Closed [Lo'campo]A lesson yearned[Bare Fists and Broken Bones]

[Ssafirsotibones]

17 Spring 516 Bones took in a deep breath, sitting in the middle of the open training room at the front of his school. He had his eyes closed, and was taking in a slow breath, trying to calm himself before his next lesson. He'd just gotten through a kids group lesson, and those were always tricky and tiring both physically and on his nerves. Bones wasn't very skilled in meditating to calm himself, but he was always willing to try new things if he felt they would help. Taking in a deep breath he held it, though quickly exhaled as he was distracted by a errant though. He kept at it for a few chimes, trying to breath and calm himself, but finally gave up. Perhaps, he thought to himself, being centered and calm just wasn't for him. Instead he went about the room picking up items that had gotten taken out at some point during the training session. Some padded bits of armor, a punching bag, and a few other odds and ends. Curiously there was also a small rock and a half eaten piece of bread. Bones spent a moment taking those out back, pondering for a moment where the trash came from. Probably dropped by one of his young students. Once he was done Bones came to a seat once more, in his newly tidy training hall, waiting for someone to show up. He didn't have a planned class for a few bells at least, and it was only a small lesson, but he didn't have enough time free to go off and do something else. Instead he waited, trying to calm his breathing and his quickened thoughts, focusing on the air in and out of his body, though with little success. If anyone did come in that is what they would find upon entering, Bones sitting near the center of the room in his robes and sandals and things, waiting. WC: 322

[Lo'campo]

He walked along the path searching up ahead for the building he was looking for. Word had been passed around that there was a man teaching those that were interested in the art of combat. He needed to better his skills, his body nearly forgetting how to serve pain without a weapon in hand. If his father had seen him now the powerful Akalak would probably beat him severely with his bare hands for not staying atop of his training.

He came to a short stop at a building that seemed fairly new to him. It wasn't anything flashy, not like the training facilities in Riverfall as he recalled the vague memories of his past, but he had been taught before it's not what you look like, it's what you can do. He began to enter the building one foot in front of the other as he came up to the entrance of the establishment. It struck him that there was silence from within. Were they closed? Usually places that trained in combat were filled with the sounds of students practicing and weapons clashing though there was nothing from behind the door.

Placing his hand upon the entrance he gave a push entering the first room where to his surprise was empty. There were weapons as well as equipment available for use, but no one there to use it. Was this some sort of joke? Was he too help himself to the things in the room? He didn't want to began using someone else's property and offend them. Not that he wouldn't mind killing someone for a simple mistake. Walking forward he came to a halt not noticing the man that sat in the middle of the room, his eyes closed. Meditating. Lo'campo knew the art of calming one's mind all to well.

It was something that he quiet enjoyed in his life when it was normal and not filled with all the things that has made it a hassle. He couldn't recall the last time he actually got to sit down and do the things that he really enjoyed, having to work and look after Oumoc really did take time from his day. Not wanting to interrupt the man, he took a seat adjacent to him, crossing his legs and resting his hands in his lap palms up. He took a deep breath in as he closed his eyes holding it for a time before slowly releasing it as well as some of the stress that he'd been facing for a time.

[Ssafirsotibones]

Bones attempted to ignore the sound of the door opening, but its sound cut through any small progress he'd made at calming his mind. It seemed that a warriors mind, ever ready and aware for danger, was directly opposed with a calm meditative state. Or perhaps he just wasn't good enough at it to be both aware and calm. He attempted to continue on meditating for a few moments more, measuring his breathing, slow and steady, but after a few ticks he gave up and opened his eyes as the new person sat before him. More by instinct than by a measured thought, he assessed the person before him as if he was a threat. Height was large, which would give him extended reach, something that always had to be considered in both offense and defense. But then larger size also meant a bigger target, a trade off in the two. Hair was long, a bad idea for a warrior as it gave a good handhold in combat. Bones own hair was kept short for just that reason. You could put it up, or tie it back, which did help somewhat, but it still was there and could be used against a person. A point to consider. With his large size and bulk he would have the added force that went with it. Bones himself being a Constrictor Dhani was normally far stronger than a normal human. Of course Bones wasn't aware of what Akalak were, nor that normally a Akalak was as strong as a Constrictor Dhani in human forms base strength, which meant strength wise they'd be more or less evenly matched in that regard, despite size differences. But then as Bones appeared as a human, his strength tended to be more of a surprise than in the case of a huge hulking person like an Akalak, and having someone much smaller match your strength could be unexpected. Bones eyed the man for a few moments, before speaking. Often though his words came off a bit oddly, as he wasn't native to the common human tongue, and he tended to word his speech so as to avoid saying things that drew attention to his Dhani accent, and to speak in as few words as possible. “You wanna be taught? You a beginner, or learned? ” “Beginner 'ull be nine, learned twenty two. Each time you learn.” Nodding at the weapons the man carried, Bones explained a bit further. “Nuttin but yur body. You agree, we fight. You learn. I help. When your ready, and if.” If the man agreed and removed his weapons Bones would spend a moment to remove his own weapons, a pair of prominant blades across his back and a weapon harness holding them, which he would remove before any fighting began and set them aside near where the punching bags where at. WC: 478

[Lo'campo]

He took a final deep breathe in and released before opening his eyes ending his short lived meditation. Though having a thick and chopped accent, he could make out what he was saying clear enough. Twenty-two wasn't too bad. It was a real training facility and not like the training grounds in the city. Standing up saying not a word, he slowly removed his weapons and such, placing them into the corner before returning to his side of the room.

"I'd like advanced training." He spoke counting out twenty-two of his gold rimmed miza before handing them to the man. He was short, human by the looks of things. Solid having some muscle definition. He was a fighter though he did not know his place of origin unable to pin point his accent to a specific area or group. Lo'campo began to stretch, first his arms. Placing one hand upon the opposite elbow pushing his arm one way, then switching hands and pushing the other the opposite direction. It had been a while since he had actually gotten into a fight. There seemed to be a feeling of lightness in his stomach. Butterflies as the humans would call it. Something that would have to be killed immediately.

He moved to his legs now getting into a squat and stretching his legs to both sides. He didn't know how strong his opponent was, so he would have to go in full strength. Hopefully he would harm the man too bad, but seeing that he was a fighter, he probably could take hard hits. Standing back up, he reached for the sky stretching his back out and twisting to the sides. "I'm ready when you are." He motioned to the man. Seeing it be a good time to also practice his family's technique he got into stance. Both feet shoulder width apart and on his toes, sturdy, solid as well ready for any quick maneuvers. He stood straight up letting his body stretch to his full height and bending his knees a bit. His arms were up one fist formed and the other behind him resting on the small of his back, palm up and faced down.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before releasing and letting his body relax as he slowly opened his eyes once more. "This is a technique passed down generation to generation to those directly descendant of the Campo blood line. My grandfather taught my father, my father taught me, and now I shall teach you." The words of his father playing back into his mind. He was ready.

[Ssafirsotibones]

Bones watched as his new student removed his own weapons, acceding to the rules Bones had placed for him. He took the offered payment and put them among his stowed weapons. He wasn't overly concerned with them getting stolen, not with him present and only the one student about. He'd put them away after the lesson, before any more students came in and got bright ideas. Bones watched the man stretch, getting to his own feet and walking across the room to take up his position. He was already pretty loose, as he'd stretched before the earlier class. He did a quick stretch just to unwind his limbs from their rest state, bending his knees and testing his ankles, a cock of the head and a shifting of the arms that moved all of the joints from fingertip to shoulder. He'd had a nice break, and none of his classes had been advanced earlier in the day, so he wasn't too tired. Next his sparring partner got into a stance, after motioning for Bones to make the first move. Testing, probing, trying to get Bones to give the advantage by making the first move and showing what he had. An unsubtle technique for combat, since in reality fighting was fast paced and there was no time for waiting. In a fight between equals the pause of waiting for the other foe to make the first move could last for bells, or but ticks. Eventually someone would have to make the first move, and it didn't seem his student was willing to risk doing so. Which left it to Bones to initiate the first move. He wasn't really sure about the deal with his odd stance, since it seemed exceedingly foolish to place one hand literally behind their back. Even if it was for a purpose, if the limb needed to be used it would be delayed, since most attacks came from the front in a single combat scenario. If he wanted to use the limb he'd need to swing it around front, and then use it to attack. The waste of a few moments needed to do that was foolish in battle, which made Bones ponder his reasoning in the stance. Bones just stared at the man as he explained some odd story about family fighting traditions, and let out a huff of air. “Up'pear dumb tuh me.” With that Bones shifted into his own stance, one that presented less of a form than one standing straight at the foe. Bones slightly bent his knees, shifting his footing so that he was standing sideways, one foot behind his torso a bit and the other in front, his head looking at his partner over his right shoulder. His right hand was out pointing int he direction of his foe, palm out flat facing upward, with his left arm with a elbow tucked in near his waist. Slowly Bones began to march torward his partner in a odd sideways gait that seemed a odd mix between a walk and a hop, but in which his feet never left the ground really. He'd keep going, getting closer and closer, until either his foe attempted to strike at him, or until he got right up on him. If he got close enough so that his extended right palm was only a foot away from his foe without being interrupted or the other fighter attempting to strike him, he'd make a sudden move with his right hand, a punch aimed at his foes gut. But not really a punch, more a shifting of the arm towards his foe, no wind up as would be in a normal punch, no gaining of momentum. More of a sudden push forward with his arm, his hand closing into a fist at the last moment. A motion he'd carry on with by turning it into a body turn, sliding in close at grappling distance in the style of a wrestling maneuver. WC: 662

[Lo'campo]

He stood ready, watching as the man counted out the miza to be sure that it was all there before placing it upon his weapons. This gave an impression of who his opponent was. The man had to be truly skilled in the art of combat to sit his miza out and in the open for all to see and not worry about a thief running in and taking it. Not that he nor Lo'campo would let said thief get very far, but still the mere idea of something like that showed the akalak that he was not messing with a push over that knows a few tricks and decided to call themselves a master.

He gave his shoulders a roll to loosen his body up more. Now he was ready and expecting a real fight. He stood prepared as his opponent shifted into his own stance. And awkward looking squat with one palm open and up and the other arm tucked in. "Heh, you look like a teapot to me." He taunted the man in the same manner that he had done his own stance. The two stood there for a moment waiting the start of the battle out. He knew that he looked foolish in his current stance, but this was how he was taught. He thought the same thing when his own father taught him this skill, but if done correctly it proved to be very lethal.

Wind breaker is what it translated to in common from Tukant. It was first invented by a great warrior in Lo'campo's blood line or to which he was told by his father. It was made for Akalak fighters, specifically the Campo family and is not an established fighting style. The original style utilizes physical as well as magical skills, also requiring one to know the anatomy of the body of their opponents for an efficient use of the technique. Lo'campo himself had learned enough of the combat based skill to decently use the technique but failed to learn any other part of it before he was shipped away.

His opponent began to move in though his approach awkward. He looked more like a frog than an actual warrior. Was this a joke? Maybe an elaborate way to psych him out, to pull him out of his zone. It was a good tactic, but not good enough for the Akalak. He stood up on his toes bending his knees a bit ready to move at any given notice. He counted the steps before the man was in reach. His own arm could stretch out three feet in front of him giving him advantage of reach, but that meant nothing if he couldn't back it up with solid hits. He waited until the man was almost in his field of reach before moving in. He had to time it right as the man went to take another step to catch him in mid stride.

His toes pressing down upon the floor sending power into his calves. Muscles in his legs tightened as he shot himself to the side of his opponent. He tried to make his footwork quick, strong. His opposite foot touched the ground sending him forward towards his instructor. His arm winded up ready to be launched. He focused trying to visualize his field of range in the battle. Another foot touching the ground pushed him to the right once more no coming around the back of his opponent. He would need to test his opponents speed, his reaction time all which would require him to take a hit. Arm pumped he fired. Releasing all the power in his arm sending the limb forward in a straight jab to test the waters.

[Ssafirsotibones]

A spar was not a real fight, something Bones knew all too well. A spar was a lesson. One learned by bruises and pain what to do, what not to do, and what ended up with you on your rear. Bones had learned to fight amongst the Dhani of Zinrah, and the jungle wilds about it. For him combat had been about surviving, with the loser dying. But Bones knew not everyone was ready to face such trials, that some would fall under the strain, and so he used a more reserved style of teaching than how he'd learned. That didn't mean there wasn't pain of bruises, but that both of the sparring partners walked away at the end of the fight, unlike a true fight or battle. Bones ignored his foes words, letting them wash over and past him as the receding tide. Insubstantial and unimportant. Words spoken did not matter. Only actions. If the Akalak was expecting a rise from his instructor he would be disappointed. Instead it would be unclear if Bones had even heard his words. While Bones looked somewhat awkward in his motion, it had a point. Unlike a larger or faster loping stride, his own movement kept his feet firmly on the ground. This gave him total control over his motion and intent. As anyone knew who'd tried a jump kick or any such thing that involved taking ones feet off the ground, the moves were ineffective. Force came from the legs and the body, pushing and thrusting. With the body in the air that thrust was impossible, not to mention leaving one vulnerable. Without ones feet on the ground they couldn't change direction, couldn't alter could, they would be committed and keep moving until they met something, whether the ground or their foe in an innefectual leaping kick that tended to bounce off and have no more force than the throwers weight. It was one of the reasons so many common wrestling maneuvers involved throwing, tossing, or flipping their foe as a means of getting them off their feet. Bones didn't care how he looked when he fought, only that it worked. With his odd movement there was no mid-stride, not moment off having one foot awkwardly half off the ground. Which was the entire point.' With Bones facing the way he was, turned so that his side presented the frontal target, it was simple for him to thus pivot his rear foot and keep himself facing the same direction toward his foe. If his partner tried to go around him, taking the longer circular route of going around him, he could simply pivot and move in place, changing his position without moving from the spot, and thus presenting the same front and face. His foe had a very different tactic. He came powering in at Bones in forceful strides, adding forward momentum and strength to his steps. However he also committed to his actions, particulary in the bounding as at least one of the feet left the ground for a moment. Bones waited, and let him him to him, the foe coming at him before he got close enough for his pondered strike. Instead he read, assessed, and changed his plan and actions. His body moved by guided instinct, honed into his body by repeated actions and battle over and over, something a lesser warrior could never imitate. They had to see something, think, decide on the action, and do. Bones saw and did, his body both thinking and doing at the same time, his mind serving more as a manager than the one making the direct actions to his bodies muscles and limbs. As his foe attempted to slide around behind him, launching in quick powerful strides, Bones simply kept turning, pivoting and moving on the spot without any motion, his simple and easy to make pivoting much quicker than the more energy intensive strides going around his circumference. Bones didn't understand what a circumference was, didn't know complex math or angles. But he understood tactics and body motion. Bones didn't act fast, he didn't act slow. Instead he moved at the speed that the actions demanded, at the correct pace. Speed was not everything. Vigor was not everything. Both amounted to nothing without a target and a purpose. When the inevitable blow came, and Bones knew it would come, had seen the motion of the legs as the muscles prepared and released their tension, had seen the chest and arms move in preparation for the strike, he made two simple motions in response. He took a step to the side, so that as the Akalak extended his arm and moved forwards at Bones he was now standing directly in front of him, the gravity and comparative orientation of the attack changed by the one simple move from him coming at him, to him coming in front of him. The second motion was a slap of the hand, his right extended open palm, thrusting directly at the wrist of the Akalak. But not at the hand, not at the wrist, but at where they would be. Bones could see the motion of the punch, and reacted to it, slapping his palm forward to where he could see the punch would carry the Akalaks arm. If his palm made contact with the Akalaks wrist he would push, adding pressure and force to the blow carrying the Akalak forward, and adding forward and sideways motion to it so that instead of coming at Bones it was swinging wide. If he was lucky and the Akalak had over-committed, or perhaps even if he hadn't and his palm thrust hit home, the added force or boost added to his blow would carry him onward forward in the same direction, but faster and with more momentum than he intended, possibly making him lose his footing and fall forward. WC: 982

[Lo'campo]

"Why are you playing around with this fool and this pitiful technique? Kill the bastard." The words of his darker personality booming in his mind. He hated to admit when the darker personality was right, but being tossed upon his back deemed it so. He had lied about it being some special technique that was passed down through his family. That was only so he could test the man's skills as a fighter. And now seeing that the man was welled skilled, he knew that he would have to come strong and hard.

He moved up from the floor until he was back on his feet. He gave a nod and smile as a form of compliment to the man's skill. Now it was time to be serious. Walking back over to his pile of possessions he retrieved his robe top, slowly putting it on as if preparing to give an important speech. The instructor didn't move from his spot. Staying in the same location in his stance. Watching, waiting for Lo'campo to make a move. Giving another quick stretch he reset himself this time being serious. A hunter always played with it's food before it ate it. This time he put both hands up. His hands balled into fist open a bit held in front of his face by a few inches. His arms squared ready to block anything that was to come his way. Both his feet were on the ground, one slightly in front of the other his knees bent and on slightly lifted as he stood strong yet lucid and ready to let his arms fly.

Just by looking into the man's eyes he could read him like a book. Not anything about his life, nor his emotions or feelings, but that stare. It was a stare that he rarely seen in all his life but knew it all to well. It was the same stare that he was sure all his victims had seen in his own eyes. The stare of a cold blooded killer. It wasn't to say that the man was a murderer like the Akalak, but Lo'campo could tell that this man had killed before. His demeanor showed it as well. He was quiet, barely speaking or making conversation. Normally an instructor would be giving tips and lectures about form and stance, but no not this one. He trained a different way. A way that so happened to be a lifestyle for them both. He had decided that he wouldn't tell the man of his suspected knowledge. From this moment on it would be an official spar where one or both of them would be walking home bruised and broken.

He knew not to attempt the novice move from before, that would only get him to the ground faster than wanted. He wasted no time moving in looking to really pass shots with the man. He treadled lightly staying on his toes keeping his knees bent. He shot out a few quick strikes. Not with the intent to hit the man, only slap the man's hands in an effort to lure him out. Compared to the man, he was taller which meant that he had a longer reach as well as could rain down fro over head. On the contrary though, he was lower to the ground that Lo and by the look of his stance, would be very difficult to attack via the legs let along move. He would have to keep that in mind when things moved at a faster pace and he'd be going of instinct instead of brains. Putting more force behind his strikes, he gave a quick 1,2 combo before pumping a fake kick.

[Ssafirsotibones]

Bones first strike worked, even though it was simple in practice. But then Bones also knew overly complicated maneuvers were more likely to fail than simple straightforward tactics. It was only when those tactics became to obvious that more advanced moves were needed. He didn't strike while his student was on the ground, giving him a chance to rise from where he had fallen on the floor. Though he wasn't sure why he needed robes. In his experience the less one had limiting their motions, the better off you were. Putting on extra clothes would mean not being able to move quite as well. The only reason Bones could think of was for extra padding. He could tell by the man's tactics so far that he was playing a game out of his depth. If it had been a real fight, that first crossing would have been the end of it. That was what happened when one overestimated their own skill and underestimated their foes. He was lucky Bones was doing only an instructional spar, and not truly trying to hurt him. If he'd tried to test out Bones skills in a real fight as he had here he would have come to regret it. Bones noted how quickly the man had given up his families style, and then disregarded it. He didn't care what style the man used, or didn't use, all were but unimportant facts. The past of a fight didn't matter, only the present situation. He watched as he put up both hands in fists, just in front of his face, akin to a boxing style of defense. Bones had a small bit of experience in boxing, the foot movement and punching-centric fighting style, though wasn't nearly as good at it as he was with more traditional unarmed combat. Bone stare was one of appraisal, cold dissection of tactics and information relevant to the fight. He rarely let his rage out, and when he did he tended to act more as a guiding hand for it, and didn't try to control or hold it back. But there was no rage in Bones right now, no anger, there was no need for such a fight. After a bit more of a pause the man came in at Bones, readying to make contact once more. When he made the first few strikes Bones casually avoided them, making gentle sidesteps to get out of their paths. However after that were more punches, ones in which Bones could see he was committing more. The earlier ones had been nothing, not real, not committed and full force. These ones while not fully committed, were far more committed. When he came in for a one two punch combo Bones moved inward also, coming in close at him. Using either hand in turn, he'd throw his hands up in a palm strike/push aimed at the mans wrists, attempting to redirect his blows outward so as to make them miss. If that worked he would continue moving in forward trying to get within his guard to grappling distance used in wrestling, using his legs to block and tangle his foes. Eventually his goal was to gain leverage over him, either pulling his feet out from under him or gaining a hold on his body and using that to toss or throw him to the ground. Wrestling was all about leverage, and it tended to work at extreme close range or grappling distance. This was a distance that traditional unarmed combat didn't train you to fight in, and in which each foe was so close that neither could get much force behind their punches or blows, not able to rear back and get much forward motion before connecting. If his foe attempted a few of these punches from close up he'd ward them off with his shoulders, while focusing on the grappling aspect and attempting to bring him to the ground again in a hold, possibly trying to ensnare one of his other limbs along with his legs. WC: 672

[Lo'campo]

His punches were getting closer. Still missing, but getting closer for the most part of it. His instructor was clearly more skilled than he was as it should. He couldn't imagine the point in being taught be someone that you could easily beat. Still, even though he knew this information it angered him that he was not striking the man who pushed his fist away as if they were some bug. His instructor moved in as well when he went for the one two combo, pushing his arm outwards to make an opening for himself.

His instincts kicked in, the memories of a dozen battles and even more murders flooded through his mind. His heart quickened, adrenaline rushed. Letting the weight of his arm being pushed take him, he formed and elbow as he spun around. His nose flared, his mind blank yet racing all at once. He didn't know if he hit the man or not, his goal was to get away, to gains some form of distance. There was something else happening as he spun away though, he could feel it. He was loosing himself. Loosing his grip on his mind. Petch. It was too late. He tried to hold him off but the bastard sneaked in when he wasn't paying attention.

He tried to speak, to warn his instructor but it was too late. His words were only echoes in his mind now. He felt his will power dwindle in comparison to the rage of Oumoc. Completing his spin around, he launched like some form of wild animal. Teeth bearing hands out eyes ready to kill. He would charge the man head on. No thinking, no tactics, just a good old down and dirty beat down.