Pit Prep. Day 4 (solo)

[Valorae]

Night Eyes underground... She had woken up feeling mildly refreshed. A lot of her stress had been let loose last night, and she had a chance to come to terms with, well with just about everything at this point. For once in a long time, no, for the very first time she woke up not worrying about where she was or what would come next. She was just here and alive. Her eyes broken open to look upon the doorway. It was morning, maybe. The torchlight still let off its faint glow that somehow reminded her of the sun. She hadn’t seen Syna in a long time now, especially in a formal setting. She missed that all enveloping warmth so much. It was the embrace of a mother, sister, and friend all at once. The warm and fuzzy feeling was truly valued for its added sense of security. She had her security here too though, locked up nice and tight in some underground cell, ignorant to any warmth or coziness. With a sigh she pulled herself up. She felt her adorning horns on her head, and knew it was still day. She didn’t know the time, but given she had not been disturbed yet, she was up early. What a life she led, trapped in the cell training for her untimely death. She slid her legs over the bed side and sat there a moment. Her thoughts were blank, still focused on the mild euphoria from being so well rested. Brightside was she was safer down here and better fed; that was some reason to be cheerful. Then, naturally, the platter made its way into the room with its brief peace-shattering thump. “Idiots,” she cursed in Myrian, a half-second gesture she hardly recognized. Her logic of the word wasn’t a translation, it was known in Myrian, perhaps first learned in that language. Still it was foreign to her. She couldn’t place a name to the language either. Staring off in the direction of the mushy food, she lost herself to the idea of what she was. Ethaefal lingered in her mind, but she still couldn’t put meaning to it.

[Valorae]

She had finished the meal and been taken right to the room on schedule. Even in the darkness of torch light, it seemed brighter and more open for her. It felt good to just breathe outside of the stench of those raggedy rooms. She wondered how it was the torches were always kept lit though. They need the fresh air like she does. Surely there was some way of letting it in. What had been on her mind before that though was the meaning behind the word: Ethaefal. So far, it meant her, in all she was. The sense of alienation weighed on her more. It wasn’t surprising of course, perhaps even encouraging. If she were her own force, it almost made the actions of her captors justifiable. She was a threat, some foreign invader that was not only going to be put down, but crushed for their entertainment in a pit fight. Well, fights she had been meaning to hope for… She didn’t want to disappoint them. If her freedom was in grasp, she’d take it. She had already been brooding over the thoughts of what would follow. Bloody murder was being carved into her mind, but there was something more meaningful that always reached her. It was Syna. Valorae vividly remembered the incredible euphoria of the Ukalas. There was no way to describe it, she just knew it. It was some fact that could only be taken for granted. She was ready to prove it to herself again though, that it wasn’t some dream, and that she’d be back there…someday. Syna is what gave the Ukalas its light and warmth. Leth radiated his own energies, but it was Syna who shined in her memory. She didn’t remember Leth more than a name and a face. Not even his divine aura, so strong the mundane could feel it, was something she recalled. But Syna had grown distant from her. Syna had not answered her for – Tanroa, how long had it been? She had begun to fall into another mindless droning of events. Waking up, eat, train, eat, and sleep. The urge to call step one awakening had been suggested in her mind, but there was something more meaningful to the word. She longed for her own awakening for whatever it would be, and whatever it may hold for her. More than words, the world; what did the world have for her? She’d need to earn that right for the world first. She needed to survive. She had taken the sword and dagger in her hands. The balance was nice, not to mention having something else, just in case. The bows had been calling to her more, but before then, she needed to practice sword work. The same philosophy was there. They feel as you feel; make them feel fear. Invasion of space, desecration of the body, poisoning of thoughts…fascinating stuff really. None of which were easy in the slightest. Most of which demanded items or skills beyond her present capabilities. Power? No, not even that, but… What she could do with ‘power’… No, no, no. That was all wrong. She had to stay focused. There is a goal, a very simple one and it must be accomplished. Time is against her. Even after having been at the dummy for some time, she noticed it had turned into more of a slow motion slapping than death blows. She back slashed into the dummy neck with most of her weight. She felt the recoil energy run up her arm. She didn’t want to; she couldn’t be bouncing back off. Something she was doing must be wrong, or she wasn’t strong enough. Again she struck to hit the spot, and even then, with her utmost accuracy, she felt even less. She was slowing down by the end of her arc. She went for an inward strike, flexing her bicep, and swung as if to bring the blade to her chest. She truly felt the recoil then, but she did notice the blade ended on the dummy. It hurt, but it was where she wanted it. She had to swing through their necks just to make sure she touched them. Valorae still confirmed that blow, a kill shot. Again! She commanded herself, and struck, over a dozen more times until the soreness exhausted her.

[Valorae]

When she felt physical pain, burning in her muscles, she looked at the sword with wild emotions. Fury, even fear, a touch of envy – for the surface, wrath, hate, anger, frustration, agony! A hoarse shouting growled from her throat followed by the Myrian phrase for death, roughly translated in its use, “Die!” as she struck the dummy with another full blow, feeling the blade snap back from her hand and curling over. With the dagger still in hand, and a moment’s pause to realize this, she took it up and stabbed at the to-be upper half. An eye, the jugular, the left lung, the heart, ended in fatal shots if there was nothing in her way. She held the blade upright. She saw some morons having walked the street before with the blade back, as if to slash. They over exaggerate their reach, she figured. Stabbing was much more effective. Note: stabbing is effective. She repeated the lesson in her head again with each strike from her left arm. Her mantra would be brought to life with such action. She aimed for the gut many times over. The bouncing of the blade was sickening enough. She remembered her aim, the mentality of her art. Be their invader. She took the dummy by the neck and dug her hand in. Her fingers weren’t so dumb from the previous grip on the sword. Squared off against the figure, she jabbed the dagger repeatedly into it, faster and faster with the successive strikes. They used damn hard wood that it wasn’t chipping. Her lungs tired before her left arm. It wasn’t worth her energy. She wasn’t learning much other than how to get a petchin’ hold of the bastards. It felt good for the moment though. Endorphins, adrenaline, release… She let the dagger slide out of her hand with the slight translation of it. It curved a bit before landing on top of the short blade. Immediately she sank down and started on her legs, stretching. Maybe that was is, she hadn’t been stretching enough. Her heels were together, elbows down and she leaned forward, keeping her back straight. She let all of her breath leave her as she stretched her back over her legs and laid her head down. The pressure from her legs transferred to the upper legs and groin and gently began to pull apart. There was a sense of rising tension more than ripping muscles, despite the scientific truth to it. In her body, the little muscles that held her legs together were pulling gently, loosened from previous attempts from waking, training, and even before rest. When she was fully over, and she felt she reached her present maximum length, she took a breath in, letting her elbow push a bit more, and her legs to really stretch… Her face was in a frown, but her eyes looked in with determination. Aimless, yes, but determined nevertheless. She let her breath out after at least a fifteen minute hold. Yes, fifteen chimes. After her final breath in she let it out with full relaxation and let the legs shift to their proper place. They were notably lower now with gravity pulling at them as it willed. She was low too, laid back, sprawling her upper half on the floor while she let it all set. With another released sigh she tried to find comfort while sparks started in her mind.

[Valorae]

Ideas swept across her mind like wild fire. Thought provoked thought before she arrived at some perceived revelation of her condition. All this time I’ve spent pent up in this damnable hole, and so much to show for it. So little, rather. I smell disgusting, and am covered in dirt. I play with a wooden sword, a play thing, and expect to fight for my life. Very credible. She let her hands slide back over her face and through her hair in an effort to suppress stress,if not relieve it. Syna where are you? Gods be damned Syna, where?! I remember it, I remember it all. Why have I come to this place? Have I wronged you so? I meant not to be cross, I just need help. I cannot embrace you from this shadowed chamber. How can I Syna, how can I embrace you again? She let her hand move to her heart and stretched her legs. She looked up and saw the abysmal dark of the ceiling. It could fall at any moment, destroy her, and then she’d be less than the nothing she already was. I am nothing. I am nothing without you Syna, please, oh please save me. Pierce the darkness and save me, oh Syna I pray, save me. She closed her eyes and fought back the tears that pressured her. Hopelessness was flooding over her thoughts. She was threatened by such a surge, she might fall back into such a state of hysteria if she couldn’t control herself. She got up, eyes still swelling red and her eyes teary. On her knees, she bent over and laid her head on her hands. She pressed her palms firmly together and laced her fingers. Her faith was not as sure as her grip though. Syna, oh high star who brings light to the world and warmth to our bodies, have mercy upon me. I surely might have pledged my life to you, to your divine being and cause. I only seek to admire and revel in your greatness. Syna hear me, now, please. I must have aided in your efforts, spread awareness of your power and mercy, aided to reveal the truth of your all seeing eye to the common. At some life, at some time. Syna, please have mercy upon me. Of all your gifts, of all your welcome in your high home, I am appreciative. I plead you, for once more the life and soul which is already yours, forsake me no longer. Bring me home from this cold, dark hole so blind to your beauty. And she was answered by silence. In her whole time on the world, this was perhaps her first legitimate prayer to Syna, and it was full of what? Cries of suffering and pleas of mercy and intervention. Not once had she showed those who walked Sunberth the glamour the goddess of the sun could impose upon one’s flesh. The ethaefal, Valorae even in this glittering form, was the very example of this. She had no thanked Syna beyond her joys in the Ukalas. It had been so long… Four generations of offspring from her Myrian line might have passed since she last left the world for the heavenly abode of Syna and Leth. Her great granddaughters ruling over their clan which she once headed, so many years ago… And the fierce voracity of the tigers joined those daughters in battle and the hunt alike. But here, now, so far from her element of the mundane, or the peace of worship, Valorae was unknown, nothing, and hopeless. “Syna,” she cried in her greatest voice, her tone full of something intensely hateful! Her prayers had been ignored yet again. The fading echo of her battle cry left silence to hover over the room again. Huddled in her little ball, she felt no fear, pain, nor sorrow. She was alone in this, and needed to get that straight in her head. She needed to focus!

[Valorae]

That sparking flame had erupted within her, and her emotions spilled out of her. Her eyes opened in her cuffed hands, and as she looked up the darkness did go away. In the light of a different flame she still lived on. She shot a glance back to the weapons and made for them. The militaristic style of her gait left firm print in the ground as she stepped across. She was trembling with anger and excitement at the same time, but her face remained as stone… The sword in her right, she named it wrath, and the dagger in her left, vengeance, were to be the means of her survival and justice. Justice! She’d have it no other way. She left for the dummy in the same march. It bubbled up inside her and began to boil over. Suffering… She drew back her blade and swept across the dummy’s neck. The impact shook her as it struck into the dummy’s neck, stuck there, and then slid across against friction. Bretrayal! She stepped across with her right foot, carefully stepping over and turning. She left the dagger strike into the side of the to-be neck of the target. “Hate,” she erupted in a quiet, seething voice. She let the air flow in through her teeth. Her face was something vicious; her teeth pressed together, her canines sharp and lusting for blood, her visage snarling. She yelled out stepped the rest of the way through and struck inward with the sword. It would be a kill shot without a helmet, the blade struck in some bastard’s skull at the temple. She’d let it stick there a moment then slide it out and let the blood gush. The wooden replicate struck, and stuck there before she drew it back. In some final fit of rage she swept the dagger and sword over one another into the sides of the neck. Decapitation, half a throat, some small nick in the jugular that would leave her opponent left to suffer before his end - it didn’t matter, he was dead. Dead! The wooden things struck, stopped, then slid across the front all the way through. She stood there breathing heavily, her eyes locked on the dummy with the most furious intent still.

[Valorae]

She sighed out. In a deep breath she was back at the target again with unrelenting force. Stab, stab, slash, slash, double slash, double stab. In the lungs, across the chest, through the heart! Die you horrible creatures that plague the lands, die! The faces raced through her mind, and were projected to the face of the target. Malum, Kostaja, the customers, the commoners of Sunberth, all of them, they all deserved to die. Their disgusting state of existence was an inflamed sore of trash, disease, and impurity upon the whole of the world. There were no morals, there was no sense of pride or unity; Sunberth stood against everything that was good in the world, a goodness that could be! Over five centuries ago it was almost an achievement. What the hell happened?! Valorae’s mind hit the face of the mountain she’d been seeking. She didn’t know enough of history to make the educated guess as to what went wrong. The politics of it all were beyond her presently as well. It wasn’t time for philosophy. She had, however, met the start of her climb. Her destination was clear, and she needed new means to meet it. To ascend to her rightful place, she’d need to let loose blood and sweat. No more tears, she promised herself. There had been enough weeping over nothing. The sickly parts of what was left of the civilized world needed to be cut of, and let to bleed free of any infections before they would be purged again and fit to be a part of the rightful world. Then the joint labor of the people would, not could but would, rebuild Mizahar back to the grand empires it once was. They would cheer as one voice triumphant over themselves, triumphant over the divine even… Her efforts in combination were working her again. In one case, she stepped forward and cut across the throat again, and then stabbed back in to make sure of the kill. It was just impossible to do it any other way. She couldn’t bring the ideas of armor or movement or counter attacks to fact as she trained. She could only be sure of herself, with each strike, that each would be precise on the point and kill. She knew well where the blood in the head and neck flowed. She felt the burning of her blood as she raged or suffered when her heart thumped and her head throbbed, and then her legs quivered from violation… She shouted again, some loud and furious roar, as she struck the dummy. Her lips wrinkled together as she fought back tears again. She was scarred so damn deep and no one could even see. No one cared, but her. She needed to learn to not care anymore. She needed forgiveness and new chanced. She wanted vengeance, bloody, hate-filled vengeance. She whimpered once, a second, still fighting herself to not cry. There was a goal, damn it, and she needed to just focus… Focus! She closed her eyes, stared at the mountain and just tried to breath. She took keep breaths and dropped the weapons. Her hands were tightly grasping fists against her sides. Her neck was stiff in some awkward downward position, as if to glance over at one’s foot, but her eyes were still closed. She imagined it, the first steps, the beginning of it all. Her mind went back to the beginning. The fall from the Ukalas, the cold waters, death… the beach, the sand, the warmth, Syna! Anger immediately filled her. Syna was not blind, she stared down at Valorae at high noon, directly over her, and left her… Syna left her for this damnation. She opened her eyes and looked forward with the half accepting stare that she was meant for this. Unsure, but willing, she needed to prepare herself. Enough dancing of blades for the day. May I find inner strength and mobility. She began to stretch again. Her time here this day was coming to an end, as always. She figured out the pacing, and verified it today. If she went in and trained with the sword for so long, and then she could stretch. Her mind… well her mind was always active, even here when she tried to just focus on one thing, it still resisted. Her thoughts were scattered, and even then her memories were a puzzle. Some horrific mental mess, that’s Valorae for you. She rotated her waist, let her head lean and stretch her neck in every which way. She was leaning over, and back, and sat down and repeated. Leg to leg, together and apart. She had warmed up, she stretched out, she was ready to kill. She had some idea of how to fight with her fits, she vaguely remembered the movements the sadistic boxer had back then... She stepped close to the dummy and placed her legs much like she did when she wielded the sword. She brought her hands up and kept her chin down. Left, left, crossing right. Her left arm jabbed forward, like her left leg was forward. She crossed over with a right and made note of her heel lifting. It felt good, flowing. She put more twist to it, pushing off her right heel this time, and punched the air with her right arm again. She hadn’t been stretching her legs for the hell of it. She exposed her chest a moment as she kicked her leg as high in the air as she could. She looked at the dummy in front of her, just out of reach. The ball of her foot would drive right into its god forsaken chin. She grinned through open teeth and she kept on breathing. She made a conscious effort to keep breathing despite the taste and odor of stale sweat and poor breath. Was it wrong to admit her beauty as a creature of divine creation? She looked over, thought of moving, and then did just that. She tumbled over to the target’s right side. It was hesitated and slow. She tried again toward its backside, only this time with more of a sprint and energy. She went further, but still lined herself back up. The twisting made her head spin a bit, but she wanted to get it right. She let the blood get back in order as she lined herself along the length of the room. Once her vision ceased to turn she started to sprint again for the other side. She leapt and tumbled before half the room was crossed and rolled out to the other half. She always ended up in some kneeling position that mocked how she used to pray: a knee down, a knee up, and arms on the blow, head bowing – never again. From here to looked left, then right, then proceeded to roll off her side, over her back, and let the energy make her travel back to her mock-prayer position. She had rolled to the right, and it felt nice. The dirt ground wasn’t terribly rough on her back, although uncomfortable. it’d be worse in a bloody pit she figured. She only thought about how to go backwards with all of this before they called for her to finish. Her eyes were on the door. It would not budge until she complied with the orders it had barked. She didn’t know what would happen if she didn’t obey, but she didn’t want to find out all the same. The dagger and sword were replaced, and she stood with her arms ready. She let out a soft moan as the smaller of the two touched her. She wanted to look back at him, but she only managed her glance to the side of the room before looking back forward. If she wanted to get a hold of a real weapon, she needed to take her time about it. She figured the guard might be susceptible to her ugly charms too. Others had been at least, other scum. They will all die…

[Valorae]

In that room that she slept in, and in the evenings tended to mundane bodily demands, she sat again. She went right to her bed, full of an energy that wanted to keep going. But all she had was this little space to rest herself and eat. She didn’t even want to touch that glop for some reason. Maybe it was just the utter disgust that filled her, all of it. People, gods and mortals alike, they were disgusting to her. It was set out on the platter and left on the floor; meanwhile she laid on the bed thinking still, her never ending thoughts. She stared back to the ceiling, no longer tempted to scream out for help. Now just why am I in a rotting hole while they roam the world above? Her mind started to focus now, not on the actions of her body, but the mind, thoughts, present, future, fact, analysis, strategy… Numbers, there are so many worthless ants really. And how they flock after the crude entertainment that they do, why how they are still so disorganized is incredible. There must be something to rally them behind. And if not, it’s not like they can’t be dealt with. They look up to power surely, not some pretty woman. Power, is that what I need? Then – wait… She leaned over to look at the door. She knew she had heard something, a high pitched squeak that might have come from the door. She tried to relax and stayed on her side, her eyes gaze still on the door. They oscillated from side to side in slow well spread intervals. Still she managed to focus and think. What a predicament. Why had Syna not come for me? Was it something I’d done? Am I – She spotted the movement just from the corner of her eye. She was fixed on the door, but below there was an intruder scampering over to her tray. It nibbled away at the end of the platter, its paws in the mush leaving itty bitty prints she didn’t even notice before. Well, she had, but never noted the oddity. The taste was always worse than the appearance. Still she was full and fit. It was some mouse, a small thing, swift and quiet. It managed to survive though. She couldn’t help but thing about its tactic. Her steps were small and planned. She was sniffing around looking for food and to keep an eye out, Valorae figured. She figured it a girl too, for sake of relating. They were both stuck in their little holes after all. She wondered which hole the mouse had come from. The poor thing must be starved down here. She had shared more than one meal with the critter before, she figured, but they had been lonely moments. Maybe… Valorae made her way off the bed and the mouse retreated. Valorae’s steps were as gentle as the mouse’s, and she made her way over to the platter. Sitting against the door, the dish in front of her, she wondered how to lure the little lass out. She saw the bugger dug in under the bed, waiting for the moment to come back out. There was some hole in the back just large enough to fit the mouse. It was under the bed as well, no wonder Valorae had not seen it before. She scooped the unsightly meal onto her finger and extended it out towards the mouse. The critter danced back and forth in response, her head swaying and sniffing, always sniffing. She wanted it, but still sensed danger. Valorae extended over to offer the meal, but the rodent retreated further and went back into her hole. Unrelenting…Valorae, two faces of a coin now… Valorae had a spoonful of the stuff, just for the sake of eating something. After licking what was on her finger off, Valorae sprawled back up onto the bed and kneeled. The platter was plain in sight, lightly set aglow by the torchlight. She sat far enough back to not be seen, yet in plain sight of the pattern. She knew her company’s speed, she needed to match it. The mouse had made her way to the platter, and Valorae poised to pounce. She needed to be quick, precise, and gentle all the same, a slight difference from her training. The mouse was on the plate. Valorae took a breath and then, and then the mouse stopped and looked around. Valorae thought she was caught for a moment, until the mouse returned to the meal that is. She’d be full soon, and retreat for the evening. She had to go…NOW! Her chest dug into the floor as her hands scurried to secure the little rodent. The path of escape was blocked off by most of her body. The little one was in her hands, scratching and biting as she tried to get a hold of it. Valorae’s face wrinkled from each nibble at her flesh, the hard biting of those teeth, but she had a thing for pain by now. The mouse was secured by her neck between Valorae’s fingers. She had done it, and her hands were blooded from the poor maneuvering. More sores to overlook in her training, she hoped. Valorae knew the poor thing was paniced, so she reached for the food and put it on her finger again. It was offered at the mouse’s head. She seemed more concerned with escape rather than eating though. Her nose was twitching around for some sign, squealing madly. Valorae loosened her grip on the thing, she decided to call it “Shhh…Eva…shh…” and offer the food a bit more. She decided this was her only chance, so she needed to make the right impression now more than ever. She wanted, and did, bite again, but Valorae wouldn’t let up despite all the teething. She stuck her finger in to Eva’s mouth and pressed the food upon her, gently trying to pet the little one. Eva took one bite of the morsel on her finger maybe before biting back at Valorae’s hand. She let the damn rodent go and looked at her bloodied hands. Hopefully she didn’t have an infection now. Valorae grabbed her food selfishly and retreated up on her bed. It was uncomforting the room wasn’t solely hers now, even if Eva provided some company. Valorae had accomplished much today, she felt. The blood started to dry over her hands, and she was nearly full from the meal. She was sure, this time, to eat ever little bit she could and to spare nothing for the rodent intruder. How unkind to bite your host! Valorae tossed the platter back to the door. Eva could search it over all she wanted and would find nothing. Valorae reveled in the thought. She managed to catch one last peek of the sniveling Eva before she went to sleep. Eva knew better than approach Valorae, ever.

[Archelon]

Epilogue: In the middle of the night, the woman would be awoken by the sounds of the door opening as she realized there was something different. For once there were several figures, all female standing around a steaming tub of water that was being carried in. In their hands were soap and towels and rags of some sort. Their faces were masked as well as the other silent figures who came to fetch her too and fro. Without warning, they struck like pit vipers grabbing her arms and legs as she fought. And yet her struggles would be as if a babe was facing the fury of a bull. All for naught. Like an animal the various women would strip her down , wash her in the bath with brushes, lye, and soap. Then they would dry her body with the coarseness of towels, ever silent before clothing her in the oddest of things as others held her down like a piece of meat. A set of leather armor would be laced upon her after a new set of clothes was given. The leather armor was old, worn, but still serviceable. Though upon closer inspection, on its right sleeve near the cuff link a red stain formed from three drops of dried blood would be all the inkling Valorae had of its former owner's mystery. There was another odd thing they did leave though. A vest, and a set of bracers, but nothing of the usual kind that might offer protection. No, instead these were bulky things, weighted down with metal plates. As if they were saying she might have a use for them in her training... All in all the experience was a rather demeaning one, being washed like an animal until her skin was rubbed to a cherry red an her hair was a wet mess of tangles. What would she think of all this? And where was Eva in all of these things? Well, the little rat was huddled under the bed of course. Watching, ever watching with a silent gleam in her eyes. Eventually as they left, Valorae would drift back to sleep, unknowing the passage of time until the door would signal her time to awaken again.

Thread Award "..." And the Results!!!!: Valorae : SkillName 1-5 How/why? Shortsword 3 Acrobatics 2 Running 1 Bodybuilding 1 Unarmed combat 2 dagger 1 Philosophy 1 Meditation 1 Lores: Eva the rat... Getting a bath the hard way. Items: Blood stained leather armor. Note: Psst. You might want to take a look at your CS again, I know you have a lot of skills that are beginning to grow ^-^ but you need to start defining which are from SP stuff and which are from xp stuff Would you like some extra turtle sauce ? : Interesting thread, keep them coming.