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[March 5]
Having cleaned the sparring room earlier Nuada now found himself in the middle of it bare to the waist. He knew he was not as he should be, and he needed to know his limits. He needed to find them before he faced a fight as surprises in battle could be fatal.
Starting his usual training routine he found himself, again, feeling as if against the resistance of water. While still fast, he was still disturbingly slowed down. It was frustrating to a person already on edge. He spun, struck, ducked and leaped. There was another problem. He couldn't attain the height he wanted in a simple leap. His legs didn't seem to have the power they should.
Not caring about the mirror he made a run and kicked off the wall in a spin, his hair flying about him. The mirror did not break. He could do a simple kick off at least. He tried for a slightly harder move. Again running at the mirror he used momentum to carry him as if running up the surface. Only three steps and he felt the oppressive pull of gravity. Way too soon. He pushed backwards into a flip only to find himself too close to the ground and needing to use his hands to push off the floor to land standing. A single flip and not even properly clear. He should be able to climb half way up the wall and get at least three airborne flips in before landing in a ready attack. He tried the move again, and again, and again. On the third try he managed a single flip without using his hands to push off. Subsequent tries left him frustrated and dismayed.
He tried a simple backflip from the floor without using his hands. He could usually leap at least his own height. He was glad he was alone because he had to tuck into a roll to land on his shoulders in a somersault that left him sitting on his ass. Dusting himself off he tried again but still managed to leap four feet and needed his hands to complete the move. He found he couldn't manage a single consecutive flip either. Useless.
He moved into a strenuous kata, imagining his spear in hand. He could manage simple moves, far too slow for his liking, and acrobatic moves he was sure a fit human could manage. Alright maybe marginally better than that, but he was feeling demeaned and disgusted.
Worst of all after what he could guess to be ninty minutes he had worked up a sweat and his breathing became more labored. His legs trembled from the strenuous use. He should be able to keep at it for four or so hours.
Finally he moved to set his back against one of the cool mirror surfaced and slide down to sit, his knees drawn up. He was fading, weakening. Would this continue until he was nothing? He would never admit to the frisson of fear that crept up his spine.
"Feic, Tá mé ag cursed faoi dhó." He spoke the words aloud, feeling their truth sink in.
Having cleaned the sparring room earlier Nuada now found himself in the middle of it bare to the waist. He knew he was not as he should be, and he needed to know his limits. He needed to find them before he faced a fight as surprises in battle could be fatal.
Starting his usual training routine he found himself, again, feeling as if against the resistance of water. While still fast, he was still disturbingly slowed down. It was frustrating to a person already on edge. He spun, struck, ducked and leaped. There was another problem. He couldn't attain the height he wanted in a simple leap. His legs didn't seem to have the power they should.
Not caring about the mirror he made a run and kicked off the wall in a spin, his hair flying about him. The mirror did not break. He could do a simple kick off at least. He tried for a slightly harder move. Again running at the mirror he used momentum to carry him as if running up the surface. Only three steps and he felt the oppressive pull of gravity. Way too soon. He pushed backwards into a flip only to find himself too close to the ground and needing to use his hands to push off the floor to land standing. A single flip and not even properly clear. He should be able to climb half way up the wall and get at least three airborne flips in before landing in a ready attack. He tried the move again, and again, and again. On the third try he managed a single flip without using his hands to push off. Subsequent tries left him frustrated and dismayed.
He tried a simple backflip from the floor without using his hands. He could usually leap at least his own height. He was glad he was alone because he had to tuck into a roll to land on his shoulders in a somersault that left him sitting on his ass. Dusting himself off he tried again but still managed to leap four feet and needed his hands to complete the move. He found he couldn't manage a single consecutive flip either. Useless.
He moved into a strenuous kata, imagining his spear in hand. He could manage simple moves, far too slow for his liking, and acrobatic moves he was sure a fit human could manage. Alright maybe marginally better than that, but he was feeling demeaned and disgusted.
Worst of all after what he could guess to be ninty minutes he had worked up a sweat and his breathing became more labored. His legs trembled from the strenuous use. He should be able to keep at it for four or so hours.
Finally he moved to set his back against one of the cool mirror surfaced and slide down to sit, his knees drawn up. He was fading, weakening. Would this continue until he was nothing? He would never admit to the frisson of fear that crept up his spine.
"Feic, Tá mé ag cursed faoi dhó." He spoke the words aloud, feeling their truth sink in.
