The Sweet Science of Violence (Moritz)

Moritz and Antelokes engage in the second oldest form of communication between sentient beings.

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Syka is a new settlement of primarily humans on the east coast of Falyndar opposite of Riverfall on The Suvan Sea. [Syka Codex]

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The Sweet Science of Violence (Moritz)

Postby Antelokes on April 28th, 2022, 12:47 am

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58th of Spring


A few drops of sweat beaded on Antelokes’ brow as he sat on the beach, staring out across the shimmering blue expanse of Syka’s natural harbor. The sweat was not a result of exertion, but instead of the bright sun which hung in the late afternoon sky. It had rained earlier in the day, and Syna seemed to be making up for lost time by redoubling the strength of her shining rays as they beat down onto the white sands where the young blacksmith sat.

While he sat he fidgeted with a leaf. Antelokes didn’t take his eyes off the sea, but his fingers played with the leaf, tearing strips off it one by one until it was too thin to tear any more. Then, he picked another leaf from a small pile resting by his knee and began the whole process again. The action was consistent, almost impulsive.

Antelokes was anxious. Loathe as he was to admit it, the constant stream of false visions was taking a toll on him. At any given moment his senses could be commandeered by some unnatural force and he could be subjected to horrific images of pasts, presents, and futures that never were nor ever would be. It was maddening. He might have been able to find some solace in reality except for the terrifying fact that the settlement was tearing itself apart at the seams, each member subject to the personal hell of their own individual curse.

He cast aside the tattered remains of another leaf, leaving it to the mercies of wind and rot. With a sharp motion, Antelokes gathered his legs back under himself and stood, brushing off the sand where it clung to his trousers. He needed to move. He needed to do something to wear out his muscles and distract his mind. Shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand, Antelokes cast his eyes around the beach, looking for something to do.

He started walking back to the main body of the settlement, thinking perhaps of volunteering for some jungle expedition. Hunting maybe, or some other resource gathering mission. There was however the unfortunate factor of the hour. Most people who were of a mind to do such things would have set off much earlier. Any meaningful journey begun now would run the risk of stretching until after nightfall.

Antelokes had just started to consider returning to the forge to get a jump on the next day’s work when he his eye caught two figures farther down the beach. As he approached, it became clear that they were sparring. Perfect, he thought. Antelokes didn’t consider himself a violent man, but when it came to wringing nervous energy from your limbs, there were few better activities than an old-fashioned fight.

Antelokes watched the sparring pair with interest. They were an interesting lot. He had seen them both before, but had not yet had the opportunity to engage in conversation. The tone and texture of the woman’s skin was off, similar to the alchemist T’aidell with whom Antelokes had exchanged words before. She moved with practiced grace, each strike and step a deliberate and fluid part of some great dangerous dance. Her opponent looked more human, though even at a distance Antelokes could tell he had never seen hair in quite that pattern of coloration before. He was gangly and didn’t seem to possess quite the same liquid grace of the woman. However his motions were quick, his form belying an underlying athleticism.

Antelokes waited until the pair had finished a bout, his confidence in his own skills waning. He’d gotten involved in his share of street fights as a kid, sure, but the formal art of combat was not something he’d studied much as a tradesman.

“Ho there!” he called out when it looked like they were done. “Quite an impressive show. I just caught the back end there. I was wondering if I might be able to work in a bout or two with you all?” Antelokes shifted a little on his feet. “I’m not a soldier or anything like that, but I’m no slouch either. Plus, I could use some exercise other than working the bellows all day.” Antelokes smiled, stepping forward and stretching out his hand in greeting.

“I don’t know that we’ve been properly introduced yet though. I’m Antelokes. It’s a pleasure.”
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The Sweet Science of Violence (Moritz)

Postby Moritz Craven on April 30th, 2022, 7:05 pm

58 Spring 522


Since gaining his mark from Wysar, his and Sinaetri's relationship had shifted a bit. Though, the Kelvic felt, certainly not for his comfort. The woman seemed happy to put the Kelvic out of his comfort zone, like when she basically demanded he dance with her at a prior ten day the season before. Now though she seemed even more keen on his training and improvement, and on helping him improve his usage of Evantia. Almost as if she took his current skills as a personal affront, or a personal mission to fix his lacking abilities.

He had wondered for a bit if Wysar had said something to her when he was there to mark him, but the more he met with her the more he realized it was all the more likely she had just taken it on of her own volition upon noticing his mark and seeing his skills. Her being rather unflappable he had yet to see her tired, angry, or impatient, simply continuing to gently or not so gently push Moritz with her same stoic countenance. He was starting to think the Verusk did not even breath, since she never seemed short of breath.

Not having trained with her much that season since the curses affected so many people, Sinaetri was quick to pull Moritz aside as she saw him passing during his run. If she took any of his words to heart she did not visibly show it, which made it hard to tell if she realized he was cursed or not... Or if perhaps it did not even matter what he said, and she had some other method of understanding him beyond words.

Besides, Moritz realized as he stopped his jog and turned to face Sinaetri who was motioning him over, she didn't really ask many questions. Instead she simply calmly stated a fact or a direction, and seemed to expect Moritz to follow. For his part, he had to admit, he had yet to actually disobey her, so perhaps there was a point here... "Come on Moritz, lets see what you have. Surely you have improved since last we met?"

Letting out a sigh Moritz turned and moved off out of the way, since he had been running further out on the beach and it was a good idea to spar a bit farther from the shore where less people moved about or passed. Only out for a jog he had little on him, only his button up suit with his name printed on it, some sandals, and other items he was unable to remove like his bracelet.

Trying to recall the things Sinaetri had shown him the season prior, Moritz took on the boxers stance she had shown him and began to bounce about. Not keeping his footing in one spot, but constantly moving, Moritz jumped about a bit in his upright stance with his guard up. He tried to keep his eyes on all of Sinaetri, but as she looked at him with a neutral expression he had trouble figuring out much. She did not have many tells, at least not ones Moritz could see without his gnosis, no glancing of the eyes where a blow would land or other signs that a motion was to come... She seemed to move only at the last moment, all at once and smoothly, without any signs of delay or consideration. Just action followed by stillness with more action, without any hesitation in between.

Throwing a few quick jabs as a warm up Moritz watched Sinaetri, seeing as she cleanly dodged each one with a small side step. First one way dodge one, then the other to dodge the second, and then... A blur of motion and he felt the air exiting his lungs as her fist found his gut. It was more painful than debilitating, but he still felt the air rush from his innards and he instinctively bent over to try and pull in air. "See Moritz. I could just dodge until you tired yourself out. Or take hits if I wished till you did. But in the end you attack and leave yourself open for a counter."

Taking a step back Moritz nodded, his guard down as he felt his stomach and made sure there was no problem. But she knew her work, and was able to hit him without damaging him too bad. Just painful, to wise him up, not harm him. Something only someone truly skilled could do.

With that out of the way Moritz took on his boxers stance again, ready, guard up, and began bouncing around again, waiting this time for her to come at him. This time Sinaetri watched Moritz, darting in and feinting several times. Moritz tried to do as she had, dodge and then look for an opening, but while he was not hit she did not seem intent on hitting him and also did not leave herself open afterwards. One blow did strike him, a glancing blow on the forearm that smarted but was not a direct hit.

It took him a bit to realize that one had been a feint as well, but his dodge had actually put him partially in the blows path. Sadly while he was better at dodging and diving and such things than actual combat and attacking, he was still not as good at it as she was at attacking.

As they were finishing up that exchange the pair noticed someone approaching, and paused in their exchange to see. The two paused and listened to what the man had to say, both watching him critically, particularly once he stated his interest. Staring at the human Sinaetri shrugged before pointing at Moritz and speaking for both of them. "My name is Sinaetri, and this person here as his clothing says is Moritz. Why don't the two of you have a bout, that might be more even than me getting involved."

Pausing Sinaetri looked over at Moritz, making a motion with her eyes Moritz was not quite understanding. "You tried using Evantia on me before, but had trouble following, right? Why don't you try it on him? If you do well, maybe there will be a prize in it for you. I found some little trinkets the other day while moving about town." This last part, about the prize, was spoken to both of them, though what doing well was considered was less clear.

Moritz for his part sized up the other man before getting into a ready position. Unlike before where he took on a boxers stance now the Kelvic took on a more normal one, a ready fighting position with his center of weight low, legs spread apart, with one arm out front and the other up near his head as a guard.

Pausing then he moved and made a quick tap of his mark on the back of his neck, activating his gnosis and Evantia Aura to spread out around him. This he focused on his current target, this man before him.

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The Sweet Science of Violence (Moritz)

Postby Antelokes on May 4th, 2022, 1:02 am

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Antelokes nodded at Sinaetri’s introductions. Having caught a little of her earlier display he had no doubt that if he were in a bout with her there would be nothing ‘even’ about it, as she said. He cast an appraising glance at Moritz. The man’s silence was a little unnerving. Many people who passed their time with combat were very talkative. Some of those folks could back up their words with skill, and some couldn’t. He’d learned to be wary of people who held their tongues though. They were more difficult to read, and all the more dangerous for it.

Antelokes took a brief moment to stretch as Sinaetri spoke to Moritz, shaking the stiffness out of his legs and rolling his shoulders to loosen them. He heard the woman speak to Moritz about something called “Evantia.” He wasn t familiar with the word, though the way she spoke the phrase carried with it the weight of importance. Perhaps it was some style of martial arts? No matter what it was, he didn’t particularly fancy the thought of being the dummy for someone to try something out on.

Antelokes cocked an eyebrow when Sinaetri mentioned a prize. He wasn’t normally one for trinkets, and he wondered briefly if the woman was being sarcastic. If she was joking, her face didn’t betray her intention.

“It’s good to meet you Moritz,” Antelokes said as they lined up across from one another. “Let’s do our best not to kill each other, eh?” he added as they dropped into their respective stances.

With no real formal training under his belt, Antelokes’ stance and style were rough and unrefined. His feet were staggered for balance a little more than shoulder length apart, and his fists were closed in a loose guard that hovered around his shoulder line. As the match started, Antelokes probingly approached Moritz, offering a few jabs with his right hand to test the man’s guard. As he did so, he shuffled slightly to the left, hoping to see a golden opportunity for a more powerful blow with his dominant left hand. After two or three jabs the blacksmith took his chance, lunging forward and turning his shoulders, trying to catch Moritz with a blow to the ribs.

The attempt left him off balance though, and Antelokes retreated a few paces to back out of striking range. He eyed Moritz warily. This kid was fast. Faster than Antelokes, certainly. He didn’t want to be baited into dancing back and forth too much here. If this came to a contest of cardio then he didn’t exactly like his odds.

Antelokes advanced on Moritz again. He made a quick jab step, raising his fist a little in a rough feint, though he didn’t follow it with any immediate strikes to capitalize.

He watched carefully for a chance to grab his opponent and pull him in close. Moritz’s speed made him nervous, but maybe if he could grab and hold him in place that advantage could be negated, to a point. Antelokes opened his hands from their closed fists, watching carefully for an opening to jump forward and catch him in a clinch. Taking a chance, Antelokes darted forward, trying to seize Moritz’s arm and head to restrict his movements.
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The Sweet Science of Violence (Moritz)

Postby Moritz Craven on May 7th, 2022, 3:07 pm

Having been using Evantia for a season, Moritz felt he was finally better grasping what it told him. While at first things he sensed from within the aura of effect were confusing and overwhelming at times, now he felt like the information came in much more cleanly. He was still limited to just one person at a time, anything more would overwhelm him, but that one was clear in his mind.

Of course he had still not fully mastered it, and the more skilled Verusk woman could still throw him off with skilled feints and misdirection's. However with a lesser skilled combatant Moritz hoped this would be less of an issue.

Focusing keenly within his sight on this one person, he could feel and understand each shift of the body. Each clenching of a muscle. Each subtle shift or change that indicated the movement to come. Of course while this was good for defense, it did not help much in offense. Though, Moritz reasoned, once he got better at it perhaps he could do so... Perhaps for grabs or such which limited an enemy? He was not confident enough to try such things now, but in time perhaps...

Not able to help it with his curse Moritz knew anything he said would be a lie, and so he did not respond to his words even though he did listen to them. Even a nod would be betrayed and so he simply continued staring eye to eye while in his ready position. His own eyes were somewhat odd, being both the square eyes of an Okomo while also possessing the sunburst patterns around the pupil marking him as an Iraso, while the other mans eyes seemed more or less normal. Between that and his oddly colored hair he perhaps did take on a odd visage to most people.

When it seemed the man was finally ready to start Moritz sensed his motions as they began, starting off with a quick flurry of jabs, though Moritz noted mentally only with his right arm. Seeing them coming he quickly moved out of the way, dodging to the right, the left, the right again, dodging as such to keep out of range and out of the direction of the blows. Since these were not overly strong or concentrated, just a testing maneuver to check Moritz guard, they were not overly hard to overcome.

Finally though he did make his move, throwing himself into a attack that used his entire body. He could sense his change as he rushed in for the attack with a push of his legs and twisted his upper body in a blow in aimed at Moritz ribs. A blow in at the side.. Sensing it coming Moritz did the simplest thing and took several steps back such that the blow whiffed by with a fair number of inches to spare and without getting close to hitting Moritz.

The man sensing how open this failed blow made him he moved back out of range as well before putting himself back on guard. So focused at the moment on defense as Moritz was, he did not realize the opening in time and was not able to capitalize on the chance to attack while the man was overextended on the failed attack.

Remembering something Sinaetri had said before to him, he knew that he had used less energy to avoid the attacks than his foe had used to make them... Which meant there was the chance he could just continue to dodge and avoid blows until he grew tired. But... He was unsure he could sustain that without getting hit, and so he settled for dodging until he saw an opening, and then moving in for a counterattack. Otherwise it would simply be a test of endurance rather than fighting skills, while endurance was not what he wanted to test at the moment.

When his foe came in again for a quick jab Moritz went to move in a dodge, but saw soon enough that the man did not follow through and was not fully making a attempt at a strike.

But then the man tried to go in for grappling, moving his limbs in an attempt to grab Moritz head and arm. Seeing the lunge and grab coming Moritz moved to the side while he was still attempting the grab and in turn Moritz tried to roll around to the mans perceived weaker side, his right side where he seemed to only throw weak jabs from. If he made it there past the lunge and grab and got to an open spot Moritz would try to counter by throwing a series of punches to either catch him off guard or to put him on the defensive for a change.

Preparing for the first blow while still moving into position, Moritz was right handed and so started off with a strong punch aimed at the mans side or gut if he turned. But he would not stop there, aiming another punch with his left hand at the mans stomach from the opposite angle, and then if he tried to block or cover up another blow from his right aimed to punch somewhere the guard was not covering other than the mans face or neck. Perhaps his side or wherever he was not blocking. If he tried to move back out of reach again instead to avoid Moritz blows, the Kelvic would charge in after him, pouring on a series of blows to keep the man on the defensive rather than attacking. A left, a right, another left and then another right, all aimed at whatever spots were not guarded.

He did not have a ton of power, not having spent a ton of time building his muscles, but he hoped his speed would offset that.

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The Sweet Science of Violence (Moritz)

Postby Antelokes on May 10th, 2022, 4:18 am

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Antelokes gritted his teeth as Moritz slipped past his punches. As he swung his clenched fists refused to meet any target but the wind. Again, again, and again. Few things were as frustrating as failing to even make contact with so many attempted blows in a row. This feeling was compounded a little by Moritz’s silence. He’d found that most people in Syka seemed to be a friendly enough sort. It was somewhat odd for someone to stay so quiet. These were odd times though, and folks were entitled to their idiosyncrasies. Plus, it showed that Moritz was agreeable enough that he had chosen to do this bout in the first place.

With each missed strike Antelokes furrowed his brow a little more. Most of the fistfights he’d been in had devolved quickly into brutal dirty slugfests. That happened often with youths, and the blacksmith had been young when he’d done most of his fighting. As a grown man he’d avoided it as well as he could. Frivolous violence tended to get people killed, and Antelokes didn’t like the odds in that kind of contest. Regardless, Moritz seemed to favor a more reserved style of combat than Antelokes was used to, and the speed he had noticed earlier was certainly coming into play.

True to form, when Antelokes tried to grapple his opponent to hold him in place, the young kelvic darted around, slipping the attack again. Cursing, the blacksmith pivoted to meet his opponent, raising his fists near his face to guard against any blow of retaliation. His feet slipped a little on the sandy ground, and he widened his stance for extra support. Sure enough, the strike came, though lower than he’d expected. He caught a swift punch right in the ribs as he turned, grunting in pain. On instinct, Antelokes rocked back a step, creating extra space just in time for Moritz’s follow up blow to the stomach, landing with just a little less force than it would have had he stayed in place.

There was little time to think before the next blow came, followed by another one, then another. The strikes came fast and hard, though not hard enough to knock Antelokes too far off balance. He ducked behind his guard, trying to shift a little with each punch to that they would glance off on contact so he didn’t have to take the full force of Moritz’s fists with each blow that landed true.

Antelokes felt a knot of anger building in his chest, as it always seemed to when he fought. He didn’t give into it completely. Rage could make you sloppy, though the adrenalin it provided was not to be ignored. Antelokes tried to temper his anger with focus and control. This was a practice bout after all, though those punches were as real as any could be, and they hurt like it too.

The blacksmith didn’t let himself retreat, moving backwards only when absolutely forced to by the momentum of Moritz’s impressive onslaught. He forced himself to inhale and exhale, keeping the muscles of his torso tight so the breath wouldn’t be knocked from his lungs under the weight of Moritz’s knuckles.

Antelokes held up under the attack for several blows, but he didn’t dare hold off longer than that. He didn’t mind showing how a kid from Sunberth could take a hit, but he didn’t want to push his luck. After a particularly keen blow from Moritz, Antelokes countered, ducking low and stepping into a heavy punch at the kelvic’s abdomen. In an effort to shift the momentum of the exchange, the blacksmith kept advancing with a series of similar body-shots, head held low, trying to put his opponent on his heels. Ending the sequence, Antelokes unclenched his fists and stepped forward in an open handed shove to the chest—an attempt to throw Moritz off balance, and off his feet if he got lucky.
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The Sweet Science of Violence (Moritz)

Postby Moritz Craven on May 11th, 2022, 10:21 pm

While it seemed both he and his foe were trying to win over each other, Moritz wasn't particularly trying to hurt the other person. It was after all just a spar, and so he assumed pulling ones punches to a degree was normal and expected. If he did see a hit was going to land he would avoid pushing through, and pull back a bit on the blow to keep from truly hurting the other person. Though this was a bit tricky, and so instead he generally just threw fast and light blows rather than stronger ones. While some were a bit stronger than others, none were full force by any means.

That, if nothing else, would not be in the spirit of a spar where one and their foe learned and improved.

While he had managed to avoid most of the attacks coming at him quite well, some less so, he knew this was less his superior skill - which he did not have - but more due to his usage of Evantia. In a fight where a half second could make a world of difference, knowing what an opponent was going to throw at you even a split second earlier was quite a big advantage. In fact using it now he was only then beginning to see how big of a difference it made.

Before when using it with the Verusk woman he was woefully outmatched and outskilled, and was also just starting to figure out the gnosis. Now though he had comparable skills to the other person, while also having a firm understanding of using the gnosis on a single target. And so in that context he could all the better see how useful it was. If, for instance, all other things were equal... Then it could surely prove a telling advantage. For now he was just training it, honing his usage for fights to come, but if he kept at it... Well then perhaps it would become even more amazing.

He clenched his jaw as his attack struck, one to the side of the ribs, enough to elicit a grunt from the man. But reacting well the man pushed back with the blow and managed to dissipate some of the force by moving away with the punch as he got him in the gut. After that his blows mainly caught on the mans warding arms, rather than the more vulnerable spots beneath. Seeing this Moritz slowed down and tried to catch his breath, not wanting to allow himself to be tired out by a bunch of ineffective punches.

He assumed both he and his foe were thinking up strategies and tactics to take out the other, to incapacitate them without truly hurting them. Narrowing his eyes on the man Moritz honed in his focus, trying to see just this man and only the things that mattered in the fight to the exclusion of anything that did not matter.

In truth his rapid fired series of attacks had winded him a bit, and he was still trying to recover, as he felt that stitch of exertion work its way into his side and slowly spread, trying his best to remain calm and breathing evenly.

However as he was starting to slow and prepared to take a moment to catch his breath the the man moved to respond. As he could sense it was a blow aimed at his belly, or that general area, his body moving into place to throw the blow. Having to shift from recuperating to avoiding Moritz moved to dodge the blow he could see coming, but was a bit too slow. Instead of hitting him in the belly or gut it instead clipped him on the hip, the fist grinding by and pushing past his body as it somewhat missed but also hit, a stinging pain rising up from the point.

Then the man returned in kind his own attacks, moving at him and sending a flurry of fast strikes. Moritz for his part dodged backward, moving away to give him space, retreating for a bit to keep well clear of the oncoming blows, taking a step back, and back, and there, and there, to avoid the oncoming blows.

As he was about to try a counter of his own however he was thrown for a loop as the man suddenly changed his attack. Going from a series of punches to a lunge and a shove Moritz was caught off guard, not expecting that attack. But that foreknowledge saved him again, and so with that in mind he realized what he needed to do and began moving his body in preparation even before the shove landed. As he did a small smile came to his face, as he both enjoyed the spar and what he was about to do.

As the palms of the man pushed at his chest Moritz was already readying his body and leaning back just so. As the full force of the push hit him Moritz vaulted backwards in the same direction. Half diving and half jumping Moritz fell and turned his body such that he landed a bit away, turning his body as he moved such that his hands caught the ground and acted as a fulcrum.

Then with his body just so, he continued the backward momentum, his upper body shifting back on his hands as the pivot and his legs launching up over his head.

With a tuck and a turn Moritz landed on his feet, having completed a decent backward vaulting handstand back flip or some such combination of things. He also managed to put a fair bit of distance between himself and his foe due to the angle of his move.

Basically he had launched himself back using the push as momentum, used his hands to turn on as a sort of handstand during the midpoint of the backflip, and flipping over a full three hundred and sixty degrees landed facing the same way as he begun but much further away.

Having done all that Moritz tried to take a moment to rest, hoping that his unexpected maneuver had surprised the man. However even if it did not, he hoped the distance he had gained would give him enough time to predict and react should the man come rushing at him again.

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The Sweet Science of Violence (Moritz)

Postby Antelokes on May 13th, 2022, 2:59 am


Antelokes felt a burst of satisfaction as one of his blows made contact with Moritz for the first time. Whether you won or lost a match, there was always something to be said for the knowledge that your opponent was not immortal, that both competitors were on the same playing field and had to work for any advantage they claimed. There was an honesty to that kind of contest. The competitors didn’t need to be evenly matched, so long as they could make each other sweat and keep their opponent on their toes. In those situations, superior practice and training would often prevail to determine the victor. However, luck played its part as well, as did a legion of other factors.

It was invigorating, and it was exactly what he had needed. Adhering oneself to routines for too long left one’s mind open, and free floating thoughts could drive a man insane. Especially in times like these, and especially for Antelokes with his maddening visions. Syka was a wonderful place, but it could get quiet sometimes. Slow. Hemmed in by the jungle on three sides and the sea on the other, he could sometimes feel trapped in the little settlement, lost for what to do with himself. The chance to push himself up against some of his limits was an opportunity he relished. Moritz certainly provided that opportunity.

As Antelokes pressed forward to leverage some of his positive momentum he began to notice something odd. As he struck, swung, swung, and swung again to varying degrees of success, it always seemed that Moritz was just a degree off of where Antelokes thought he should have been. In combat, each person could only have so much time to react to their opponent’s moves, and after a while you started to pick up on that rhythm. How effective one’s evasions were depended on how quick you were. Moritz was quick, there was no secret about that, but as Antelokes sparred with him it almost felt as if he were even quicker than his motions made him seem. Whenever he felt like one of his blows was about to hit true, Moritz was already somewhere else, just a hair away, like a leaf flowing down a stream and weaving through the rocks along the eddies and currents in the water. The kelvic’s body shifted, rolled, and stepped around the incoming blows with impressive consistency, letting many of the strikes glance off of him without solid contact.

When Antelokes resorted to the shove—a less refined attack, though not without its uses—he barely caught a glimpse of Moritz’s grin, though he had no time to wonder at its meaning. His hands pressed into his opponent’s chest, and he was met with less resistance than expected. His steps faltered in surprise when Moritz took the momentum of the push and flowed with it, flipping and spinning backwards. His hands fell slightly towards his sides as he watched, dumbfounded by something he’d never seen before in any sort of combat.

He'd watched street acrobats before, and they’d done similar things with apparent ease, but using it in a bout such as this was ingenious. It was an audacious move, and perhaps not necessary, but the man had pulled it off. Antelokes might have been annoyed at the overconfidence had he not been impressed.

Antelokes smiled and couldn’t resist a laugh as it tore itself from his lips.

“Now what am I supposed to do about that?” he asked with a chuckle, raising a hand in respect before falling back into a more adequate fighting stance. He didn’t have any tricks to compare with the one Moritz had just pulled, but observing his opponent’s creative thinking made him loathe to continue without switching tactics at all.

He approached warily, hands held in front of him to guard against stray blows. Once within striking distance, he swung his back leg out in front of him in a sweeping kick aimed at Moritz’s leg. As he pulled back, he retreated with a hopping step before raising his leg again, this time snapping it up higher to attempt a chest level front kick. Once again he pulled out of the move with a hop-like step, arms raised and prepared to lash out with warding blows should Moritz advance in time with his backwards motion.
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The Sweet Science of Violence (Moritz)

Postby Moritz Craven on May 14th, 2022, 8:00 pm

The longer the spar went on, the more tired both of them became. Moritz knew this, but he also knew while his foe was growing more sluggish and tired, so was he, which meant dodging and avoiding attacks was harder. As was continuing to concentrate on both the fight itself and what he could since within Evantia. While its physical toll did not kick in until he released its effect, mentally it was still taxing even then to concentrate.

However he was certain he was more agile than his foe, even if their general combat skills were not too far off. If his foe began to show signs of tiring soon then he would know he also had the upper hand in terms of raw endurance. Moritz knew he was starting to feel it, and so he hoped his foe was as well.

When his acrobatic move worked for a moment the other mans footing seemed a bit upset, clearly expecting more resistance and thrown off when he did not get it and instead the Kelvic launched himself away. So thrown off was he that Moritz was able to stand at that distance away from the man and try to catch his breath while his foe more or less stood there slack jawed in surprise. It did not last forever, but was long enough that he had a chance to regain a measure of breath.

Moritz, unsure how to answer to the mans question simply responded to his words and laughter with a shrug, though with a smile on his own lips in return. He could take it however he wished, he had gotten what he wanted. A moment to breath and calm his fast moving chest for a bit while not in immediate danger of attack.

Once he worked things out again he returned to a fighting stance, ready it seemed to go on the attack again, but that momentary shock had still been there and served his needs.

Moritz for his part took on a stance of his own, readying himself while not taking the imitative to close the distance. Instead letting the other man do so and take that extra effort. Legs spaced like so. Knees bent and ready to move or go on the attack... Arms ready, one at his side on the ready for offense and the other up closer to his shoulder more ready for defense.

When he did finally come in it was slowly and carefully, almost probing. Clearly watching out for another fancy flip or such that would take him by surprise, though those admittedly were not things Moritz was considering. He did not generally do lots of fancy flips and things while fighting, though dodges and rolls were more common. However his backward hand flip thing had just worked out in the moment and so he had gone with it, a rarity rather than the norm. Of course, he thought to himself, his foe had no way of knowing that.

Once he got close enough his foe went for a swinging kick which Moritz sensed a moment early. In response he hopped back out of range again, the blow missing his legs. When he moved for another kick Moritz did likewise, hopping back a bit to add some distance, this one missing as well since Moritz was keeping well enough clear to avoid any kicks. This was less skillful than his earlier dodges and things, since he was simply creating more distance to avoid the attacks.

Sensing an opening however and that the man was going to continue retreating or moving in this manner and before the man had a chance to fully reset his legs from the failed kick. Rushing in he feinted with a weak punch aimed at the mans head, only to suddenly turn his body and rotate his long leg around to aim a kick at the back and side of his foes knee rather than at his torso or other parts. He hoped to make him lose his footing and perhaps fold the mans leg under him if it landed true, which would ideally leave him unfooted and in a heap on the ground... If it worked. Legs after all were longer than arms, and so he hoped it would help him get within the mans guard if he was only using his arms for defense and still resetting his legs from the kick. Or so his idea went.

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The Sweet Science of Violence (Moritz)

Postby Antelokes on May 20th, 2022, 2:49 am

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When fighting, Antelokes sometimes felt almost as if there was some invisible string connecting him to his opponent. The sensation came from the nature of the activity. It was a dance. Combat was experienced at the junction between body and mind, requiring the full faculties of both to be done properly. It was a rhythm of action and reaction, fluid and in constant flux. Coming out of his flip, Moritz stood stoic and waiting, letting Antelokes take the initiative of closing the distance. As if pulled forward by that invisible string, Antelokes took the bait, advancing until he hit that unseen barrier between opponents, the barrier of threat, beyond which one’s opponent would be able to strike them. Crossing that barrier was necessary though. Without exposing oneself to danger, there was no way to impose danger onto one’s opponent.

Antelokes’ first kick fell short. Action and reaction. Push and pull. Moritz maintained a careful distance that kept him out of reach, and Antelokes took advantage of that space sto recover from the kick. His movements slower than he would have liked. The young man’s actions were becoming sluggish. There was a burning in his legs, and his breaths were heavier than they had been before. His shoulders rose and fell visibly. The back of his throat felt rough, as if there was gravel in the air scraping it raw as he sucked air into his lungs. He lashed out—still slow—and his second kick was likewise evaded. This time, as Antelokes tried to recover from his strike, Moritz followed, crossing that barrier of threat and risk. Action and reaction. Push and pull.

Moritz’s raised fist was a credible threat, and so Antelokes raised his arms ready to guard his head. Unfortunately, he had not regained his balance and the unexpected target of Moritz’s real strike (his leg) was undefended and particularly vulnerable. As the young kelvic’s foot hit his knee it crumpled. Already weak from exertion and without solid balance, the leg failed to support Antelokes’ weight. He fell heavily onto his side with a gasp and a groan. He rolled onto his back with a sigh. The round went to Moritz then.

Slowly and deliberately Antelokes sat up and stretched out the leg that had failed him. It wasn’t injured, just tired. The same could be said for his body as a whole. The exhaustion came faster than you expected. Still, he didn’t want how tired he was to show. Wincing just a little, Antelokes rose to his feet, brushing the sand off where it clung to his sweat-soaked skin.

He nodded in respect to Moritz.

“You’re shifty,” he said. It was a statement of fact, not a question. Both men knew it was true. He continued, speaking between deep breaths as he tried to regain his wind without displaying his struggle too much. “I’m not. You saw that. But I am stubborn though, so if you’re up for a little more than I’d be happy to oblige.”

If Moritz agreed, Antelokes would drop into his stance again. At first, his arms hung lower by his sides. Against the complaints of his muscles, Antelokes raised them back into their higher guard. He tightened his diaphragm, forcing his breaths to be smooth and controlled. With some effort, his body started to recognize that action was imminent, and its rest would come later. Antelokes waited, content to let Moritz make the first move this time.
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The Sweet Science of Violence (Moritz)

Postby Moritz Craven on Yesterday, 6:57 pm

The longer the fight when on, the more likely Moritz was to make a mistake. He knew this well, but still he hoped to avoid any large errors and worked his best to do so. But inevitability could not be avoided, and any fight going on long enough would have some. Even knowing what a foe was going to do a bit early in and of itself was not enough to perfectly avoid all blows and to completely stay vigilant for a long period.

But at the same time, the same could be said of his foe, he would also be tiring and begin making more errors over time.

His attack in this instant was a success, and his real blow his kick at the mans knee hit its mark. Down his foe went as his knee went out under him, something that in his tired state was apparently enough to leave him sprawling. Though the intent was to work regardless, even if he was not tired, it did not hurt that he was by this point.

Crashing onto his side the man rolled to get on his back, slowly rising and trying to get back up from the position. Rather than press the advantage as he would in a real fight Moritz instead held back, panting a bit from exertion, as his foe did likewise from his seated position.

One of the tricks to fighting was to do something the foe did not expect. Of course once something was experienced it could be expected if not considered likely, and so it made it harder to do the same trick again. Which meant either fighting against new foes without skill, or finding ever new ways to best a foe. Or, he supposed, improving his own skills such that no matter what he did he would win. Thinking it over Moritz supposed this was the ideal, but he did not think he was even close to that point.

Trying to calm his breathing he could still sense each motion of the man before him, as he tensed and prepared to rise, as he moved and maneuvered. Little by little each bit was foretold before the physical action could quite act out.

After stretching and checking his leg for injuries he seemed to decide it was time to get up, cleaning himself off a bit as he got back on his feet.

Moritz smiled as the man called him shifty, assuming in this context that it was a compliment and not an insult as it might be at some times. Shifty as in he moved a lot, or quick, or changed up, any of those would be a good interpretation.

Clearly the man was tired, as was Moritz, but clearly much more tired than Moritz was. But then many of the newcomers to Syka were in worse shape than Moritz who had been keeping fit and training for awhile. Though compared to the locals who had been there awhile, he did not consider himself very fit... But working on it still all the same.

With a shrug in response to the mans question Moritz did not really deny or accept his words, but neither did he walk off. For his part he bent and stretched his body for a few moments while he continued to slow his breathing, before he returned to his ready stance. Feet, arms, and head all positioned just so.

However it seemed the tired man was not ready to take the initiative, and instead left it over to Moritz to do so. Smiling and stretching on his feet Moritz considered things for a moment, before focusing his eyes on the mans legs quite clearly. With a start he pushed his body forward, aiming at the man, making a move with his left leg as if he was going to repeat the earlier move of kicking out his knee. However this was just a faint, and mid move he planted his foot and swung his body in a punch aimed right at the mans gut. Painful if it landed and perhaps winding as it would blow the air from his chest, but not deadly or really harmful in the long term so far as he understood it.

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