Isolated Training [Flashback]

[Ferrin]

Day 12, Fall, 510 AV The squabble of birds overhead mixed with the endless, rushing roar of the majestic waterfall, creating a drone of music that he had heard all his life. The outcrop towards the top of the fall was perfect for training, and allowed the isolation desired. Few came this high, and even less crawled the barren rocks that jutted out to hang above the sea. It was one of these that Ferrin claimed as his own; a narrow ridge resembling the structure of a fingertip, as if the hands of the entity which molded these lands had left a thumb embedded in the stone. The Akalak had discarded all of his clothing save for loosely fit, black pants, dark skin gleaming against the light of the morning sun. How long he'd been sitting in the customary meditative pose, he did not know. Time was merely perspective. A theory, built upon the speed of things so simple as the rise and fall of daylight. The wind blew and chilled his bare flesh, yet the sensation made no mark on his mind. Thought was elsewhere, soaring far away in an ethereal place that had no name. Not until he'd come to a sense of inner calm did he recede, the very essence of his self becoming more bodily aware. Blood pulsed, and he listened to the rate of his heart. Felt the palpitation within veins, the prickle of goosebumps across his body. Weight was once more a thing that existed, and he felt heavy as he always did when coming out of meditation. It was a strange kind of acknowledgement; riding the tides of the physical realm and all the little details that being alive entailed. Thick lashes brushed against the sharp rise of cheekbone, and silver eyes opened, irises rimmed in pink. The horizon stared back, undisturbed. A thin line where sky met sea. The sensation of limbs became acute. Every muscle made its presence known, and through this peaceful state he was able to control his body intensely. Rising to bare feet, toes etched into the rocky ground and found hold, spreading as the balls of his feet took measured balance. Ferrin's movement was slow and steady, filled with a kind of grace that would only be brought by such training. With a deep inhale, his right leg outstretched, lifted, and bent at the knee. Thigh aligned horizontally against his body, toes dipped in, lowered, and found hold in the very edge of the cliff. Wind pressed into his form and he measured the velocity. Exhale. Air leaked past parted lips, and he rotated, lifting his left leg to steady the entirety of his weight on the right. The wind was against his back, the sea behind him. Ferrin leaned into it just enough to retain balance, left arm lowering and bending at the elbow to turn his palm upward. As he did this, his right arm drew up and out, extended fully. Slowly, he switched positions with his limbs, alternating between different poses and feeling the shifts in his body. An hour passed, then two. Minutes spun and with them he moved faster, steadily training his body for agility, speed, and stamina. It was not until the sun had risen to the center of the sky that he stopped, sweat dripping from his brow and slicking his torso. While Ferrin knew he could not cease his training for the day as of yet, he was aware when it was time to stop pushing and rest. The Akalak lowered himself to a sitting position, legs sprawled out, and he began some casual stretching. Just enough to loosen up. The acrobatics of balance training offered a good deal of stretching as it was. His chin rose and Ferrin looked toward the horizon once more. No change, no movement. There it remained, and always would, steady and endless. In a way he envied that sacred line of sea and sky, but the positives of having movement and the capacity for unknown adventure always rivaled the comfort of immobility. Thought drifted like the ebbing tides below, and he came upon the memories of his father. Incompetent, he'd been labeled by Ferrin's grandfather. The man had only produced one child, and that child was smaller and less prestigious than the few others he'd grown up with. Had Carrin, Ferrin's father, created another son, he surely would have cast out or destroyed his first. The young Akalak wouldn't have held it against him. He assumed he'd probably have done the same. It was their way. But Ferrin was here to stay, and since the passing of his father, he'd come to realize that he would be forced to carve a name for himself. His training had gotten to be constant. Every day, as often as possible, he would train in isolation, preparing his body for the battles that would come. Vengeance over the many he'd failed. Strength and brute force were not with him, and he knew this. He did not have the massive physique needed to rely purely on muscle, and so he found himself turning to what he did have. Speed, agility, flexibility. Smaller stature gave for a higher degree of limber, and his stamina was impressive. These things he trained, focused heavily on. In the end, it would serve a purpose. In the end, everything would be made to change. He would have his freedom. His escape from it all. A tight-lipped smirk drew over his lips as the murmur of the Beast crept through, tainting his conscious. One day we'll slaughter all those that have condescended us. All those who have questioned the greatness we are capable of. One day, blood will flood the streets and splatter the walls, and we will stand in reign amidst the carnage. It wasn't too often that the Beast crept out, let alone that he would listen. Both souls existed in a strange kind of bond, but Ferrin was constantly battling the darkness in his heart. It was not so much that he cared whether there would be mass destruction brought. He had no ties, no connection or emotional attachments to anyone. Such things did not exist in his world, nor was there the need for them. More so, he didn't think he could trust it, and the young Akalak was not inclined to allow such an unruly thing destroy him. He wasn't ready. But that would change soon enough.

[Ferrin]

Day 13, Fall, 510 AV The night had been spent outdoors. An endless sea of stars stared down on the dark skinned figure, squat with his back to the city. He had made his way down and to the very edge of a rocky, empty beach, salty water lapping gently against bare toes. They stuck into the sand, numbed by the cold of the sea. Eyes stared out vacantly. The horizon could not be seen in such darkness, but he knew it was there, and that soon enough the milky orb of the full moon would sink beneath its depths. Day into night, night into day. So little ever really changed. Lights flickered above, candles put out as people crawled into their beds. Warmth. It was little more than an illusion. A weakness of the mind, expecting the body was incapable of handling itself. He had blood, veins and a strong heart. He could warm himself. Rarely did Ferrin feel the chill of cold air, and he so easily slipped into those deep, untraceable corners of his mind, detaching from the flesh with very little attempt. Withdrawing was his specialty. For the most part, the day had consisted of rigorous training, broken only by moments of required rest and stretching. He had to return to town once to refill his waterskin, but the majority of his time was spent, as usual, alone. It was easier this way, and the peace of the night offered some sense of forlorn solitude. The swell of distant anguish so constant in his chest was being steadily devoured by bitter hate. Fingers dug into grains, slipping across seashells and various ocean debris now buried along the shore. How long would it take to burn down a city made of rock and water? Shall we find out? Oh, can you imagine the voices? Can you imagine the music of their screams, united as they cry for a hero? But none are worthy, Ferrin. None are worthy of our saving. The silhouette of a figure rose, dark form blended into the night. Footsteps in the sand followed in wake as the young Akalak moved, silently approaching a large boulder. Somewhere in the distance, people were laughing. Do they see you? Are they mocking us? Will you take it, Ferrin? Will you keep on taking it? Fingertips traversed the porous surface of the boulder. He contemplated the weight. How sharp those little ridges and edges might be. Metallic silver eyes reflected moonlight, cast briefly towards the city of Riverfall. They're laughing at you, Ferrin. Always laughing. Nails scraped stone, growing all the more ragged and dirty. Always filthy. People often remarked on how dirty he was. So without prestige. So lacking in honor. Dirty, filthy, ugly thing. Ugly little Ferrin, small and useless rat. Eyes closed, opened, and turned back to the boulder that stood in stoic silence beside him. He knelt down, arms open to slide around the heavy object. Muscles bulged, straining, and shot nerves screamed their displeasure. A grunt heaved through lungs, and the boulder lurched. Should have known better. Should have seen it coming. They're laughing at us, Ferrin. They're always laughing. Sweat rolled down his face, indigo skin flushed violet as blood raced and his heart hammered. Biceps spasmed. The boulder shifted, rising slowly as the Akalak peeled it from the earth. Lifted. Rose it above his head to rest the weight against his shoulderblades, head lowered and features veiled by a curtain of black hair. One step, two. Just breathe. There you go, keep it steady. Feel it, the sharp bite if rock cutting into your skin? Feel it. Yes. Thunderheads crackled above, relinquishing fat stores of rain. It was cool on his body, washing away dirt and sweat and dried, caked blood. Up the beaten path he traveled, boulder on shoulders and looking much like some twisted version of Atlas. Up he went, and for the rest of the evening Ferrin made his way to the top of the cliffs, one shaken step at a time. When the morning came and with it the sun, he lay strewn across the dusty ground, high on the overlook where he'd trained the day before. Lashes fluttered as dreams melded together, and beside his body the boulder rested, a testament of sheer will.

[Ferrin]

Day 13, Fall, 510 AV It was nearly mid-day before he woke, groggy and sore. Tired muscles made their complaints as the Akalak dragged himself into the city, fetching food and fresh water. It wasn't long before he was trudging back up the steep path, small sack of food dropped atop the most table-like structure of rock that he could find. Gut filled and thirst quenched, training would resume. Meditation started things off, and Ferrin reclaimed his favorite perch and seated himself. The days before he had taken to the relatively simple and easy lotus pose; something he had seen his father do. Today he would try a variation. While Ferrin did not know a great deal regarding meditation, he was lucky to be so capable of disconnecting himself and it helped immensely. Now sitting, his right leg was carefully, slowly brought over his left thigh, followed by moving his left leg to rest on his right thigh. Hamstrings were pulled and loosened in this process, muscles stretching and relaxing. With precise and steady breathing, the Akalak drew his torso straight, knees pressed down and brushing the rocky ground beneath him. Wrists moved to rest on either knee, arms stretched and shoulders forward. Each first finger met thumb, and his chest rose with a deep breath. Eyes closed, and Ferrin began the process of clearing his mind. Senses slowly tuned out the sounds of water rushing nearby. The squawk of birds overhead faded from awareness, and as the minutes rolled by, all he began to hear was his own breathing. The smooth rhythm of lungs expanding, releasing, and filling once more. The brush of warm air as it slipped out again and again. Distractions ceased to exist, as if the outside world took to a sudden, quiet calm. It was in the darkness and solitude of his own mind that things really began. Deep within there rose the prickle of a sensation. Feelings of isolation, of guilt, shame, and responsibility. The negative feelings which so often ruled his actions, coming to the forefront of Ferrin's mind. It was on these he focused, analyzing, contemplating their meanings and why they existed as they did. He knew the negativity could be damaging, yet in the same token it was somehow a valuable resource. Seeping through there followed a need. It was a powerful urge; the desperate desire to become more. To do more, to be something great. Something that would not be forgotten. Something that could be proud. This small light of hope he focused on intently, bringing it up, rising it and empowering it. As time passed and hours molded together, the Akalak concentrated, thickening his perseverance and belief in what he might become. The ability to enable himself was strengthened by the silk-tongued whispers of the Beast, pleased and satisfied and somehow calmed by these quiet moments on the cliff. The two souls twined, hidden in the privacy of solace and content in each other's company. No words, no thoughts were needed. It was about senses. Connection. It was, in some way, animal. Like this, Ferrin sat for a number of hours, until the late afternoon began to shift into dusk. When he finally returned to full awareness and stretched out, there was little time left for other exercises. Might as well make the best use of it. Feet risen with toes against the top of a two-foot tall rock, he began a series of elevated push-ups, spine straight and hands forming the notorious diamond shape that allowed for as much of a work-out as possible. He had learned that in doing elevated push-ups, less repetitions would be needed than with your average set of push-ups, which gave more time to do other things. Ferrin wasn't the sort to count. He pushed his body until his arms were on fire and his body could not retain the straight-backed hold. Resting, he drank some water, stretched, and sought out a baseball sized rock from the nearby path. It was firm and relatively round, about the size of his own fist. It would work perfectly. A gaze was cast towards the glaring horizon, now ignited in the oranges and reds of the setting sun. The sea tossed foamy waves, their tops glittering the reflection of astral fire. Fingers tightened around his rock, and Ferrin returned to his training spot. There was still a bit of time left, and he would not waste the day. He would train harder, fight longer, become greater than those below, nestled so happily in the city he'd grown up in.

[Ferrin]

Day 13, Fall, 510 AV The rock was quite round and perfectly suited the need. He had placed it on the firm ground and after a bit of awkward steadying, found his balance with one foot atop it and the other hovering beside him. His entire weight rested on the rock, and he had to shift his body multiple times to regain balance, less he fail and step off. Once Ferrin had done this, he eyed the weathered rise of stone before him. The rain had brought much water, and fat droplets fell from above as they collected on edges and rolled out of crevices. These, the Akalak focused on. The concept was simple. The act was not, and surely the image of him training as he did might have been a bit unusual. Perhaps more than just a bit. While maintaining his balance, which was not an easy thing to do, Ferrin outstretched his hands with the fingers closed and straight. For every drop of water that fell, he swiped at it, aiming to cut them in half. He hadn't yet the skill to do this, and though he could be impatient with a number of things, the young male took a great deal of time in refocusing both his balance and his hits. There was no rhythm, no steady pace of the falling drops as they plummeted down and to his awaiting strikes. Ferrin had to rely primarily on reaction and speed. He managed to hit a few, though missed the majority. After a few minutes his hits steadily began to increase, and within an hour he was making half. Another hour, and he'd only fallen off his rock three times total. There would be a day, he knew, that he would shatter each drop. That he would not fall, and he would have the sight to see those droplets halve before him. But that time would not come soon. The day was already faded away and night was coming in close, darkness swallowing away the last of the light. Tired, filthy, and strained, when the stars came into clear view, Ferrin retreated back to town to find food and shelter. He was dirty as always and covered in nicks, and his face bore the long, taut features of a man who was too worn for his age. The few who remained in the marketplace during the late hours avoided him as if he might be some sort of contagious sewer rat, and the Akalak preferred it that way. He ate, drank, and returned to his little camp on the high cliffs, prepared to sleep off the evening and hopefully avoid the terrors of dreams.

[Baku]

Thou has written, and thou has completed, so I award thee the following.... Ferrin: +2 Meditation, +2 Acrobatics, +2 Observation, +3 Hand to Hand, +1 Body Building, Lore: The Practice of Meditation, The Sounds of the Bluevein and Great Waterfall, The Sensations of Coming Out of Meditation, Learning Balance, Stretching, The Beasts Ambitions, The Riverfall Shore at Night, Resisting The Beast’s Influence, Taking a New Approach to Meditation, Feel the Burn, Determination to Become Better, Rain Really Does Make Things Slippery, The Speed of Hitting Raindrops, Additional Notes: An interesting training thread, you can feel the dedication that your character is putting into the training through your writing.