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Buffslava. The homeland of many clans... McChad, McFucker, and many others quite numerous. Some villainous, some friendly, it's as variable as the people of the world we know today. You have been born into that first one, the McChads, a clan of proud lifters and metal enthusiasts, who have gladly raised you since birth.
... Gladly raised, but, it seems you've been hit rather hard in the head by a Medicine ball, and you need to remind yourself of your name while your buddy tries to shake you back into consciousness.
"Hey, flexing, get up!"
Flexing, get up... What kind of statement is... oh, yeah. Now you remember. Your parents were pretty simple folk, so your name is Flexing.
After a bit, you manage to get your eyes open, and stand on your feet, a little bit wobbly. Your friend was the one to help you up, and around you, you can see the architecture... a gym of cobblestone, like a castle mixed with the modern art of creating swole... Then again, this is what you've always known, why is that usual to you?
"... I guess I threw that way too hard, didn't I?"
"... Pretty sure I have a concussion now."
You remember this guy too. Strongarm McChad. You've been friends since childhood, due to your simple names that most other kids would mock. He's a bit aloof. You said one line about how one of his throws was way off, and once he got the ball back, this is how he responded.
As you get an understanding of your situation better, some of the older guys in the area come over to figure out what happened.
"You know it's against the rules to break the sound barrier in this area, Strongarm!"
"Yeah, yeah...."
"Are you okay, Flexing?"
"... Maybe? I dunno."
"... Go to the Sportsman."
Well, with that in mind, you go to get checked up. The doctor is a pretty laid back guy, who speaks quietly about whatever he's discussing. It makes for a hilarious image, when his massive frame simply sits in a chair, both hands near his lap, and considering the damage to your head, you can't help but laugh a bit at that.
"... Laughing with minimal provocation is quite serious. Stand still."
The sportsman stands up from his chair, and starts moving his arms in an almost hypnotizing fashion... focusing, channeling mystic energy... Before he suddenly shoves, removing the injuries from your brain.
"Alright, I'll see you later, Flexing. You won't be able to do much in The McChad-****** Grand Brawl like that."
Even if your head was still messed up, there was no way you'd forget what he was talking about. The McChad-****** Grand Brawl... a yearly event, where the fists powered by cardio and martial arts clash against the fists of swole and the hands of grappling. It's always an amazing sight... And this is the first year you'll be able to get in. It's divided into age groups, you've just hit the age of 15, so you'll be fighting everyone up to 18 year olds. You did always wish it started earlier, but, nothing can be done, can it?
Either way, you need to get back to training. As does Strongarm... he's probably facing the same punishment he always does for stuff like this.
Cleaning every dirty weight in the storage.
Luckily, he's gotten it so many times, he's become an utter speed demon at doing it, and he's done by the time you get there.
"Hey! So, ugh... what were we going to do next again?"
"... I was the one hit in the head, not you."
"Come on man, you know I don't memorize this stuff. I just go along with what you do, bro."
Sigh.
That said, what was the next routine?
... Gladly raised, but, it seems you've been hit rather hard in the head by a Medicine ball, and you need to remind yourself of your name while your buddy tries to shake you back into consciousness.
"Hey, flexing, get up!"
Flexing, get up... What kind of statement is... oh, yeah. Now you remember. Your parents were pretty simple folk, so your name is Flexing.
After a bit, you manage to get your eyes open, and stand on your feet, a little bit wobbly. Your friend was the one to help you up, and around you, you can see the architecture... a gym of cobblestone, like a castle mixed with the modern art of creating swole... Then again, this is what you've always known, why is that usual to you?
"... I guess I threw that way too hard, didn't I?"
"... Pretty sure I have a concussion now."
You remember this guy too. Strongarm McChad. You've been friends since childhood, due to your simple names that most other kids would mock. He's a bit aloof. You said one line about how one of his throws was way off, and once he got the ball back, this is how he responded.
As you get an understanding of your situation better, some of the older guys in the area come over to figure out what happened.
"You know it's against the rules to break the sound barrier in this area, Strongarm!"
"Yeah, yeah...."
"Are you okay, Flexing?"
"... Maybe? I dunno."
"... Go to the Sportsman."
Well, with that in mind, you go to get checked up. The doctor is a pretty laid back guy, who speaks quietly about whatever he's discussing. It makes for a hilarious image, when his massive frame simply sits in a chair, both hands near his lap, and considering the damage to your head, you can't help but laugh a bit at that.
"... Laughing with minimal provocation is quite serious. Stand still."
The sportsman stands up from his chair, and starts moving his arms in an almost hypnotizing fashion... focusing, channeling mystic energy... Before he suddenly shoves, removing the injuries from your brain.
"Alright, I'll see you later, Flexing. You won't be able to do much in The McChad-****** Grand Brawl like that."
Even if your head was still messed up, there was no way you'd forget what he was talking about. The McChad-****** Grand Brawl... a yearly event, where the fists powered by cardio and martial arts clash against the fists of swole and the hands of grappling. It's always an amazing sight... And this is the first year you'll be able to get in. It's divided into age groups, you've just hit the age of 15, so you'll be fighting everyone up to 18 year olds. You did always wish it started earlier, but, nothing can be done, can it?
Either way, you need to get back to training. As does Strongarm... he's probably facing the same punishment he always does for stuff like this.
Cleaning every dirty weight in the storage.
Luckily, he's gotten it so many times, he's become an utter speed demon at doing it, and he's done by the time you get there.
"Hey! So, ugh... what were we going to do next again?"
"... I was the one hit in the head, not you."
"Come on man, you know I don't memorize this stuff. I just go along with what you do, bro."
Sigh.
That said, what was the next routine?
- Benchpress. Got to crank up that tricep and pectoral power.
- Squats. You need good legpower if you want to be able to stay in the ring.
- Deadlift. Works the lower body as well, but, a different area. Just as important.
- Write in...
