Solo A Day for Improvement

[Kynier]

Timestamp: 62nd of Spring 518 AV

Doler had entered some kind of mood that was keeping him busy. Allowing Kynier an opportunity to work on whatever he decided to do. So he decided to make improvements. Not on his equipment, nor his living, but on his own capabilities. Inside his own home he sat on the floor with a leg at full extension. Leaning forward he wrapped his hands around the sole of his foot and took slow breaths. The stretch was mainly in the hamstring but also in the calf as he pulled on his toes. Kynier groaned slightly as he tried to extend his torso more so his head was closer. It had been quite a while since he last stretched and he was thankful that there was very little attrition.

After fifteen counts of slow exhales Kynier switched his legs and performed the same stretch. This side was less flexible and he groaned when pushing through it. To try and get both legs as flexible he held this side for an additional five counts. Afterwards he set the soles of his feet together and pulled his heels close to his groin. Kynier press down on his knees and leaned forward. These were the beginning of a series of stretches that he had seen long ago, in Nyka. Once Kynier had spent a whole day watching their training regiment, and they had spent a long time on their flexibility. He wondered if it would be worth relocating to Nyka. There were no real friends he could call on for company. And he couldn’t remember their stance on mages. Even if it was positive, what would he do there?

After fifteen slow exhales Kynier sat straight up again. He set his feet on the floor and rested his shoulders on the ground. He reached overhead to set his palms on the ground and pushed with every limb to make what was called “the bridge”. Kynier remembered some of the Monks looking more like wheels with how great their posterior flexibility was. But he was perhaps a quarter as far and did justice to the term “bridge”. For this one he had no number in mind. He just held it through shaking breaths for as long as he could. The focus was pushing his pelvis up higher so that his hands and feet could get closer together. Every centimeter was a struggle. Eventually he lowered himself back down and began stretching his arms.

He supposed that he was really missing Nyka. There was nothing there for him. No one. No purpose. Had he gone back he would merely exist. Here he had a mission, perhaps and impossible one, but it was something that seemed worth doing. And he had made at least one friend of note. Given time he might make more.

“Friends are only useful when they have similar goals.”

Kynier ignored that as he started tilting his head in multiple directions. His neck had lost some flexibility, he could tell. To encourage more of a stretch he pulled gently on his head. After a few chimes of pulling in different directions he stood up and prepared himself mentally for the next thing.

[Kynier]

Kynier walked over to a barren section of wall. Bending forward he set his hands on the floor just in front of the wall. With an exertion from his legs he propelled himself upside down. Kynier focused on trying to keep his feet together and his legs straight. High up over his head they drifted to the wall which helped him stabilize. Keeping his arms locked made it easier to maintain the handstand. Apart from engaging the less used muscles he was trying to get accustomed to the orientation. It was unsettling to have the arms perform the work his legs have always down. What made it worse was instead of looking down at the ground he kept his neck in alignment with his spine. Staring at the world upside down was not something he found easy to get used to.

“This seems like a foolish endeavor.”

“Shut up already,” he said. But he couldn’t spare the breath and his arms collapsed. Tucking his head quickly he fell on his shoulders. Now propped against the wall unusually he groaned. “Can’t you tell I’m trying to concentrate on what I’m doing?”

“I fail to see the point of it.”

“It’s an accumulating effort,” he said bitterly. Kicking off the wall he rolled over his head and back onto his feet. “Like magic, if I just keep doing it, eventually I’ll be capable of things most people could never accomplish once.” Kynier started rotating his shoulders to take the tension out. He paused for a chime before trying the handstand again. Once he was braced against the wall he stared across the room. With regulated breathing he would lightly push off the wall and try to hold his body straight, but his feet would drift apart or back to the wall each time. Quickly his muscles began to ache and he dropped out of it. That was probably enough for now.

Kynier took a long gulp from his waterskin. Now his body was sweating with the lingering heat of the day. Once his waterskin was drained of its contents he went to the local well to replenish it. Getting back he put on his belt, attached his cold iron short sword, and waterskin. He decided to leave the cloak. Without it he would be able to avoid overheating for longer. Kynier stepped outside and locked the door behind him. It was past the 19th bell and the streets were crowding with people on their way home. With a small hop to launch himself, Kynier took off on a run.

He didn’t force himself to move as fast as he could. His intention was to see how far he could go. He started west, out of the Slums and towards Slaver’s Row district. Kynier dodged around the other citizens as he went against the current. It didn’t take long for his breathing to get heavy, but he tried to regulate it in time with his steps. As he ran past the lavish houses in Slaver’s Row the stinging in his chest began to increase. Kynier forced himself to keep going. He would look down the road, or alley, and find a corner. Slow down at that corner, he would tell himself. Yet when he got there he’d just pick another one to slow down at. He couldn’t remember who had said it, but he heard a saying, “The body can handle more than what the mind thinks it can.”

[Kynier]

Once he got to the Western Heights district Kynier slowed his pace. Each breath of air burned his chest and his legs were getting tense. He did not allow himself to walk. Kynier reduced himself to a jog though he felt like collapsing on the ground. That was never a good idea in Sunberth. Though he left his money back home he still had the short sword. Which had some value, but not as appreciated as the mizza. One foot in front of the other. Keep going.

Halfway through the Western Heights Kynier developed a stitch in his side. There were fewer people out now, making it easier to travel farther. He was determined to not start walking until he got outside the city. But each step was beginning to feel like a mile. Rounding a corner he could see the city’s edge. Lungs burning, feet sore, and brow drenched, Kynier succumbed to the exertion. He laced his fingers on his head and breathed heavily. Resisting the urge to retch he meandered the rest of the way.

Coming out he saw the rising hills and the Western Watchtower. The stunted structure loomed on the hill. While the city as a whole lacked an aesthetic appeal, the watchtower lacked any sense of invitation. It was a dark structure that never seemed to be used. Even if there was a watch, who would they be answering to?

Kynier wandered north to the slag heap. It’s great red glow painting the sky. While the smell was a horrid combination of tobacco and rotten meat, it failed to keep people at bay. Several collections of people had placed themselves around the slag heap. Kynier skirted the perimeter of the dice, drinks, and debauchery of the other people. He had hoped to practice his reimancy unnoticed. He had to walk all the way to the northwestern side of the heap to find some privacy.

“It’s not wise when there are this many around that could see you.”

“Better here than in my own, quiet flammable, home. No one should notice my little fires.” Kynier crouched down, the tension in his legs made his muscles feel like wooden planks. Holding a hand close to his chest, palm up, he concentrated on finding his Djed. Trying to keep his inner thoughts still he searched internally for the power. After a chime he felt it begin to stir within. Furrowing his brow he drew on it, coaxing it to the surface to take shape. It was like water running down the arm, just internal.

The Djed flowed to his hand and a mist fumed from his palm. Kynier focused on it with a sense of passion, hatred, rage, desire. The emotions that felt like a burn on the heart. The gas sparked and sputtered, but never made fire. The fingers of his open hand quaked and spasmed. Kynier winced in pain as he tried to flex them open again. “Bourin made it look so easy.” He shook out his hand to try and loosen the muslces. Then took a cautionary look around before deciding to continue.

[Kynier]

Eventually the spasms and tension ceased in his hand. Testing it by opening and closing his fist repeatedly he felt ready to continue. Holding his palm up again Kynier closed his eyes and worked to block out all his senses. Reaching for the inner peace he breathed slowly. Just a little faster this time he found that place within. As before, the Djed was hesitant to come forth and take shape. Kynier didn’t try to force it like he had on previous occasions. He needed to learn to use it like a limb, and not a tool. On this occasion it came forth in a liquid state that didn’t fully cover the palm of his hand. Once it was there Kynier did not tamper with his emotions. Instead he dwelled on a single thought, repeating it as necessary. Ignite.

How many chimes had passed he did not know. Kynier felt the warmth on his skin before anything else. Opening his eyes a small yet steady flame burned. Trying to curb his enthusiasm he threw the remaining res. With his mind he directed it into the slag heap. Licking his lips he started to spit. A strange metallic taste lingered in his mouth. From the slag heap probably. Kynier supposed he should stop there. Bourin would only allow him one attempt at reimancy each day, and having just done two...

He stood up and started stretching his legs again. Bending over at the waist to try and set his hands on the ground. Normally he could go deeper with his stretching, but that was when he was relaxed. Kynier breathed his way through the tension for ten counts of exhales. After that he expanded and retracted his wingspan to loosen his arms. Stopping after a chime he felt better. His gaze turned to the ground and he took a stance just wider than shoulder width. The patch of dirt he was looking at was directly to his side. Raising his arms above his head he made an X shape with his body. Kynier shifted his weight and bent slightly to perform a cartwheel.

Kynier was successful enough to propel himself to not tumble during the process. The form left a lot to be desired. His legs did not get straight in the air but stooped nearly to his midsection. Not taking the time to be discouraged Kynier did it again. Throwing more of himself into helped get his feet higher, if only slightly. Without pausing he did cartwheel after cartwheel. It did not take many for his breath to grow short, but he pushed through it. After doing fifteen one direction he paused for a breath. Not letting himself take too long he launched himself in the other direction. Kynier noticed it was easier one direction than the other, and his form was better. He would have to work on his physical symmetry to correct that.

With fifteen cartwheels on the other side Kynier paced around to avoid falling down. The world was shifting before his eyes, creating a sense of vertigo.

[Kynier]

He hunched over, setting his hands on his knees. Foul tasting air filled his lungs, making him feel nauseous. As he tried to catch his breath Kynier thought on what he should do next. His Djed resources felt low, and the muscles of his legs were getting tense. With few options remaining he thought some blade work would be good. Kynier stood straight with his feet set shoulder length apart. He grabbed the hilt of his short sword with one hand and the sheath with the other and drew the blade as fast as he could. When the cold iron was out he held it out towards an imaginary opponent. Kynier resettled himself into a natural position again, sheathing the blade.

While many people would focus on how to hold the weapon, or attack with it, Kynier thought it be better to work on something much more fundamental. Getting the weapon out. A few times he pulled the blade out and held the hilt close to his him, tip angled up. That felt very basic. Next he tried drawing the blade without a hand holding onto the sheath. On the first attempt he tried too fast and the short blade got caught in the sheath when it was halfway out. Cursing himself he set it back in, with a little difficulty. For the second attempt he went slower and managed to clear the sheath. But the sword wouldn’t immediately part, making it feel like too long a process.

Over and over he drew the blade. Kynier would adjust the angle at which he drew it. Looking for the right movement. It was proving to be a greater challenge than he would’ve thought. Until it came out easy and quick. Pausing, he reflected on how that time was different. It was an angle he had tried before, a diagonal forward motion. Yet this time the blade peeled out smoothly without dragging the sheath along. He tried it again the same way. It wasn’t smooth this time. The hilt didn’t break cleanly from the sheath, and even the belt received a small tug from the effort. Sighing, he tried again.

Each following attempt was the same and different from what Kynier was looking for. Often he just stared at the hilt and mentally pictured how to do it. Even when his motions matched his imagination it wasn’t right. Then it occurred a second time. Kynier stopped immediately to evaluate. Was it his midsection? Kynier sheathed the blade. The next time he drew it he inflated his midsection. The extra tension kept the sheath in place as the blade came out smoothly. “Ha!”

“Don’t rejoice until it’s a natural motion.”

Kynier worked on it more. He practiced timing the expansion of his midsection with drawing the blade. After that, being able to expand his gut while inhaling as well as exhaling. That way it could be more muscle memory when in the moment. After what might have been a bell and a half he was feeling pretty good about it.

[Kynier]

Looking up Kynier could just make out the moon through the haze rising from the slag heap. It was getting late, and he was beginning to tire. He chose to make his way back home in order to avoid some of the more rambunctious nocturnal residents. Sheathing his blade, hopefully for the last time tonight, Kynier checked that he had everything before making his way back. This time he went at a fast jog as opposed to a run. The exertion at this point felt the same. But as he got further away from the slag’s stink the better he felt. Cleaner air filled his lungs and had its own rejuvenating quality. This time Kynier moved around to enter from the Riverside district. His plan was to run to the river that cut through the city and follow it south.

Before he made it back to the city his body felt like quitting on him. Not willing to accept that he slowed his pace just a little. The physical burn was less in his legs and more around his core. It wasn’t a terrible intensity, so he was able to push through it. Part of him wanted to go faster. The night air felt good and he was beginning to sweat profusely. Trying to keep his mind off the physical discomforts Kynier focused on his breathing and listening to the river’s flow. Something about running water was calming. Kynier enjoyed the sound of it.

Just before the river touched the Commons Kynier crossed over to the eastern shore. On the other side of the bridge stood a pair of women, barely dressed. During his approach he was propositioned for the best night he could ever have, for just a few mizzas of course. They weren’t of interest to him. The one woman that he considered gravitating to in that regard he couldn’t see yet. Though, she did dwell on his mind often.

“If you really desired her, you would let nothing stand in your way.”

Sure. I’ll just march into the territory of one of the big three and publicly insult a prominent figure by taking her away. Though he suspected he could remain unnoticed for a time, someone in the city is always willing to take for just a little coin. For now Kynier would just have to wait longer. When the time was right she would let him know.

Upon reaching the Slums, Kynier was heaving and moving not much faster than a brisk walk. Once he was home he locked the door behind him and went straight to the water he had in his wash basin. Dunking his head in felt so good. Even at room temperature it cooled his warm blood just a little. After bathing he retrieved the Belltor and white cloth from his cupboard. His bandage had been soaked through with sweat and needed changing. There was a noticeable red blotch where his increased heart rate pumped blood through the stitching. He may need to stitch it up again. Unravelling the old cloth he set it aside on the ground. The wound didn’t look discolored and fresh pale skin was reforming along the stitches. Carefully Kynier dripped the Belltor along the wound. Either he was healing quite well, or he was getting used to the medicinal sting.

After a few chimes to allow the medicine to settle he rewrapped his arm with a new bandage. The last of the tincture had been used, thankfully he had two more. Soon he would need more cloth though. But that could wait until tomorrow. Kynier looked down at the used cloth. Closing his eyes he relaxed his mind. The Djed was slow to come and difficult to maintain. The headache returned along with the metallic taste from earlier. But the desired effect came as well. A portal to the void opened next to the bandage. Kynier affected its pull to suck in the cloth. It seemed like the only thing Voiding was good for right now, but it was getting a little easier each time.

“Are your proud of your simple tricks?”

“If I don’t start small I’ll get myself killed.”

[Kynier]

Grades!

Skill Rewards

• Acrobatics +4
• Body Building +1
• Endurance +3
• Medicine +1
• Reimancy +2
• Running +3
• Voiding +1
• Weapon: Short Sword +1

Lores Learned

• Acrobatics: An accumulated effort
• Endurance: The body can handle more than the mind thinks it can
• Overgiving: Muscle spasms
• Short Sword: Drawing the weapon with only one hand