<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/fa/Trainee.jpg)</div><strong>Character name:</strong>Yfan Bravni<br/><strong>Position:</strong>Trainee<br/><strong>Tag:</strong>Open<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Evening, Saven 5th, 990NE<br/><strong>Place:</strong>Training Grounds, running track<br/><strong>Warning:</strong><br/><hr/><br/>Yfan Bravni was, for the edification of one of the masters, running. He was running around the foot race track built into the training grounds within the grounds of the White Tower set aside for the training of trainees like himself and the Valdar. It was something that Yfan had been doing since the middle of the day. His mouth was dry and the grey woolen tunic and pants he was wearing were wet with sweat. They clung to his immense frame, and in places where they sweat had evaporated to a degree and left behind salt, chafed. It was not a pleasant feeling but it was a petty discomfort to be endured. No doubt by design.<br/><br/>But it was not just running. Propped on one shoulder, Yfan was carrying a large, stout barrel held together by iron bands. Within this barrel was many nails. It was a barrel that was, in fact, full of nails. Yfan was used to the sound that the nails made as they moved within the barrel as a result of his every step. He was used to the ache developing in his muscles and the burn in his lungs. The sting of sweat in his eyes was very familiar now, and he closed his eyes and felt the sweat flow away. He had done so many laps now that he could run about the course with his eyes so closed, and did. When he felt it prudent, the trainee did open his eyes again. There was nothing new to see.<br/><br/>Yfan continued to run. In another hour, he could stop. He could have stopped hours ago, but the conditions were not ones that Yfan was amenable to. Perhaps there had been a secret lesson of humility in all of this that Yfan failed to grasp. It was perfectly plausible.<br/><br/>But Yfan did not stop running.