Solo Good Habits

Saul returns to sculpting his body

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This shining population center is considered the jewel of The Sylira Region. Home of the vast majority of Mizahar's population, Syliras is nestled in a quiet, sprawling valley on the shores of the Suvan Sea. [Lore]

Good Habits

Postby Saul Sticks on March 5th, 2016, 2:59 pm


Good Habits


1st of Spring, 516 AV


Saul woke early in the morning. This wasn’t really different from any other day. Mornings were Saul’s time of the day. With the move to the new city though, Saul had lost any motivation to continue his old routine. Not to mention, the injury to his back after only a season in Syliras had made working out nearly impossible. He had been lucky to even be able to work. But now, with the new season beginning, Saul was ready to start again. It had nothing to do with day. Saul didn’t believe that there was any significance to a date. He was not so naïve to believe that. His back had merely managed to knit itself together well enough, and today was the first day he felt prepared to begin again.

A new beginning was needed. While his work at the docks had helped him maintain his physique, his muscles didn’t have near the amount of power they used to. Before, they had been hard as a rock. With his recent lack of effort, they had become soft, pudgy. Saul enjoyed being a big man, but he wanted that size to be powerful, not a hindrance.

He looked over at Brat. For being as small as she was, she took up a lot of space. She weighed less than half of what Saul did, but she took up at least three quarters of the bed. Every morning when Saul woke up, he was on a sliver of the bed nearly ready to fall off, and Brat had all the sheets and blankets. As long as it wasn’t winter, that wasn’t so bad. He’d have to get her her own bed soon. Then, he would be able to sleep a little better.

Rolling over slowly, Saul stepped out of bed as gently as he could, so as not to wake Brat. It was difficult being stealthy being a man of Saul’s size. When he stood, the bed rose several inches rapidly as it was suddenly freed from the weight that had been holding it down. Saul cursed so silently the sound barely made it to his own ears.

He was worried the motion would have woken Brat, but she was used to sleeping in. She stirred beneath all the sheets on the bed, then went still again. Unbroken, the steady rhythm of her breathing told Saul she hadn’t woken up. He breathed a sigh of relief. She deserved any comfort she could get. Brat was one of the few people Saul truly felt that way about. Most people deserved the shit life dealt them.

Keeping his steps as light as he could, he made his way to the table and pulled two of the chairs out. He placed them a foot and a half apart, each one facing the other, and readied himself. His shirt was off; he never slept with one on. Crossing his arms in front of him, he reached each arm as far as he could toward the opposite wall. He could feel the fibers of the muscles in his shoulders and back pulling against one another creating the gentle burn of stretching. Next, he stretched his arms backward, driving his elbows down behind him, and felt the muscles of his chest stretch. He let his arms fall to his sides, and as they did, the muscles of his arms, chest, and back released and relaxed.

The first thing he did was breathe. It was what he focused on first. Air was life. Without it, one had no power, and all ones physical strength was useless. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath through his nose, filling his lungs with the essence of life, power, and fortitude. His chest expanded until it could do so no more. He could feel the ribs pulling away from each other, trying to create more space between themselves and more room for air.

This was his time, his time to focus on nothing but himself. Brat had dabbled in meditation and had tried to teach Saul. Despite her best efforts, Saul had found no use for it. All the talk of letting go of one’s corporeal self had turned Saul off of it immediately. But there had been parts of what Brat told him that he had adopted and distorted to fit his own means.

It was a meditation of sorts, just not one for the mind. Rather, the focus was the body. The object was to hold on to one’s physical self as much as possible, to notice the body more than one normally did. Saul called it his reverse meditation.

After several minutes of breathing, he began his work out. Placing one hand on the seat of each chair, he began to do pushups between them. His focus was on two things now: air and his body. As his next deep inhale began, he slowly lowered himself between the two chairs, striving to make his shoulder blades touch over his spine. His nose almost touched the floor when his lungs could fill no more and his shoulders would let his body drop no further. He paused a moment, reveling in the steady stretch of the muscles across his chest. Then, he focused his mind wholly on those muscles and, as he exhaled, contracted them powerfully, lifting his body until his elbows straightened.

Pausing at the top, he took another deep breath in and out, letting the muscles in his arms and chest support the weight of his body. Then, he continued, his mind always focused on his body. Deep breath in with the slow descent toward the floor. Then the powerful exhale as his chest returned him to the where he had begun. Again and again and again.

As he progressed, he found his muscles objecting to the work more and more. On his twentieth repetition, his muscles shook from their previous effort as he descended toward the floor. This would be his last one for this set. The trick was to push one’s self to a tired state without overdoing it. Mild fatigue built one up; exhaustion was detrimental. Immersing his mind entirely in the muscles involved, Saul pushed them hard one last time, driving his body up.

A groan came from the bed. “Gods. You’re into that shit again?”
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Good Habits

Postby Saul Sticks on March 6th, 2016, 1:41 am


Standing to his feet and letting his weary muscles relax, Saul looked over to the bed. Brat was sitting up rubbing her eyes. Her blond hair was a disheveled mess, something that made her all that much more adorable. One thing Saul knew, though, was that for an eleven-year old she swore too much. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. She was actually pretty good at it. Still, as the person responsible for her, he ought to be teaching her better habits.

He told her so. “You shouldn’t swear so much.”

“Then, you should be a better example.”

“Shit.” She had him there. “We need to find you a better role model.”

She stretched her arms toward the ceiling. “No, we don’t, Uncle Saul. You’re the best role model ever.”

“I appreciate the confidence, but don’t base your choices off mine.”

Brat shrugged. “Okay. Maybe Aunt Sasha will be my role model.”

“On second thought, maybe I should be your role model.” Saul had nothing against his youngest sister, but a prostitute was probably not the best choice for teaching a young girl how to live her life.

Brat sat up on her knees, bent forward, and reached her arms as far forward as she could. “So, are you really gonna be getting up this early every morning.”

“Yeah. I need to get back in shape.”

She stood up out of bed. “Damn it. I thought we were done with this. I thought I was gonna be able to enjoy sleeping in for the rest of my life. I shoulda known it weren’t true.”

“Sorry, Brat.”

She shook her head and gestured to the chairs. “Next set. Get on with it.”

Saul shook his head. Though she always objected to rising early, Brat made an excellent drill sergeant; Saul was pretty sure she enjoyed torturing him and driving him to do more than he thought was possible. He waited a little while more though. He had barely finished his last set, so he waited for the racing of his heart to slow. When he was ready, he put his hands back on the seats of the chairs.

As soon as he did, Brat stepped up on the seats and then on to his back, her arms held out wide to keep her balance. The contours of his back weren’t flat, making her little balancing act difficult, but this was something she had done on a daily basis the two years she had lived with Saul in Zeltiva. She walked slowly until she reached the small of his back, turned around, and sat down. Stretching forward, she steadied herself on Saul’s shoulder blades as he began again.

He drew in a deep breath as he dipped as low as he could. This single pushup was the hardest one he had done. Brat was heavier than he had remembered. Of course, she had grown several inches since the last time they had done this. Concentrating all his effort and his energy into his chest, he raised his body back up, lifting Brat with him. His strength felt well up to the task, for the first few pushups, but by the time he made it to eight repetitions, his muscles were shaking from the effort required to lift both his own weight as well as Brat’s. Stubbornness was the pride of the Sticks family though. He made it through another two, stopping at an even ten.

“Hop off,” he instructed Brat.

There was a disappointed tone in her voice. “Ten? Really? Gods, you’ve got soft.”
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Good Habits

Postby Saul Sticks on March 19th, 2016, 11:37 pm


Brat got down, shaking her head. “What happened to the Uncle Saul I knew? You’re weak.”

Saul glared at her. Normally, his niece was encouraging and optimistic. “I’m not weak.”

She shrugged. “I ain’t the one that got fat.”

“I’m not fat.” Brat knew how to get Saul feeling defensive, usually because she was right. This was one of the few times she was not. Despite his recent laxity with his physical fitness, he was still well-built, just not as well-built as he used to be. “I’m just not strong the way I used to be.”

She shrugged. “You say potato. I say potato.” Saul couldn’t help but smile as Brat pronounced the word the same way both times. She didn’t really understand the saying. “You say not as strong. I say weak and fat. But it’s okay, Uncle Saul. No one’s judging you. Except me.”

She got to him, and she knew it. Saul knew it too, but even despite knowing that everything she said was just to get under his skin, he fell for it every time. Placing his hands on the seats of the chairs, he readied himself again. Brat smiled a victorious smile, then stepped up on to the chairs, walked across Saul’s back again, and sat down.

Breathing in slowly, deliberately, and deeply, Saul let his body sink toward the floor until his nose was nearly touching the ground. Then, with a forceful exhale, he pushed himself and Brat up.

Halfway up, Brat suddenly called out, “Stop!”

This was one of her favorite way to test him. When they used to do this on a daily basis, she would stop him in the most difficult positions and have him hold them both in place. There were times where she would keep him there for minutes on end, others where she fell asleep as she meditated and Saul was forced to hold them until he no longer could. This time she held him until she felt his arms begin to shake.

“Finish it,” she told him.

He did with a powerful surge of his muscles. He could feel the muscles across his chest beginning to burn.

“That’s one. Let’s see another.”

Saul began to dip, but he hadn’t even put his body even with the chairs when Brat called for another halt.

“Now you’re just being cruel,” Saul complained.

“Shut up.” Brat breathed calmly in and out. “You’re ruining my meditation.”

She took another two deep breaths. “And finish it.”

Dipping down, Saul reached the deepest point and started to push back up.

“Stop.”

Saul glared at the floor in annoyance, only because he couldn’t glare at her.

“You can go deeper than you were. Go back down and hold it there.”

“I went as far as I could,” Saul protested.

“No. You’re being lazy. Down.”

Saul dropped back down again and held himself as deep as he could go.

“Farther down.”

“That’s as far as I go.” The muscles across his chest were straining with the amount of stretching they were doing, and his shoulder blades were nearly touching.

“So now you’ve taken up lying and being lazy? I ain’t dumb, Uncle Saul. Farther.”

Gods, she was mean. And persistent. Stubborn, he should have called it. It was a Sticks family trait. The one they were all most proud of. Saul would show her how wrong she was, even if he had to injure himself to prove it. He let his breath out, and to his amazement, he sank even deeper toward the floor.

Damn it. She was always right.

“Told you I ain’t dumb. Finish out the ten.”

Breathing deeply in, Saul finished as he blew it out and quickly completed eight more before Brat could force another stop on him.

She hopped down and patted his shoulder as he stood up. “You’re weak. I’ll make you strong.”
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Good Habits

Postby Saul Sticks on May 11th, 2016, 11:22 pm


Saul was getting tired of Brat telling him this. Her words affected him, drawing up reserves of strength he seldom used, mostly because he forgot or never knew they were there. Anger and stubbornness granted him the needed addition to his muscular strength that allowed him to push farther. He took a few moments to stretch and then got himself situated on the chairs again.

Brat smiled again. She was enjoying this. Hopping up on to his back again, she sat and waited for him to begin. Saul took a deep breath to begin, but Brat shouted for another stop. Several minutes passed while Brat waited for Saul’s muscles to begin shaking. Then she let him start. “Go ahead.”

Saul gritted his teeth. The trembling of his muscles gave him no confidence that he could complete another set of ten, but the Sticks’ stubborn quality egged him on. Dipping down, Saul made it to the bottom and pressed himself up. Nine more times he dropped down and pushed himself back up, every moment expecting another forced stopped in his work out, but it never came.

Finishing his last one, he looked over his shoulder. “Get off.”

Leaning forward, Brat paused dramatically, as if contemplating Saul’s request, as if she were about to come up with something brilliant to say. “Nope.”

“What do you mean, ‘Nope’?”

“You ain’t dumb, Uncle Saul. Figure it out.” She sat back up.

“You really expect me to do more after that first pause?” Saul’s muscles began to tremble even more as he waited for Brat to get off.

“Ya. If you really wanna prove that you ain’t weak.”

“Come on. Give me a break.”

Brat shook her head and snorted in displeasure but gave in to his request. Before she hopped down though, she took the opportunity to whisper one last comment in his ear. “You’re soft.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. You used to do these twenty at a time no matter how long I made you wait in between. What’s wrong with you?”

Saul was getting angry now. “Get off my back.”

“I already did that, pansy. It don’t seem to do any good. It just satisfies your need to feel weak.” Saul started to object, but Brat cut him off. “Ya, ya. I know. ‘I ain’t weak.’ You realize that’s a load of bullshit, ya?”

Saul glared at her. “You’re infuriating. You know that?”

Brat beamed a smile while Saul began to stretch his sore and already cramping muscles. “It’s my most ingratiating trait. You know you love it.” Patting the chair next to her, Brat brightened her smile even more. “When you’re done being a pansy.”

Her words did the trick. Saul dropped back on to the chairs and waited for his burden to climb on to his back. During his workouts were the only times she was a burden, but it was more than enough. On his third pushup, Brat stopped him part way down, leaving him hovering at a level just above the chairs. Steadying his breath, Saul focused on keeping his muscles where they were, a task made not so easy by the fact that his muscles became weaker- more tired, Saul corrected himself- by the moment. For every moment that passed held in this position, Saul had to push his muscles harder and harder until he was straining with every fiber he had.

“And finish it.”

Saul did and finished out his ten as well. Holding himself up at the top of his last rep, he looked over his shoulder. “I suppose you want me to do ten more and make it twenty? Well, that isn’t going to happen, kid.”

“You miscounted, Uncle Saul. That was eleven. You might as well finish out twenty.”

Gods, he must have been more exhausted than he thought. Grudgingly, he completed nine more.

As he was finishing the last one, Brat leaned over and whispered again. “I was lying about that being eleven. It was ten, but you might as well do one more to finish out this twenty.”

Sweat was now dripping off Saul’s face and making his grip on the seat of the chair precarious at best. The muscles in his chest, arms, and abdomen were shaking on the verge of collapse, but he knew his mind wouldn’t let him rest one short of his goal.

Lowering himself slowly toward the floor once more, Saul drew in his breath as deep as he could, ending as he came to the lowest part of the dip. Driving the air out his lungs with one forceful exhale, Saul shoved upwards to finish the set.

“Stop.”

Saul glared at the floor, now too tired to twist his spine to look at Brat. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What’s another word for weak?”

“Fine.”

Saul waited, his muscles trembling in exhaustion. Finally, she released him, and he finished the rep and the set, letting her hop down. He continued his workout and finished at one hundred. The sun still wasn’t up when the two headed down to the harbor for Saul to begin his day of work. It would be difficult, starting out already as exhausted as he was, but that didn’t matter. He felt more alive now than he had for a while.
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Good Habits

Postby Aladari Coolwater on September 14th, 2016, 6:39 pm

ImageGrades Ahoy!


Name:Saul Sticks

XP Award:
  • Stealth + 1
  • Meditation + 1
  • Body Building + 4
  • Endurance + 4
Lore:
  • Meditation: Air is Life
  • Reverse Meditation Technique
  • Endurance: Don't Overdo It
  • Brat: Drill Sergeant
  • Being Out of Practice Makes You Soft
  • Push Ups Can Go Farther Down

Penalties/Rewards :
Saul will be sore in his arms and chest the next two days. As long as he doesn't push the muscles much farther, he should be fine.

Comments :
If you have any questions, or feel I missed anything, please don't hesitate to contact me or a local ST
"The sea always filled her with longing, though for what she was never sure."
- Cornelia Funke
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