Solo Shanghai'd Scuffles

[Alric Lysane]

62nd Fall 521 AV – Tall Johnny’s The first sensation was cold pressure, forcing its way through the blackness and concentrating on his face. Several big lines of chilled pressure that felt like foreboding. His eyes flickered open and the next thing to return was hearing, dulled at first but sweeping back quickly, vision rippling and coming back into concentrated view as he groaned and pushed himself up, shaking his head. Half-rolling his back came up against something and he rubbed his face as the noise of a crowd became distinguishable through the ache in his skull. “I don’t remember drinking this much” he said, wincing and grimacing slightly just before a wash of cold water was dumped over him and he almost jumped to his feet in shock. “Rise and shine lad, time to work” “Work? I don’t have work, too honest” “Hah! That I don’t doubt but all the better, no one will miss you” “Miss me, what are you on….about….oh shyke” he trailed off as he finally took a good look at the room he was in, eyes darting around. “Shyke in deed lad! Fight starts in 5 chimes. You want to use them trying to get out like everyone else feel free but no one ever gets out. Better to conserve and muster your strength” “Nononononono, I don’t fight like this. I’ve never…I mean why would I….I don’t even want the title” “Yeah,” the man who seemed to be the supervisor for the day dug a finger in his ear and wiggled it a bit as he spoke, “said you’d say that. Well…look at it this way lad. You lose then it won’t matter to you anymore and you win then you get a prize at the end and another chance maybe later to see if the title seems pretty to you. Winners always come back. Your fighting someone low down anyway, not a big fight just to keep the crowd happy until later” The man walked off laughing then and left Alric to debate the potential ending of his days. He pulled at the thick bars and found that they would not budge. He looked up, searching for an escape above but he was completely enclosed. He had no weapons, no lockpicks or anything that might be turned into one. They knew cheater’s tools and had removed any that might be used as one. The gate was firmly locked on both sides. His heart sank as he knew he was in the contest whether he liked it or not. His back slid down the bars until he was sat down, nursing his throbbing head. “Shyke” He had never fought in the cage despite the fact it could mean easy coin so long as you were good enough. He didn’t like others knowing who he was or what he was capable of, it often meant drawing unwanted attention. He ran over his memory to see if he could remember who had grabbed him but all he came up with was a flash if blinding pain as he walked towards the Pig’s Foot just before waking up inside the cage. He breathed in deeply and tried to settle himself as Moritz had shown him, closing his eyes and regulating his breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth. It was impossible to get the blank mind with the jeering of the crown and the pain in his skull but he managed to relax his muscles a little and dampen the panic ever so slightly before the cage door slammed open. Alric sighed and pushed himself to his feet, about to make a run for the cage door as two giants stepped into the breach after who he could only assume was his competitor and blocked the way. Alric’s head fell in resigned defeat and he sighed. He looked up at his opponent and saw they were much like he was – similar height, build and presumably reach. Likely meant they were similar strength and so Alric only hoped that he was better skilled than the man and so would have the edge towards victory. He ignored the announcements, he didn’t really care much about anything beyond staying alive so that he could continue his life’s path, get Madeira what she wanted, meet Tazrae again and then fulfil whatever destiny had decreed for him. “Begin!” came the call and Alric settled into his usual stance, left foot forward and right foot back, hands up and open in front of him. The first chime was boring as all fights tended to be when formal, mostly just circling each other and seeing how they moved. He noticed the man had a slightly drag to his right foot, almost as if it could be injured but he wasn’t sure as he saw no bandages or the like poking out of the boot, nor any bulge that might indicate padding. He made a note and stopped moving, he was already tired and aching and so he would conserve his energy as much as was possible. Instead he turned with the other man and stayed otherwise in place, awaiting the inevitable attack.

[Alric Lysane]

Alric kept his breathing in check between shaking his head to try to rid it of the residues of swimming sensations as he kept his gaze upon the man in front of him. He didn’t like that he was in his current situation but he had two choices before him – win or lose. If he lost then he could die, these fights were usually brutal and lived in infamy. If he won he could walk away and do so without killing someone if possible. He saw little choice and so despite not truly enjoying a fight he would fight to the best of his ability. The other man stepped in and Alric had his suspicions about the leg confirmed, it was moving more sluggishly and so it was possibly injured. It was all fists at first, the man lunging in with jabs and crosses, tentatively testing his range and whether Alric had any advantage there. Alric stepped back as he batted them away, forcing the man to use his leg and seeing if it might tire him and glean a win by default. They kept coming though and he was forced back towards the cage wall and realised he would have to pivot or attack. He opted for the former and as he pushed a rough cross out of the way and across the man’s body he used the over-balanced opening to switch stances and pivot away at a right angle. The man pursued him once he had got back into his stance and began another assault with his hands. He had yet to use his feet and Alric knew there were no rules and so it seemed strange to him as he kept up his defence, his arms starting to get that tingling beginning towards numbness from the forearm blocks and his palms warm from smacking other attacks away, blood flowing to cause them to burn. He was forced back to the cage wall on the other side of the ring to boos and jeers. He was, however, not tiring as fast as his opponent despite the sweat and the aching muscles, and that was a win in his book. He pivoted once more, knowing now that the pattern of the other man attacking him would likely continue and being proven correct. He opted for a different strategy this time, stepping back as if being pressed to the cage wall and waiting for his moment. It came a few feet from running out of space – a sluggish hook that Alric stepped into, hand cupping his ear and elbow up to form a crude arm shield to absorb the impact. The blow didn’t hit his head and he now was inside the man’s guard, free hand smashing into the man’s jaw to be followed by a driven down and twisted elbow to the side of the face. He went on his own assault now, a few attacks being blocked but with the element of surprise most landed – a jab to the jaw that hit the cheekbone at a glance, a hook to the ribs that landed higher than expected but still drove the air out of the man’s lungs and lastly a kick to the solar plexus that forced the man back to gasp breathing. Alric would have moved in to finish it then and there but a flailing arm had slapped him across the face and though causing minimal pain had still caught him by surprise and forced him to step back a pace and interrupted his assault. He brushed the side of his face with the back of his hand and frowned at the man who was clearly still uncomfortably but had settled back into a fighter’s stubborn stance. Bloody Ovek and his bloody bad luck and bloody fighters with their… his mind trailed off as he breathed deeply, feeling lethargy start to rear its head and his chest start to burn with exertion. He mustered himself for the next round.

[Alric Lysane]

Alric was at least now reasonably confident that he could win, though he doubted that he would get through unscathed. He felt that he was slightly more skilled though and that coupled with whatever reason for the man not using his legs was it seemed the fight was going more in his favour than not. Perhaps he had been wrong about Ovek not smiling upon him but he had little time to muse upon such matters as with an angry roar the man charged at him. It was a sudden and surprising thing and so it was all Alric could do to jump to the side and try for an awkward roll that did get him out of danger but was hardly graceful or practised. Still he was to his feet before his opponent could get any hits in. Then it was back to exchanging blows. He had used the trick of backing away and so that was unlikely to work again, as such there was little to do in the way of tactics but stand his ground and slog it out as best he could. Caged in as they were there was nowhere to run – his first choice – and the fight wouldn’t end until it ended and so he had to fight. Tall Johnny also had a reputation for ‘spicing things up’ if fights were seen as too boring and so he had to at least provide some entertainment. Thus the ‘punch each other until one got through’ portion of the fight began. It wasn’t crude as much as it is repetitive and not particularly skilled – they both had a competent understanding of how to fight and so it was more a test of stubborn will and creativity. After a while there was even a rhythm to it – jab, cross, cross, jab, hook, hook, jab, cross, cross. They were blocking each others blows reasonably well though some did glance through for indirect hits and Alric managed to clip the tip of the man’s chin once before they came apart for a short break in the attempts to bludgeon more effectively than the other. Alric’s breathing was laboured now, deep and panting breaths as he tried to not fall into the mistake of shallow breaths that would sap him further of his energies. Sweat stained him and he was rather happy – at least briefly – that he had not awoken wearing his cloak and instead it had been placed in a little pile to the side. He had been wearing his gloves though and he could feel the slimy residue of pooled sweat inside them. Chest heaving and throat starting to grow parched and burn slightly he decided that he had to try to deliver a decisive blow soon or risk the fight going on longer than his stamina might allow. He opted to try for cutting them down by the legs in good old Sunberthian fashion. When they closed in the next time there was the usual exchange of jabs and crosses but he waited and when the man overextended himself he pushed the cross away and to the side with as much force as he dared and caused the man to go off balance and tip forwards. He followed it up with a kick to the ankle, knee and then ribs as quickly as he could – it was on the man’s stronger side but impacts were what counted and the man started to bend as Alric’s leg retreated and he followed up with a stamp to the presumably injured foot for good measure, hoping to cripple further and perhaps force a concession and a stop to the fight.

[Alric Lysane]

It was as his heel connected with the top of the man’s foot he realised that he had made a mistake. His foot was not injured. He moved oddly on it because it was armoured somehow. Beneath the leather exterior there was no give, just a hard dome of what he assumed was metal. Once the man was finished absorbing Alric’s attacks he was now inside Alric’s range…and he was irate and possessed of a metal foot. The punch to the jaw came quickly and sent him back a pace but he managed to get his arms up just in time to absorb some of the impact from the very heavy kick. He tried to grab a hold of the leg, but it slipped from his grasp. He opted to go back on the retreat, backing away as quickly s he could but pursued closely with blows from the man’s hands that he batted away. They weren’t hard, they were a distraction he now knew, and they worked. For every few jabs he blocked he got a hair’s breadth from cracked ribs. He had to lose all sense of proper form in order to bend out of the way of the leg to prevent injury, waiting for the right moment. The right moment came after a few more chimes of backing away and dodging, stepping this way and that and waiting for the leg to come at him. The inevitability came and he stepped forwards, taking the brunt of the weighted impact on his tensed arm, knowing it would leave bruises but able to hook the other arm around the man’s leg and start tugging. He got a couple of jabs to the chin as he braced his foot against the man’s chest and pulled…pulled….and the boot came free and he fell backwards, rolling and pushing himself to the side. He flung the boot away to the other side of the cage, through the bars, just in time to get a kick to the chest that he felt ripple across his torso before flying backwards. He heard the footsteps more than sensed them and rolled out of the way groggily lashing out randomly with his own leg and hitting something, feeling it give way and a large thump slam next to him. He rolled again to his side and kept rolling until the cold of the cage bars could be felt and he used them to pull himself up to his feet a little unsteadily. He turned, his back to the bars, and saw that his opponent was one boot short now but seemed in better shape than he was. He shook his head and spat out a little blood from a cut lip and rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. He was not sure how much longer he could go on for, his footing was already unsteady from exertion but how much it was also from the recent blows he had received he wouldn’t know until they wore off and were replaced with the dull ache of past fights – a day hence perhaps. He shook his head, settle into a stance once more as he had no choice and they closed the distance between each other, a bit more cautious now – Alric because he needed time to right himself and his opponent because he had lost the edge he thought he had had. There was a closing and an exchange of blows – jabs and crosses blocked easily again as they warmed back up to the fight. They danced around each other, albeit without much professional ability, and exchanged several more series if blows a few more times before breaking off a bit further. He had lost that exchange he knew but had at least got rid of the damned metal plate boot. He blinked sweat out of his vision and knew there were perhaps two more exchanges left before either one of them would be declared the winner by default of the other being unable to go on. Both of them had streaks of blood from cut lip, brow of cheek. Eventually one would falter, it was inevitable.

[Alric Lysane]

He was tired now and the numbness of various injuries was wearing off which told him that the adrenaline he had had before was starting to run low. It showed in his form too, growing more loose and slower, though his opponent also seemed to be suffering from fatigue. He could feel his forearms aching and his ribs complaining. Nothing felt like it was too injured but he would still sleep soundly later, as long as he still breathed. Alric decided to rush in to try to finish the fight and regretted this rash judgement. His judgement had clearly been clouded by the hits he had just received and his coordination was little better, his two jabs lading only glancing blows despite the sudden rush and his kick being caught. There was a brief moment where he knew he had made an error before he was hauled off of his feet and slammed into the floor, the air leaving his lungs. At least he had curled his head up at the last moment so his skull hadn’t been cracked open. It had not been a smooth throw for his opponent but the man was still on top of him quick enough and it was all Alric could do to block and cover as best he could as blows rained down. He was hit several times on the shoulder and arms, once in the side and he thought another couple skimmed the top of his head. It was pure instinct that made him open up and grab the man’s head, legs wrapping around his waist and getting him in a headlock. The blows rained upon his back but he was getting his own hits in now and so it became tit for tat. He hauled backwards, seeing if he could choke the man out with his forearm across his neck but his grip was flawed and instead they rolled off of each other and momentum carried them rolling over. They both pushed themselves to their feet slowly, more tired and dulled than ever. They were both sloppy now, footwork less dancing dodges and more solid planting to keep them upright. Alric kicked forwards and then twisted his hips to get another in from the side. In response he got a kick of his own to the stomach and a jab to the jaw. It was strange because their blows were getting weaker as their strength was sapped and so despite the more of them landing they were hardly knock out blows. One came close though and that was a solid cross to Alric’s jaw that sent him to his knee and spitting more blood. His tongue felt out and found that at least his teeth were not broken. His opponent grabbed him by the hair and sought to pull him up, yanking hard. Alric went with it and found something he had never really needed to use before in a fight– perseverance. The kind of stubborn reserve of energy that was found only when you were bone tired, battered and had little else left for one last desperate moment. He had spent his life running from fights where possible, rigging them ahead of time if he could or just not getting involved. Now he had no choice and something he had been holding back out of senseless restraint snapped and lent him the remainder of what he possessed.

[Alric Lysane]

As he rose the man’s free hand came towards him, fist balled and ready for the final blow. Alric grabbed the wrist as it came around wide and placed his other hand on the man’s shoulder. Hooking his leg behind, albeit awkwardly, he pushed and pulled. They both fell, though his opponent fell harder and faster, Alric keeping some of his footing long enough to be delayed slightly in his own descent. The man’s head hit the ground along with his shoulder and back, soon followed by Alric’s falling elbow to the chest, chopping down his forearm like a blade to drive as much force down as he could, grim determination filling him as his knees hit the floor. He forced himself atop the man, straddling him and his knees half-pinning his shoulders beneath them as he tried to buck Alric off. He maintained his balance by forcing his weight through his shins and bracing himself with one arm off to the side, his left hand anchoring him as his right smashed into the man’s face as often as he dared whilst trying to stay in control and on top. It was a slow and methodical beating, not something he had ever had to do but caught up in the moment of survival, the red mist rising and the definite possibility that if he lost this exchange he may lose his life he followed through with it. After a few hits the man stopped bucking and instead tried wriggling his arms free and managed to do so enough to start blocking half-heartedly. Alric just kept hitting, with both hands this time, raining blows down. It didn’t matter at that point whether they all landed, enough might that his opponent would pass out but what really mattered was keeping him on the defence and unable to attack back. His knuckles ached from the repeated impacts. One hand eventually snaked out and grabbed for Alric’s clothing. He was ready and grabbed the wrist, twisting his legs so that one was across the man’s chest and the other across his neck, their bodies now crossing each other forming an x shape. He pulled with his arms and forced his hips up. The man started to scream and thrash but Alric kept going until the pop came, the sign that - as he had seen it done once before – the arm had been wrenched from its socket, the elbow popping. He brought the leg that had been across the man’s neck back and kicked out at his jaw and he finally lay still. Shuddering Alric rolled away and crawled, battered, beaten, pained and tired towards where he had seen his cloak. He found his personal effects as the roar of the crowd crescendos and he started hating what he had just done. It had been survival but he had the feeling that he would remember the sickening sounds of a ruined arm for some time. At least he had let the man live, few could say that after having lost in the fighting pits. He was hauled to his feet soon after he had wrapped his cloak around himself and retrieved his things – he hadn’t taken much out with him thankfully when he had been grabbed but he was looking forward to the pipe and tobacco he felt in his pouch. “Good show lad! Bit slow, bit dodgy…should’ve had him sooner. Shame about the boot but you know how these things are do-“ “You knew” Alric said impassively and with an edge to his voice as he frowned at the man. “Maybe maybe, he was always a cheating little shyke. Did check him but didn’t expect that…don’t worry we’ll have…words…with him” “You didn’t warn me. You didn’t expect me to survive,” Alric followed the logic tiredly and with a growing sense of anger, “you….bastard!” “No need for that lad. You don’t have to leave here after all,” the man said as two very large men joined him either side, “as it is you won! Best take that for a blessing now. Here…for the fight. Call it a consolation prize…they belonged to Valrik there, he won’t be needing them. Good leather too” The man pressed what looked like simple gauntlets into Alric’s hands, hard around the knuckles and forearm but soft everywhere else. He sighed and pulled them on, too tired to buckle or lace then up, and made his way as quickly as he could to the exit without falling over. Not sure this was what my life was supposed to be like…but at least I’m still alive he told himself. For now he ignored what he had done, what he had been forced to do perhaps, and lit his pipe from a torch before puffing away and stepping out into the half-fresh air of the city.

[Alric Lysane]

Your Grades Alric Lysane Skills Acrobatics - 2 Endurance - 3 Observation – 2 Meditation - 1 Socialization – 2 Tactics – 2 Weapon: Unarmed – 5 Wrestling - 2 Lores Sunberth: Tall Johnny’s Cage Unarmed: Arm Blocks Unarmed: Basic Kicks Unarmed: Elbow Strike Unarmed: Hand Parry Unarmed: Footwork Pivot Unarmed: Ground & Pound Unarmed: Jabs, Crosses & Hooks Unarmed: Leg Hook Takedown Unarmed: Kick Catch Wrestling: Ground Grappling Wrestling: Headlock Items Gained Leather Gauntlets Various Bruises, Cuts and Scrapes - 14 days to fully heal