Closed Influx Logic. (Andral)

[Loken]

Fall 30th, 517 A.V.

Embraced by the silence of an Autumn day, Loken sat alone within a clearing of tress located two miles away from the Lakeshore. Many people often came this way on their trips to the Bathhouse, but Loken ventured across Lake Ravok to the mainland to train both his body and mind; it was only logical to train near it to bathe afterwards. And so, It was out of others safety that the Ano Cultist relegated himself to the serene area just passed the bathhouse.

He sat in a position that his body found to be the most comfortable. He sat on the ground in a half-kneel, with one of his legs set as if he were sitting cross legged, while the other was planted heel down on the ground in front of him. With his knee up, he had his arm lazily rested on top of it as as he kept his eyes shut.

“Find your focus. All people are different,so you must learn how to achieve yours." They were words that flowed through his mind in Arumenic, words that brought about memories of a low and soft feminine voice, and Loken silently obeyed. They were words spoken to him long ago by his mentor, Haylen; an elderly Pon within the Ano Cult who took him under her wing when he was a snot nosed kid.

His abdomen began to expand as he took in a steady influx of air, then began to exhale slowly. With his eyes shut, he blinded himself to the outside world, so out of random need to remain vigilant. He lost track of his focus when he began to listen to his surroundings.

The fluttering of leaves in the slight breeze, the ambient singing of birds, and the distant sounds of village life on the shore; it sounded so faint but comforting to know he had a place to return too. A cacophony of voices rang through his ears, overlapping, whispering and chattering, bringing with them memories of haphazard moments throughout his life. “Calm chaos.” He remembered his mentors words, then tried to focus yet again. When the voices in his mind were cluttered, he began to think about a logic puzzle the Ano Cult taught him.

“I am lying. What I say is true.”

He began to think about the meaning of what he’d just stated within his mind.

“One leads to another. I am a liar, so all future statements are false. Then what is true is false. As such, logic dictates that the truth can be bent.”

Loken sat there for a long moment afterwards simply, being. Once his mind had focused, he opened his eyes to see the world again. And the first thing he managed to see upon opening them was the silver holy symbol that hung from his neck. He often wore the Scales of Gnora under his black leather armor, but he today displayed it openly.

Upon standing up, Loken took an immediate fighting stance, sliding his right leg back to take an 'orthodox' right handed stance. He didn't hold his fists up, but instead held up open palms with his four finger held tightly together with just a slight bend to the fingers.

Now, he began to focus on the reason why he needed to practice in private. He took a deep, slow breath, expanding his abdomen. Then in a natural sync, exhaled. Loken began to will the djed within him into action. Given his stable stance, the rest of his body was as calm as his surroundings while he raised his left hand into the air.

The feeling of sharp static lanced through every nerve ending of his entire left arm, yet at the same time it felt like the rest of his whole body had been caught in a heavy wind due to guiding energy from it into his hand.

The taste of magic was an unforgivable one, channeling a surge of djed through his nervous system left his taste buds on fire. Then as he moved his hand, the movement was bolstered by the magic. The muscles and bones within his arm moved faster than what was the norm, what would have been a slow knifehand strike seemed to lash out in a downward chop with a burst of flux aided force.

Once it stopped, he waited a moment before punching forward with the ball of his hand in a normal strike to an imaginary foes face. It was a strike that he used to gauge just how fast he could move without the magic. Loken then began to randomly preform a set of kicks and punches to ready himself for a good workout.

[Andral Mydrafi]

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Although he had passed the Lakeshore town on his way to Ravok, he had been sleeping during that time.

Looking around, the Lakeshore area seemed to be bustling, though not as much as in Ravok.
It felt a bit less claustrophobic in here.
More homely and less urban.
Though, there seemed to be a few popular buildings here and there.
Like the Distillery, or the Bathouse.
Or the tavern. Ooohhh....

Andral rubbed his hands toghether in anticipation.
He could see the bathhouse from here. The comfort and warmth was almost palpable.
Maybe he'd make it a habit, if he liked it alot.

As he walked to the Bathhouse, Andral noticed someone in the distance.
Was that man...practicing?
Looking closer, he realised that he was indeed practicing some form of unarmed combat.
Not the martial art he was fammiliar with, though. Come to think of it, what was the name of his martial art? His mentor never told him.

The man lashed out with a series of kicks and punches. Not bad. His strikes were alot faster than Andral could have managed. Probably alot more experienced at fighting than he was

Andral remembered the times he sparred with his master.
'The astral body is a projected image of your physical body.
The more you know your body, the sharper your control will be over your projection'

Maybe he should get around to practicing sometime. He'd neglected his unarmed combat for a few days now and the itch was getting to him.

The man did a particularly impressive strike, and Andral whistled appreciatively. He then immediately clamped his hands over his mouth.

Was it bad manners to comment on someone's fighting skill?
Ah well, he'd already started a conversation, might as well roll with it.

'You have good form with those strikes, where'd you learn that?'

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[Loken]

Loken chuckled quietly and shook his head at the sound of a whistle, absently stepping away from the person who had stumbled upon him training to get a better view of them. What he saw was a young man, hardly having entered into the adult stages of their life. A young man with alabaster skin as if he'd spent more time indoors than out. When the stranger put their hands over their mouth, Loken took note of the toughened areas around his knuckles which meant he knew how to fight. Or at least throw a punch.

Loken had seen his fair share of scholarly warriors within the Librum of Ano Cultist in Ahnatep. The type who enjoyed books over fighting, but wanted to have a balanced life so spent hours punching wooden dummies so their bodies were also healthy. His gaze then started to scan the man for any signs of weaponry. After about a solid chime of silence, he decided to respond to the young mans question. He had no reason to lie to the man, but he did not wish to divulge too much about himself to a stranger. "Ahnatep." Only giving him the name of the city where he trained, and not the reason why.

"Have you ever been there?" He asked curiously while lifting a hand to welcome the man to join him. "If not, then where did you first learn how to fight?"

Nano WC: 238

[Andral Mydrafi]

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Date, 
Time, 
Location etc.

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Andral felt a cold shiver as the man's eyes seemed to pry beneath his skin.
He'd felt something similar with his mentor, during his sparring lessons.
This man was no lightweight, unlike Andral.

"Ahnatep"
"Have you ever been there? If not, where did you first learn to fight?"

"No, I haven't been to...um.... Ahn...Ahnatep? Did I say it right?"
Andral mentally added it to his list of things to see.
Shyke, since when did he have a list

Mentally shaking his head, Andral continued:

"I had a mentor who taught me everything I know, including how to fight."

He bounced a little on the balls of his feet, assuming a fighting pose.
Arms drawn infront of the body, at a slight bend to the elbow.
He bent his knees slightly, letting his weight rest in a straight line through his lower back and the balls of his feet.
oocSimilar to the position used for Wing Chun

"Your movements are slightly different though. More...precise? Like...like this for example"

He swung his arm in a simple punch.
Simple, but totally different from the man.
The stance was held high, with no weight behind it.
His centre of balance lay beneath his feet, undisturbed by the punch since he relied on speed instead of power to throw the punch.

It was a subtle difference, just a mere change in centre of balance.

He drew back his arm sharply, like a whip, and regained his composure before turning to face the man.

He looked fitter than Andral. The fighter type. Practicing out here completely suited him.
Approaching him politely, Andral introduced himself:

"By the way, Im Andral. Andral Mydrafi. What is your name?"

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