Closed Training Routine.

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

Training Routine.

Postby Ruckus on March 22nd, 2019, 2:05 am

Ruckus hated training. He'd rather spend his time in a tavern drinking away. Training was difficult, exhausting, and only got harder as you got stronger. Now tavern drinking, now that was a good time. You could sit in the corner of an establishment, relax, watch other people stab each other, blood spilling out of stabbed intestines and bile out of cut open stomachs, only to be dragged out of the tavern dead or dying. it was a great time. None the less, here he was, training. His apartment wasn't the best place to train, so he had an alleyway a block down from it. In this alleyway he had managed to scavenge a few heavy rocks, a good distance to sprint back and forth on, and luckily he found a beat up training dummy, missing a left arm. Ruckus called it a lucky and quality set up, relative to what he had before, which was nothing. It was about noon, the best time to work out. If people came for his head, he could see his escape route, and if he was killed there'd at least be witnesses to see a little relief that it wasn't them. Ruckus chuckled at the thought, he'd imagine he would put up some bad ass fight and beat them all, but those were just stupid dreams, gone once you wake up to reality, he looked to his alleyway and sighed.
Ruckus got to work. He had a heavy stone that wasn't too heavy he couldn't life it a fair deal, none the less it was difficult to move, but with a bit of ingenuity, you could do a lot with a heavy stone. He started by holding the stone out straight in front of him - his arms out straight and his body straight up. He grumbled and grunted from the strain his muscles were experiencing, the rock wasn't even that big! Ruckus had to remind himself later, he had to focus on holding the rock there.

Ruckus's arms were beginning to shake, only slightly, but he held the stone firmly enough, it's coarse surface digging into his hands, causing only mild pain and irritation.

Ruckus's arms began to shake a great deal more. It was getting quite hard now, his mind realizing how much trouble he was having. Ruckus cursed under his breath as he shakily counted out the last few seconds, his arms now slightly drifting downwards, Ruckus grunted loudly and thrust his arms back up to uphold the rock.

As much as Ruckus wanted to drop the stone, he had to put it down carefully as part of his training. Like holding a baby you desperately want to spike, but can't out of parental responsibility, Ruckus placed the stone on the ground carefully, yet his arms dropped it half a foot from the ground. Ruckus didn't care or know much of parental responsibility anywho. Ruckus wiggled his arms, shaking the ache and strain from his limbs and looked down upon the rock like it was some large debt. He shook his head, and moved to lift it again.
Next, he placed his arms under the large rock, and began to curl it with both of his arms, working his biceps. This one was particularly rough, yet he needed to do it if he was going to have the strength and skills to get out of Sunberth. He got to work, lifting the rock rhythmically in sets of eight. He would lift the rock time after time, his muscles wanting to tear themselves apart, straining harder and harder the closer he got to eight. When he finally got to eight reps, he dropped the rock with a deep breath. From his sitting position it was a lot safer to drop the rock without risking damaging it. Ruckus often questioned if he dropped the rock, would it actually be damaged? Ruckus wasn't that smart, and honestly couldn't have ever guessed, nor was he willing to risk.
He began his second rep of eight. This one was the true challenge, it was the middle ground. The last one was by far the easiest, because he could crank that one out with a spike of energy and vigor to finally be done with the exercise, with the second rep he had to really dig and mine for that vigor. He began lifting the rock, struggling with each rep, each one slower than the last. He was only on the third lift when his arms started shaking, yet he cranked away.
Three more reps cranked away, he only had two more! Ruckus with unsteady arms, slowly raised the stone for the seventh rep. His arms wanted to give up, Ruckus wanted to give up. But it was that kind of talk that got you killed or sold into slavery in Sunberth. Ruckus, with a burst of energy, cranked out the last rep with a steady and strong lift. He then proceeded to drop the rock.

Ruckus wasn't done training though, he would repeat both of these reps three more times for the better half of two hours, allowing the sun to shift in the sky, and allowing himself to turn the corner of the alley if any slavers or knife-wielding maniacs came looking by for money or fun. Ruckus then took a break, reminding himself that he had to eat. He took some salted chicken and beef from his bag and began eating it ravenously. It was hard to come by any kind of luxury meat in Sunberth, so salted meats were nice to have around. They felt like you were chewing leather, and tasted just as raw, but it was the meat that made one strong. You could work out all you wanted, but if you didn't eat right you'd just be wearing yourself down.

Ruckus then moved onto the last part of training for today, his nun-chaku training. He took the steel plated nun-chaku from his small bag of possessions that he had brought with him and examined them in his hand, as if he was holding a locket of a lost lover or parent. To be honest, they were kind of like that to Ruckus. The old man didn't have much else, save for his brutal fists, but it was nice to have something to remember him by, something to remind him of the old man's words.

"Get out of Sunberth, as soon as you can"

Ah what words of wisdom. Ruckus eagerly agreed, he just wasn't strong enough, he needed some wilderness survival skills and supplies to help him make the journey, but most importantly he needed to be strong. Strong enough to bash and beat anything that came his way or tried to trouble him. Ruckus chuckled at the thought of himself one day being a badass, and shook his head. He began his drill. Ruckus held the nun-chaku out in front of him and began rhythmically, but slowly at first, to swing them from under arm, to under arm. It was a simple drill, and the basic strike with the weapon was similar to this. He then began to increase the speed, his focus on nothing else, as he quickly began more and more focused in on his weapon and an imaginary target dodging each and every direction. Ruckus applied his own knowledge, starting his drunken sway backwards and forwards, snapping his nun-chaku at his imaginary opponent's heads, neck and arms where ever he saw him dodge to, swaying to avoid his imaginary punches. None the less in his stupor, the nun-chaku slipped from his sweaty hands, and flew into the street. Ruckus quickly broke focus and blinked for a moment to see his weapon fly into the street. Ruckus chased after it full speed, wondering what kind of trouble he'd get himself into this time.
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Joined roleplay: March 20th, 2019, 3:36 am
Race: Human
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