Xandyn's Training

## Session 1: Stamina

With step after step, his feet beat against the rugged ground beneath him, carrying him further and further towards his goal. He felt he was getting winded far too easily recently and decided that blowing it off would probably come back to bite him in the ass, so he was quick to work on making up for his lack of consistence. He had very little to use as training for this specific purpose, so he chose to make the village wall his course, figuring a single lap around it was a pretty good distance. "Four," he remarked as he passed the gates once more, his muscles a little tired and worn but far from giving out just yet. He thought of how easy it was to get lost in the motion, just letting his body carry him, enjoying what sights he could take in before he got bored of seeing them over and over. Each time he turned the corner that led him in front of the gate for another pass, he wondered if there might be another person coming or leaving he could chance running into, but none yet had done either. ". . .Five. . ." His feet left the stone of the pathway in front for the ground once more, starting to notice a trend in his pathing. Each time he'd pass a corner, he'd bow out slightly so he could cut in and run faster past the next. It was starting to show as the ground wore away at his relentless pursuit, muscles growing more and more strained, heart pumping faster, the surge of oxygen to his body urging him to press on. "Six." He was getting a little slower and he could tell pretty easily at this point, knowing he might gas out before he hit ten laps, which made him curse his weakness momentarily before shaking the thought out of his head like it left a bad taste in his mouth. He let what chakra he had left in his pool flow throughout his body, knowing well he was gonna be setting himself up for complete collapse, but nonetheless he carried on. ". . .Seven." He felt his legs quiver and tremble as though they themselves wished he would just give up right then and there, but his willpower wouldn't allow it. He was getting closer and closer to a regular stride at this point, barely faster than jogging, and his chest was stinging in pain with every breath he took. His feet were stomping the ground in by the time he came to a halt and fell face first on the ground, flipping over and breathing in the harsh air like it was the only thing still tying him to this world. His eyes were focused intently ahead of him, his adrenaline still rushing through his aching body and near useless legs, and rather than gathering himself up, he began to slowly, bit by agonizingly slow bit, crawl his way the rest of the lap. It took up an incredibly longer amount of time for him to finish, but as he crossed the gate, he looked up to the village with consideration and a heaviness in his eyes. His gaze dropped to the ground before him, before he perked up and stared at the end of the wall waiting for him. ". . .One," he noted, and began to crawl again. . .

The next day, he got a little inspired to go for a round of shadow boxing to help him keep up his speed and versatility in hand to hand combat, knowing that having the extra edge to land one more good punch could mean all the difference. With the sun setting against his body, he took up an orthodox stance and focused on the head of his shadow displayed upon the wall. He started off just delivering a jab followed by a straight, then a duck and weave to the left and back again to the right, continuing this basic repetition for one hundred swings of each punch. After he hit his mark, he threw the basic combo again, but as he wove, he would add a hook and bob back the other way, flowing fluidly from one punch to the other without pause. 'Jab, straight, hook, hook,' the mantra being chanted in his head over and over again for each go. After a while of chaining his strikes together and working on his movement, he took a second to stretch his legs and plop on the ground, enjoying a quick breather before he took it to the next level.

Standing up from his brief respite, he brushed off the front of his pants and got ready to work his legs. He circled a half-moon back with his back leg, his front slightly bent, with one arm crossed behind his back and the other palm-facing-up, extended in front of him. With a powerful jump forward, he delivered a front snap kick with his leading leg, twisting his body and bringing his back leg swinging around in a violent crescent, landing with the leg still extended and pivoting on his grounded foot, beginning to twist around and deliver a sweep, followed by another back spinning roundhouse, punctuated by a final split, raising his leg to the sky and dropping it to the ground in a devastating axe kick. Removing the foot he practically buried in the ground, he lept again into the air, raising his knee high, the image in his mind of his knee crashing into someone's jaw and shattering it to pieces vivid, somersaulting forward while tucking both of his feet, ending his descent by slamming his feet hard into the chest and neck of his imaginary opponent. He took a few steps back to appreciate how little it took for him to make a mess of the ground, chuckling to himself and making a mental note to fix it by the time he was done. "Okay, so my footwork is definitely on par, so to speak. . .let's see how far I can take it." He lifted one leg and stayed in that stance, delivering simple side kicks to the air in repetition long into the night. . .

He awoke bright and early the next morning, recalling his chance encounter as the moon rose last night. A lone farmer had been toting multiple haybails in a rickety looking cart out of the village at an unusual time. At first, he might've felt a little bad for the old man, but the thing that caught his eye was how little this grizzled fellow was struggling to get along with his heavy load. So little, in fact, that he realized soon that there was no struggling at all. Still, he decided to call out to him. "Oi, old timer. . .you need any help with that?" The farmer looked back at him over his shoulder, an obviously disgruntled expression on his face. \*"Who th'hell're ya callin' old, ya little shit? Do I look like I need any help?"\* Xandyn's eye twitched a little before he took a deep breath and responded. "Just thought I'd ask. Take care out there, you hear?" The farmer held his gaze for a few moments then set off, not bothering to wait before speaking out again. \*"If'n ya really wanna help, come out to the stead about five miles from here tomorrow. I got a fuckin' ton of these things lying around and they all need to be sorted into my barn. No pay, no housing, and yer sorry ass will be lucky to get a meal if'n you don't haul ass, ya hear me?"\* Xandyn smiled back at the old man and nodded. "That's a promise." 'Jeez old man, you got quite a mouth on you.' With the thought of the farmer's promise still fresh on his mind, the homestead slowly popped into his view. . .

He wracked his knuckles against the farmer's door, announcing his arrival with a curt "hello" and bowing to him as he opened up the shack. \*"Well, if it ain't the little shitkicker from last night. I can't believe yer belly ain't so yellow as ta turn tail on a promise. Ya ready to get to work boy? It's gonna be a long day, that's fer sure."\* Xandyn simply nodded again to the old man, extending his arm out as inquiry for him to lead the way. When they reached the barn, he nearly doubled over in amazement. By his count, there some one hundred and fifty; no, two hundred haybails, just sitting around here and there, some stacked, some scattered haphazardly. "Damn, you weren't lying old man. . .how the hell. . .well, no use grousing over it. Stand back, I'll have this taken care of in no time." He went over and gripped the bands holding the first bail together, hefting it over his head in one go, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull as the immense weight rested on his back. "The fuck?! These things weigh as much as boulders! HEY OLD MAN, YOU MAKIN' SOME KINDA JOKE OVER HERE??" The farmer glared back at him with a deathly seriousness you wouldn't normally see in the gaze of a simple man of the land. \*"What're you talkin' about son? I thought you were up to the task? The only joke here is you, if'n you ain't start working those noodle arms and moving my stock."\* Xandyn gritted his teeth and stared at the ground, taking one heavy footed step after the other, each taking entirely too long. "God DAMN it. . .what the hell have I gotten myself into?" He silently cursed himself, but he knew deep down this was an incredible opportunity on which he had to capitalize, and so, he began his back-breaking trudge to the barn, his body creaking under the effort, knowing he had so much more in store before the job was done. . .

END SESSION 1.