Solo Throwing Punches

Sanabael practices punching things.

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

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Throwing Punches

Postby Sanabael on July 29th, 2018, 10:03 pm

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66th, Summer, 518 AV

Sanabael's face was still bruised from her fight at the Pig's Foot a few days prior; the bridge of her nose, while not broken, was bruised, as was the underneath of her eye, her cheekbone still swollen. Her ribs were still sore as well.

If she was smarter than she was stubborn, she would have laid up in her apartment until she was feeling less battered. However, probably unfortunately for her health, Sanabael was exceedingly stubborn.

So she left the Sunset Quarters, and meandered down through the strees to the Seaside Market. The tide was out, though the ground was still damp beneath her boots as Sanabael perused the stalls, looking for something specific; finally, she found what she was looking for.

At one of the stalls, a worn and clearly beaten punching bag rested behind the counter. It was a quick exchange of Mizas to purchase it, and then Sanabael hefted the bag into her arms.

She grunted slightly as she did, resting the worn leather against her chest, leaning back slightly to try and balance it; the punching bag was heavier than she'd expected, and her ribs complained as she picked it up, but she ignored them, gritting her teeth.

With her new purchase in her arms, Sanabael left the Market, not needing anything else. She could lug it all the way back to her apartment and set it up there, but that seemed a waste when there were so many abandoned buildings around the Quarters with much more space. So Sanabael headed back to the Sunset Quarters, where it didn't take her too long to find an abandoned building she deemed suitable.

At least in the unclaimed territory among the housing area of the city, she knew she would be safe from any gangs. Mostly. Sanabael listened outside of the front door, and content that nobody else was using the building, swung the door open. The hinges creaked, and the door hung open, refusing to swing shut again.

That suited Sanabael well enough; while she wanted privacy, it would let in some fresh air (as fresh as it could get in a place like Sunberth) and some of the afternoon light. The windows were too grimy to be much help.

The space was small, but more than big enough for her purposes. A frankly disgusting cot in one corner with tattered blankets that looked more like rags suggested it had been recently used as someone's house, but whoever they were, they weren't present at the moment. A few rickety chairs and an old table filled the other corner.

It took a few tries, but Sanabael managed to set the punching bag up, using the rope attached to it and throwing it up over one of the beams in the low ceiling, then tying it securely in place. She gave the bag a push, watching it swing; the beam creaked slightly, but everything held, so she called it a win.

Sanabael took off her cloak, her gloves following. She eyed the pale, thin scars on her palms as she folded her gloves and coin purse into her cloak, then tucked the bundle onto one of the chairs in the far corner. As an afterthought, her gladius, still in its sheath, was set on top of the bundle. It would only get in the way, and hopefully she wouldn't need it; as long as nobody disturbed her she wouldn't, anyway.

Rolling the sleeves of her maroon shirt up to her elbows, Sanabael reached up to tie her hair into a knot at the top of her head, keeping it out of her face. She'd planned ahead enough to wear her leggings rather than her leather pants. Blowing out a breath, she rolled her shoulders, then her neck, stretching up onto her toes.

The fight a few days before had been, quite frankly, embarrassing. She had no idea how to throw a punch; while she'd learnt some things about weak spots on an enemy thanks to her impromptu teacher, the knowledge wouldn't be any good if she couldn't hit someone properly.

Sanabael eyed the punching bag in front of her, still swaying slightly in the air, then looked down at her hands. Was there a proper way to do this? She had no idea. Curling her hands into fists as she would if she was angry, thumb outside of her closed fingers, she examined her hands once again. It felt natural, and how else would one make a fist anyway?

Shaking her arms out, Sanabael faced the punching bag, bringing her arms up, hands still in fists, and jabbed her right hand out. Her knuckles collided with the leather of the bag and sent it spinning. A twang shot through her side where her ribs were bruised, but it wasn't debilitating pain, so Sanabael sucked in a breath and tried to push it out of her mind.

When it came back, she repeated the motion with her other hand, this time sending it back at an angle. It felt too easy, too simple; enough that Sanabael could tell she was missing something, or doing something wrong, and despite being alone she felt embarrassed.

Ledger :
Punching bag: -5 GM


Word Count: 863
User avatar
Sanabael
Fire in my veins
 
Posts: 51
Words: 45593
Joined roleplay: July 2nd, 2013, 5:07 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Mixed blood
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets

Throwing Punches

Postby Sanabael on July 30th, 2018, 12:12 am

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Every time the punching bag swung at her, Sanabael lashed out with her fist as hard she could. She missed a few times, misjudging where the bag would swing, but eventually she got wrapped up in her actions, despite the nagging feeling that she wasn't doing it right, falling into a rhythm of left, right, left, right.

Her breathing was hard as she continued to jab, so caught up in her movements that she almost didn't notice the noises coming from outside; almost. The sound of footsteps and giggling caught her attention, and Sanabael immediately whipped around. It was hot, the air stale and still in the abandoned building; the mixed blood wiped some sweat off her forehead as she peered suspiciously at the door.

There was the scuffling of feet, and then the sound of something hitting the floor; Sanabael watched, one dark brow raised, as a red ball rolled into the building. The floor must have been slightly slanted, because it rolled forward and towards her, and Sanabael raised a booted foot, stopping the ball as it approached her.

A beat passed, and then a face peered in the doorway. "Sorry, miss," Came a small, somewhat sheepish voice. "I didn't mean to interrupt you. Just I usually come play here with Blacky."

The girl stepped into the room; Sanabael had thought her quite young at first, but seeing her, she seemed to be in her early teens, though severely malnourished. In her arms she held a massive black rat; one of Sunberth's very own brats, by the looks of it.

The rat chittered, its beady black eyes meeting Sanabael's own. "Is that Blacky?" Sanabael asked, warily, bending down to pick up the red ball. It was scuffed and covered in dirt, clearly used often. Probably handed down from older siblings, possibly stolen.

"Yes! He's friendly, really. I've raised him since he was a baby," The girl beamed. "Do you want to pet him?"

Sanabael shook her head. "I'd rather not," She said, bluntly. The girl nodded, seeming used to that response, and crouched to let the rat onto the floor. It stood on its hind legs, nose and whiskers twitching as it looked at Sanabael before turning and scampering off into the bedding in the corner, probably scavenging for scraps.

"Can I have my ball back, please?" Sanabael's attention was drawn back to the girl, and she tossed her the red ball wordlessly; the girl caught it with ease.

"You're awfully polite for a street kid," Sanabael remarked, still wary and slightly suspicious. Kids were not always as innocent as they seemed, especially in Sunberth.

"I'm not a street kid," She snapped immediately, hugging the ball to her chest. "My mama's just not well right now. She takes real good care of me."

Sanabael said nothing; the denial in the girl was obvious, and it wasn't her business. Quite frankly, she didn't really care.

"My name's Elta," The girl offered. "Who're you?"

"Why do you care?" Sanabael retorted, turning back to her punching bag, though she kept her gaze over her shoulder as she steadied the still swaying bag.

Elta pursed her lips. "I don't. I just wanna know."

"Sanabael. Now go away and play with your ball and...Blacky." Sanabael knew some of the more daring, and probably stupid, citizens of Sunberth kept the giant rats as pets, but to see the girl cuddling one in her arms like a kitten had been a shock, to say the least.

Despite her words and irritated tone, Elta did no such thing. She placed the ball on the ground and walked closer. "Are you practicing punching?"

"What does it look like?" Sanabael asked, irritated. Hoping it would scare the kid off, she balled her hand into a fist again, and jabbed at the bag, sending it swinging. It had the opposite effect.

"You're not doing that very well," Elta pointed out, mildly.

Sanabael snorted, turning to face the child completely; she was maybe fifteen at most, and short and scrawny. Despite her clear lack of nutrition, her cheeks were still round in only the way a child's were. "You think you can do better?"

"At least a little bit. My big brother taught me how to punch, in case I ever ran into one of those nasty gang members." The mixed blood could have laughed at that; if only she knew. "Why don't I show you?"

Sanabael stared Elta down for a long moment, and the girl stared stubbornly back with unblinking blue eyes. "Can't believe I'm taking lessons from a petching child," She finally muttered, but she stepped away from the bag, motioning sharply with one hand for Elta to go ahead.

Word Count: 783
Total: 1,646
User avatar
Sanabael
Fire in my veins
 
Posts: 51
Words: 45593
Joined roleplay: July 2nd, 2013, 5:07 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Mixed blood
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets

Throwing Punches

Postby Sanabael on July 30th, 2018, 1:13 am

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"Well first, you gotta stand right, see?" Elta began, very much trying to sound like a proper teacher. Sanabael watched Elta bend her knees slightly, bringing her arms up. "My big brother said, when you make a fist, you NEVER put your thumb inside. You'll break it when you punch if you do that."

Well, that was certainly good to know. Sanabael was glad she hadn't made that mistake. She watched the girl square her shoulders and give the bag a solid punch, then another when it swung back. The hits seemed more solid than what Sanabael had been doing, though she couldn't quite pinpoint why.

Elta gave the bag another few punches before straightening up and standing back, giving a big grin to the black-eyed woman. "Now you try!"

Sanabael frowned at the girl, but stepped back in front of the punching bag. She squared her shoulders, straightening her posture and bending her knees slightly, balancing her weight on the balls of her feet. She curled her hands into fists, then gave the swaying punching bag a solid smack.

It even sounded less firm than the hits Elta had been giving; frustration mounting, embarrassed at being shown up by a child, Sanabael swung hard, hitting the bag again as it moved back towards her. That was a solid hit, and sent the punching bag spinning away; it suddenly clicked what she'd been doing wrong.

Her fists had been angled slightly, and most of the weight of her punch was being placed onto the ridges of her fingers' knuckles, rather than the flats of her fingers and the knuckles of her hand. That hit had landed solidly because her fist had been straight that time.

Realizing what she'd been doing wrong, Sanabael punched the bag hard again when it came spinning back, a delighted and vicious grin spreading over her face as the smack of fist on leather echoed throughout the room.

"That's better!" Elta cheered, watching Sanabael shift her weight from foot to foot and lean in slightly with the shoulder of the hand she was punching with; she was beginning to settle more into the movements.

Her ribs were aching something fierce, but she ignored them. Remembering the fight at the tavern, Sanabael readied herself, and then the bag came swinging back at her, she suddenly reached out to grab hold of it with both hands, bringing her knee up sharply and slamming it into the middle of the bag.

It put her slightly off balance, since the punching bag was dangling in the air and not rooted solidly on the floor like a person, but she put her foot back down without falling over. Elta clapped her hands delightedly. "That was a good touch!"

Sanabael snorted slightly; she didn't need praise from a child. Still, while much smaller, a smile continued to play at the corners of her mouth. "That was helpful," She acknowledged, as close as she would get to thanking Elta, and the girl grinned, seemingly content with that.

"You can keep practicing. Blacky and I are gonna play now. Let me know if you need more help," She puffed up her chest before turning and scampering off. Sanabael watched her kick the red ball towards the corner of the room, and the large black brat appeared from within the ratty mess of blankets, scampering after it to Elta's delight.

Sanabael shook her head; she'd have rather been left alone, but she had to admit the kid had been helpful, so if she was going to keep to herself and keep the noise down then she would leave her and her pet brat be.

Determined, she turned back to the punching bag, ready to give it a few more hits.

Word Count: 625
Total: 2,271
User avatar
Sanabael
Fire in my veins
 
Posts: 51
Words: 45593
Joined roleplay: July 2nd, 2013, 5:07 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Mixed blood
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets

Throwing Punches

Postby Sanabael on July 30th, 2018, 1:44 am

Image
Sanabael settled back into position, her fists coming up in front of her face. Left, right, left, right; she started the rhythm again, this time her fists connecting more solidly with the leather. She shifted her weight with her punches, putting more of her body into them.

It didn't take long for her to start breathing hard again, sweat trickling down her temple. Her hair had come mostly loose, black strands falling down into her face and sticking to her forehead and neck. Sanabael blew them out of her eyes and continued.

Her shoulders, arms, and knuckles were beginning to ache, so Sanabael slowed. She steadied herself, jabbing her knee up into the air as the bag swung towards her again; she didn't grab it this time, so the hit wasn't as forceful, sending the bag swinging to the side, the beam holding it up creaking.

She wondered if she could kick it, but her ribs already hurt, and the thought of starting to raise her leg that high and stretching further was not appealing. Panting for breath, Sanabael stepped back from the punching bag, shaking out her arms as she caught her breath.

Elta was sitting on the ground, rolling the ball to Blacky and encouraging the brat to nudge it back over to her. It squeaked and chattered at her, but did as she asked, much to Sanabael's surprise. Colour her impressed. She supposed the rats were fairly intelligent, after all.

Sanabael wiped the sweat off her face, grimacing. She'd need to wash up, maybe visit the bathhouse later or the following day. She scraped the loose hair back away from her face, tucking it behind her ears as she fetched her equipment from the chair she'd left it on. She reattached her gladius to her hip, pulling her gloves back on, but kept her cloak folded over her arm, too sweaty to put it back on.

"Done already?" Elta inquired, looking up at her.

"Yeah," Sanabael said, shortly, as she reached up on her toes to untie the rope holding the punching bag up, letting it hit the ground with a thud. Ugh; she was going to have to carry that again. At least she wasn't too far from her apartment.

With a grunt, she leaned over, hefting the bag back into her arms as she had earlier. Elta watched quietly. "You gonna come practice here again?"

"I don't know," Sanabael said, exasperatedly, as she headed for the door. She could hear Elta scramble to her feet following her.

"I had fun," The girl piped up. Sanabael wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and rub the bridge of her nose, but her arms were full and she needed to see where she was walking.

"That's nice." She could practically hear Elta pouting. Sanabael blew out a loud sigh, annoyed, but a thought entered her mind; maybe the girl could be useful for other things, too. "Tell you what, kid."

"My name's Elta."

Sanabael ignored her and continued. "I'll swing by again in two days time, around the same time as now, to practice. You can hang out again if you can tell me something useful. Maybe I'll even give you something nice for it. Alright?"

She could hear the grin in Elta's voice when the girl responded. "Okay! Thank you, miss Sanabael! I'll see you then!" With that, Sanabael heard her running off, giggling and saying something to Blacky.

She almost felt bad for using the girl. Almost. Shaking her head, Sanabael continued the rest of the way to her apartment, groaning in relief as she dumped the punching bag into the corner before collapsing onto her bed, her whole body aching.

Word Count: 615
Total: 2,886
User avatar
Sanabael
Fire in my veins
 
Posts: 51
Words: 45593
Joined roleplay: July 2nd, 2013, 5:07 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Mixed blood
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets


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