Flashback [Solo] Just a jog

[Garron Strongarm Coglias]

24th of Winter, 481 AV Garron’s breathing had begun to take on a slightly huffier pace as he completed yet another lap of the Coglias City cavern. His legs weren’t yet burning like they had done in the past, but they were certainly beginning to feel as heavy as lead and move just as quickly. Moving his arms was still easy, and though he was panting a bit now the young isur’s lungs were still hardy and ready for more. All in all he was still in good condition and ready for another couple dozen laps, though he would have to stop after this next one. His day was far from over, and it was never good to go into the next exercise without any remaining energy. His feet padded the ground as he kept his legs moving, not running quite as fast as he had been before but still keeping a good steady pace. Faster than a jog, that was for certain. The movement of his legs had become almost mechanical; a routine that he’d developed over the last bell and was keeping going simply for the sake of the training. At times, that’s what he felt about his entire training, routine and constantly grating. But it is necessary, he reminded himself. To be able to reach my potential, I have to push that far. It was something that the Strongarms drilled into the children of every generation, that without pushing hard through consistent training and ever-increasing physical stress one would not reach their maximum potential. All isur were naturally strong of course, and the physical conditioning that was cultural to them helped to utilize their inherent potential strength, but only the Coglias were willing to risk and push hard enough to reach the upper bounds of that potential. And among the Coglias, the Strongarms pushed even harder. Which was why Garron’s shoulders and arms were laden with weights; not only were they to make him put more effort into the actual running, but to also strengthen his arms. Moving them was part of his training, not just a habit. Of course, they were of appropriate size and mass of someone his age, nothing like the weights that a full-grown adult would use, but they served the purpose of testing his endurance and pushing him to the limit. As he ran, he looked about the city, distracting himself with the amazing craftsmanship of his people. Even as his legs pumped, his mind wandered elsewhere, out into the giant central structure of the city that housed the important people of the Coglias Clan, the solid and powerful presence of the foundations flowering up into fanciful decorations on the balconies and windows. It was a truly shining example of his people’s construction, one of the best he’d seen. That said, he had yet to visit Sultros, which he heard was far grander than any of the other cities – depending on who was asked of course. But one did not even need to look at the central structure of the city to gain an appreciation for isurian architecture, as even the multitude of supposedly mundane buildings were a sight to behold. The family manors especially were quite eye-catching, each with their own unique design and familial flair that added personality to the building, a sense of uniqueness that was nonetheless present in every structure. If Garron had an afternoon free, the first thing he’d do was spend a bit of time simply strolling around the housing areas, admiring the abodes of each family. Maybe not the most interesting thing to most people, but it really did give the young isur a sense of appreciation for the effort and hard work put into both designing and building the structure, despite having no knowledge in the field of architecture whatsoever. Many chimes passed and he was running past a wide open tunnel stretching away from view as far as the eye could see before turning away. It was a connecting road to one of the other clan cities. His tired mind could not think of which one it would be, though he figured from the sheer size it was probably Sultros. The City Guard that had been standing there for most of the afternoon smiled at Garron as he passed, the young isur losing count of how many times he’d seen them already. It was probably only nearing ten, but each lap around the large city was so long that the youth’s mind wandered between passings to unrelated topics, which distracted him from any meaningful count. It mattered little though, for he would keep pushing until he felt ready to stop, be it at ten laps or a hundred laps. The guilds were farther into the city, so he could not see any of their guildhouses nor their craftsmen from the edge of the area, which was a shame because he always liked watching them work. Garron wondered if he might catch some builders doing some construction work on the edge, hoping that was the case as he continued his steady running, a consistent beat to which someone could probably play a song to. The thumping of the weights on his chest and arms added their own soundtrack though. While not favoring any one type of craft over another in terms of appreciation, he had greater exposure to builders and their work as they often did so in places more out in the open, where people like Garron were more likely to find and observe. The rhythmic pounding of the hammers and the act of molding stone with the gifted arm were as entrancing as any dramatic performance, and in many ways more significant because it was affecting the world that the isur lived in and impacted their future, even if the impact was only small and the number of those who would feel it quite few. It seemed so much more meaningful, construction as well as smithing and carving and the like, a meaning for an entire race beneath the surface. A meaning that Garron could not hope to grasp in any grand scale. There was no doubt he could learn very quickly, his gift of Izentor and the blood of Izurdin granted him a natural aptitude for picking up the skill, but it seemed slightly stunted compared to the learning rate of others of his kind. The intense training he was put through also kept him away from places where he could use his gift, moreso than even some other Coglias, so even compared to children his age he was not up to par. It was a source of sorrow and bitter disappointment to the young isur lad, that he admired the great and awe-inspiring works of his people yet would not be able to craft as well as his kin. However, that fed his conviction to protect those who were able to in what ways he could, which would generally call upon his ability to fight, and in order to perform as best he could he would have to be in top physical form. He would do what he could to protect those who crafted and practiced the art of Izurdin so well. That, above all else, was why he trained. It was Coglias custom to train hard, it was Strongarm family tradition to train even harder, and it was a personal desire to become impressive both visually and physically that pushed him along as well. Yet what drove him was not custom nor tradition nor a desire to be impressive, it was a devotion to his people as crafters and children of Izurdin, around whom Garron’s zealous faith centered. He would push until his legs turned to lead and his arms fell off because he would not accept anything less to protect that which he loved. Many chimes later and he finished another lap, now more openly panting. That’s… enough for today, he thought to himself. Hope mama has found something good to eat, I could use a good meal before evening training.

[Whimsy]

Garron Strongarm Coglias

Experience	Lore
+3 Running	The Coglias City Layout
+2 Bodybuilding	The Necessity of Training
+1 Architecture	The Purpose of Weights
+1 Endurance	Isurian Architecture
	Longing to Create
	Conviction to Protect

Comments
A very engaging insight into the motives and ambitions of Garron Strongarm Coglias. The way you wrote was beautifully in synchronisation with the thoughts and inner currents of the character. I look forward to seeing more of your threads.

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