♅ 34th of Searing, Year 121, A.o.S ♅
Company: N/A| Thoughts: Must get stronger| Mood: Tired, Sore
Company: N/A| Thoughts: Must get stronger| Mood: Tired, Sore
♅ Deep within the gymnasium of Zaichaer, the sounds of light grunting and blunt contact could be heard echoing about. The reverberations of something being hit filled a section of the fitness establishment as the reconciliator was at work, fine-tuning his fighting style. Punches and kicks were thrown with adequate precision as the young man took out some aggression on the poor practice dummy. After several hits and repeated drills, Dreyfus was exhausted from his assault on the fake target.
"Damn, this is far more tiring than I remember" he exclaimed, watching as the sand within the practice dummy shifted back into place after his flurry of hits. He backed away from it for a moment to let her body cool as it was hot to the touch from all the training. Covered in sweat he stretched his body as he was doing things he hadn't had to do in years, and it was if anything a little foreign to his body, evident to the tightness and sore feeling in his muscles.
Looking around he saw the diverse groups of people of Zaichaer, mostly those within the military save for a few of the men and women who chose hard labor jobs for a living, perfecting their talents and forging their bodies. He knew if he was to compete with other warriors of the state he would need to remain in top form. "I guess I need to a quick breather huh?" he panted in his head, going to get a towel, and finding a bench near where he was working out to take a small break.
Sitting there he couldn't help but catch the eye of a few of the individuals present, which made the long-haired man smirk. He didnt like getting attention, but given his own looks, it was bound to happen no matter the venue. Done with his rest, he went back to work. He went back to coordinating his punches and kicks, coming into his own rhythm, with the martial art of his family. Dreyfus began to chain his attacks as he laid into the punching dummy, finding different ways to make combos.
It was a new learning experience for sure, as most of his training was in the bare basics of the different hand and foot styles of the Monteliyet fighting form. He went next to practicing heavily on kick techniques, going through the motions of each one he was familiar with. Kicks, heel slams, knees, all of these things made resonating thuds in the training facility as he practiced. By the time he was done, his hands and feet were throbbing, screaming with soreness.
Feeling the pain simmering under the ruse of soreness Dreyfus flopped onto the ground as he panted, taking in deep gulps of air, feeling his training trunks stick to his thighs as the sweat-soaked into the silk fabric. ♅
"Common Speech"
"Silandris Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"