Cello - Pushing the envelope (Complete)

((This is my newest training thread, Cello pushes himself to the max on three training exercises, let's see how this goes..!))



With a swift bang the door was blown nearly off its hinges, then continuing to swing back and forth several times violently, before slowly settling itself in one idol position, locked into place. Cello was trudging through the thick grass ambushing his house, although making light work of this. The travels to and from home made this chore quite easy now, and with so much activity of late, a small path had begun to take shape in the grass, and stretched all the way to the training fields.
It was early morning, 9:26 to be exact, Cello was leaving for daily training, his towel slung neatly around his shoulders, two flasks had been fastened to his sash, ready for immediate usage. Both containing the sweet, pure Namekian water, that most craved for. Holding a somewhat more gel-ish texture than most waters, and undoubtedly more nutritious, it was highly sought among foreigners.
He seemed fully aided for any casualty that could occur, taking regeneration for granted. He had already made it halfway to the training fields, almost record time Cello thought to himself, and maybe it was he’s unusual perkiness today. Something had been stirring in him from the moment he woke this morning. As if an infinite charge of electricity had jolted him awake, and he was running on some kind of super fuel, the trip was short and in minutes he found himself face to face with the familiar, training grounds.
His heart was turned up a notch, now pumping blood to cater for his thirsty veins, as his temples throbbed, he entered a deep trance. He sat somewhere in his mind, and appeared one with his body, his body and soul could now co exist without the setbacks of a human body; he then opened his eyes to greet the dangerous field.
Set out before him was a complex court, first of all his trusty punching back, scarred from many battles, scratches of love and memories. The one he had received from his late father to take him further in martial arts. Then his training dummy, arms and legs lined with spikes, several limbs taking sprout off it, all wielding various blades and obstacles. And then finally was the old track, something him and his father built when Cello was a young Namekian. A long narrow track lined with impediments ranging from banks of dirt to logs sprawled awkwardly. Tree stumps and branches aimed at his mid and shoulder section. Lines of punching bags, these ones smaller, like clones of his main one, although these ones had no personality, also dummy clones, just toned down a bit, smaller spikes, shorter arms; Cello looked ahead to all this, breathing in the atmosphere, he then rubbed his hands together, launching into action.
Instantly the punching bag was viciously rocking back and forth, from the tenacious blow from Cello. Now his foot to rise to the mid height of the back, sending it into yet another swinging frenzy, followed by jabs and hooks from both Cello’s able hands. His right jab sending ripples onto the worn skin of the punching bag.
There seemed to be no limit to his speed, his fists were pistons, without tire. He shot punch after punch, the bag seeming to swing back and forth screaming for mercy in its long howls as the chain rattled from the strikes. Then when his feet did the talking, a whole new type of pain was brought to the bag, spins and flips now came into his arsenal, Cello became a crazy ball of power, just striking with every limb, inflicting great pain to the bag, his body worked effortlessly, the rapid movements of Cello now became mere blurs as did his rage, as he finished up on the punching bag. Giving his body little rest, only a quick swig of water, before the next exercise,

The perspiration was seeming to drip in slow motion, taking a small piece of victory with it as it sprayed much around Cello. He body in wild overdrive, eyes wild with unknown rage. A somewhat thirst for battling, except this thirst held no purpose, not for pride, revenge or redemption. Just blind rage that brought a strange sense of power and purpose, adrenaline really, but no tire seem to hit Cello, the adrenaline seem to only get hotter once it burnt, what was this.
Next up was the training dummy, its arms hung somewhat stuff, extra limbs hang off awkwardly, making it hard to land a first hit. Did Cello care for this, of course not, within a few seconds his hands were upon, striking the first arms, to send two on his left to coming spiralling around to him. Blocking the first one then ducking the second. He forced back the one he had blocked, this triggering a low section one to fly, now trying to sweep kick him, but knowing this he jumped and landed a blow to the head, this reset the body to default position.
Now he struck and extra limb to the left of the head, this swinging back, forcing another limb armed with spikes to come flying from the mid section, appearing out of a trapdoor in the dummy’s core. This was parried off, then Cello replied to the right hook he knew would come for him. Snapping off a single arm, not setting off any triggers, he rammed his left leg onto the top edge of the head, sending it falling from its wooden neck support and landing with a soft woody sound upon the ground.
He looked to his furious limbs, seeing the bulging and pulsing veins that riddled his arms. He felt his head throbbing, in desperation for more training. He felt insane, what was this unknown power; he reached down with shaky arms and gripped his flask. Tearing the top off breaking the screw top and then shoving it into his mouth, guzzling down the cooling liquid, his throat was soothed and calmed, his hands stopped the rabid shaking. He lowered the now empty flask from his moist lips. Dropped it upon the ground and set his arms by his side, take a deep breath from his diaphragm. “Phew..” he mumbled, now feeling a sweat begin to set in.
Now looking to the intense obstacle course, laid out colourfully in front of him, it was teaming with hazards which would require top speed and agility to overcome. One of the hardest parts of training, but Cello enjoyed a challenge it was great to get the blood really pumping. He saw the intricate logs hung from varying angles and the spikes set along the ground, in every spare inch of earth. Dummies, lining the course, one hit would trigger them all. And punching bags hanging from trees, these would knock an elephant flat, Cello had to not run into those, he rubbed his now sweaty head and set off to training.
He made a good start by jogging into the long stretch of course, starting things off by leaping well over a log and ducking a twisted branch. He kept up his good pace, checking the ground for spikes as he ran, darting over the earth. Then suddenly he found a large stump in his path, so it was instinct for him to avoid it, he sidestepped the stump, then stepping on thorns implanted in the soil below. A sharp began to stretch up his leg, as he retracted the injured leg. But as if things couldn’t get worse, he lost balance, falling forward ramming a rather heavy punching bag. His nose felt like it had been rammed deep into the back of his brain, as well as his now bloody leg, there was nothing to do but fall. He made the steady descent to the clean ground below, gripping both injured body parts at once.
Cello thought about his position, was this a way for a warrior, laying upon the ground, bloody leg, squashed nose. Of course not, Cello rose to his feet, wrapping his sash tightly around the fresh leg wound. “Let’s finish this!” he said to himself, feeling a friendly adrenaline rush this time. He began at light pace, darting in and out between some more obstacles, many stumps gridlocked his way, but all of them were soon knocked down or eluded. He picked up the pace, changing to speedy sprint, his feet lightly tapped the ground as he ran, if he were to stand upon any spikes, the hit would be rather minor as the intensity of his steps.
Now leaping over an obscure log he gained more speed. If his leg was bleeding or was irrelevant, he couldn’t feel a thing except the burn of the training, this felt great, and how training ought to be. He could see a tight squeeze at the end of the course, only a good 50 metres ahead of him. He would need to make a front on leap, passing through the 60cm wide, 30cm tall hole. All other ways around had been eliminated and blocked off this was it.
As he approached he made the long leap arms outstretched for the hole, he made it though, a tight fit. Coming to a rolling stop on the other side, he laid there and huffed a sigh of relief. The end of training was upon him, he had done well, and was still curios as to his mad rush of power before, possible potential showing through, only the great Guru would know.
He went home proud that morning, having felt one step closer to his goal of number one. He sat down upon his couch tending to his injured leg, feeling along the scarred surface. He flung his head back in pain as the sharp cut stung, sending sore tingles up his leg. I’ll need medical attention for this, he went to find the first aid kit. That was enough for day Cello thought, as he reached for a cloth bandage and disinfectant.

Good job! And this is sooo much that you wrote, I didn't even read it all!

jk, I read the whole thing, good job.

Rewards: 1,500pl

Thanks, great to be a mod now!

No problem. Now, I forgot to mention this earlier (as you slipped out on me so quickly), but your jobs are to move old topics to the archives. And, your other job is to regulate the forum, make sure no one's cheating, make sure no one's copying other people's work, etc.

And just a tip for when you roleplay: Put your thoughts and things you're emphasizing in italics. That way, fellow Rp'ers know what's going on at that particular moment. For example:

"But mooom, I don't wanna go to school!"

This is going to be more dangerous than I expected, the young Namek thought.

Things like that. Nonetheless, you did a great job. Keep up the work.

Great I'll stick to my duties, and take all tips on board
Wait, so I put all finished trainings and quests in the trash/archives?

Yeah. But you don't have to do it all, I have other people that can help. You can go ahead and move this.

Kk thanks!