Flashback [Solo] Dedication

[Garron Strongarm Coglias]

24th of Winter, 481AV Pulling on the handles, Garron breathed deeply as he neared the finish of his fourth set of repetitions on the machine he was currently handling. With an exhale he let them back to their resting position out by his sides, at arm's length from his torso. Attached to them were some heavy weights that his parents had bought to challenge him, the size of them benefitting his rapid musclar growth. Inhaling, he pulled the handles forward again, by extension lifting the weights behind him. While it wasn't the kind of workout that brought a sweat to his brow, it was just as stressing in many ways and even more so in some. While before dinner it had been a test of his stamina and will, a drive to keep running, this was a test of his endurance. How long he could do this, or how many sets of repetitions he could complete, measured how durable his body was and each timehe sought to increase the number. Exhaling, he slowly let the handles return to their resting position, gently resting the weights on the ground again. Garron's family had a long history of working themselves to their limit. They were not unique perhaps, but they were a rarity in that they were willing to ignore the demands of their body for rest. This was Wysar's domain, the domain of discipline, and this was why he was one of the staple gods of the family. It was never easy, and it didn't necessarily become easier with practice, but there were two kinds of power that all Strongarms wanted to have and strove for. The kind of physical power that would allow them to fulfill their duties to the best of their abilities, and the kind of will power that would allow them to go the extra mile, the discipline to move forward despite the burn. Both could only come with time, and time was something else that most Strongarms had dedicated to their lifestyle. Again, the youngest Strongarm pulled on the handles, lifting the weight attached to the machine for the fifty-ninth time since he began. The muscles to the sides of his chest and reaching up into his arms were burning, had been burning for the last set of fifteen. There were battles out there to be fought, battles that this preparation would help him in, battles that would benefit the kingdom and the great god Izurdin. Before he could fight those however, Garron had to fight these battles here. Each struggle now would help him in a struggle he had yet to make. As he slowly let the handles return to their resting place, he exhaled and squeezed his eyes, preparing for one final push. To many, it was so simple. Building the muscles and strengthening the body was just another bonus, another way to be capable. Yet to the Strongarms, it was so much more than that. The family defined itself by its ability to not only endure based on their will, but thrive under those same unforgiving circumstances. His parents, his siblins, even his grandmother, they all forced themselves through great hardships an straining tests that would challenge anyman or woman, yet it was during these self-inflicted hardships that they grew strong and achieved their greatest. That's what it meant to be a member of this family. Not only was one willing to go the extra mile, but they would let that distance define them as it grew longer the more they tried. Whatever troubles they suffered through, they would emerge stronger because of it. Garron pulled on the handles, his arms shaking slightly with the effort, and he almost let them go. However, he would not. He could not. This regimen, no matter how strict, was what his family lived by and what allowed them to become what they are today. So he poured all of his remaining strength and effort into bringing his hands together in front of him, his chest and arms ablaze with stress, before letting the handles slide back into their resting place. His breath was consistent now, deep and even as could be after such a workout. Garron closed his eyes for a moment and concentrated as hard as he could, thanking Wysar and dedicating his new benchmark to the god. Whether he would ever act on it or not wasn't important, just so long as the divine knew that he was thanked for his influence. Reaching for some water he had set aside earlier for this exact moment, the Isur found that his arms were almost completely shot, and that any energy he tried putting into them just made them flop. Perhaps he was working his arms too hard. Yes, that was it, he should give them a break. After all, no one could go forever. With that conclusion reached, Garron stood up and walked over to the side of the room, sliding himself into a special seat. Once he'd adjusted the weight to acomfortable range, he put his arms on top of a chest pad and locked his feet beneath a bar at the bottom of the stool. With that in place, he heaved down, giving his abs a workout and starting another four sets of exercises. Once he returned to his upright position, he repeated the motion, bending over and pushing the pad down with his chest, which in turn lifted the weight to his side. There was so much more to exercise than just the arms.

[Whimsy]

Garron

Experience	Lore
+3 Body Building	The Durability of One's Muscles
	The Key Values of the Strongarms
	Wysar: God of Discipline

Comments
A short little solo, one that reflected some key values. Please keep in mind that the longer your solos, the more skillpoints you were gain! PM me if you have any questions or concerns.

.