Post by Mamouro Shabots on Dec 17, 2015 16:55:06 GMT -5
Mamouro had decided to explore what appeared to be a shopping street. Or at least, used to be. What remained of the place was crumbling and boarded up, barring entry. Curious, Mamouro gave the boards a quick, light jab. They felt quite sturdy, but not unbreakable. He briefly considered entering and exploring before he remembered the toy's rule about not destroying park property. While he doubted pieces of wood counted as property, he wasn't going to risk it, lest he fall victim to a telling off.
As he continued to explore, he saw stars in the pavement with names on them, not unlike in Hollywood. The red paint obscuring some of the names kind of took away the celebrity appeal though. As he glanced over the names, he had a double take; his own was among them! That meant someone had thought him worthy of immortalising in stone! Finally, recognition for his ability to beat the crap out of people! Mom would be proud! But before he could get too smug, he brought himself down to earth, reminding himself that it was in a paint encrusted, crumbling street in a funfair that barred entry and exit, and demanded the deaths of those inside in exchange for escape. He would be damned if that was as far as the world decided to recognise his ability!
If his talent was to be acknowledged more, it would need to increase, and to do that, he would need to stop sightseeing and get back to training you lazy git! Telling himself off and jolting out of his stupor, Mamouro began to jog down the street, beginning (what was before all this) his normal roadwork routine. Half-speed for 30 seconds, full sprint for 15, bob-and-weave for 5, shadowbox for 10, repeat for 10 minutes. Ability and it's growth was nothing of it wasn't worked for, and there was no better way to work for something in Mamouro's mind than with hard, grueling, repetitive physical labour.
(Working on an acceptable title is hard...)
As he continued to explore, he saw stars in the pavement with names on them, not unlike in Hollywood. The red paint obscuring some of the names kind of took away the celebrity appeal though. As he glanced over the names, he had a double take; his own was among them! That meant someone had thought him worthy of immortalising in stone! Finally, recognition for his ability to beat the crap out of people! Mom would be proud! But before he could get too smug, he brought himself down to earth, reminding himself that it was in a paint encrusted, crumbling street in a funfair that barred entry and exit, and demanded the deaths of those inside in exchange for escape. He would be damned if that was as far as the world decided to recognise his ability!
If his talent was to be acknowledged more, it would need to increase, and to do that, he would need to stop sightseeing and get back to training you lazy git! Telling himself off and jolting out of his stupor, Mamouro began to jog down the street, beginning (what was before all this) his normal roadwork routine. Half-speed for 30 seconds, full sprint for 15, bob-and-weave for 5, shadowbox for 10, repeat for 10 minutes. Ability and it's growth was nothing of it wasn't worked for, and there was no better way to work for something in Mamouro's mind than with hard, grueling, repetitive physical labour.
