Time Stamp: Day 20 of Summer, AV 510 Location: Sheika's private hut, Taloba Purpose: Training for various skills. |
Morning, the spawn of evil itself amongst many races across Mizahar. For humans, it was a sign that the time was nigh that they go to their mundane jobs, spend another day in a tavern, and go to bed hours later. To the desert dwellers, it was a brief paradise from the chilled night before, then it become the scorching sea that does not forgive, does not offer mercy. For Sheika, it was more. Eyesight was enhanced at day, hunting capabilities, dramatically improved, the Myrians did most of their chores and duties during the daylight hours of day. Many hunted, many crafted, and few bothered Sheika. Sure, several times a day there would be a Myrian woman, usually a different one each time, that would unceremoniously poke her head into Sheika's little hut, which he did everything in, including his spiritism, malediction, and daily body workouts. Each time though, a different woman, the same scowl. Did they think him worthless? Probably not, he was still alive so they must have some use for him, or at least saw worth. At the crack of dawn the man was already awake, peering around the gradually fading darkness of his tiny hut, his mother's skull (turned into a crude helmet by her son years ago) was hanging loosely on a protruding stake that was used as a post. He watched it for a moment, as if expecting to see his mother's eyes manifest and speak to him, sometimes he wished she would. She had so much to offer him, but died before she could teach him. A shame. Today he had a vague plan, he needed to stay strong, fit, alert, and perhaps his methods were unnatural to the others, but they worked for him. The Myrian Witch Doctor dropped to the ground, catching himself in the standard 'push-up' position. Slowly he lowered himself, briefly skimming his tan chest against the grass, before pushing himself, slowly, up again. Each time he moved in this manner, Sheika felt a quivering in his arms, weakness? Probably, he had not particularly worked on raw muscle building it a while, it was not something particularly looked well upon. Alacrity, skill with a knife, all that was more towards the appetite of the Myrian style. Sheika, however, found a relaxation in burning muscles, aching bones, a pleasure in that moment of weakness that only foretold the events of growth, increased strength, muscle building. Sheika grunted lightly as he lowered himself again, painfully slowly, slower than last time, his arms steady at first, but with ever interval of a few seconds his arms entered a new spectrum of burning sensation. A smiled crept onto his face as his arms, shoulders, elbows, all began to quiver in defiance. 'Release us!' they cried. But Sheika would not. They may hate him now, they may hate him the next day, but soon they would thank him, he would thank him. His bare chest lightly grazed the blades of grass as he lifted himself again. His push-ups were not the common humanized style. He did them slow, each one taking roughly thirty seconds or until he thought he might collapse, then proceed to push himself into a more easily maintained position. Full up! Sheika grunted, he had nearly collapsed that time, his arms, already aching in pain, burning in their reluctance to go on. "One more." Thrice the man grunted as he began to gradually lower himself. His body, flat as a board, as should be, was now joining in the shivering unorthodox cadence, his stomach was feeling the burn simply because of its part in maintaining the body's shape. A third time he felt the brushing of grass on his chest, but he was stuck, his arms so weak that they didn't just graze the grass, they gave up and dropped him completely on it. He paused a moment, breathing heavily as he absorbed the coolness the night left on the grass on his pectorals, and then, not quite as slow as previous, but still intentionally slow, he pushed himself up, slowly, and all the way. As soon as he finished that, he pulled up his knees, resting on them as he sat. He lifted his gaze to see a fairly attractive, but equally fierce, woman's head inside his tent like hut, her glare almost had a sparkle of amusement, then she vanished. Surely she was mocking him in her own mind right there. Sheika shrugged. At least he wasn't deemed worthless. PurposeThe Purpose of this post is: Body Building |