To Train Amongst Tents...(Mok, Antar)

by **Antar** on November 22nd, 2011, 11:22 pm

The next two exercises, the shuttle run and the box run were just as grueling to him as the long sprint and the recovery period afterwards. But soon enough, they were ready to move on.

The box run was the first one he had to accomplish, and the the quick pacings of his strides was mitigated by the shifting of his weight in the changing of his direction. Of course momentum, as they say, was a downright bitch about it, especially when adding the encumbering extra weight of armor. But somehow, he persevered, pushing himself further to new limits in his all consuming quest to improve.

He pushed past the aches, and the pains of his complaining muscles to continue strong, all the while cursing himself for his decision to add another level of torments to his daily routines to finish the box run strong, adding a bit of flourishes in his turning strikes with his gladius on the last loop as he saw the tree runner jogging back hard to cross the starting line.

This torture was followed by another period of rest where he ensured to sheathe his blade and walk out the twinging of his leg muscles. By the time this was done, he was thinking he was probably going to kill Mok for this added bit of discomfort, but then dismissed such thoughts. The barbarian was merely doing his best to allow things to develop in the best way he knew. So for the moment, Antar would let him be given the benefit of the doubt.

Soon enough, the time for rest was at an end and the shuttle run was next.

The shuttle run was another torture of sprints for him, but he pushed himself through it, even after the bile began to rise in the back of his throat for the constant twisting reversal of directions was playing havoc with his stomach. But he forced himself to swallow as he made the sprints in between each line before the final round of punishing runs was over.

Sighing loudly he walked towards the water bucket and drank deeply, letting the water cool his thirst, quench his parched throat and begin to settle his stomach until he took the time to look at Zandelia and Mok, the former seemed tired, and out of breath, and the latter seemed to be shaking like a leaf as he smiled.

"Alright, I think that's enough for now, unless someone wants to work a little of hitting each other with sticks.

by **Zandelia** on November 23rd, 2011, 2:51 am

Zandelia was already feeling more than a little shaky as she took up her place at the tree running portion of the fitness trial that Mok had constructed for the three of them. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Antar getting ready to begin the box run section, Mok himself setting about beginning the line running section that had just forced Zandelia’s body beyond its initial limits already. It was thus with a heavy heart and a feeling of foreboding that she picked up the spare sword upon the ground for her, not having a sword herself, and gripped her fingers around it tightly. She felt the rough leather move and shift with her grip, gave a few experimental and amateur slashes with it as a warm up to get used to its weight before crouching down, into a ball almost, ready to spring forwards at the command.

“GO!” Mok’s voice rang out across the impromptu training yard.

Zandelia thrust her legs forwards, her tired limbs beginning to be pumped full of fresh blood and adrenaline once again, helping her in her quest to transcend her fitness limits and gain a fitter body in the process. It was not so much a painful dash initially for her legs, the blood pumping through them and the sprinting motions loosening the muscles and preventing them from over-contracting and cramping up as she had feared they would do. No, each stretch of the leg, each stride, was painful but tolerable in the grand scheme of things. Her breathing was ragged to begin with, not fully recovered from the previous task – which she guessed that Mok had both anticipated and intended from the offset. No, it was the weight of the sword that was the hardest chore for Zandelia to bear. Her arms were not used to carrying such a heavy and unwieldy weapon, especially whilst on the move. She constantly had to shift the blade away from her body out of a fear for lacerating her legs. This meant holding it out to the side and slightly behind her, causing the muscles upon her right forearm to strain beyond anything they had experienced before. It was only when her sprinting finally got her to the tree trunk that she was able to bring the blade around with the momentum of her body and inflict a deep scar into the bark.

For the return journey she switched hands in carrying the sword, her left arm weaker and beginning to give way not half way on the jog back but was forced to bear the weight of the metal the rest of the return journey out of necessity. She pirouetted at the start, switching hands for the weapon once more. She had noted Antar had managed three hits on the tree but Zandelia knew two would be more than enough for her body. She set out once more towards the tree trunk, her legs beginning to give way one more than once occasion as she pushed herself to sprint the two hundred yards and smash the blade into the tree again. The return journey ended with her collapsing to her knees, sword already being dragged across the ground in her left hand and breathing a wheeze as she crawled her way on all fours to the water bucket for a long gasping drink.

Why the petch did I sign up for this monstrosity? was all she could ask herself, time and time again as she pushed herself to her feet, almost falling several times, and walked around slowly – stretching her muscles as she went.

It was thus that she found herself at the box run, the last of her tasks but by no means least. Her legs were now turning to lead and rapidly gaining weight as the muscles failed. Her lungs burned constantly now and her breathing was far from normal. It was all she could do to stop herself from vomiting already and she suspected the last task would complete her humiliation.

“GO!” Mok shouted again, even his voice now lacking the strength it had begun with.

Zandelia ran to the first corner, her spirits flagging hugely and her running now more of a shambling gait than anything resembling a controlled form of sprinting. She was beginning to gag as she reached the corner, stopping and lurching to the right now in shuffling strides of her leg, her hip movements giving her most of her momentum now. She managed the shuffle to the next corner, this time having to keep her body forwards and running backwards. She pushed herself to do it, turning her head around every second or two as she shambled backwards and tried to keep her breathing as steady as possible whilst keeping down the rising bile and acid from her stomach. She almost cried as she reached the last corner and began the slow shuffling to her left and back to the starts again. She forced herself through the ritual once more, at the end falling over and finally letting herself throw up to the side of her prone position, retching a few times afterwards before trying to spit the taste away. She made her slow way back to the other two, both of them looking worse for wear despite Antar’s comment.

“Petch you” she managed to whisper before all but drowning herself in the water bucket to stave of the dehydration she was beginning to feel and collapsing with her back leaning against the barrel.

“If you ever visit my tent Mok I’ll make sure I’ve got a nice fire going so I can push you into it in repayment” she groaned as she closed her eyes and tried to recover her body as well as she could.

by **Antar** on November 23rd, 2011, 5:48 am

"Hmmm... " Antar let his eyes rove over the tired word runners form a moment as if considering her proposal, "Perhaps another time for sparring then." The rogue smiled a little at his jest on many levels as he was seemingly oblivious to the buxom woman's jibe of cursing in his general direction. "Very well, I'll take my leave then."

Returning to his tent, Antar looked at Ellise in her cage and wondered what was seemed to be the matter. The falcon was lying on the floor of the enclosure, cheeping sadly. Sitting down he began to concentrate his thoughts and recall the basic steps of meditation as he gazed at the kelvic, wondering the cause of her despair. Soon, he was seeing the kelvics aura as the djed surged to his eyes. Around her falcon form was as swarthe of blues that were inked with reddish orange hues of frustration.

Opening her caged he brought her out, perched on his gauntlet and began to speak to her. "Oh... poor creature. I guess the air outside made you sad for yourself. Don't be that way." A small chirp answered him, and he reached a hand to scratch her feathers. "I see, your first taste of the world outside this tent was bittersweet. Don't worry, soon you will may be able to experience more of the outside. I promised to take you hunting didn't I? I keep my promises to those around me."

The little kelvic's aura brightened audibly as she chirped some more, and soon antar was forced to lay a small shield of spun djed over her caw to task it against sound. Sighing quietly, he murmed softly to the little bird as she tried to continue her little bells and whistles unawares. "Quiet now... you'll wake the whole camp."

For the moment, the tent was filled with peace and quiet, but only for a moment as the kelvic twisted her head to the side to consider things and tried to let out another chirp until she realized that failed. Her craw opened and that strange wind from her beak blew again as the white haired rogue's hair was tousled by the wind. Sighing heavily, Antar put her down on the floor where she began to roll silently in laughter.

Not letting such things concern him further, he began to practice his shielding again... this time over a moving bundle of feathers that seemed to only want to hop around him and blow air currents at him for a distraction. He didn't make much more progress that day in Shielding, his efforts were quite horrible with the extra effort, at least until he began re-tasking the shield over Ellise's beak to absorb djed. Then he could make a little headway ... if he didn't mind the chirping that was.

by **Ink** on December 10th, 2011, 4:29 am

And in the Aftermath . . .

The Rewards are Revealed.

Antar :

Mok :

Zandelia :

Written in the ink :