myrian sank down to the grass, legs crossed.

Empty your mind, he whispered within himself as he closed his eyes, hands open, palms upward, resting on his knees, find that place again, where persona and astral body meld together.

He wanted to add "easier said than done in this shyke-stain of a city", but quelled the impulse. Meditation was found in calm, in peace; marring it with cynical jibes accomplished nothing. He focused instead on his breathing. In... out... fill... empty... flow... and ebb...

After chimes of patient, steady contemplation, the world seemed to fall from his ears and the touch of his skin. Razkar felt himself... floating, almost. The world around his bones seemed infinite in that dark, airless place. It sparked and throbbed with energy, enough to power a world. The more he breathed, the less he was aware of it, until the rote suck and exhale of his lips seemed... separate from himself.

Rise.

Razkar did so slowly, eyes still closed, as if he were afraid too sharp a movement would shatter this beautiful pseudo-illusion of oneness. When he was at his feet, though... the feeling was still there. Tiny lightning bolts of of djed seemed to crackle under his skin, and he could feel his body pulse with it. He raised his hands and-

-remembered.

Taking djed to augment one limb weakens another. You read that in the very first chapter, and forgetting it can be fatal. As you progress, you can shunt it with ease... but you are not there yet. Do not make the mistakes of those fools who thought this a careless gift, not a blessing to be treated with respect.

The warrior opened his eyes... and for once, Sunberth did not offend them. The pall was there, of course, never dying as long as the city fed it with mountains of refuse as, Razkar strongly suspected, the losers in its endless internecine gang wars. But the city was not. Only trees and frost-sparkling grass was there, blown in the icy wind.

Just him, and his body, and all the potential therein.

"Krosha Jan."

Razkar murmured the words as if they were the answer to a question: which would he try next? He rolled his shoulders and drew djed into his side, pulling his hand close to his shoulder so his arm was inverted.

"Hard as Stone..."

He scrunched up his bare toes on the ground, felt countless grains of frozen dirt and dead grass under them. A solid footing. He would need it. Then he drew back his elbow a touch, crouching instinctively into a ready stance-

"Quick as Light."

-before swinging out his right elbow in a shattering strike, completing the "Half-Arm Punch". Once again he felt the weight in his shoulder, breathed in sharply as he felt the tingles wrack his arm... then suppressed the pain... shifted it over to his left side as his right arm dropped, repeating the inversion of his left arm.

"Hard as Stone..."

Every time he practiced, it got easier. Only the will and the discipline needed the repetition: acclimatizing his body to the constant flow of djed and moving it where needed.

"Quick as Light-"

Now his left elbow hammered at the air, wind cracking around it like it truly was a sledgehammer. For a brief tick the Myrian enjoyed the damage it could cause: a djed-armored elbow could easily break a jaw, even fracture a skull... and he still had so far to go. Once again he let his arm go back down, both at his side, waiting for-

"Shhhhhhhhhyke...!"

Fall.

It was not quite that, but he did sink down back to the cool earth, upper body a trembling mass so that he landed heavily, without his arms to assist his fall. Now his limbs were turgid and painful, icy wind lashing them and causing yet more pain. Razkar tried to raise them-

"Fuck!"

-and the agony of movement robbed him of even that simplicity. But... no. He would not panic.

Time and the proper balm.

He breathed, and smelled the frost and the distant smoke carried on the wind. He exhaled with a shuddering sigh... slowly edging his sore limbs into his knees again as his eyes closed.

Within yourself, he commanded, feeling that wyrd skeleton moan and growl in pain now, unused to such mistreatment, give it time to heal and replenish... then rise again...
Image
My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
User avatar
Razkar
War Is The Answer
 
Posts: 1795
Words: 2242619
Joined roleplay: October 8th, 2012, 12:04 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Myrian
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 9
Featured Character (1) Featured Thread (2)
Trailblazer (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) 2013 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

Inner Strength

Postby Razkar on February 9th, 2014, 7:45 pm

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Application. That's the key. Taking the pieces and putting them together to match the circumstances...

In the void his meditation had formed, Razkar found a canvas for his thoughts. His limbs had regained their feeling but he was not concerned with them: only the images he made for himself in his mind mattered. His breathing was slow, steady, only fuel for his thoughts.

The Flux is a powerful weapon, but at your current level, you can't rely on it for more than the first few blows. So how best to make them count? What strikes should you apply?

Blurred figures appeared in his mind's eye. One he made out as him... before two paler... combatants. Yes, their stances revealed that much. Partly crouched, hands up, body language jerky, aggressive...

How best to use this? For the first blow...

The Myrian was a still, seated figure for the world to see. Even his breathing was shallow and his chest barely heaved... but his mind was a whirl of possibilities and outcomes. Finally, after a few chimes, the figure rose... and his eyes opened.

His phantom enemies were mere outlines in the waking world, but Razkar still had to put the knowledge into practice. He raised his arms, seeing the first figure before him... willed the tingling stream of djed into his right shoulder.

"From my Body, Power... to my Fist, Strength-"

Then exploded forward, right straight a blur as his fist ripped through the air, slamming into his first enemy's jaw. The Myrian stepped forward sharply as he did, lending the crushing blow more power-

-and keeping the djed pooled in his shoulder, ignoring the ache that began to fester there.

One wounded, perhaps down, but he's not alone-

"Swing High-" He muttered, new incantation on his lips. "Swing Hard-"

Razkar swung his right arm out horizontally at jaw level, djed in his shoulder powering it around like it was a lead ball on a chain. He could feel his balance desert him, footing failing, only years of desperate combat keeping him on his feet-

-satisfied to see his knuckles would have connected with his enemy's jaw backhanded, perhaps breaking it-

Unless he ducked, which is possible. Adapt!

Snarling now, feeling his right side turn to fire under his skin, Razkar kicked out with his left leg as his body spun around with his flailing right arm, foot smashing between his second target's legs.

One more, just one more solid strike.

The Myrian howled out into the air as the pain began to overtake him, djed now crackling and stinging his right arm as he raised it high and cocked it, forearm pointing upward, elbow pointed down-

"Rise... no More-!"

-and slammed the elbow into the head or neck of the doubled over second enemy, probably breaking one or both. But the hammer blow was not just for them. The sheer force of it drove the Myrian down to the ground, muscles quaking, rippling, screaming in agony as his balance failed.

Focus... Focus... Breath...

On his hands and knees on the freezing ground, Razkar screwed his eyes shut and shuddering, ragged breaths cut his lungs and fogged the air. More bestial than bipedal, he tried... tried to calm himself...

Analyze! One enemy with his face broken, the second with crushed balls and a broken neck. The latter is no longer a threat... the former...

Razkar snarled and pounded the ground once with his left fist, not daring to even move his right. Not good enough! Even if you slaughter nine and leave one, that's more than enough to kill you. But... but...

"Still... a novice..." He croaked, raising his torso upward, letting the cold wind sooth his sore skin. The djed ran from his shoulder, leaving bruising on his body but a wry smile on his face. "No more... for today..."

Even masters began as novices, boy. They just didn't give up.
Image
My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
User avatar
Razkar
War Is The Answer
 
Posts: 1795
Words: 2242619
Joined roleplay: October 8th, 2012, 12:04 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Myrian
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 9
Featured Character (1) Featured Thread (2)
Trailblazer (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) 2013 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

Inner Strength

Postby Xira Hezmek on March 14th, 2014, 7:21 am

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Razkar :
Skills Amount
Meditation +3
Flux +3
Tactics +1
Unarmed Combat +1


Lore
Djed: A world within one's self
Flux: New incantations
Flux: A blessing to be treated with respect
Flux: Agony of overgiving

Additional Comments: Very entertaining read! Good job.


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Xira Hezmek
Here's the mail it never fails.
 
Posts: 286
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Joined roleplay: November 29th, 2013, 9:38 pm
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