Post by Vanga on Jan 28, 2008 0:12:41 GMT -5
“Roaring Fire!”
Thrusting his arms forward, Meramon let loose a raging jet of flame from his burning fists. Cascading through the air, it came to a splashing halt against a raised pillar of stone, assaulting it with intensive heat. The rocks making up the bulge had already begun to slag under the high temperatures and that fact, coupled by the other pillars situated close by and already melted down, gave the impression that the fire-type digimon had been at this task for quite some time.
He had come out to this small barren valley among the mountains, littered with rocky mounds, to train in solitude. The path that branched off here was a scenic route and thus less traveled than the main road, meaning that most digimon didn’t stumble upon him when he came out here for his daily exercise regimen. There were plenty of stone swells around here, the perfect target practice for his flame attacks. Since rock wouldn’t melt except under excessively high temperatures, it was also a powerful endurance exercise to pour enough flame on them to cause the minerals to slag. Not to mention that there was more than enough of these earthly pillars built up all around that he never had to rebuild them for his purposes.
As his target began its final descent into sludge-form, he called off the jets of flames from his hands and examined his work. Sixteen, it was enough for the moment; he would get in another dozen of them or so later in the day. Until then, there was still plenty more left for him to do in his routine. He often worked from sunrise to sunset when he wasn’t traveling from place to place, what he had just finished up was the equivalent of morning stretches.
_____
His master had always told him that this was what he was worst at when it came to his training. It was always impressed upon him that strengthening the mind through mediation was just as important as training the body through physical laboring. However, it was never emphasized strongly enough, it would seem, as Meramon could never sit through this routine with a clear head for the entire elapse of time. Perhaps it was his hot-headed nature as the master would always say, but whatever it was kept him from fully appreciating this lesson.
Out of respect for the master, though, he had implemented an hour of meditation into his training regimen and did his darnedest to get through it without mental agitation. He had to admit that he had become better at it than when he had left his teacher’s home on his journey, no longer having to fidget or give up halfway through the determined time. He still saw more use in physical training than mental exercises, but his master had always seemed to know best on all other matters.
With an audible sigh, Meramon tried once again to clear his thoughts of all agitating emotions. The flames rippling and raging across his form soothed noticeably as he did this, entering a tranquil, mesmerizing dance as he continued to press himself into ever deeper mental inflection.
Thrusting his arms forward, Meramon let loose a raging jet of flame from his burning fists. Cascading through the air, it came to a splashing halt against a raised pillar of stone, assaulting it with intensive heat. The rocks making up the bulge had already begun to slag under the high temperatures and that fact, coupled by the other pillars situated close by and already melted down, gave the impression that the fire-type digimon had been at this task for quite some time.
He had come out to this small barren valley among the mountains, littered with rocky mounds, to train in solitude. The path that branched off here was a scenic route and thus less traveled than the main road, meaning that most digimon didn’t stumble upon him when he came out here for his daily exercise regimen. There were plenty of stone swells around here, the perfect target practice for his flame attacks. Since rock wouldn’t melt except under excessively high temperatures, it was also a powerful endurance exercise to pour enough flame on them to cause the minerals to slag. Not to mention that there was more than enough of these earthly pillars built up all around that he never had to rebuild them for his purposes.
As his target began its final descent into sludge-form, he called off the jets of flames from his hands and examined his work. Sixteen, it was enough for the moment; he would get in another dozen of them or so later in the day. Until then, there was still plenty more left for him to do in his routine. He often worked from sunrise to sunset when he wasn’t traveling from place to place, what he had just finished up was the equivalent of morning stretches.
_____
His master had always told him that this was what he was worst at when it came to his training. It was always impressed upon him that strengthening the mind through mediation was just as important as training the body through physical laboring. However, it was never emphasized strongly enough, it would seem, as Meramon could never sit through this routine with a clear head for the entire elapse of time. Perhaps it was his hot-headed nature as the master would always say, but whatever it was kept him from fully appreciating this lesson.
Out of respect for the master, though, he had implemented an hour of meditation into his training regimen and did his darnedest to get through it without mental agitation. He had to admit that he had become better at it than when he had left his teacher’s home on his journey, no longer having to fidget or give up halfway through the determined time. He still saw more use in physical training than mental exercises, but his master had always seemed to know best on all other matters.
With an audible sigh, Meramon tried once again to clear his thoughts of all agitating emotions. The flames rippling and raging across his form soothed noticeably as he did this, entering a tranquil, mesmerizing dance as he continued to press himself into ever deeper mental inflection.