Testing, 1-2-3...

Heh heh heh, that looks like the "Hey, baby. How YOU doin'?" smile.

Heh heh, I went into guilt trip mode last time she left, just after I said she had a big butt.

Toromin Doanshar

Hopefully I'll be able to get back to RP in the not-too-distant future. :)

And it's always frustrating to take a stick of memory from an older computer and put it into a new one and start getting random lockups and reboots that you can't figure out.

You can't even stick different chips with the same speed (e.g., PC2100) into a computer if they end up having different timings or what-not.  Best bet just always seems to be to only use memory chips together if they're the exact same brand and model number.

Pain in the rear! >:(

Smug, drunk, either/or.  ;D

Ooh, points?!

*trails a finger up Nyny's spine* I could reeeeally go for some points.

*taps her under the chin* Too bad you can't give me any! *grins and winks and walks away*

Support is highly overrated.

Space and freedom is where it's at. ;D

Heh, we have a camera at work that does that to more than half the pictures you try to take with it.

Cool pic, Jell! Long bangs. :P

*laugh*

Pics are really cool, but not if they get you in trouble and kicked off teh internets.

I know, I kept looking over my sentences and trying so hard to remember what words were supposed to have accents. It's been way too long. *laugh*

Buen viaje! Yo sé que aprenderás mucho del Español... tal vez demasiado! ;D

Si aprendes chistes verdes, debe olvidarlos antes de volver a DM. :P

Wow, I remember far too much for having graduated high school in '95. *laugh*

Jelly, don't you know that punctuation is overrated? Who here thinks punctuation is necessary... show of hands?

When you can't get 'em to civilise themselves, do it for them! *laugh*

Awesome pup, Mog! ;D Looks very friendly.

Character Name: Toromin Doan'shar

Rank: Trainee

Bondmate: None

WS: 1

Character Number (in this division only): 1

Pretty much absent from RP, though, I know. Haven't had the brain power left for RPing since work intensity picked up a while back.

Welcome back! Hope you had a good chance to relax away life's troubles.

I played rock. Rock crushes scissors. Ha!

And then there are those of us who shave in the morning and could use it again after lunch. *shakefist*

Mine tends to only grow as a goatee, though. Nothing on the cheeks.

Boobalicious, Nyny! *nodnod*

Friendly-looking pups.

You should have gotten them to chase away the wasp!

Bad day looks familiar. What is that, Ninja Scroll?

Out of curiosity, what Dragon Quest game are you playing? Something on the DS?

Yeah, if I recall correctly, the person who started that thread (Andrea) isn't RPing here anymore, unfortunately.

I'm new myself, but I'm sure I'll see you around the Warders Yard!

Pleasure to make your acquaintance.

Toromin followed the Mistress of Trainees out the door, making sure she wasn't looking back as he noted how... really fit she was. He was young and in perfectly good shape, but her body looked strong and nimble from years of training and exercise. The young man turned his eyes down to where her feet met the ground in a quick and steady rhythm, hardly kicking up any dirt as she ran, sure and confident with every step in her gait.

He kept up with her for several laps, trying but failing to keep from breathing hard, and when she turned away from the path they had been setting, he started to slow to follow. A sharp look from the Warder set his feet right back up to moving, though, and he fought the urge to look back around at her as he rounded the bend. I wonder what she thinks of me, he found himself thinking. A real Warder, of the White Tower... Light, I'm actually here!

The comforting burn of exertion in his thighs encouraged the lad, and he took the opportunity to really examine the grounds as he ran. The White Tower absorbed the vast majority of his attention whenever he faced it along the circuit, but there was plenty to see the rest of the time as well. He wasn't alone in the Yard, though he didn't yet know anyone else. Few bothered to glance in his direction, and he decided it must be a regular thing to see trainees running laps.

<hr>

It wasn't too long before that "comforting burn" began to progress into an ache, and Toromin tried to ignore it. It wouldn't go away, though. He had done plenty of running, of course, what youth didn't? But this was far faster than he had run for any real length of time. This wasn't an endurance pace... it was practically a sprint!

He realized he had slowed down a little from when the Mistress of Trainees had been with him. What was her name again? ... T... Thera. My first day, and I'm almost forgetting names. I really need to learn to commit names to memory now. So many more people to meet than the ones I grew up around back home. Light, am I missing home already? I've only just arrived! It's nearly a month since I left, though... The aching burn brought him back out of his thoughts, and he angrily pushed it aside.

He tried to make his legs move faster, to return to the fast running speed from when he started, but his legs wouldn't hear of it. He still wasn't moving slowly, but he wasn't sprinting anymore. More than a jog, of course, but still just this side of running. He allowed himself to slow to little more than a jog for just a few seconds until the burning subsided, then resumed the run. That was better. That's all it took? I can do this. Only 68 laps to go... Oh, Light, is that all I've done? His feet didn't falter, but a wave of dismay washed over him. He was still running, but that heat in his legs was building again. How could he possibly keep this up for as long as it would take to finish? I'll just have to try.

<hr>

His breathing was more labored by now, and the burn in his legs had returned, joined with an uncomfortable warmth in his ankles and calves. He willed it to the back of his mind again, and tried to remember what had taken his mind off of it last time. Tar Valon... he grinned despite the discomfort in his lower body. I'm actually in Tar Valon. The city of dreams, around since the Breaking of the World, glittering in sun or moonlight, impervious to attack, home of the most powerful people in the world, the Aes Sedai. And the Warders. And I'm going to BE a Warder. A strong and handsome and brilliant and graceful--

His foot caught in a shallow depression in the dirt, and his arms windmilled as he shifted quickly to regain his balance. He gained chaotic speed and momentum momentarily as he leaned down into the trip, then shifted his weight upwards and back to get back into control. He had learned that trick as a boy, and it seemed to work even better now that his body was more mature and his center of gravity was easier to gauge and manipulate.

He slowly brought himself up short, holding his throbbing right foot in front of him and wishing he could get away with taking his boot off, but if the Mistress were to see that, he'd be in trouble for sure. He wasn't sure what trouble would be for a trainee in the Warders, but he was not going to find out, sure as the sun was-- Well, the sun was down now, but when it was up during the day, it was yellow.

He slapped a hand roughly on a fence post beside him in mild anger, and jerked it back up in pained shock, waving his hand and hopping on a foot, sucking in a breath and wanting to scream in frustration at the splinter in his palm and ache in his toes. He relaxed into rocking the foot at the knee like a fast-moving pendulum while using a fingernail to push the splinter back out of his hand. Three of them, in fact. The rest of the fence posts looked smooth enough, why did this one have to have splinters?

He had taught himself a few other tricks while playing as a lad. That chaotic speed and momentum he had experienced by accident this time could be summoned at will if he needed an inhuman burst of speed, but it was dangerous as well. The legs could not completely keep up with the body in that state of constant near-falling, and it could be kept up only so long before each step became a labored exercise in balance and coordination. A single misstep at that speed and bodily angle could result in a broken leg or knee, or worse if running downhill. But the few times he had tried it in races with his friends had left them wide-eyed in disbelief. Once one of them even joked that he had been cheating somehow, but it was only a joke. He was pretty sure, anyway.

Toromin had almost broken his neck one day fall-running down a hill while alone. He only ever practiced his tricks while alone, worried that his friends would make fun of him or think he was trying to show off, or would tell his parents and get him into major trouble. Almost broken his neck, and gotten a rough but very effective first lesson in tumbling. He hadn't practiced that trick very much, though. Tumbling got him dirty and sometimes bruised, and both were rather difficult to explain at the supper table.

A sudden noise echoing off the inner wall of the Warders Yard yanked the young man out of his reverie, and he sped back off into his laps. It didn't sound like a sound that had been directed at him. He certainly hoped his little break hadn't been noticed.

<hr>

It was far too short a time before the heat built back up in his legs, and turned into a burning pain again. He really couldn't keep up a very quick pace to make 100 laps. It just couldn't be done. The burning in his chest that he almost hadn't noticed over that of his legs began to compete with his legs now, and the young man had no choice but to slow it down a little. If she catches me, she'll think I'm weak, but it hurts... I'll just have to hope it's good enough.

The sun had long vanished over the horizon, and moonlight glinted off the occasional smooth bit of dirt or wide blade of grass lying along his running path. If there was a chill in the air, it was completely undetectable to the boy drenched in sweat... and dust... and pain. He alternated between a halfway decent run, and a determined regenerating jog. At first the runs lasted longer than the jogs, but soon they were half and half. With twenty-five laps left to go, the jogging was in danger of outweighing the running.

<hr>

As he jogged to try to regain some strength and at least slightly relieve the fire in his muscles, the young man looked over at one of the gates into the Tower grounds and saw a Tower Guard who had apparently just come through, looking his direction. He couldn't see the Guard's face in the dim moonlight and at this distance, but Toromin got the impression he was easily recognized as a new trainee.

To the boy's shock and dismay, the Guard started purposefully toward him, smoothly and dangerously as a wolf approaching a fox that had encroached on its territory. Fear of trouble knocked fatigue aside and Toromin leaped back into a run, rounding away from the approaching Guard. He didn't look over his shoulder, but as he rounded the next two turns, the Guard came back into the young man's view, and he was relieved to see the Guard simply standing and watching. After a full lap with only a slight decrease in speed in an effort to pace himself, relief washed over the boy again as the Guard nodded with satisfaction and retreated in a different direction.

He couldn't help it, though. Once he appeared to be unwatched in the grounds again, Toromin resumed the alteration between jogging and running. No amount of fear of punishment could spur his legs any more. He was utterly spent. Only ten laps to go, and the young man didn't see how he could possibly finish it. He was barely more than walking at this point, and felt ready to fall face-first into the dirt and die. Just let his arms and legs turn to jelly... and die. He kept moving, though. He didn't know how, but he kept moving.

<hr>

He gave the fence post that had splintered him a swift kick as he jogged by it again, and quietly cursed at himself for forgetting that was the foot he had stubbed. Hopping for a few steps, he then shook his head at himself, considering it a lesson learned in expressing frustration through violence. It wasn't the way he had been brought up, anyway, lashing out like that. Or cursing, for that matter, he noted with disappointment in himself. Mum and Da were too good for that, and I am, too.

Thinking of home made his heart ache, and he almost lost the will to go on. His little sister, Maddie, grinned and waved to him from a chair in front of the fireplace back home in Whitebridge, holding a book up for him to read to her. Light, he missed Maddie. He missed his mother and father, too, and his bed. Light! He missed his bed! A soft pillow beneath his head... the sound of crickets outside his window... He was walking now, and suddenly kicked a foot forward to resume his run, furious with himself.

He looked around to see if he had been noticed, if he was in trouble, and realized with a small start of surprise that he had completed another two laps even in his daydreaming. As he passed the point where he and the Mistress of Trainees had started the run a thousand years ago (or so his feet told him), he felt a bitter mixture of ecstasy and agony. He was only three laps away now... just three to go, but he wasn't going to make it.

He shoved the thought out of his mind, but he had no strength to fight it. He fell to his hands and knees in the dirt, heaving gulps of hot, dusty, dry air. His whole body was on fire, from his toenails to each and every hair on his head. His arms and legs wobbled like willow stalks as they tried desperately to hold him up. His rear end fell back onto his heels, and even that hurt. He couldn't stand right now if someone held out a hand and helped him.

He sat there for several long moments, watching in delirious fascination as drops of what sweat remained to come out of him merged into tiny little puddles in the ground beneath his enflamed face. He idly wondered whether it might help ease the pain to drop his face into those little puddles, but the pain in his hands warned him that the dirt would sting too much. He thought he heard a voice behind him, too low and too far away to be directed at him. He could hardly be brought to care that it meant someone else was there to see him.

Toromin chuckled wryly to himself. Maybe they wouldn't see him. It was dark enough here at night. There were no torches lit where he was running here, though he wasn't in the shadow of the Tower where he would really be close to invisible. He let his lungs cool for a few seconds longer... just a few seconds more... just a little more. The pain started to recede. With the pain lessening, however, he could feel the other feeling taking its place. Tired. So tired. Never been so tired. Never half so tired. I could sleep right here. I wouldn't even have to lie down. Just like this... The young man's arms wobbled weakly beneath him, and he knew that part wasn't true, at least.

Stubbornly he firmed his arm muscles. They weren't quite so bad as his legs, at least. There was something left in them. He testingly pushed with them, but didn't get very far. Something, but not much. He leaned a little forward, and groaned as the weight of his body rocked forward off his heels. Light, his feet hurt. Everything hurt. Pain was all there was in the world now. Pain... and tired.

He was back on his hands and knees again, though, and that gave him hope for one last thing. He wouldn't dare call it an effort, because that would imply he could make it, and he knew that wouldn't happen, but he leaned his body forward and let his right hand drag forward along the ground. Four inches. He had moved four inches forward. It hurt, though, dragging the hand through the coarse dirt. He stifled another groan as he lifted his right knee ever so slightly off the ground and did the same with his left hand. Before they could fall back down, he rocked them forward. A foot. An entire foot. He had moved an entire foot forward just now.

Step by stubborn step, he crawled like a dog around the path. His cheeks burned in shame, but every time he tried to stiffen his legs to stand, they wobbled and he fell down again. All the way around, he crawled... for three entire circuits, until there were only a few steps left to go. He stopped at that sight, the sight of the finish. His body involuntarily tried to lean back onto his feet again, but he angrily brought that to a halt. Not that. I won't get up from that. He stared for a moment, and in a final defiant action, thrust his shoulders up along with a knee. He was kneeling now. He had graduated to a kneel. If I can kneel... he thought...

Toromin tried to push the other leg up, but it wouldn't give him any hope. He dropped his hand to the ground beside him, braced himself, and pushed down on the dirt while pulling up with his knee. The leg moved under him alongside its twin, and he hurriedly thrust both feet down against the ground as though he were trying to move the very Earth. He rose.

He wobbled. He came a hair's breadth from falling onto his back... then he stood. He wavered, but he stood. He leaned ever so slightly forward, and a leg moved forward to catch him. A step. That was a step! And he had walked it! It held him, barely, and he leaned forward again while lifting the other foot off the ground. Seemingly of its own free will, it swung forward and hit solid ground. Another step. Ten more steps his feet miraculously gave to him, and he was done. One hundred laps. He looked to the doorway of Thera's office, light streaming out from inside, and his heart sank. So far away... and he knew he couldn't get there.

He tried to take another step, and closed his eyes as he felt himself start to fall. He waited for a sickening crack upon meeting the ground like a clenched fist, but instead felt a completely different sensation. He winced as his shoulders clenched up in pain, and couldn't open his eyes to see what was going on. He felt... lighter, though... like he was floating on a cloud. Light, if he had been this light during his run, he could have finished two hundred laps! Why did it have to come so late?

The young man shook his head to clear away the fog, barely feeling his legs moving under him as he moved forward, and managed to get his eyes open in time to see Thera's office in front of him. Suddenly his full body weight came crashing back to him, and he leaned against the doorway, at least gratified to feel the strange pain in his shoulders subsiding. Something made him turn his head around to try to look beside and behind him, and he thought he caught the glimpse of a pair of boots disappearing into night darkness. The sound of a knife hitting a pewter plate brought his head back around again, and he blinked against the lamp light as he tried to focus his eyes through the doorway into the office.

He felt he should be saying something, but his throat was as dry as a desert, and his mouth could only hang loosely open while he labored to keep his lungs with breath. He simply stood, or leaned rather, waiting to see whether he would die first or the world would end. Light help him, but he thought he could smell food...