Solo Instincts

(This is a thread from Mizahar's fantasy role play forums. Why don't you register today? This message is not shown when you are logged in. Come roleplay with us, it's fun!)

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

Instincts

Postby Alric Lysane on December 9th, 2021, 6:51 pm



1st Winter 521 AV - Tall Johnny's

There was the customary roar of the crowd as sweat sprayed across the inside of the rough and ready cage, the beast that was the throng of Sunberth calling for blood and gore but largely being satisfied with pain and further pain. It was the perfect crucible and somewhat ironically the only one that provided actual combat with the least chance of getting killed. So long as you knew how to fight. His fist pulled back from having struck his opponents jaw and he stepped in onto his left foot to pivot and slam the roof of his foot into the ribs as a follow up. He stepped back as the man stubbled backwards.

They were both shirtless so as to make the contest a straight up battle of skill with feet and hands. Or elbows, knees, head and whatever else you could do to win. No rules beyond the fact that two stepped in and one stepped out and the fight went on until there was a winner. This was the first fight of a handful Alric was to be engaged in – so long as he won. King of the cage it was…or whatever flowery title Tall Johnny had thought up this time. No titles, no Champion of Sunberth or the like this time, just good old-fashioned violence.

The man recovered and surged forwards, Alric dug his feet in and blocked a wild roundhouse with his left arm as his right snapped forwards to bring his elbow into the side of their temple, pivoting his back foot out to his right to turn himself, the man now groggily stumbling forwards through where Alric had just been standing. The man swung wildly, spinning around to get a random slap across Alric’s face that hurt but wasn’t directed enough to do much damage beyond a slightly split lip that he tasted a spot of blood upon
.
The man turned, still wavering slightly and swung but missed Alric completely as he leaned backwards out of the way. There was little finesse to what they were doing, they were simply seeking to pummel the other into submission. Alric was just better at it than his opponent, on this occasion. He stepped in and delivered a jab, cross and then a hook to the ribs before bringing his knee up into the man’s diaphragm. After he fell to his knees a kick to the side of the head ended the fight.

Sweat was running down Alric’s back and he counted his blessings that he had made it through the first round without much injury. The same would likely not be said for the following rounds. As the crowd roared and the doors was opened Alric stepped aside as a couple of men entered to get rid of the slumped form in the middle. Alric grabbed a drink that was offered through the bar by the supervisor – it was always alcoholic, they liked their fighters to be slightly numbed to the pain they could received and so fight longer. He took in as many deep breaths as he could, knowing it would help prolong his energies and stave off any lethargy. He felt loose for now, fatigue not quite touching him properly though his muscles held the good ache of use.

Not to mention the fact that it meant the foolish got so drunk that they lost their fights, and thus any winnings they might receive for betting upon themselves. They could only bet on their victory for obvious reasons and this day Alric had bet twenty gold that he would last at least three straight victories. He hoped to double, or triple his gold. If he lasted more then the winnings increased further but he’d settle for getting stronger and for earning some miza to buy the things he would need along the way.

One day he’d be ready for the Arcadius, but not this day. No, this day he trained. He finished the small shot and raked his hand back through his hair rolling his shoulders as he waited for the next opponent. They stepped into the cage, their fists met in greeting in the middle of the cage and the doors were locked.



Last edited by Alric Lysane on December 19th, 2021, 11:46 am, edited 1 time in total.
User avatar
Alric Lysane
Reluctant Nymkarta
 
Posts: 368
Words: 468949
Joined roleplay: October 29th, 2021, 5:41 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 1
Mizahar Grader (1)

Instincts

Postby Alric Lysane on December 9th, 2021, 8:45 pm



The second bout started a bit more formally, circling each other with fists up and in guard positions, feet placed just so. Not a ballet really, it was clear from the outset that neither he or the man opposite were masters of anything other than street fighting. Still the crowd liked it, jeers and cheers mixed in with ooo’s and aaaah’s as they sought to taunt both of them into beginning the fight. Alric stepped in and the man retreated before stepping in and Alric retreated. They both smiled flatly at each other, knowing what came next – the meeting as both stepping in and threw a few testing jabs, all batted away but the gap closed. The crowd roared.

The exchange was sloppy now that they were almost face to face and it devolved after a few more jabs and crosses into a clinch where muscles strained and bulged as they tested strength to see who would come out on top. They were evenly matched and for a few ticks they were frozen in the struggled before Alric snapped dipped his hips and relaxed, the man’s straining carried him forwards just enough for him to be dragged onto and levered over Alric’s hip. He slapped into the floor and Alric closed only to get a reactive kick to the stomach that forced him back.

They both closed again, this time putting more effort into their strikes and adding in knees and elbows. It was a tit-for tat affair and it became more about attrition than it did. Hits started slipping through, a jab glanced Alric’s cheek for a cross that rattled the other’s man’s jaw. A kneed was only partially blocked that drove some breath from Alric’s lungs only for him to connect a hook that rippled the other man’s ribs that had been on the way already. Another headbutt forced the other man back even as stars entered Alric’s vision and the dull throb began in his forehead. His body was beginning to ache now, still not tiring too badly but sweat flowing freely.

Clinching was worthless now he knew, they’d slip so much on each other that it’d be more like being lovers than fighters. So instead he abandoned all defence and ploughed forwards, taking a hit or two on his chest and shoulder, batting away only attacks set for his vital areas, and instead of clinching lifted the man bodily and ran his back into the cage’s bars. As the impact rattle and Alric bounced back he let go to gain distance, the man falling down into two kicks, one to the left side ribs and the other to the centre of his stomach. He tried to mount a defence but all that happened was Alric’s foot pushed his arm into him instead, still pushing him back into the cage bars.

The man got his guard up and rolled against the follow up punches, absorbing what he could but Alric had not interest in letting up. It felt…good…cathartic to find a release for the anger within. The fact that he felt pain from hits he might have stopped too was a twisted balm, almost as if he were getting something he deserved. Alric got a few hits to his arms and a good solid strike to his chest that drove him back a step. As the man all but leapt at Alric he got a foot up just in time to absorb the rush and they both were pushed back by the opposing forces. Alric stumbling and the man falling to his back.

Taking in deep breaths and feeling the aches and pains starting to manifest even past the alcohol he had been drinking, he gulped in air in the brief interlude, taking in what he could before the man was up again and rushing at him in a rage. There was blood on both of them now though Alric didn’t know whose it was. He simply accepted the man’s rush, blocked the wild right, twisting away from the more precise left and then bringing both hands around to slam into the man’s ears, discombobulating him and getting a shout of pain. Alric wrapped his arm around the man’s right one, locking it in place and slammed as many punches as it took to the his jaw before his knees gave way and he let go, stepping away.

He went to the side where he took in another drink, a slightly larger one this time, and downed it in one. The pains were starting to come now and as he wiped his face with the back of his hand it came away bloody – he was bleeding from a cut on his forehead.

“Want that stitched lad?”

“What’s the point, it’ll open again next fight”
“Fighting again eh?”

“Until I can’t, you know the stakes”

“That I do lad. Tell you what, you think more about fighting properly and not getting hit you’ll go further”

“Just send in the next one” he shook his head, his hear was soaked now and forming tails as the sweat continued.


User avatar
Alric Lysane
Reluctant Nymkarta
 
Posts: 368
Words: 468949
Joined roleplay: October 29th, 2021, 5:41 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 1
Mizahar Grader (1)

Instincts

Postby Alric Lysane on December 10th, 2021, 4:43 pm



Somewhere, deep down, he knew the man was right but at the same time he didn’t want to do it right. Not this time. No, this was about hardening himself, training and getting stronger. But a part of him he didn’t want to acknowledge knew that this was also about other things. He was of the blood that ended the world. He was leaving his parents to their elder days of hardship. He had yet to find courage to step on that damned boat. No, this was also punishment. It was easier to feel simpler, more primal things – they were honest. It was harder to deal with the complexities of what the last season had given him. There had been no time to sit down and think and winter brought days less filled with activity, so he was finding activities to distract.

He shook his head to rid himself of the beginning of those thoughts, instead turning his attention back to the fighting and the next one stepping into the cage – a man of similar build and height as himself and with the swagger of one who either had fought before or thought very highly of themselves. He met them with the obligatory fist bump before launching straight into attacks this time. It was best not to be too predictable after all. He started with kicks this time, side kicks alternately to the man’s ribs that were blocked followed by front kicks to his knee and then higher, to the head. Both were pushed away, and he was pushed back.

He deflected a jab and a cross, twisting into a hook and cushioning the blow with his arm so its impact was absorbed. It still smacked at his head and sent him back a step. As the man went to follow up Alric let the momentum take him back further, as he had bene shown that day in the Outpost, and rolled away. It was clumsy and awkward but it gained distance. It also made the other man smile at its lack of grace, perhaps making him think Alric was out of energy or skill. He was not sure about the latter but the former was becoming truer with each bout.

He waited for the man, guard up and feet planted properly. Trying to concentrate over the jeers and the warmth of the alcohol starting to bloom in his stomach. He waited until he was obliged and the man closed, using the same combination as before. Alric reacted differently, blocking the first two and ducking under the hook this time. As he rose his hand chopped at the man’s jaw with his left hand to weaken it, his right hooking into the ribs and his left following up his first hit with a solid cross to the jaw to add to the damage. Then he fell to his knee to smash his elbow into the front foot’s kneecap. The man fell into him and Alric pushed him to the side before climbing on top to sent the last few punches to end the bout.

He leant back and felt the pains growing, both inner and outer. His breathing was too heavy, he was expending too much energy and he could feel that the drink was starting to affect him further with the exertion, carried around his body quicker than normal. He rolled off of the man as the thugs entered the cage to take him away. On all fours he made his way to the side of the cage again for another shot and to lean his back against the bars.

“What are you trying to prove you idiot? I don’t mind a good fight or five but this is getting silly”

“Nothing” Alric sighed back, it was truer than he expected. He was proving nothing and that was better than having to live down – or up to – anything else.

“Stop being stupid and do it proper. I saw you fight before, you know better than what you’re doing. I get gold for good fights and fair blood, not for pointless slaughter…well not today anyways”

“Fine….fine” Alric said flatly, pushing himself up with a groan.


User avatar
Alric Lysane
Reluctant Nymkarta
 
Posts: 368
Words: 468949
Joined roleplay: October 29th, 2021, 5:41 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 1
Mizahar Grader (1)

Instincts

Postby Alric Lysane on December 10th, 2021, 5:17 pm



Alric started to regret the next bout pretty much a chime after it started. The man was fresh and he was not, not to mention the fact that he was losing his focus and his desire to particularly look after himself. This was evident when the man charged and bodily hauled him off of his feet without much effort, getting a few clipped blows to his hunched back but in return leaving Alric to twist and crash to the floor in a sprawled heap, pain of the impact rippling across his shoulders that had absorbed most of the impact. He rolled away from a stamp at the last second but got a good kick to the stomach before the man was atop him – seeking to end the fight early.

It was all Alric could do, shocked as he was by the onslaught, to keep his arms up and deflecting blows away from his head and throat. His shoulders, arms and chest got mor than a decent rain of blows as he grit his teeth and eventually roared before he planted his feet on the floor and bridged upwards and sideways to break the ground pin and roll away with blood on his lips and the gods knew where else. He pushed himself up and stumbled back into the cage as he sought for balance. The man charged and this time at least Alric was able to twist and pivot, shoving the man into his own momentum to send him slamming into the cage bars as Alric retreated as quickly as he dared to without falling.

His breathing was definitely hampered now and he was hunched over slightly from the kick to his stomach. Nothing seemed to be snapping so he didn’t think anything was broken but that didn’t stop it from hurting. In the moment though it helped fuel him, his anger and provide him with a certain amount of spite to keep on fighting. Bruised knuckles and blossoming burning across his entire body told him that this would probably be the last fight he could win and even then the opportunity was fading fast.

It faded fast as the man closed and they exchanged blows, both getting in hits, but the fresh newcomer was more mobile and ducked a few of Alric’s to follow up with a sweep to his legs that sent him back to the ground. The man clearly felt more capable there and so made sure Alric was right where he wanted him. He was on Alric’s back and wrapping his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist before beginning to squeeze. Alric grabbed the arm around his neck and pulled down but it only gave him time rather than a win. They rolled around and the man stuck on like a limpet. Punches with Alric’s free hand only did so much and bought a fraction of airway back before it closed again.

He went for broke and got himself to his knees, unsteadily pushing himself upwards and backwards into the cage bars, slamming the man into them as hard as he could. He didn’t budge and so Alric did it again – to no effect. His hands flailed as his vision started to blacken and consciousness faded. His fingers found something soft and pushed. It was the man’s eyes and he screamed as Alric jabbed into them and felt the man finally let go. He slumped forwards, gasping for air and seeing stars. The man had blood running from one eye and was rolling around holding his face. Alric jabbed at him, hitting his throat before slowly following up with a rough and desperate punch to the nose, which broke and the man was still.

Alric fell back down the short way to the floor, gasping for air before eventually rolling onto his back and staring up at the cage roof. His vision’s brightness returned but that only made him more aware of his body’s complaints. He was slower to the edge of the cage this time and this time he was thankful of the drink, it would help mask his pains.

“You won’t last another one, you know that”

“Going to let me quit?”

“Not allowed, you know the rules, gots to go for five fights to be the winner. You lose the next one gets to go for four more same as the one before you that you beat. Still…by the looks of you will be over quickly. Words of advice, go down easy and quick. Better that way”

“I’ll keep it in mind” Alric laughed and regretted it immediately at the web of pain and the cough of a recently half-choke airway.




User avatar
Alric Lysane
Reluctant Nymkarta
 
Posts: 368
Words: 468949
Joined roleplay: October 29th, 2021, 5:41 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 1
Mizahar Grader (1)

Instincts

Postby Alric Lysane on December 10th, 2021, 6:12 pm



The man’s words came true well enough and Alric, despite the fact that he felt he probably should have tried to carry on and revel in the punishment doled out, didn’t have enough energy to really stop it. The last fighter closed, ducked under Alric’s sloppy right and went in for a headbutt that sent him stumbling. That was followed by grabbing Alric’s wrist, pulling him close to smash into his straightened arm and heading to the floor. He tried to push himself up but the last thing he saw was a fist the same of his head and then nothing but a flash of white and darkness.

Hearing returned first, the crowd was still roaring and cheering. Smell was next, stale, cold sweat and blood. Taste was next, metallic and…snotty? That was when pain blossomed and he realised he had been knocked out soundly enough to have cleared his head of pretty much everything. He supposed that was a blessing given winter – for what it was worth these days – of he would later. For now he groaned, then shouted and then whimpered in pain as vision finally swan back into being and his eyes flickered open.

“Finally with us are you lad?”

All he managed was a groan and a sense that he would be drinking heavily soon started to make itself known. He was slumped on a cot, back leaning against the wall and the man he had been speaking to at the side of the cage was sat next to him with some sort of medical kit open and resting on Alric’s leg. There was a flash of light on something metallic and he pushed backwards instinctively.

“Stop being an idiot…for once tonight. I’m stitching your damned cuts…shyking numpty”

“You’re stitching me?” he managed to get out when his tongue had started working.

“We don’t want no one dying if we can help it and good fighters is hard to find. So…you get a bit of help. Took it out of your winnings anyways,” the man said, indicating a pouch between Alric’s legs, “now stop moving I’ve got a few more stitches left”

“Winnings? But I lost”

“You lost your last fight lad, your bet still stands. Unless you’re not breathing…you still breathing? I can make sure not if you want”

Alric lapsed into silence, wincing as the needle did its work and watched the fight in the cage from afar. With a certain amount of grim satisfaction he could see that the man he had been beaten by had already been usurped and a new king of the ring was in place and getting bloodied. The pain was starting to become an all body ache now, adrenaline had vanished and the flashes of pain from the needle were intermittent. He felt slightly better for the first time in a while. It was partly the pain but also a sort of pride…he had faced five fighters and had bested four. They had all been rudimentary ones of his same level but even so he fancied few could say that.

“First bottle is on me lad and believe me you need it,” he finished stitching and tied off before cutting, “you want to fight again then I’m game to give you harder people next time. You did pretty good. But you aren’t stepping in until you’ve sorted out whatever it is”

“Don’t know what you mean”

“Yeah you do but I don’t; care. I need fighters, not suicides. Step in again for a practise bout or two to see how you go but no more prize fights. Murders isn’t a good rep for a place that needs regular custom, you hear?”

“Fine” Alric said, not meeting the man’s gaze but speaking after a time.

“Good, now I’ve done what I can for you. Get a good drink to numb the pain and don’t pull those damned stitches out! Didn’t patch you up to have it ruined. I got other fighters to see to. Make room from the bed lad”

Alric nodded, grabbed his winnings and the bottle and with rippling pain pushed himself up and out of the cot, stepping towards the cage and drinking a good few mouthfuls of what tasted like watered wine as he did so.


User avatar
Alric Lysane
Reluctant Nymkarta
 
Posts: 368
Words: 468949
Joined roleplay: October 29th, 2021, 5:41 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 1
Mizahar Grader (1)

Instincts

Postby Alric Lysane on December 11th, 2021, 9:24 am



“Hold up lad, forgot something, here drink this, It’s cold and tastes awful but it’ll help” the man gave him a cup and Alric sniffed it, the scent and colour of it familiar.

“Rugberry?”

“Ah! You are a fighter then. Damned useful it is, speeds up recovery so you can get messed up all over again. Bruises, cuts, muscle aches…damned good. Drink up”

Alric sipped it first just in case and found nothing different from when he had made it himself and so he downed the whole thing, his lips twisting after swallowing and passing the cup back with his thanks before the man clapped him on the back – which brought a wince – and went about his business. Alric sighed and then took another swig of the wine. Whether it was the tea of the drink the pain was starting to become more numbed. He looked around for a quiet corner and made his way to the darkest part he could see, pulling the hood of his cloak over his head and checking he had everything, especially his ring which he slipped back around his neck, and then sat down with a groan to watch the crowd.

“To victory” he saluted the ring with the bottle, trying not to chuckle too much to stop the pain returning and swigging once more.

After a time of drinking, finishing the bottle and then ordering another, he could feel the warmth of inebriation and the ignorance toward injury that came with it. He was not one to usually drink away the pain, but he had to admit that it worked in this instance, at least physically. Internally he was as conflicted as before. Perhaps more so. The man had been right, he could have fought better. Instead he had enjoyed the fighting for the first time he could remember, the pain reminding him he was both alive and a simple scrapper. In the cage he hadn’t been a Nymkarta, of magic tainted blood or being hunted. No, he had just been a Sunberth street fighter.

He had enjoyed that. The Fall season had kept him occupied, searching for bones and getting attacked by ghosts amongst having to scrimp and earn every miza. He had managed, had come out more on top than he had in some time. He had thrown himself into it all as a means of survival, but it had also kept him distracted. Now, since his talk with Zach and the ending of the season, with his finances being more secure than they had been in some time…the wall of applied ignorance was crashing down. He had no option now but to deal with things. The fact he disliked it was no longer an avoidance. A sullen look crept across his face as the alcohol worked its power and his thoughts turned towards the melancholic.

Even if he were still kept busy, there was no way out now. Even his dreams were infected, flashes of his parents and their fate causing him to awaken with racing heart and fearful gaze. They were so imprinted now that he could recall them in the smallest details. He shuddered as they flashed behind his eyelids once more and opened his eyes to look upon the room of people instead. He drank more deeply. Being honest with himself he often tried to have at least a couple of fingers of something strong before sleep of late, it seemed to help at least a little. The nightmares had become less frequent at least. But it wasn’t a long term situation.

He shrugged and finished the second bottle. He didn’t order another just yet, but he knew he wouldn’t be walking anywhere for a Bell or so. He had already finished work, an actual form of employment for once, and so he had nowhere to be. Instead he clinked the mizas he had won together and stashed them away, his arms crossing about his chest almost protectively as he hunkered down into a ball of warmth in a shadowed corner – there to stave off the dark thoughts for at least another evening longer.

Secret :
Alric Rolls For Fights:

Alric Lysane

12/04/2021
!roll 5d100
Dice Maiden
BOT

12/04/2021
Alric Lysane Roll: [77, 77, 19, 16, 11] Result: 200


Opponent Rolls:

Alric Lysane

12/04/2021
!roll 5d100
Dice Maiden
BOT

12/04/2021
Alric Lysane Roll: [70, 62, 23, 9, 4] Result: 168

4 out of 5 wins for Alric - simplified to losing last fight for sake of thread continuity


User avatar
Alric Lysane
Reluctant Nymkarta
 
Posts: 368
Words: 468949
Joined roleplay: October 29th, 2021, 5:41 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 1
Mizahar Grader (1)

Instincts

Postby Alric Lysane on January 7th, 2022, 1:58 pm



Your Grades


Alric Lysane

Skills

Acrobatics - 1
Brawling - 2
Endurance – 3
Socialization - 3
Weapon: Unarmed – 4
Wrestling - 2

Lores

Alcohol: Numbs The Pain
Alric: Deserves Punishment
Brawling: Go For The Eyes
Fighting: A Distraction For Troubles
Pain: Hardens The Body
Rugberry Tea: Speeds Up Body’s Healing
Sunberth: Beast Of Blood & Misery
Unarmed: Bob & Weave
Unarmed: Bridging To Break Mount
Unarmed: Discombobulation
Unarmed: Knee Strikes
Wrestling: Hip Throw


Items Gained

25gm – winnings to be added to Ledger
Bruises, Cuts, Scrapes and Bruised Ribs – 15 days to fully heal



User avatar
Alric Lysane
Reluctant Nymkarta
 
Posts: 368
Words: 468949
Joined roleplay: October 29th, 2021, 5:41 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 1
Mizahar Grader (1)


Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 0 guests