Post by The Smith on Mar 26, 2008 23:33:05 GMT -5
Jaymes put his book down on the table and stopped reading. Imprisonment was immensely boring. He looked around the room, which was furnished sparsely though with a certain elegance. The floor was wood, with a small carpet on one side next to the bed that sat under the window. The bed was modest itself, though it had a headboard and footboard and a feather mattress. A bookshelf stood against the wall on the opposite side, lined with a few books, most of which Lord Jaymes had read in his own library in Faircastle. There was a small table with two chairs in the middle of the room, as well as a writing desk in the far corn with a quill and parchment and ink, but no sealing wax.
He stood suddenly, knocking over his chair behind him onto the floor. The door lock instantly clicked and two guards leapt into the room, to see Jaymes standing at the table with a chair on the floor behind him. The two men backed out of the room with sheepish impressions on their faces, but had obviously been ordered to guard him very closely. He picked up the chair and placed it in its spot, before lying down on the floor. He rolled onto his back, and began to sit up, and then lay back down over and over. He twisted in various directions to work different muscle groups in his stomach and torso, until he fell back and could not sit up. He rolled over onto his face and began to do push ups. He kept his body straight, though his stomach muscles burned form exertion. He did a hundred before standing up.
Jaymes looked around, but saw nothing from which he could pull himself up, to work his back muscles, so he settled for stretching for almost an hour. The guards had come in, halfway through his stretches, and left a simple meal for him on the table; a loaf of bread and block of cheese, and some cold meat that he identified as venison. They gave him a few looks, and he could hear them laughing amongst themselves as they exited but it did not concern the imprisoned lord. He ate the meal, and washed it down with water that had been brought for him. Still bored, he walked over to his bead, and ran his fingers over one of the wooden slats of the footboard. He gripped it, and pulled until he heard a crack, and then a second crack.
He stumbled backward, as the wooden beam about three feet long, two inches thick, and several inches across came away in his hands. One end was slightly tapered, where it had broken unevenly, so he could get his hands around it easily enough, though he received a splinter in his palm for his effort. Jaymes raised it into the air, and chopped downward. The wood was heavy, it weighed almost as much as his wooden training sword that he had made to resemble his true sword made of steel. He sighed wistfully thinking of the blade, presumably sitting in a barracks somewhere in the keep below him.
Jaymes practiced another chop, and another. His strokes were measured and precise, as he adjusted to the weight of his makeshift weapon. He set up the two chairs by placing them atop the table on one side of the room, and practiced charging at the crude mannequin and striking it. He checked all of his blows as to not make sounds of wood striking wood, but he practiced for several hours, until the portion of sky that he could see through his window began to turn pink. He resolved to practice thus daily, so his skills did not go to rust during his captivity.
He walked over to his bed and placed the board back into its original position, and pushed it in. It fit back into place reasonably well, though the crack in the wood was slightly visible. Jaymes lay down on his bed massaged his burning muscles. He was in pain, and exhausted, but he was glad that he had not simply allowed slothfulness to set in. He could remain active, even confined in an area like this, and was glad that he had at least been able to work himself into exhausted; that was far better than doing nothing.
Lord Jaymes Farman increases to Beginner Strength
He stood suddenly, knocking over his chair behind him onto the floor. The door lock instantly clicked and two guards leapt into the room, to see Jaymes standing at the table with a chair on the floor behind him. The two men backed out of the room with sheepish impressions on their faces, but had obviously been ordered to guard him very closely. He picked up the chair and placed it in its spot, before lying down on the floor. He rolled onto his back, and began to sit up, and then lay back down over and over. He twisted in various directions to work different muscle groups in his stomach and torso, until he fell back and could not sit up. He rolled over onto his face and began to do push ups. He kept his body straight, though his stomach muscles burned form exertion. He did a hundred before standing up.
Jaymes looked around, but saw nothing from which he could pull himself up, to work his back muscles, so he settled for stretching for almost an hour. The guards had come in, halfway through his stretches, and left a simple meal for him on the table; a loaf of bread and block of cheese, and some cold meat that he identified as venison. They gave him a few looks, and he could hear them laughing amongst themselves as they exited but it did not concern the imprisoned lord. He ate the meal, and washed it down with water that had been brought for him. Still bored, he walked over to his bead, and ran his fingers over one of the wooden slats of the footboard. He gripped it, and pulled until he heard a crack, and then a second crack.
He stumbled backward, as the wooden beam about three feet long, two inches thick, and several inches across came away in his hands. One end was slightly tapered, where it had broken unevenly, so he could get his hands around it easily enough, though he received a splinter in his palm for his effort. Jaymes raised it into the air, and chopped downward. The wood was heavy, it weighed almost as much as his wooden training sword that he had made to resemble his true sword made of steel. He sighed wistfully thinking of the blade, presumably sitting in a barracks somewhere in the keep below him.
Jaymes practiced another chop, and another. His strokes were measured and precise, as he adjusted to the weight of his makeshift weapon. He set up the two chairs by placing them atop the table on one side of the room, and practiced charging at the crude mannequin and striking it. He checked all of his blows as to not make sounds of wood striking wood, but he practiced for several hours, until the portion of sky that he could see through his window began to turn pink. He resolved to practice thus daily, so his skills did not go to rust during his captivity.
He walked over to his bed and placed the board back into its original position, and pushed it in. It fit back into place reasonably well, though the crack in the wood was slightly visible. Jaymes lay down on his bed massaged his burning muscles. He was in pain, and exhausted, but he was glad that he had not simply allowed slothfulness to set in. He could remain active, even confined in an area like this, and was glad that he had at least been able to work himself into exhausted; that was far better than doing nothing.
Lord Jaymes Farman increases to Beginner Strength