[Training]Nighttime tortures. [Solo]

[Markus Andres]

Timestamp: Fall 43 – evening – 510 AV. Markus could feel his heavy eye lids slowly open to the sounds of a fire nearby. A salty tasting breeze rolled in over him and gently shook him from his slumber. It made him instantly aware that he wasn’t inside his familiar room in Syliras. For too many times had he awoken to the bland stillness of his windowless room. His eyes didn’t feel quite so heavy with that realization. Rather. They jerked open and his arm reached down to his side and felt that his blade was missing. That seemed oddly familiar – somehow. That’s when he realized that the exact same thing had happened earlier that day, just with Pain being the perpetrator. This time, Markus was quite sure it was an enemy that had taken away his weapon and intended to sell him into slavery. But not before he had used that elbow to the brain trick that Pain had used upon him. Markus rolled to the side and raised both hands in a tight guard around his face. With the memory of Pain flashing so clearly in his mind, her defensive posture had become his own. Both hands up high to protect his chin from being attacked. That was when Markus realized it had gotten dark-ish. The top of the sun could still be seen, but it was far from daylight. He looked to the, currently, strongest light. A little fire with a lonesome dark figure sitting on the opposite side of the fire. His face looking down and the hood of the cloak pulled up tight around his ears. In his hand, glinting in the light from the fire, was a clean and well-kept sword – with some signs of being used in a fight. – Markus could recognize the blade right away. It was his own. He felt the relatively well known rage ember within him. Someone had dared to take his sword! And was now taunting him to take action. It annoyed him endlessly and it really put some fuel onto the embers. He walked closer to the fire, warry of any people coming from the sides, but nothing moved but the shadows as the fire rose and lowered naturally. When he got within 10 steps of the fire and the black cloaked man. He recognized several things – and merely moments later, Markus realized who this was. It made his anger drop a notch, but not my much. The dark figure across the fire, was known as Stern Mason – or to Markus, Master or Ser, Mason. ’You missed your training today.’

[Markus Andres]

The anger of the young squire dissipated as quickly as it had manifested itself as he laid eyes upon his master. A small smile crept up on his lips as he was reminded of when he had been younger and would recklessly have thrown himself at the man. Just to try and punch him in the face. But he did well to hide that smile. For he knew that tone in his masters voice. It sent an involuntary chill down his spine. ”Sorry ser, I was practicing out here and… I forgot.” His master seemed to accept the excuse. For he didn’t respond with more than a wave of his hand. Telling Markus to come closer. Markus sat down across the camp fire and idly looked into the flames. A few moments passed before something moved in Markus’ direction, instincts kicked in and his right hand flew up and grabbed the item headed for him. His fingers locked around the scabbard for his blade. When had his master sheathed it? Markus looked up and feared for a moment that his master was about to spar with him. His body was still aching from the battle with Pain. But it seemed his master was also content with watching the flames. ’Markus. Get up. Time for training.’ Or perhaps not. ”Ser… I haven’t eaten for bells… I am starving.” His master gestured towards a bag that was hidden in the shadows behind him. ’For when you’re done.’ Markus groaned in response and his stomach rumbled but there was no time to mourn about the lack of food. Markus got up on his feet and his blade was being drawn when his master shook his head. It wasn’t combat training. That didn’t bode well. At least during combat training he had a chance to defend himself when he erred. At all other times, failure meant disciplining. He pointed to the ground and Markus went down on his palms and his body stretched out and his lower body supported by his toes touching the ground. Classic position to do push ups. His master said go and Markus’ bulging muscles responded. Slowly lowering his body towards the sand. He didn’t stop until he could almost taste the sand. He could feel the muscles in his arms strain themselves as he slowly raised his entire body again. He closed his eyes and focused on the sensation. Focused his will onto the task at hand. Guiding it away from the now distant rumblings of his stomach. He could feel gravity fight him the whole way. His roughly 210 pounds being slowly, but surely lifted from mother mizahar. His toes dug into the sand and his right leg almost slid in the loose foundation. But he quickly spread his legs out to maintain balance. The next two dozens of push ups went with relative ease. His focus didn’t waver at all. That was, until his master spoke again. Markus was pushing his body up again for the twenty-sixth time. Normally not a feat, but he was hungry, tired and sore from the fight. His focus wavered because his master hinted to that fight. ’Next time, I expect you win.’ Markus’ eyes went wide. His focus on maintaining balance lost. His left had slipped in the cold sand. His left shoulder struck the sand hard and his face went directly into the sand. He could feel the grains of sand in his mouth. He immediately began to spit it out again. But no matter how much he spat, it never seemed to leave his mouth. After a chime of or so of spitting and brushing sand out of his face. ’Horse stand.’ Markus raised his left brow in disbelief and just stared at his master. Or the shadow he assumed was his master, since he had relocated himself so he wasn’t sitting in the light of the fire any longer.

[Markus Andres]

Markus pushed himself back up on his feet. He brushed some sand from his thighs and stomach. Or tried to. He stretched his back out and several cracks could be heard. He had not slept properly on the ground. That much was certain. He took a deep breath and slid his feet out the the sides. Made sure they were parallel to one another. Lowered his body into the same position he had when he rode a horse. When he had been younger the horse stance had been dreaded. Sometimes Markus had been standing in it for bells before his master finally let him run free. At which time, running was as torture. Not to mention sitting. But as he had gotten older and rode a lot more, it wasn’t as bad. But it was still one of the least enjoyable training methods he knew. Well. Of the safe ones. He stood there, looking across the campfire. His gaze focused on nothing. Just staring out over the water. After a couple of chimes he could feel it in his lower back. He knew he could relieve it of some of the tension if he just leaned forward or unstraightened his back. But he knew his master was looking from the shadows. Waiting for him to give in to the temptation. Markus just soldiered on. His master had once explained it was to train his endurance, legs and back. He could certainly feel it in his back. As the chimes passed. He began to feel it in his legs too. It first began to appear on his inner thighs, just above the knee. From there it slowly crept up the inside of his thigh. Markus tensed his muscles in the leg to get some blood pumping in his veins again. It immediately relieved some of the tension he had been feeling in his legs and the fatigue diminished in his legs. But he knew it would just get harder and harder as time progressed. Especially with his still-rumbling stomach constantly reminding him of his raging hunger. Markus hated horse stance. There was no action involved. Just standing there motionless. ’Stretch out your arms and hold your palms up.’ Markus did as he was told and his master walked over and placed Markus’ bastard sword in his palms. At first it didn’t phaze him much to hold the bastard sword. But soon his biceps started to protest and he could feel the muscles tire more and more. Making it harder to maintain the height of the blade. His arms began to shake after two chimes. It was small vibrations at first. But soon Markus had to close his hands around the scabbard as not to drop the blade. Due to sheer stubborness Markus managed to hold the blade outstretched for another two chimes. But then he was also at his arms’ limit. The blade fell to the sand and Markus half expected his master to strike him. But nothing happened. Markus looked around for his master. He soon found him. Lying on a bedroll and sleeping next to the fire. Markus shook his head slowly and looked to the bag. Found a pair of apples and behind the bag, was another bedroll. He greedily ate both apples. He would let the bastard sword rest against his shoulder. As he kept a watchful eye at the shadows. He felt prideful that his master trusted him to keep watch. Even if they were still in the vicinity of Syliras.

[Chevalier]

Hear Ye Hear Ye, Thou Hast Been Awarded... Markus +3 Bodybuilding Lores: Pushing Aside Hunger How Hath This Occurred? : Way to necro your thread! Over a year man!