Pyrrhus Field Day [TRAINING]

Long time ago in a land distant, far away and somewhat boring, well, simply Greece back when Pyrrhus used to work for it as a warrior blessed. Times were bloody, and he had always had red on his olive skin dyed crimson. That's how it was in Scythia, and it was a land that mirrors the savage nature of the warriors, just as Pyrrhus mirrors the savageness of his gifts. Always taking people out one by one systematically.

Stories often take in many places with a singular person, and this one was an enigmatic minion, physically and mentally as he looked at an Amazonian most scarred, unmasked, black, a female who was his worst arch-nemesis whom he had cornered, his opposite in every manner and way as she stood inches from an abyss almost endless and dark. Her form and his drowned in a downpour of rain as they looked at one another, hate in their eyes.

"Kalius, the crow has finally caught his prey, a rat which doth nought but gnarl and delay the inevitable." Says the Amazonian.

"Inevitable? HAH! You think you won? You think that your first victory over me makes a difference in a war where I have promptly beaten you off several times has made you the ultimate and oh so glorious victor, eh you limpdick fucker?" There was a silence from Pyrrhus, "...Shut the fuck up and die, BIATCH."

"What'd you just ca-- OOMPH!"

And so, Pyrrhus dispensed his rival with a quick kick to her stomach as she fell into the chasm endless and unseen. That he leaned in, sneaking a gaze at the chasm before leaving to disappear into the sea of trees called forest, his rival from Attica finally dealt with, and now he was in the mood to watch some theater back at his loft in Scythia, which may take a LONG while to walk back, so he best settle for some tent or an inn.

A few hours of walking in circles (literally), bored as he was, Pyrrhus decided to walk forth instead of circularly, unto a conveniently placed cave to which he has walked long and hard for ever so long and ever so hard for times long without an ending to his endless walk, which was long and hard at the point.

Walking for what seemed to be an eternity, eating, pooping, sleeping but not in that order, just to survive as he was pretty much lost as a motherfucker. Until he had met an olden man by a cave, to which he had decided, Pyrrhus that is, to stay there and talk to the man.
"Hohohohohoho, I had never seen a person as wretched as thou as thou makes it to BE. My eyes do not deceive me, your nature is as evil as the

Kavaldar from the lands far from here to which you hear." An olden sage says.

"Pardon me, but shut the fuck up." Pyrrhus replies to the olden sage.

"Settled it is! You are evil to the brim with no redeeming qualities... young one, teach you I was your true strength, but refused you have my teachings."

"..." There was a pause from Pyrrhus, as he contemplated on the perks on being able to regain his abilities from one hand as he thought this through CAREFULLY, "No no no no NO no no! I am not evil, I am merely misunderstood! I saved the world many times... yeah! From bad guys, like the Attica's warlod, I am a real hero in my country where I have killed off slavers and saved orphans from them many times over." He crosses his fingers, lying.

"Then young man, why is your heart beating so as it were a lie as well? Lo then, I cannot behold to believe a liar and a wicked ma-- OOMPH!"
Feeling a jolt of air being forced out of his lungs, the sage sees he has been punched HARD by Pyrrhus, inhaling hard and exhaling as Pyrrhus would say: "Okay okay wanker, how about this? You TEACH ME or I beat the shit out of you, piss over your corpse and take your coin purse!"

And so imparted upon his mind was the burning passion of knowledge as he awakened from his long languor sleep in his apartment that he so conveniently stole from a patron of the arts. Truly realizing indeed he is still in this damnable existence in the modern day, fathoming such extents to see his flames burnt ever so hotter... this was no mere dream, but a weighing of character. And obviously he has shown devotion to the fact why he so deserves to be damned to the lowest pits across the River Styx. His affinity for the Hell-fire... this is bad. But his grasp of it feels stronger and more livid.

"This is the weirdest wet dream I've ever had... must be the pizza." Pyrrhus commented, unaware of his newly bestowed power as he wallowed that time in the confines of his mind, a presence spiritual smiled at his affinity to be damned and not to be bestowed upon Elysium truly.

(Skill training, Promethean something something)


As he felt the fire burn in his hand, oddly enough Pyrrhus had an intuition and an idea. Going over to the local bakery, he punched the guy out cold cooking the bread, and decided to impart on his quest to actually improve his resilience to thermal elements. In theory, he has a resilience and it can be trained like swinging a sword or bashing a shield on an enemy. In fact, Pyrrhus could train anything so long as he would train the resistance by merely insinuating such damages on himself. The element of his is the rage which he incurred at the curse so long bestowed upon him as to actually see if he can harness the reins of fury and realize his own whimsical biddings most astutely.

The flames inside the bakery burnt ever so intensely, and he had nothing to fear from it. He merely can heal his hand by eating the baker and may try again and again till his resilience so becomes forcefully a lot. After all, he just got out of his dreams and is getting out of his long state of languor without much of a doubt on his part or so on and so forth. He needed to retain his past strength, lest he atrophies and becomes nothing more than an asshole in the history's past that long went by and along in such an aspect.

His hand dipped into the fire and he felt the flames in fact not do his biddings and harm him not, but rather try to consume him. But only his own will would stand out stronger than the pain of fire that he is so destined for in the end of his unnatural unlife. Not a true immortality but a very wretched one he did not deserve. Sure he killed the spawns of a sorceress, the daughter of an Olympian, but it was done so in vengeance of his long lost loved one that he most pay homage to merely because she was his property, a slave he owned, a slave he would come to claim as his own.

The flames mingled with his hand and yet oddly he did not feel pain, or even the heat that comes from his hand sizzling, but held it out for quite a length seeing no developments actually enveloping his hand in such a mannerism as to make way for his own demise of his appendage. Nay. Rather, it danced on his palm as it roofed there, for quite a while too he left it there. Perhaps this was the thing, he always had the potential inside him all along, it would just take his brain to unlock such a potential and shit. Aye, truly, and verily. Pulling his hand out after he felt the fury of the flames finally, Pyrrhus's ways have been realized what was lost long ago, now begotten in such a manner of bravery made manifest in such a foolhardy but a noble gesture of realizing his resistance. And so he leaves the bakery, happy of his new found resistance found in merely willing himself so.

(Training for Misó Katsíkes)

"Yes.... huh...huh.... very convincing argument... very well young man..." Panted the sage, Pyrrhus reclining his fist as the old man regains his breath, violence making a most convincing argument, "I will only teach you if you apply your rudest teachings to an army that commits evil... I see you can be a lesser evi-- better good than the evil Empire, and can stop the genocides taking place there, save the princess and stop the Empire's conquest and oppression of the people, granting everyone consent of the masses. You must sail to the West and stop the deranged tyrant known as Lord Menalaus who fancies himself an Emperor. A sorceror with a fifty million men legion strong army that can conquer this continent if he wanted and knew about it."

"Okay... so let me get this straight, you old fucker, you want ME to stop an army of FUCKING FIFTY MILLION ASSHOLE MEN who happened to conquer an EMPIRE, collectively can take on ANY military nations in the world, since they probably have WEAPONS that can annihilate the military nation, and you stake the entire world's fate on a COMMON PERSON'S hands JUST to learn fire beams when I could just practice it?!"
"That's exactly it young man, for you must merely believe it to be true than anything else. For there is no short cuts to power... except in your case, you tend to be impatient, hot headed, compensate for your lack of good wits by pretending common sense, and your--" Pyrrhus shook his fist at the olden sage, to which he cleared his throat, avoiding criticism, "Erm... I mean you can do stuff if you put your mind to it, all I need from you is to inhale this elixir of life that I have brought from Mount Olympus."

"Fine fine, I will, BUT THEN I'll be on my way to destroy that stupid Empire of I-don't-give-a-fuck-about." And so, Pyrrhus took the elixir from the old man as everything became hazy and dark after being taught Miso, only to clear up as things seem much lighter, his body feels powerful, nodding to the old sage as he would stand up and set off on his journey to stop an... Empire, a damn Empire capable of wiping him out ten times over JUST to save the country, when really, it's just ALL of this for one ability. This journey was gonna span for miles anyways, kilometres, Pyrrhus didn't really pay attention to directions unless he was assed about it.

Hitching a ride on a boat, sailing the seas unsure which direction to go since he didn't really bother telling from the stars, the sun or the compass which direction he should go, or the map for that matter.

So, his ship, after days spent at sea, months even just scooping up any retarded fish that peaked it's head out of the water and eating it raw, since that's what they make Sushi out of, some fish causing sudden vomits whilst others were outright DELICIOUS. Still, a few days of scurvy, later on fixed with eating seaweed, and punching sharks in the face had landed Pyrrhus on a land FINALLY! Though it was by no means misty, so definitely not his beautiful village surrounded by women with severed heads of their enemies. Heck, even the trees were different, they were made of ligums, and he can see Roman-like towers in the distance as he believes he might've gotten into a prelude for a disaster...

This was nothing more than target practice though. What he learnt from the sage was put into practice, as if though everything had felt real. Even though Pyrrhus believes this might've been nothing more than a bad pizza inspired dream albeit with bad vividness. Perhaps this was his destiny? To forever be tormented in his dreams by the thoughts of his time plaguing him at every step of the way? Bitchin', NAH. Wasn't the case. What he left behind in his wake was destruction everywhere, holes having punched through many trees without even a hassle, albeit with a shortcoming of range sadly enough. Although his eyes snapped open, and suddenly... he were back in the "real" world. Truly, which is the illusion and which is the real deal? Whichever the case, there were holes EVERYWHERE in ALL BUILDINGS. So... he basically just conceptualized something he got from a lucid dream just to do all of this? How quite awesome. Ah well, maybe next time he'll stop the Emperor and his many men in his DREAMS. Albeit a badass dream. Just something about it is fishy about those dreams though.