Closed [Fighter's Pits] Rough and Rumble (Holland)

Holland and Orin have a friendly bout without weapons

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This shining population center is considered the jewel of The Sylira Region. Home of the vast majority of Mizahar's population, Syliras is nestled in a quiet, sprawling valley on the shores of the Suvan Sea. [Lore]

[Fighter's Pits] Rough and Rumble (Holland)

Postby Orin Fenix on April 3rd, 2015, 11:39 am

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72nd of Spring, 515AV


Orin woke early as was his custom. Moving carefully so as not to disturb Sylvette, Orin threw on his clothes and slipped on his boots. Easing the door open carefully, Orin shut it just as slowly, not letting it slam shut and awaken Sylvette. If she did wake up it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but Orin tried to be conscientious of his Kelvic. She worked hard and Orin tried not to impose on her needlessly. He still couldn’t quite believe he of all people had ended up bonded. However, there was something he’d been trying to prevent. In all of his careful inquiries about Kelvic and the bonds they formed, he’d discovered that many people thought of the Kelvic bondmate as more of a glorified servant at best and a slave at worst. Not everyone had said that in so many words but it was the distinct impression Orin had received. And Orin refused to let that be the case between Sylvette and himself. There had been no reason for that assumption about Kelvic except that was how people thought of them. Not so much in Syliras where slavery was forbidden but travelers who ate at The Rearing Stallion had been a much more useful source of information. While they hadn’t outright stated their opinions, being afraid of the Syliran Order finding out most likely, they had made it quite easy to read between the lines.

Still, such musings could be put off to a later time and a later date. Orin had some training to get to. He’d finally figured out, after almost a season and a half, how to cut down on his training time. He’d been running laps around the Anthonius Fighter’s Pits as a warm-up and to work on his endurance until one morning he’d had a brilliant idea. If he ran to the Pits, then he’d have more time to work on his actual combat skills each day. So he set off in an easy lope. He always started a bit slowly, having just woken up, but eventually, about halfway between his apartment and the pits Orin had reached a faster run. It wasn’t quite a sprint but it was about as fast as Orin could sustainably run for a decent distance. Luckily his apartment wasn’t too far from the Pits so this exercise wasn’t excruciatingly painful. Still Orin was running for long enough that when he finally did arrive his chest was heaving and he had the beginning of a stitch in his side. He dropped to a walk and kept moving, gulping in huge bursts of air, until his body had marginally settled down.

Still feeling a burn, albeit a more pleasant and manageable one, Orin took a quick glance around the Pits. It was sparsely populated, as it usually was during the mornings but there were a few people scattered here and there. The sun was covered by a thin layer of clouds and the air had a bit of a chill to it, unusual but not impossible this late in the season. Orin just hoped it warmed up a bit later, although if it got too hot that would be even worse. The kitchen was unbearable during the truly hot spells. Still, there was nothing Orin could do about the weather so he went to work on his roll. All season Orin had been working to master his forward and backwards roll but since he could barely do the first few steps of the forward one, he’d never gotten up the courage to attempt the backwards roll. And he wouldn’t until the forward roll was mastered. Keeping his knees loose, Orin threw himself forward. Keeping his arms out of the way, Orin made sure to hit shoulder first, his right shoulder this time, and rolled to his opposite hip. However, as usual, instead of the motion continuing, Orin just stayed there flat on his back. If he did it right, this was supposed to let him spring to his feet at the end of the tumble. Unfortunately, Orin never ever did it correctly. Supremely frustrated, Orin got to his feet then repeated the whole process over again, this time aiming for his left shoulder. Channeling his annoyance at himself, Orin fell forward with an extra spring and more force than usual. He hit his shoulder jarringly but managed to continue into the roll. And, like a miracle, Orin found his feet and still had momentum at the end, so he sprang up, then stumbled a few steps before catching himself. It was far from pretty but at least Orin had been marginally successful in his endeavor. Not wanting to ruin the moment by attempting another roll and failing, Orin simply left it, vowing to come back and work another day.

Unsheathing his dagger, Orin went to go work on his form. He ran through his basic high, middle, and low slashes and his stabs. He did a few spins ending in a thrust to be used on an opponent that was behind him, then practiced switching from grip to grip in the middle of a sequence to see if he had enough control over the blade to manage it. It turned out he didn’t as his blade dropped during one such switch. In general, his attacks had been sluggish and lackluster. Orin wasn’t really feeling much enthusiasm towards working on his dagger today. Giving it up as a lost cause, Orin put the knife away, then scanned the Fighter’s Pits for a spare dummy. When he spotted one, Orin went over to it, then squared off. Making fists, Orin threw a punch with his right hand then immediately followed it with an uppercut with his left. While his technique was sloppy, this was infinitely more satisfying than slashing at the air, since Orin was actually hitting something. However, Orin had worked on his punches quite a bit and had realized that he didn’t really know how to kick at all. Unlike when he had learned to punch, there wasn’t anyone working on their own kicks today so there wasn’t anything Orin could base it off of. So, instead Orin tried to remember the kick Aren had used on him. It had kind of swept across Orin’s legs and knocked them out from under them, but Orin hadn’t been able to tell exactly how it had worked in the heat of the moment. However, Orin kicked at the dummy and tried to make it travel across the dummy’s body. The dummy, though, was stationary and instead of falling over as Orin had it simply bruised Orin’s right shin to make that attack. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Orin just kicked at the dummy with his foot, the sole of his boot landing on the lower part of it. Orin liked to think it had just landed on the dummy’s privates, if indeed it had such. Still, overall Orin was quite unhappy with his training today.
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Last edited by Orin Fenix on April 7th, 2015, 1:46 pm, edited 4 times in total.
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[Fighter's Pits] Rough and Rumble (Holland)

Postby Holland Rolandus on April 7th, 2015, 1:06 pm

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Footstep by oncoming footstep; his heels impacted the sands below. Holland had just awoken mere bells ago. Not to mention; as per usual he didn't comb his hair. A look of both anger and compassion found itself resting upon his visage. He realized that he was in the fighters pits, and perhaps a spar would be the perfect tool for waking him up. Having battled here multiple times before; the vicinity was no longer foreign to him. Holland grew to become quite comfortable within it, and rubbed his eyes for a moment. Only to realize that yet another male stood opposite of his position. He wanted to simply turn about and leave. Although instinct consumed him and he didn't quite care about the result of a battle for now. Holland wasn't fatigued; he simply wasn't ready for battle just yet being that he'd just woken up. Holland drug his hot oral muscle across his lips for a moment. Having attempted to moisten his lips; being that they were dry. Holland made a decision, and decided upon going forth with challenging the other male. Yet; he had to think about the fact that he wanted to be with Claudia at the moment..

Yet, he couldn't help having been obsessed with a good battle. Holland attempted to do battle with his instincts. That didn't work either, and he went forth approaching the opposing male. What was on his mind was a simple objective; assessing his opponent. Holland began using one of the most basic techniques in combat. Gauging the opponent by observing, and paying close attention to the stances. Holland attempted to make note of a few things about the opposing male. The way that his feet were placed, and how he threw strikes. Holland watched as the opposing entity threw strikes, and how he struck the dummy. Holland paid attention to his every move, and having watched in silence. Not even being bothered to so much as greet the other boy. He had been the same one that Holland recognized from the party. This man who he didn't know had been the cook. That was assuming Holland was even capable of remembering correctly.

Holland assessed his target before moving in closer, and attempted to walk slowly. Temptation overwhelmed him and Holland immediately spoke in an outburst. Following having made a tactic in order to attack the boy in combat. After Holland realized that he'd already seemed like he was in pain; Holland would target the boys leg. Holland had always been a dapper individual, and often wore his typical attire. Royal blue and black clad in his long-sleeved loose-fitting shirt which hugged him at the wrists. Holland parted his lips and finally spoke his words without hesitation. The outburst wasn't quite like him, but now that he was wide awake that was all subject to change. Holland exclaims, and made sure his voice was audible enough for the opposing male to hear. "You! I want to battle against you, Lad'. Yes, I am talking to you! I saw you at the party, and you weren't even close to being a combatant. You were nothing but a cook! If that is what you are, then you shouldn't be here boy. Perhaps you and I should battle and I'll test your mettle for myself!" Holland spoke as a means to intimidate the opponent.

Holland grew to have only further been absorbed in his thoughts. Practically having been overtaken by them and devising a tactic in order to attempt defeating the opponent with. When He Throws a kick I will take him down. Breaking an opponents balance is important, and although I'm not all that strong in terms of wrestling. I shall surely outmatch him. Holland thought to himself as he proceeds with taking up a stance before the boy even turns around. Holland simply took up a basic boxing stance, raising his fists simultaneously. Planting his feet firmly upon the ground and bouncing lightly on his toes. Having evenly distributed his body weight by raising his heels up off of the ground. As an attempt to keep himself balanced, yet he struggles to even maintain this stance. As it put a strain on his calves and he hadn't had the bodily strength to keep it up for long.

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[Fighter's Pits] Rough and Rumble (Holland)

Postby Orin Fenix on April 7th, 2015, 3:34 pm

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Orin hadn't even bothered to throw another kick at the dummy, he was so disheartened by his overall performance. While Orin wasn't much of a combatant on the best of days usually he could at least make his strikes land vaguely in the direction he wanted them to go in. Today though, he was all over the place. His dagger had gone awry and his punches landed far off the mark. Slipping lower and lower into a funk, Orin finally threw his hands up in disgust. Clearly continuing for the day would be unwise. He should just go to The Rearing Stallion and get a head start on the cooking for today. That was definitely something Orin knew he could do. It never failed to cheer him up either. Also it might help get him back into Rondo's good graces although at this point Orin didn't think anything would do that. At this point Orin didn't even think he cared. Rondo was a complete and total jerk and he'd hated Orin the moment Orin had walked into his kitchen. And this season Orin hadn't been meekly taking all the criticism. In fact, occasionally Orin gave as good as he got. I wonder if there's this much damn politicking in the upper echelons of the Order. Orin would pay money to see a showdown between Loren Dyres and Rondo. And Orin would put the money on Rondo. Still, idle thoughts led to empty stomachs, and in Orin's case not just his own so Orin finally got up the energy to start trudging out of the pits.

However a shouted voice stopped him in his tracks. Orin looked over his shoulder to see what all the commotion was about before recognizing that he was in fact the one being accosted. Swiveling his head back to the front, Orin was surprised to see a man garbed in navy standing in front of him and shouting. The man looked awfully familiar and Orin took a moment to try and place him. When the party came up, it clicked. Holland, that was the man's name although Orin couldn't fathom exactly how Orin had attracted the man's ire. Orin figured this had more to do with Holland personally than Orin himself.

And when Holland accused him of being nothing but a simple cook Orin didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Obviously he was just a cook. That's why he was out he training in the first place. So it was completely hysterical that Holland was trying to act like it was crazy for Orin to be out here when Orin already well knew his own limitations. Disoriented and dejected, Orin gripped his normally mobile mouth firmly to prevent himself from blabbing the first thought that came to mind. Orin would have to speak carefully if he wanted to avoid conflict. "Well I would point out that there's no sign forbidding cooks from being here. As far as I'm aware this place is open to everyone. However, I was already on my way out and I have no quarrel with you even if you seem intent on picking a fight with me. So perhaps you would be so kind as to let me pass?" As vehement as Holland was acting though, Orin seriously doubted he'd be able to get out of this without a great deal of pain.

And his fears were confirmed when Holland put his fists up in what he probably thought was a proper boxing stance. Though Orin didn't know much at least he knew enough to see that Holland didn't know what he was doing with his feet or his hand. Orin wouldn't even bother showing off like that, knowing how futile taunts were unless you had the strength to back it up. Which Orin usually didn't. Narrowing his eyes, Orin responded with a simple acceptance of the inevitable. "Fine. Let's do this. I need to let off some steam anyway." Orin squared off with Hollland. He carefully reined in his anger and his anxiety about the upcoming brawl. Orin wasn't going to draw a weapon unless Holland did. And while emotions should fuel a fighter, they should never ever control him or her. Orin had learned that many nights ago while testing his strength against a much more intimidating opponent than Holland. At least Holland couldn't start flinging magic about, even if he had it, with all the Knights about.

Orin had also learned another lesson that night. If the opponent was bigger and stronger, it was also likely they were slower. Orin was a few inches shorter than Holland and much less heavily muscled. But hopefully he was more agile. If Holland got a grip on Orin, then Orin would probably lose. But Orin could probably avoid getting hit in any major way for long enough that Holland would grow tired. And that meant a lot of dodging and weaving. But more importantly it put Orin on the defensive, and Holland would have to come to him. While Orin didn't relish fleeing from a fight he also had no problems with it, shameful as it might be. It was better to live and fight another day. So all Orin would have to do was either weary Holland or simply get past him. If Holland tried to pursue him outside the Pits then Orin pitied the fate the Knights would have in store for him. So Orin stepped back into a half-crouch and made a come hither gesture at Holland while keeping a careful eye out for the slightest hint of movement.
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[Fighter's Pits] Rough and Rumble (Holland)

Postby Holland Rolandus on April 11th, 2015, 5:13 am

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The cook was brave, very brave indeed. Hollands mood was melancholy and all at the same time violent. He had a tendency to go on angry streaks which only typically resulted in pain. Harrowing were his thoughts, and they continued to run through his mind. Holland remained in his stance, and stepped forward slightly. He shifted his stance entirely as he neared the opponent. Holland was approximately seven paces away now, and maintained that distance for a moment. He needed to take the time to change his stances, and he used the time well. Not wasting any before he lunged forth, and stepped into the opponents striking range. “Cook or no cook, I’m going to take you down.” Holland thought as he moved in, and aimed to slam his elbow into the opponents’ cranium. Having brought about his elbow and swung it toward the opponents’ cranial structure. Holland followed the motion up with a second simultaneous strike. He threw outward a knee aimed for the opponents gut.

Holland continued to strategize and come up with tactics for battle. Holland devised a quick-scheme. He learned immediately that thinking swiftly was a valuable asset in combat. Without the ability to think immediately a fighter would lose. Not because of the fact that the fighter isn’t a good fighter, but because they aren’t tactical enough. Tactics in combat were often associated with strategies. Yet, without strategy a combatant is simply an idiot with a weapon or a pair of fists. Therefore a loss would practically be immediate if one relied upon nothing but instinct. Holland thought yet again and learned another lesson. Instinctive movements are often times incorrect, and cause a combatant to lose a battle.

Holland remembered his battle against Lorden. Lorden was the knight Holland thought of as his rival. He remembered the precise moment when Lorden instinctively charged him head first. Lorden was defeated due to the fact that he chose to act without thinking about the consequence of his actions. Holland wanted to simply say that he was the smarter man, but that wasn’t the case. Holland was only the victor due to the amount of thought he put into his movement. Holland was no fighter with simply fists, but through hard work he’d become one. Holland was always a swordsman through the course of his life, and over the years he figured that was all he’d ever be. Yet, he was wrong and in order to be strong versatility was necessary at all times. Therefore Holland would spend quite an elongated period of time in combat. He wanted to learn what it truly meant to be strong, and this was the first step to doing so. Holland didn’t want to look weak, and he damn sure would try not to. Holland knew very well that he had advantages and disadvantages. Just as every combatant had, but he saw flaws in his own movements. If the elbow missed Holland would attempt to recover and strike back at the opponent.

Never before had Holland retreated from battle. Not even when the odds were stacked against him. Holland had a burning passion, a desire to battle on and win. Yet, at the same time Holland knew winning wasn’t a way to learn. Philosophically Holland thought to himself “When you win you typically learn nothing and begin to think your method is perfect. Whereas when you lose you make note of your own mistakes. Winning isn’t everything, but competition is what measures strengths and weaknesses fighting is a competition.” He thought once more as he continued to strike, before coming to a grim revelation. His strikes were both flawed, because of the fact that they were very aggressive, and uncontrolled. He relied far too much on the power behind the strike rather then its full blown accuracy. He wasn’t in the situation he’d initially hoped to be in, but that didn’t matter. As long as the opponent couldn’t counter it he would be fine, but the question was could he? Was it possible that the cook he so underestimated could be a master in terms of combat? No, that couldn’t be Holland thought immediately. Holland observed and looked at his physique before hand. The opposing male was obviously an amateur. In no way shape or form did he even look threatening. Had he been much of a fighter he should’ve had some sort of bulky muscle mass. Maybe some scarring on em’ yet, Holland saw none of that. Therefore he was given some sort of sense of comfort in the situation.

“I’ll break him, I’ll break him, I will break him!”
Holland thought to himself as his anger and adrenaline flared.

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[Fighter's Pits] Rough and Rumble (Holland)

Postby Orin Fenix on April 11th, 2015, 12:51 pm

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Orin didn’t know a lot about fighting. And he knew even less about fighting without weapons. But his sparring match with Aren all those days ago had taught Orin a few key lessons. First, emotions should never get the best of a fighter. It would simply result in sloppiness. The intellect needed to be in control not instincts. While emotion was good for channeling the energy of one’s body it had to held in check by a warrior’s brain. While Orin wasn’t a warrior presumably the same concept applied to him. Another important notion for Orin specifically was to use an opponent’s own force and momentum against them. Orin was under no illusions about his strength and conditioning. Part of the reason he trained with daggers was because Orin knew he couldn’t begin to handle some of the heavier and slightly more powerful weapons. Orin might be quick but he’d probably snap his wrists if he tried to use an actual sword. That obviously carried over to his fighting with hands, fists, and other various body parts. Allowing an opponent to get a grip would spell disaster for Orin. But using a foe’s own move against them was not only an option it was the best course of action for Orin. And it often proved disheartening for those fighting Orin. And while sparring with Holland Orin had one very large advantage that he intended to press to the fullest. Holland was actively trying to hurt Orin. The same could not be said of Orin. Orin just wanted to get out and go to work and Holland was proving to be quite an annoying obstacle in his way.

Holland’s elbow and knee sped towards Orin’s head and stomach respectively. Normally, Orin would’ve taken a lesser blow to avoid a worse one, namely the knee in this instance. Since Orin had already had a major head injury this season he wanted at all costs to avoid another. Belatedly, Orin realized that he probably should have put some ground rules in place like he had in his bout with Claudia a few days ago. But it was too late now. Holland’s strikes were vicious and fast. They did lack any and all finesse. While the same could be said of Orin’s attacks Orin didn’t intend to show those off. Since Holland’s incoming blows had left Holland horribly off balance. And Orin was planning to take full advantage of that.

Ducking the elbow strike and taking a few strides to Orin’s left to avoid the knee, Orin settled himself. He stuck out his right foot just slightly so it was directly in the path of Holland’s right, since his left leg was off the ground. Hopefully Holland’s own forward motion would cause the man to trip over Orin’s outstretched leg. However, in combat it was best not to take chances. So Orin reached out with his hands for the arm Holland had thrown the elbow strike with. If Orin could get a grip on that, he intended to pull Holland forward and over Orin’s foot. That would ensure the success of Orin’s maneuver. However, at the first sign of Holland’s recovery, or another attack from the man, Orin was planning on beating a hasty retreat. After all, getting Holland on the ground was just a secondary objective for Orin. Orin mostly wanted to get out of the Pits and figured if he threw Holland down it would give him ample time to run away. Still, keeping an eagle eye on Holland would serve Orin well. Orin was a pretty dirty himself, not unused to underhanded tactics to get his way. So Orin was always on the lookout for it.
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[Fighter's Pits] Rough and Rumble (Holland)

Postby Dove Brown on August 14th, 2017, 8:33 pm

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Don't forget to edit/delete your grade request. If you have any questions, comments or concerns regarding your grade, please do not hesitate to send me a PM.



 
Orin Fenix
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  • Running 1
  • Endurance 1
  • Acrobatics 2
  • Weapon: Dagger 1
  • Unarmed Combat 2
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  • Kelvics should not be treated like slaves
  • Running to the Pit as warmup
  • More force = more momentum
  • Tactics: judging an opponent
  • Tactics: evading is an option


 
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