Cytocorps - RP

[Channelknight Fadran]

The Captain blew the last whistle, watching without the slightest bit of pleasure as the hundreds of students stopped running and collapsed onto the walls or their knees at the call.

The two aides at his side finished tallying their student reports. One of them flashed him the overall status: better than last year, but that certainly wasn’t saying much.

Only a few of them had made it to the end with any level of dignity, and even they were drenched in sweat and just about devoid of breath. Many others had taken to walking their laps—a step up, he supposed, above those who simply limped across the wall, gasping for air like a dying fish.

Some were more adaptable than others. He’d spotted more than one taking off a push-up or two between blows; while it was technically insubordination, the risk was admirable enough. Still, this wasn’t the time yet for character-building. He only had room for so many full soldiers here, and he couldn’t be selecting from such a breed of featherweights.

”Take a five minute break!” The captain called out to everyone. “About seventy percent of you didn’t make it. So once you’ve caught your breath, we’re doing it all again.”

[The Bookwyrm]

Yisten collapsed onto his knees as the Captain blew the last whistle.

He panted, coughed. He felt tired, and sick, and nauseous. He wanted to throw up, or pass out, or both. He was drenched in sweat.

At the start of the exercise, he had been hopeful. He had seemed to be in better shape than he had originally assumed. Rather than running at full speed at the start, he had run at a modest pace to preserve his energy. He'd been able to get out every push-up.

Then it had kept going, on and on for what seemed like forever. Yisten had somewhat fallen into a trance; no thought, no emotion, just running. Then it had kept going. He was forced to slow his pace. Any amount of preserving his energy in the start had been completely futile. He had stopped counting push-ups, just doing as many as he felt like was enough, or more like just as many as he felt physically able to do.

Now, he collapsed, and gasped for breath, let his body regain it's strength.

Finally, he thought. It's-

"Take a five minute break!" Yisten heard the Captain yell, though his voice sounded distant. "About seventy percent of you didn't make it." Yisten wondered if he was in that seventy percent, which he probably was. 

"So once you've caught your breath," the Captain continued, "we're doing it again."

Again.

That word haunted Yisten. I can't do this, one part of him said. I can't do this, day in, day out, for months and years. I can't make it.

No, another part of him said. You have to keep going. What other choice is there? Think of the endpoint.

Yisten mustered his strength, stood up, and went to find some much needed water.

[EmulatonStromenkiin]

Sêron Vântan gasped to a stop at the finish. It had been worse than her self training, but still not impossible. She felt sorry for the others, collapsing left and right.

”Take a five minute break!” she heard the captain called out to everyone. “About seventy percent of you didn’t make it. So once you’ve caught your breath, we’re doing it all again.”

She gaped in horror. She might might be able to do it again with a five minute break, but she didn't think so. She rather liked being able to breath. 

You wanted to do this, Sêron. You CAN do this. she got up and streched once more.

[Channelknight Fadran]

Gosh... hecking... heck...

Melun was no longer dropping into form with each whistle blow. She wasn't even awkwardly crawling down into position like she had near the end of the last thirty minutes. Now, it was all she could do not to just collapse onto her face and pray to the gods that it would all be over soon. With each whistle blow she slumped against the wall, gasping and hacking for breath.

On a good day she knew she could run for an hour straight - probably more - but something about this training just took it out of her. Maybe it was the terrain; maybe it was the atmosphere.

But no... it had to be that she didn't have any clue as to how long or far they'd be running. No general estimate or idea. The Captain could call them to do it again and again if he pleased.

In a sense, she figured, the reason her knees were already wobbling and every muscle burned in agony were because she didn't know what they were running to.