Closed The Fight [Balderdash]

[Yosen Dower]

20th of Fall, 515AV As the very first ray of light peeked through the light curtains on her window, Yosen shot out of bed, on her feet in an instant. She threw the curtains open and looked down from the small second-story room to the narrow, cobbled street below. Today is the day! The thought ran through her mind like a lightning bolt, accompanied by a fluttering of butterflies in her stomach. The day when she'd finally, truly, start on the path to becoming a monk of Skerr. With a deep breath, Yosen turned away from the window and picked up the outfit she'd selected the night before, comfortable and practical, with a good range of movement. Packing up the absolute basics into a backpack, Yosen padded as quietly as she could down the stairs, not wanting to wake her mother or father. The former had promptly burst into tears when she'd found out that “her little girl” was going to be joining the ranks of the monks, and Yosen was decidedly not in the mood for an emotional send off. So she skipped the creaky bottom step and paused only to nab an apple from the pantry for her breakfast before she eased open the front door and stepped out into the street. The girl stopped for a moment, looking intently at the door in front of her. It was probably the last time she'd ever see the house if everything went well, and while she wasn't a sentimental sort of person, she also had more than a chunk of granite for a heart. “Goodbye.” she murmured, placing her hand flat on the door for a brief moment before turning away. Her feet beat a rapid rhythm on the cobbles as she headed off towards the Bridge of Beginnings, the bridge that connected the East Quarter to the Celestial Square at the center of the city. At this early hour, there weren't many on the street but the occasional courier or monk, both of them too concerned with their own business to pay too much attention to a young woman munching on an apple as she made her way towards the Celestial Square. For the first few minutes, Yosen felt a sort of turmoil inside, as she threaded her way through the familiar, twisting streets of the East Quarter. Was this right? Her parents would certainly be upset to say the very least, and she'd be setting her future in stone. No family, no real home, no chance to become wealthy like her father Gerard had always wanted...these were the thoughts whirling in her mind like a maelstrom as she crossed the bridge, her eyes fixed unseeing on the cobbles. Then she glanced up, and caught sight of the Celestial Palace. The soaring towers, capped with conical roofs that seemed to defy gravity, the stained-glass windows that sparkled and shined as they caught the morning light, the sheer size of the structure. It was a magnificent piece of architecture, beautiful and functional and dedicated to beings so much greater than the humans that they helped. Beings that deigned to come down from their homes and help the city and its people for nothing more than a few minor offerings and festivals each year. Yosen knew that if she joined the monks of Skerr, she would spend hours each day training, learning and working, all for the Goddess of Wheat. She would become a part of the organization that fed the city, that made life here possible for everyone, that acted as an extension of Skerr's will. Any doubts that had lingered in her mind before this vanished. How could it be wrong to join such a group, that worked for the good of an entire city at the command of a god? To learn about such a fascinating subject, to protect people from famine and want? It simply couldn't be. A smile cracked on her face, and without a second thought, she took off at a run towards the South Quarter, laughter bubbling up from her chest. She felt so light, so sure of herself, she almost cartwheeled over Lover's Bridge. By the time she came close to the Bountiful Wheat Headquarters, her laughter had dimished and her pace slowed, but the smile was still there. She was nervous, certainly, but sure of her path and her actions. Yosen stepped through the double doors into an airy room full of identically-clothed monks, with sheaves of wheat and growing vines on nearly every conceivable surface. The scent of freshly-baked bread wafted over her, and despite her recent snack, her stomach rumbled. She looked around, at a loss, for a moment, then caught the sleeve of an kindly-looking elderly monk passing by. “I'm sorry, but could you point me to the training halls?” Yosen asked, giving an apologetic smile. “I'm here for the Selection Test.” OOCI know Skerr's not really a proper goddess, but I figured as a native of Nyka, Yosen would probably think of her that way.

[Balderdash]

As it turned out, appearances could be deceiving. The monk's reaction was to clap the young lass on the shoulder with a hand as rough and hard as a whetstone and turn her forcibly in the direction of an archway through which dozens of other hopeful citizens were shuffling. Some looked nervous, some seemed brash, others indifferent; all of them looked muscular and fit. Before she was shoved away, Yosen was able to get a look at the man's face; where his left eye should have been, an empty socket stared into nothingness. As the East Street girl joined the small tide of people heading to what turned out to be a courtyard, she could see other monks already dividing the applicants into pairs of roughly even size. Soon she herself was herded roughly to face a young boy that seemed the picture of a boorish farm boy. He had dirty blond hair and rough stubble peppering his chair, sleepy brown eyes, well-muscled arms reaching halfway to his knees that she got to see clearly as he rolled back the sleeves on his bright yellow tunic, and a barrel-like torso. When his lip pulled back in a contemptuous at the cute little waif a good three inches shorter than him, she could see a sizable gap between his front teeth. All around them, similar duos stared at each other in cold silence. Suddenly, a throaty voice shouted "Start!" and the courtyard erupted in movement. Some of the applicants chose to rush each other immediately, dropping grunting to the dusty sand floor, others circled each other and tried to smell out an opening. Yosen's opponent seemed to choose a middle option. The lad lashed out rapidly with a jab aimed at her nose, following up with a vicious hook at her ribs if she reacted slowly. Otherwise, he'd draw back slightly and settle into a stance the girl had seen occasionally amongst the boxing men at the docks: weight on the soles of his feet, fists drawn up to his face and projecting outward with the backs of his hands facing Yosen. The length of the lad's arms now posed a major impediment to the Eastie. If he had his way, he could easily keep Yosen at arm's length until she slipped up or succumbed to multiple blows. If she wanted to get past the first hurdle, she'd need to find a way to take him out of his comfort zone.

[Yosen Dower]

Yosen's first reaction, when the monk grabbed her shoulder, was to pull against it, but the old man seemed to be made of stone or wood and didn't so much as register the attempt. After the robed figure gave her a none-too-gentle push towards the door, Yosen glanced back and caught sight of the gaping black hole seeming to return her gaze. Her head quickly snapped back around to the large entryway the crowd of people was filing into. Her competition seemed stiff enough; and for a brief moment panic boiled in her stomach. Yosen took a deep breath, set her jaw, and allowed the stream of people to push her into the courtyard. Even as butterflies the size of hummingbirds seemed to dart about inside her chest, Yosen took stock of her opponent. Big, tall, and plenty of muscle. Not exactly her favourite type of adversary--she did generally prefer the small and cowardly sort--but she'd have to make do. Getting inside that reach would be a problem, especially if that ox-shaped excuse for a person knew how to handle himself in a fight. More than one or two punches and she'd probably be out of the running. The slight girl cast her eyes across the courtyard, searching for any advantage, a dirty trick to use. Nothing presented itself immediately; the area was open and mostly bare, besides the other pairs of applicants. Just as the sprout of an idea was starting to take hold in her mind, one of the monks called the start. Alert as she might be, Yosen was barely prepared for the sudden flash of movement from her opposite. She snapped her head back just quickly enough to avoid the blow, giving ground and making sure she was at least a little outside of the farmboy's range for the moment. The girl's heart sank as she saw those long arms drawn up in in a boxer's pose, weight evenly distributed on his feet. He did know how to handle himself in a fight. Still, her training took hold and Yosen dropped into a low stance, hands open, ready to catch a slow punch or a lazy kick. The earlier germ of an idea had rooted, and Yosen pushed the toe of her shoe into the soft sandy floor of the courtyard, keeping her eyes locked on her yellow-shirted opponent. After a brief moment, she straightened her leg and flicked her toe upward, kicking the sand from the toe of her sandal up toward the other's eyes. It was a dirty trick, and not even a particularly good one at that. The most Yosen could hope to gain was a second or two of brief confusion, but that was her only hope of getting inside his reach without getting hit. Just a blink, a furrowed brow and closed eyes, a moment of confusion, that was all she wanted. If the barrel-chested boy opposite her was distracted, she'd dive in for his leg and wrap her leading leg around the back of his ankle, letting the top of her foot lie flat against the sand. A good push from her trailing leg and they'd topple over. From there, she'd have the advantage--or at least have lost a disadvantage. If it didn't work? She'd resort to playing the waiting game for wide or sloppy enough punch to close and bring the fight to the ground, or for a punch slow enough that she could move into an arm drag or bar. It would be an understatement to say that Yosen was unoptimistic about her chances along that path.

[Balderdash]

oocOh dear god this took way too long. D: I kept losing this post, too. So sorry! Yosen's gambit did not go unrewarded. The boy ceased his menacing for the briefest moment as he prepared for some sort of follow up from his opponent. The Eastern girl's guarded opening worked in her favor now; unaware of her preferred mode of combat, the Southerner didn't realize her next move would be to tackle him until it was far too late to stop her. Yosen's attack would not go unanswered, however. Everything flashed white for the briefest moment and her left ear rang disconcertingly as a fist slammed into the side of her head, and she felt an impact jar her right shoulder as the farm boy went down swinging. There was a dusty crunch as they hit the packed sand, Yosen on top for the time being. Her opponent was a mercifully inexperienced grappler, and his modus operandi seemed to be to continue doing what he was doing before, only on the ground. A fat fist swung at the side of Yosen's head opposite the leg she had wrapped around him, his other hand grasping for her hair in an attempt to yank her to the side. He seemed to be trying to batter and roll his way on top, though how successful he would be depended largely on Yosen.

[Yosen Dower]

OOCHaha, it's totally fine. Yosen felt a thrill of adrenaline as she performed the takedown and felt the older boy starting to topple to the ground. Her momentary victory was rather dampened by the two solid hits her opponent landed as they fell to the ground, both of which Yosen felt hurt more than any punch had a right to. The blow to her head left her dazed for the few crucial moments immediately after they hit the ground, and she felt another fist smack into her head before she could react. Thankfully, being on the ground meant that the farmboy couldn't use his legs and considerable weight to strengthen the punch, and the awkward motion of punching at someone whose head is at your waist didn't help either. Yosen felt the yellow-shirted Southie's hand reaching for her hair and almost instinctively grabbed it, digging her fingers into the pressure point in the meat between his thumb and index finger to keep him from getting any ideas. It wasn't likely he'd have been able to get much of a grip on her short hair, but best not to let him try. Now the thing was to end this, as quickly as possible. Ideas flashed through Yosen's head, most discarded almost immediately. Get on top and start punching? No, he'd flip over and be on top in a heartbeat, and he's probably used to taking a few hits. No use going for an armbar or trying to get his back and choke him... Yosen shifted her weight, preparing to end it. Leg lock it is. Slipping her legs out from underneath her and pulling them forward, Yosen attempted to wrap her legs around the upper end of her opponent's thigh. She grabbed at his foot, trying to hug it tight against her body to keep him from going for a last-ditch attempt at a kick. Once she was in position, she'd turn to the side, making the farmboy bend his knee and then pushing her hips up against it perpendicular to the way the joint was meant to flex. At that point, unless he yielded or she was knocked out, he'd end up with a broken knee. She hoped.