Summer 10, 121
Makt had wanted to improve his physical abilities for quite some time, but had only scratched the surface of doing so. A couple of runs and a couple swings of a dagger was all he could really attest to. But where could he go to learn? He had trained with a warband recently but he wasn't sure if that was really his thing. Learning some punches was nice, but how often did one get into a fist fight? None of his merchant friends had gotten into one either - they had learned to use weapons from family members and were probably only a tiny margin better than Makt was.
It was at this point that Makt finally asked a guard where one might learn the ways of the blade. The guard responded by telling him to head over to a certain longhouse where he would find a number of people that would be happy to spar with him. Makt wasn't so sure if he wanted to get beaten up like a target practice dummy, but it was the only lead he had so far so he decided to bite.
The passage was quite an easy one to find. Makt had always wondered what the road connected to the marketplace could possibly lead to, and now he knew. The path took him to what was quite a beautiful sight. The building was made of redwood which probably was the source of its name, and it blended in very nicely with its surroundings. There were many shouts coming from within, which hinted that it had a lot of sparring going on in its enormous interior. There were several guards at the entrance, but they didn't pay him much attention – he didn't look like much. When they heard that Makt was there to spar, they would merely laugh and wave him inside.
"Hello miss," he would say to a red haired lady when he finally made his way inside, "I have very little combat training but I would like to spar. How would I go about participating?" She would give him a piercing stare and say, "I was wondering what you were up to. I'm surprised the guards let you inside, then again you look like a fish out of water coming here." She would give a hearty laugh and continue, "just step into a sparring circle and await a challenger. Or you can challenge someone yourself, although I would not recommend this unless you know what you're getting into. Oh, and use a communal wooden weapon. If I see you swinging steel around, you'll be uncomfortably escorted out."
And so, Makt would take a wooden dagger off of a rack and step into a sparring circle. He had chosen to keep his clothes on, despite several others being shirtless. He would stand and watch the loudest of the circles as a man was hit by a blow that would have probably killed Makt. It was quite clear that some of these men were not made from a different mold. The man's composure suggested that he had sustained the most minor of injuries but Makt could clearly see that dried blood had slid to the side of the man's mouth as well as clumped on the side of his head.
The hulking man looked at his adversary and smiled. "I am proud of you brother. But let it be known - I will not be beaten so easily by the likes of you!" The surrounding soldiers shouted in unison and the crowd finally dispersed. Makt didn't know what he expected to experience here, but it definitely wasn't this. He would definitely NOT be fighting that guy today.
"You taking challengers?" A voice would interrupt Makt's thoughts from behind. Makt turned to see a man holding a wooden staff. He was dressed in some sort of leather armor and looked quite muscular. Makt gulped and nodded his head. The man would brandish his dagger and give it a few test waves as he backed up to the edge of the circle. The staff wielder would wait until Makt looked comfortable then say, "your move. Make it quick."
Makt was about to rush forward and attempt to smash into his opponent in, but the fact that they had to stay within a circle shut down that line of thought. He glanced down at the ground and saw just how little space he had to work with. With a sigh of reluctance, Makt would take a few steps forward and swing his dagger down in a sloppy arc. It was deflected by the staff and Makt was knocked to the ground with a single kick.
The opponent began to move forward, swinging his staff at Makt. He could only watch as the waving staff struck him in the head and then the gut. The second hit knocked the wind out of him. His clothing had definitely not been enough to save him from the pain of being hit. Grimacing in pain, Makt scrambled backwards and for that split second, all the man would hear was silence. Makt looked as the area around the staff wielder blackened, and all he knew was that that his body was beginning to crumple to the ground and he was feeling very weak. Makt was confused for a moment, unsure of what was going on. It was like he was in a pitch black room and then, at last, he finally fell unconscious.
All of a sudden, the bleak dark silence was broken by a pull and his sense of sound returned. His eyes suddenly opened, and he finally realized that he had been knocked out. With no less than two blows at that. Not much time could have passed, as Makt was sitting in a corner and the staff wielder was sparring someone else. The man moved to get up and found that he was sitting next to a heavily bruised man.
"You got knocked out too huh," he would ask Makt, "you'll get used to it if you hang around here. I wouldn't recommend trying again for today. You're welcome to exercise if you're stubborn though."
"Well what should I do," Makt asked exasperatedly, "I can't go around getting knocked out all day. That can't be good for my health." He had expected this to be a relatively simple training process and not be beaten out of commission within seconds. Maybe he was going about it all wrong.
"By the looks of you, you got hit in the head. Yeah, don't let that happen," the man would respond, "more muscle will make it easier to absorb blows and make your blows stronger. More speed will make it so you can't be hit in the first place. Having the endurance to keep going after getting hit will also help. Combat isn't one thing you can just focus on. Once you improve your body, combat will naturally become easier. Just jumping into a sparring circle has some benefits, but even a master swordsman will be useless against someone too strong, fast, or durable."
Makt pondered what he had been told then thanked the man for the advice. The man groaned, got to his feet, then looked around. There were quite a number of things he could do for exercise, but he was scared he'd hurt himself again. He saw a collection of different sized sacks in a corner and figured that he could try lifting those to build up some strength.
Makt struggled a bit with the smaller bags, but it was pretty straight forward. He would lift a bag over his head, take a couple steps, then drop the bag. His entire body burned with the effort so he figured he was getting a workout in, regardless of his form. He found that he could only do fifteen repetitions before his body simply decided it was not going to lift any more weights for the day.
Part of him wanted to leave and go right to bed despite it still being morning. Another part of him told him that he needed to focus on why he came here in the first place. He just wanted to build a better body so that he could have an easier time with the ladies. Poor social skills be damned, he was going to blame all of his troubles on his appearance. "If I just stick with it, I can get a better body within a couple seasons and in the long run I won't be so alone all the time!
Makt would soldier on. Being too exhausted to lift the bags, he would tie a rope to his waist and likewise around a bag. He would then walk around the longhaus and look like an idiot. "I may look stupid, but I bet these are really working my legs!" He would keep on walking until he could not take another step and collapsed onto the floor. The looks he received were those of confusion and pity, but he was beyond caring. Makt spent the last of his energy moving the bags back to their proper place and more or less staggered all the way back home.
