06-29-2017, 07:27 AM
It took almost an entire day for the pyre to burn out. Even before the flames died to heated cinders, the pit was full once again. Training resumed, now with far greater gusto. Joric was in the pit with the rest of the gang, using meaty fists to clobber his comrades with non-lethal, pride-hammering punches. Normally, Ban would be dealing the damage, and he would just play defensively.
Tears rolled down his cheeks as he knocked friend and foe alike to the ground. He had to get stronger. Fists hammered at his back and chest, legs kicked at his own. He felt numb to their pain. Though he was brought to his knee once or twice, he stood back up and paid back the damage dealt twofold. In the distance, he heard General Boar shout the time left, but he did not care.
Punch, kick, punch, kick, that is all he knew at the moment. He fought hard. He fought like he wished he had fought against the swordsman. He fought for retribution, penance and self-loathing all at the same time. It did not register that these were his friends he sent to the ground. The fact that he was wading through knee-deep piles of groaning allies meant nothing to his pain-filled depression.
His best friend was dead, and it was Joric's fault. He had been too weak, too pathetic to fight then. That had to change. He had to change. Joric could not hide behind Ban's lust for glory any longer. He had to be not only a shield, but a sword too, if he wanted this Takezo to pay for the murders. Even of Joric died, he would make sure Takezo went down with him.
"Time's up!" The thundering voice of the giant were-boar broke into Joric's mind for the first time. He heard the crunch of cloven feat as the man-beast leaps down into the pit. He slowly became aware of the surroundings. Only five people, including himself, still stood. The other four were glaring at him. Most of the unconscious bodies were littered around his feet.
Stepping into clear ground, Joric joined the others in a line. This was the final test of the Boar-Pit Challenge. The giant among them started at one end of the line. "Three... Two... One..." A mighty fist punishes the first in the line with a heavy blow to the gut. He stood for a moment... then fell to his knees. "Maybe next time." A pat on the shoulder as an apology, then the were-boar moved to the second in the line.
This continued. The second man managed to stay on his feet, but after a couple of seconds the pain had him vomit up his breakfast. "I'm going to let you pass this time. Good job. Go sit down." It used to be odd how the massive man could be so cruel, then so comforting to his gang. Then again, the Boar-Pit was not exactly an evil-doer type gang. Rough. Misguided, maybe. Spiteful of primes had to be the biggest reason the Boar-Pit existed.
The third man did not stay on his feet for long at all. He was unconscious before he hit the ground. "Hmm. Took it like a man, at least." General Boar turned to one of the conscious men not in line. "Take this one to the bench. The new guy is going to need an ice pack."
The fourth man, right next to Joric, did not even flinch at the heavy impact. As usual. "Abs of steel, Marcus. Go inform the cooks we will be eating early today." The man nodded before dashing off. So full of energy, with such a powerful body it was still odd to see the man pulling a pair of glasses out of his pocket.
The giant toward over Joric next. General Boar smirked at the rotund man. "Well, Well... I never thought you'd stand here. Not that I doubted you, my boy..." the gravelly baritone was sincere in his surprise. "I guess without helping Ban to the line, you thought he'd want you here." Without the count down, a giant fist sank into the soft gut of the resilient secondary. Joric did not feel the pain he knew he should. He did not even tense for impact or wince when it found him. "I believe so too. No one takes a punch like you, Joric. Marshmellow armor and fists of steel." He patted the man's shoulder.
"You and Marcus are the winners. Help wake the men you knocked out... then have everyone come to the mess hall for lunch." The were-boar flexed his hand for a moment. "If you ever lost that weight, I think you'd break my wrist." The baritone chuckle that followed was infectious. It even brought Joric out of his mood for a brief moment.
For a moment, he almost forgot that they were preparing for a war...
Tears rolled down his cheeks as he knocked friend and foe alike to the ground. He had to get stronger. Fists hammered at his back and chest, legs kicked at his own. He felt numb to their pain. Though he was brought to his knee once or twice, he stood back up and paid back the damage dealt twofold. In the distance, he heard General Boar shout the time left, but he did not care.
Punch, kick, punch, kick, that is all he knew at the moment. He fought hard. He fought like he wished he had fought against the swordsman. He fought for retribution, penance and self-loathing all at the same time. It did not register that these were his friends he sent to the ground. The fact that he was wading through knee-deep piles of groaning allies meant nothing to his pain-filled depression.
His best friend was dead, and it was Joric's fault. He had been too weak, too pathetic to fight then. That had to change. He had to change. Joric could not hide behind Ban's lust for glory any longer. He had to be not only a shield, but a sword too, if he wanted this Takezo to pay for the murders. Even of Joric died, he would make sure Takezo went down with him.
"Time's up!" The thundering voice of the giant were-boar broke into Joric's mind for the first time. He heard the crunch of cloven feat as the man-beast leaps down into the pit. He slowly became aware of the surroundings. Only five people, including himself, still stood. The other four were glaring at him. Most of the unconscious bodies were littered around his feet.
Stepping into clear ground, Joric joined the others in a line. This was the final test of the Boar-Pit Challenge. The giant among them started at one end of the line. "Three... Two... One..." A mighty fist punishes the first in the line with a heavy blow to the gut. He stood for a moment... then fell to his knees. "Maybe next time." A pat on the shoulder as an apology, then the were-boar moved to the second in the line.
This continued. The second man managed to stay on his feet, but after a couple of seconds the pain had him vomit up his breakfast. "I'm going to let you pass this time. Good job. Go sit down." It used to be odd how the massive man could be so cruel, then so comforting to his gang. Then again, the Boar-Pit was not exactly an evil-doer type gang. Rough. Misguided, maybe. Spiteful of primes had to be the biggest reason the Boar-Pit existed.
The third man did not stay on his feet for long at all. He was unconscious before he hit the ground. "Hmm. Took it like a man, at least." General Boar turned to one of the conscious men not in line. "Take this one to the bench. The new guy is going to need an ice pack."
The fourth man, right next to Joric, did not even flinch at the heavy impact. As usual. "Abs of steel, Marcus. Go inform the cooks we will be eating early today." The man nodded before dashing off. So full of energy, with such a powerful body it was still odd to see the man pulling a pair of glasses out of his pocket.
The giant toward over Joric next. General Boar smirked at the rotund man. "Well, Well... I never thought you'd stand here. Not that I doubted you, my boy..." the gravelly baritone was sincere in his surprise. "I guess without helping Ban to the line, you thought he'd want you here." Without the count down, a giant fist sank into the soft gut of the resilient secondary. Joric did not feel the pain he knew he should. He did not even tense for impact or wince when it found him. "I believe so too. No one takes a punch like you, Joric. Marshmellow armor and fists of steel." He patted the man's shoulder.
"You and Marcus are the winners. Help wake the men you knocked out... then have everyone come to the mess hall for lunch." The were-boar flexed his hand for a moment. "If you ever lost that weight, I think you'd break my wrist." The baritone chuckle that followed was infectious. It even brought Joric out of his mood for a brief moment.
For a moment, he almost forgot that they were preparing for a war...