Solo Getting Technical

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Built into the cliffs overlooking the Suvan Sea, Riverfall resides on the edge of grasslands of Cyphrus where the Bluevein River plunges off the plain and cascades down to the inland sea below. Home of the Akalak, Riverfall is a self-supporting city populated by devoted warriors. [Riverfall Codex]

Getting Technical

Postby Razkar on December 16th, 2012, 5:01 am

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Continued from here

21st Day of Winter, 512AV
Blue Bull Tavern


Razkar felt his pulse quicken as he descended the stairs with Kevlar. Well, in his wake would be more accurate. The giant Akalak cast a shadow big enough to swallow Razkar entirely, and Razkar knew that this giant was no lumbering ox, either. He was fast and sure and experienced.

And, as Kevlar turned to face him in the rough open space in the basement, unblemished. He'd been alive for years, decades, maybe even centuries, but his face was still smooth and handsome, the nose unbroken, with all his own teeth and both ears.

Razkar noted that with some sense of awe. To go through a lifetime - several lifetimes - of street fighting and come away without a scratch on your face? You either had to be very, very lucky or very, very, very dangerous.

"Ready to-"

Razkar lashed out with his right foot and hammered the Akalak under the kneecap. The huge man grunted and swayed on his feet, but his body was already moving in response-

-forearm sweeping vertically to knock away the short jab Razkar aimed at his jaw, knocking it to the side, exposing his face-

-and Razkar's vision became a huge, crashing forehead.

He reeled backwards as the headbutt slammed into his own and blackness filled his vision. But he remembered what Kevlar had taught him before: react. Don't slow, don't stop moving, and use anything that you can.

Razkar fell against the back wall, cushioned by what felt like bags of grain. His right hand dropped into an open one as the Akalak surged forwards, right arm cocked back-

-as Razkar swept his hand out the bag and tossed a cloud of grain into the big man's face.

"Petching-"

Kevlar growled and blinked just a second too late, flecks of grain biting into his eyes. Blinded, the punch became wild, Razkar ducking under it-

-but not the knee that followed it.

The Myrian was doubled over as a knee the size of his head caught him square in the gut and seemed to turn his lower spine to jelly. A chopping hand slammed onto his shoulder, right next to his neck, expertly scrambling the nerve cluster nestling there. His whole right side went numb for a moment and the stone floor rushed up to greet him.

He lay there groaning, feeling rather than hearing footsteps retreating from him and then a deep, appreciative but slightly mocking laugh. He blinked and kept blinking until his vision was halfway normal and saw Kevlar leaning against the pillar not even breathing hard, absently picking grain out of his stubble.

"Not a bad effort, Myrian." He said, sincerity in his voice but the conditional kind, as if complimenting a student that still had a long way to go. Which was broadly accurate, actually. "But I'm no stranger to fighting blind. Same principle-"

"Principle?"

Kevlar pursed his lips, patient with the Myrian and his grasp of Common. It certainly was coming on well, but some words were still beyond him. A voice echoed in his own skull, half-mocking, half-amused.

Yeah, and you don't hear the word "principle" around here much, do ya?

"Idea."

"Oh."

"Same idea as with your eyes open, but you back away after you throw your punches." Then his voice became critical. "But you still tried to go toe to toe. Goin' for my jaw, Myrian? With our height difference?" He patted his crotch and tut-tutted like a disapproving parent. "You know where you should have aimed for."

Razkar nodded reluctantly, but was listening to every word. He was still learning the finer points of brawling, and prime among them was that "fine points" were overrated. A good, solid boot or kneecap to the crotch would floor most men, and once on the floor, well, the fight was practically over. It certainly was when he and Kevlar last sparred.

He rubbed his bruised stomach and smirked.

"Fought good blind." He backed up, well out of arms length, and put up his hands. "Again?"

Kevlar's eyes searched the Myrian's, but his body made no move to advance or strike. Just before Razkar started to get confused, he shook his head. Now he was all serious, but his brows were knitted together like he was still thinking. Formulating, planning... planning his lesson.

"I know you can take yer lumps, boy. Tonight I'm gonna get a little more... specific. Know that word?"

"Yes, have heard."

"Particuar moves. Technical stuff, not just reacting. Think you can handle at?"

With his forehead and stomach screeching at him to say "no", Razkar grinned even wider and nodded. The Akalak's low laugh rumbled through the stone basement. The tavern was muted above them, occasional roar roar outside now a mere murmur through the cobbles. Kevlar cracked his neck left... then right... and nodded sharply.

"Good. Now, pay attention."

He moved faster than anyone that size had any right to, right arm cocked close and jabbing out towards Razkar's face-
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My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
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Getting Technical

Postby Razkar on December 16th, 2012, 9:41 pm

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Razkar had just enough time to wonder how quick a fractured skull would heal before the fist stopped in mid-air, two feet in front and a little to the left of his head. Kevlar stood still as a statue, eyes piercing.

"What now?"

Razkar took a second or two and then bought his left forearm up and across, pointing upwards, like he'd seen Kevlar do to block his jab. He swayed to his right as he did so, so even if the punch wasn't deflected all the way, it would still miss his head. Kevlar grunted, but his eyes were still critical.

"And then?"

Razkar jabbed out with his right, aiming at Kevlar's nose-

"No."

-only for the big man's left to rise and wrap around his wrist... lowering it to his throat.

"Guy my size, pop on the nose may or may not work. But you plant these-" he unwrapped Razkar's fist so his fingers were together and extended, but not all the way, slightly bent "-and put them right here."

He moved them to his Adam's apple.

"But don't straighten them all the way. You do, they might bend backwards and you'll petch your fingers up for the rest of the fight."

The Akalak stepped back and kept talking, warming to his subject as Razkar listened intently.

"Move forwards, too, when you strike." He demonstrated by jerking forwards a step with his right foot, striking out with his spear-like fingers at the same time. "Gives the punch a lot more force when you do that. Get lucky, you'll crush their throat, and that's that. They'll choke on blood."

Razkar nodded and smiled grimly. He liked that idea.

"But the most important thing is to move both arms as one. Block and blow, same time, don't give the bastard in front of you any time to think."

Kevlar stepped back and demonstrated, meaty arms moving in a blur as he did. Razkar was impressed at his coordination, especially considering his size. He threw up his left forearm, stepped forward and his fingers were already lancing forwards before his forearm would have made contact with his invisible opponent's punch. Then he did it again, slower...

"Now you."

Kevlar's right arm lashed out again, and Razkar's left jerked up and across to block, it deflect it-

-he stepped forwards as his arms shuddered with the impact-

-right hand shooting out, fingers together, slightly bent-

-stopping before Kevlar's throat.

The Akalak smiled, but his eyes were still cold.

"Again."
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My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
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Razkar
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Getting Technical

Postby Razkar on December 16th, 2012, 11:10 pm

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It wasn't just "again", as it turned out. It was several dozen "again" until Kevlar was satisfied. For a man with no teaching experience, Razkar was further impressed. The man was relentless in his tutoring, correctly Razkar's posture and form as necessary, emphasizing over and over the need for dual movement.

"Again!"

After half an hour of repetition, Razkar had pretty much got it down. Kevlar's arm shot out and Razkar's left forearm jerked out yet again to block it-

The meaty smack of flesh on flesh had barely hit the stale basement air before Razkar stepped forward and thrust his extended fingers out, stopping them just short of the Akalak's throat. Kevlar nodded shortly.

"Good. Then what?"

Razkar lashed out with his right foot and stopped it an inch or two before Kevlar's crotch. The combination of the blow to the throat and the impact of that kick would have incapacitated nearly anyone, and they both knew it.

"Very good. Now, next lesson..."

He stepped back again and his massive hands patted both his knees, then his elbows.

"Joints. Best places for a hard blow if you can't get to something soft like the eyes. Knock 'em the wrong way, they'll break, and the other guy's got one less limb to work with and a petching load of agony screwing with his mind."

He lashed out with his right foot and stopped it just below Razkar's left kneecap.

"Right there. Smash it good and hard. Works if the bastard's wearing armor and his balls're covered. Even wearing chainmail, at the least, you'll dislocate it. Get lucky, you'll break it." He demonstrated it again, then again. The placement of the kick would brutally knock Razkar's kneecap upwards, driving a wedge under his patella. "And what do you follow it with?"

Razkar thought for only a moment, analyzing the situation. Minus a kneecap, his enemy would stagger, maybe even go down, attention focused on that leg... on that side...

He struck out with a short left jab to the side of Kevlar's neck. Not the throat under his chin, but the broader target that was the side of his neck. Kevlar nodded slowly, approval in his eyes.

"Good instinct. Hit that sweet spot and everything south of his neck'll go numb. But petch it up and he's still moving, so..."

He kicked out again, right foot going under Razkar's kneecap, his left hand darting out like a snake's tongue for the side of Razkar's head, and then he stepped forwards, right arm swinging-

But not his fist. That stayed twisted back towards his pectoral, and instead his elbow was swinging around, stopping just shy of Razkar's jaw.

"Fists are good. Elbows are harder, so they're better. Problem is, you gotta get close."

The Akalak stepped back and repeated the three moves again: kick, left punch, right elbow. Anyone hit by all three would be unconscious or dead. He stopped, raised an eyebrow, and Razkar already knew what he'd say next.

"Now you."
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My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
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Razkar
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Getting Technical

Postby Razkar on December 17th, 2012, 1:04 am

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Again and again and again. Until practice made perfect, or at least an improvement.

Razkar kicked and jabbed and threw his elbow dozens of times in half a bell, until the movements became instinctive. Which Kevlar had said was the point.

"You were in the army, right?" He said, after showing Razkar how to step into the elbow strike properly. "All that training, sparring, thrusts and swings and all that. It's all just, y'know... muscle memory. Instinct. Best kind there is. Because when it kicks off in a brawl, you ain't gonna have much time to think. You react, and those moves will do the work. But remember what I told you last time: if-"

"If you have to fight," Razkar finished, lunging forward with his right foot and bringing his elbow up and around at the same time, "Hit first, and hit hard."

"Good man. Again!"

More chimes passed, until Razkar could kick and jab and throw his elbow in one smooth, brutally effective movement. Kevlar started to nod his approval, then started to block. The first time Razkar paused, and was rewarded with a "friendly" jab to his jaw.

"What're you waiting for?!" Kevlar had said, voice scornful as Razkar rubbed his face. "What, you miss one so the rest don't follow? You keep moving, Myrian! They block the leg, you go for the jab. They block the jab, you go for the elbow. They block that, you try something else, but you do-not-freeze!"

He swung again and Razkar blocked with his forearm before he'd thought about it, fingers thrusting out-

-Kevlar caught his wrist and Razkar bought his foot between his legs before his hand had stopped moving all the way.

The Akalak grunted, and Razkar had to marvel at the man's pain threshold. A kick in the balls and his legs barely shook. He just stood there, nodding.

"Better. Just remember: most people can block a punch, if they're looking for it. Fighters can block a couple. So you keep throwing kicks, punches, elbows, whatever, until one of 'em connects." He stepped forwards and peered into the Myrian's face. "Open yer mouth."

Razkar did as he was told, and Kevlar grunted at the sight of his sharpened teeth.

"Good idea, boy. Just remember, throat's a fine thing, but armor might cover it. So if it comes to it, you use those onto someone's face. It's not just the pain or the damage, either. You bite someone's face, and panic just takes over. It's, wadaya call it... primal. Know that word?"

"Means like far back in time? In mind?"

"Yeah, kind of. But point is, you do it, they stop thinking. All they want to do is get you off, and that buys you a second."

He backed up and shook his arms loose. Razkar braced himself.

"Ready?"

"Ye-"

The punch came hard and out of nowhere, but Razkar's forearm was already up to meet it, knocking it away-

-arm and extended finger going for the Akalak's throat-

-but Kevlar swayed away, boot lashing out-

-Razkar swung his body to his left, the boot hitting nothing but air, his own right foot jerking sideways-

-slamming under Kevlar's kneecap.

The Akalak grunted and staggered, his student lunging forwards for a jab at his neck, but Kevlar mirrored his actions mere moments before, blocking with his right arm-

-as Razkar swung his elbow-

-and caught Kevlar around the jaw.

A harsh, dry bark of laughter, and the Akalak was grinning. Razkar's eyes went wide. Goddess, did he even hurt him?! That elbow would have shattered a human jaw, or at least dislocated it. But Kevlar just shrugged it off, nodding and chuckling and reached out one meaty hand to pat Razkar on the shoulder.

"Not bad, boy. Makin' progress..."

His other hand reached out to, but palm up. Razkar just shrugged and dropped ten gold mizas into it. Kevlar grinned even wider, folded his fingers over it, put his hands together, and then exploded them outwards-

-but the money was gone.

"Magic, eh?"

"You say so..."
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My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
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Razkar
War Is The Answer
 
Posts: 1795
Words: 2242619
Joined roleplay: October 8th, 2012, 12:04 am
Location: Sunberth
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Getting Technical

Postby Razkar on December 17th, 2012, 2:04 am

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Razkar had one more order of business before he left the Blue Bull, and true to form, Kevlar had guessed that he would. Instead of bringing him back up top for some water, he told him to wait and fetched a couple of glasses for them.

There was a pregnant pause as both men drank, both trying to work out what the other would say. What would be spoken, hinted at, bartered.

And how much it would cost. But first of all.

"You got a punching bag?" Razkar nodded. "Good. Practice what we did tonight, every petching day. I want you doin' 'em in your sleep, you understand me?"

"Yes."

"And remember: always keep moving. The loser in a brawl's usually the slower man. He's too busy panicking or thinking. Don't bother with that bollocks. Move quick and sure and don't worry about looking petching artful. Just keep rainin' blows until the other bastards are all down and stay down. How's the jaw?"

That last line was delivered with a grin, and Razkar's eyes narrowed briefly. One day, he said to himself, I'll wipe that off your face... no, with your face. But there was no true malice behind it, and he just shrugged instead, ignoring his aching jaw as he took another sip.

"Not bad for old man."

"How do you know how old I am?"

"You Akalak. Live long time. I assumed?"

"Wise man said that "assumption was the mother of all f-""

"Yes, I hear that one."

"Anything else tonight, Myrian?"

"Yes."

Triumph shone in Kevlar's eyes and Razkar pressed on. He and Kevlar may have gotten along genially enough, even liked each other to a degree, but Kevlar was first and foremost a businessman. Any service you got from him was bought and paid for, unless you were blood-related... no, actually, he'd charge them, too.

"Need a name?"

"Yes. Provedan was... promising. But want other."

"He's not goo enough for you."

"Not say that. Just want other name."

Kevlar scrutinized the stoic Myrian by the dancing torchlight. He had to admit, those black eyes were hard to read. They gave off nothing but reflected light. He'd heard stories about "The Myrian", of course, though the sellswords and blowhards almost never bothered to use his actual name. Tales of a screaming, tattooed savage who ate hearts and took scalps and was Haev Provedan's new recruit.

"You asking, brother?" He said carefully, words measured and precise so there was no way he'd be misunderstood. "Or digging?"

Razkar cocked his head to one side, but there was no confusion in his eyes. Kevlar and he existed in a world of intersecting loyalties and interests. There were no friendships, only alliances, and temporary ones at that. So when a sellsword asked for a name, it was because he wanted an out, or an in... and maybe not for himself.

"I like keep choice open. If Provedan not good anymore. Want someone else. Just in case."

Nothing for a chime but the steady breathing of Kevlar. It was only a name, he told himself. Most of the time, all he gave was that. After all, what harm was there in a name? Everything else was up to the person he told. All he did was point them in a general direction. So...

"Fifteen."

"Seven."

"Twelve."

"Ten."

"Baltus Yurvan."

That was all, and all that was needed. Razkar placed another ten gold mizas into the Akalak's hand and once again they vanished somewhere else. He turned the name over and over in his head, burning it into his brain, wondering...

"He need sellsword?"

Kevlar blinked, memories and stories flashing in front of his eyes, but only his. A human, old by their standards, but shrewd enough for two lifetimes. He wasn't a particularly ruthless man, a trader, merchant, businessman. But he wasn't so stupid to think his seasonal caravans would make it across the vast and vengeful Sea of Grass without a thick screen of protection.

"Find out."

Razkar nodded and turned it into a sort of brief bow, his way of thanking his tutor and source. Kevlar led the way back up to the tavern floor, and by the time the sound and fury hit them again, Razkar's glass was empty. He placed it on the bar and once again Ann's hand snapped out from nowhere to put it away properly.

When he got to the door, he turned. Kevlar had already forgotten him, apparently, talking low and hushed with a couple of Konti, by the looks of it. But as he grabbed the handle, those sharp eyes flashed to him, held him for a moment... and then looked away.

Razkar stepped out into the frigid night, cloak wrapped around him, and strode to his horse.

Receipt:Training: 10gm
Information: 10gm
TOTAL: 20gm.00sm.00cm
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My Words | Your Words | Myrian | Fratavan | My Thoughts
Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
User avatar
Razkar
War Is The Answer
 
Posts: 1795
Words: 2242619
Joined roleplay: October 8th, 2012, 12:04 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Myrian
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Medals: 9
Featured Character (1) Featured Thread (2)
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Getting Technical

Postby Traverse on December 25th, 2012, 5:11 pm

Thread Awards!

Razkar :
Experience:
Brawling 3
Endurance 1
Observation 2
Tactics 1

Lore:
When They're Big, Go For the Groin
When Fighting, Always Keep Moving
Practice Makes Perfect

Ailments:
Intense Migraine: Will last for two days gradually improving over time
Bruised Midsection: Will remain for one week
Bruised Jaw: Will last several days


Additional Notes :
Great job really playing Razkar to his skill set against a more battle hardened and skilled opponent. It's good to see the Myrian is making some allies around Riverfall, and as always some nice writing for this little training thread.


Questions, Concerns? PM me and we'll be to the bottom of it. Safe Travels!
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