Use your limbs, all eight of them! [Solo Flashback]

[Lyner]

Day 31, Summer 509 AV Afternoon - Blood Pits The man was Shinya, a monk, a warrior who was tasked with the mission of protecting the Kalean city of Lhavit and it's goddess Zintila. They called him Honse though nobody knew if that was his real name. He was a quiet stern man who rarely socialized but was seen by many as one of the less unsavory characters in the pit. Lyner by contrast was the cheerful anomaly who made bonds of friendship with whomever. Both men did share a quality that kept people from double-crossing them despite their peaceful natures though, the two could fight when they had to and they could do so well. Recently the pair would come to discover that they would share something beyond their calm demeanor and dangerous fighting skill. The pair's fate would become intertwined, the two had been matched up to fight in pair combat by way of lottery. Honse had invited the Slyiran to his corner of the pit, asking the boy to share tea with him. Lyner was quick to accept the offer though he tasted the brew he was given and allowed the drink to cool in his hands before he risked drinking more. Poisoning was commonplace in the pits though rarely from the hands of a man you were going to fight with. Minutes of silence and numerous sips of his beverage told the boy that he didn't like the taste of green tea. The cultured beverage was like gutter water to Lyner, it's light flavor found no purchase on his immature tongue. "I have seen you fight Lyner," the bald human told him, his emotionless face impossible to read. "By no means are you inadequate, but I must test your steel by my hands. Take no offense." Lyner knew that it would come to this, he'd brought his blade and a wooden longsword imitation so he could keep the other sharp and ready for a real fight. The pair stood up, Lyner in his grey dirty tunic, black pants and weathered boots and the man in his outlandish robes and those strange thick wooden beads resting upon his neck and shoulders. The two fighters stepped away from each other and some other fighters and a few faces familiar to Lyner gathered. They knew that this was no serious duel but there was no harm in seeing a rare pure contest of skill that would not end in bloodshed. Honse assumed a wide footed stance, he drew his spear behind him and allowed the bladed tip to rest on the soil tracing circles in the ground where it lingered. "Come." the invitation was loud, firm, but unusually calm. Lyner did not charge in blindly, but he went on the offensive nonetheless. He stepped forward a foot at a time without compromising stance. The swordsman held his blade high up, poised into a high guard so he could react and intercept a counter-attack with the assistance of gravity. The monk finally smiled, perhaps impressed or amused at the cautious fighter. He moved forward, taking a large step and pivoted on his foot, waist and torso when he swung with his weapon. Such was the force in his spear that the swordsman almost failed to stop the spear flying to his ribs even with his raw strength and the aid of gravity. "A poor guard, you cannot block many strikes like that." the monk told him before resuming his attack. Lyner fell into the defensive, his breath falling into the steady rhythm he had come to adopt in favor of the shallow and hasty gulps of air that the uninitiated used in battle. Honse started a barrage with his spear, the tassels and pointed edge became a blur as it pistoned towards Lyner. The Syliran didn't even try to intercept the attacks, they were too fast and he did the sensible thing and took a step back then another to his side to he couldn't get cornered. The monk grinned, pausing to share his assessment with the swordsman. "You fight with your senses, good, that quality will serve you well. The environment is as much as weapon as the one in your hand." He was testing the Syliran, trying to determine if the boy was going to be an asset in the coming paired matches or would prove to be nothing more than a distraction he could fight without. The monk twisted his hips, robes billowing around him as the spear in his hand pivoted around his waist,sweeping into a turn with renewed intensity. Lyner barely blocked the shaft of the man's weapon with his sparring sword, the weighted wooden device was nowhere near as durable as steel but he couldn't risk ruining the sharpness of his blade in exercise. He needed the weapon razor sharp so it could perform it's intended function in the fights ahead. Lyner had little experience fighting men who used polearms but he was no stranger to the enormous threat that they posed. He'd witnessed many pitfights since his arrival months ago to know how effective they were in the hands of an expert. The long weapons offered phenomenal range, great leverage and were deceptively dangerous in close range. The harmless shafts that many considered the spear's weakness was no less dangerous than it's bladed end, they were made of dense hard wood able to withstand multiple blows from bladed weapons before breaking. And experts rarely gave opponents a chance to exploit the wooden nature of their spears.

[Lyner]

Thrusts and swings were exchanged though the pair had failed to give the other a potentially fatal strike in the ten minutes they'd been at it. Lyner was performing exceptionally, his powerful physique and his solid and simple fencing coupled with his youth allowed him to match the Shinya in brief intense flurries but the conclusion was clear long before this battle began, Lyner would lose in a fair match. The Shinya was a fighter who'd learned the art of combat as soon as he could walk, he'd been educated in the ways of fighting and hadn't even resorted to using his magic. Honse was the first to drop his stance, he lay his weapon down on the ground and approached Lyner to offer him an empty hand and his congratulations. "You have a good sword arm, impressive instincts and a sharp mind. Keep using your head and we'll get along." the monk bowed. Lyner didn't quite know how to react to this formal display of respect. He dropped his sparring sword and simply copied the monk's bow. "I am... honored by your words Sir Honse." At this boring climax to the fight the circle of fighters that had gathered around the two had scattered, returning to their own pens and corners of the pits to mind their own businesses. Lyner finally took the monk's hand shaking it vigorously but Honse seemed to had other ideas. He suddenly twisted the swordsman's wrist and had his hand planted on the Syliran's elbow placing Lyner in an uncomfortable position. The monk had held off from causing true injury, but he wanted to teach the young fighter a lesson. "I see, so it is true what they say about you." "Lyner, you must temper that kindness." he released the boy's hand and elbow, moving back to his spear to pick it up. "You may be dangerous in combat but you are harmless outside of the ring. I cannot have my partner in the coming match compromised. I am only one man, I cannot win a battle against two seasoned warrior without another fighting by my side." "No one has ever seen you fight without your sword." the Shinya's voice was practically condescending. "Do you know how to fight without your blade?" Lyner shook his head. "Then you will learn, we must begin immediately. We only have three days and four nights before the fight. You will work, eat, sleep and do nothing else until we finish our match. You must commit all of your free time to this endeavor."

[Lyner]

Honse was a patient but strict instructor. He demanded discipline, focus and determination from his pupils. Though Lyner was no Viraya the Shinya found the Syliran a quick learner. The swordsman was surprisingly quick to accept Honse's words of wisdom, his mind proved young an impressionable. The monk would have an easier time than he'd thought, the boy's skill in the sword was self-trained but he'd learned where he could. Pride was not an issue with Lyner and this open-mindedness extended to these lessons in unarmed combat he was receiving. "The stances of swordmanship are different from those I will teach you." the monk paced back and forth in front of a sitting Lyner looking every bit the teacher he truly was. "Punches and kicks rarely finish off opponents in one swoop like a weapon can, your attacks should all be meant to set up into another. You inevitably learn how to use the limits of the body against itself, how to lock a limb into place and break it through manipulation of joints as you gain experience. For now you will focus on creating damage from blunt trauma, how stun and surprise your foe." "In this style of unarmed combat you will learn how to channel your energy from your shoulders, hips and legs. Movement translates into power, motion becomes force." he expressed his words through a simple jab. "More motion yields more force." and he turned on his hips, pivoting on his leg to throw a wide lashing kick. "The first thing I will have you learn is not a firm stance, there will be no set patterns for you to use, only the simple principles of unarmed combat I know because of time constraints. Always remember, flexibility is the cornerstone of an accomplished martial artist. Now, observe." Honse demonstrated a basic Shinya stance he'd picked up and began to describe it. "Use an open stance that has balance and flexibility. Put your feet apart a shoulder's width, a wider stance means greater stability. Your knees should always be bent so you may move at a moment's notice. Keep your dominant foot behind to propel you forward and backwards as necessary and the lead foot in a position where you can use it as an anchor to strike from." Lyner made a close approximation of the stance. He found it comfortable, it permitted him the ability to move and allowed him to experience a sense of freedom he didn't have with his solid sword stances. "At all times guard your body with your fists and arms but make sure to only use them as a last resort. Dodging a punch or kick is more efficient than repelling them." the monk mimed a dodge, the roll and the procedure in getting into an upright position from a roll. After that he moved on to the next subject. "You swat away attacks away from you so you do not break your limbs, if you cannot avoid an attack block but retreat. Disperse the force by accepting and moving with it."

[Lyner]

"The jab is the most basic of punches but that does not mean it is less effective than the others." Honse was wrapping up the Syliran's hand in bandages, they were meant to protect him from injury over the course of the training. "There is a reason that jabs are used in many martial art styles." After the monk finished securing the hand wrapping he stepped away from Lyner to begin the lessons proper. He took a basic stance and then snapped forward with a jab so fast that it created a swishing sound in the air. "In line with our principle of channeling motion we start a jab with a slight movement forward, as our weight moves forward you lash out with your lead arm and turn your shoulder in the same direction the lead arm moves to create energy." the Shinya was deliberate and slow, as he had to be when he demonstrated the foundations of their fighting styles to initiates. "Do not forget, your hand must stay relaxed until the second before it hits. Tighten it only when the hit will come, this increases the damage you cause with your jab." The monk wrapped up his hands in a sash turning it into something that resembled a ball of yarn. He looked straight into Lyner's eye and spoke. "Try it on me." Lyner complied. He started to jab, shifting his weight forward and snapping both hip and shoulder to multiply the force of his punches. The monk smiled, parrying or blocking the jabs with ease thanks to the wool spun around his hand. "Aim for my chin and abdomen. I'll try hitting back, dodge or imitate what I do to neutralize my counter-attacks." The Syliran swordsman nodded and slowly built up his speed against the monk. He kept on punching, ducking, swaying and retreating for what seemed like minutes. This simple exercise was harder than it looked. It would serve as a good alternative to using the skipping rope or jogging in endless circles. Learning how to take an attack was actually harder for Lyner than dishing jabs out. He had to suppress the natural instinct to freeze up and resist the blow, he had to step back, ride the blow by allowing both shoulder and hip to move in the direction he'd taken the monk's attack. Then he was taught to instantly switch his lead feat with the one behind with a back step and jab away with the other hand. "We call that the switch-step." the Shinya told him after the finally got the movement down. Sooner or later, even the monk would begin to sweat and the pair would stop and drink deeply from a clay jug of water. "Next, we will work on your jabs in conjunction with footwork." Lyner was eager to learn more and the returned to the activity. It was boring training, but Lyner was anything but disappointed, the insights he was picking up were interesting. There was surprisingly a lot to learn about footwork. Simple steps all had to be taken with tiny strides that didn't compromise balance. A step back began with the foot in the rear followed by the leading foot, similarly a side-step to the left started with the left moving followed by the right only when the left foot found purchase on the soil. "You can also slide, if you want to cover ground fast. Propel your body with the foot resting behind, this is almost like lunging, that should let your lead foot barely hover off the ground and let you use a quick attack like a jab or a front push kick." "Front push kick?" Lyner asked quizzically. "Its easy to do, the kick is simple. You just picture yourself pushing a door open with your foot." the monk demonstrated the kick while keeping his guard up. It was ridiculously simple. "It's not my favorite kick, it has little power and I happen to have a nasty habit of kicking people's groins with it... but it is fast."

[Lyner]

"It looks like you've got the hang of the jab." Honse was pleased at the fighter's progress. "Now you have to learn a power punch to accompany it. The cross punch is the most basic of power punches but it is the fastest because of it's simplicity." Lyner was a stern believer in simple methods and took to these lessons easily. He didn't need to burden himself with more thoughts than necessary in combat, a fundamental technique that was effective was always going to be better than a complex one where there were many steps and many chances for error in his simple mind. "Observe. You start the cross by shifting a significant amount of your weight on your leading leg, then quickly but smoothly rotate your shoulder and hips towards the leading leg." Honse wasn't so slow with his demonstrations anymore, he always tailored his lessons according to the rank of his pupils but Lyner was a young man and thus had the mental capacity to learn faster than a Shinya initiate. "Then spring forth with your rear fist aimed at your opponent's face. If that isn't a viable target, you can also crouch and punch the torso." Lyner awkwardly imitated the motion and would only grow complacent after several attempts of shadowboxing with the cross. He didn't have to be told that it was a powerful punch, the sheer amount of movement he subjected his body to told him how much weight and power was going to go into a cross punch. He didn't mind at all that it had more reach than a jab too. "The jab and cross create the classic one-two punch combination that many fighting styles have. The jab is used to get into range, disorient the opponent and hide the cross that follows shortly after." Honse raised the pair of makeshift punching mittens he'd created and invited the Syliran to fight. The Shinya started swaying left and right, eager to start the next leg of this training. "Can you go for another round?" "Ten minutes." Lyner suggested. "Fifteen." the monk countered, grinning.

[Lyner]

The following day Lyner was up earlier than usual. He had a quick breakfast and after half an hour was getting started on the warm-up exercises so he wouldn't waste time doing it later. He did the usual cardio cycle he'd come to adopt from an Isur teacher he'd befriended long before his captivity. He was jogging in circles in the limited area of space he could for a good ten minutes, then moved on to using the jumping rope and building up into a quick but not challenging rhythm and finally stretching his limbs and over extending them to permit thorough blood circulation through his muscles. He'd worked up a bit of a sweat when Honse finally arrived on the scene. The Syliran's dedication did not slip past the monk, he appreciated discipline more than any other quality in his initiates. A disciplined hard-worker was always better than a talented but lazy student. "You may harm your opponents, but if you harm yourself when you do so you will not gain any advantage against them." the Shinya told the swordsman while he worked on applying protective wrappings around his various limbs. "Always apply wrappings on the impact points of your body before going into a fight. The eight limbs must be protected at all times. Your fists, elbows, knees and feet must all have the proper support. I will teach your the correct wrapping techniques and what materials you can use for these as we go along." When they'd finished he asked the Syliran to shadowbox and recount their lessons yesterday. The vague stance, the basic footwork, the simple weaving motions to avoid attacks and the swatting defense to displace them before he finally showed the basic one-two punching combination. "The elbow is a crippling weapon when used properly." Honse held Lyner's elbow up, pressing the bony prominence of his elbow. "Very dense and long bones, they are not as weak or many as those found in the hands. They have two points of impact, the blunt side that can deliver great power and the tip whose's sharpness can cut and cause deep tissue damage." "As always the power here comes from the entire body, flexibility in the shoulders is especially important." The Shinya showed the swordsman the exact steps leading into a simple elbow strike. "It is like the cross punch that it begins when you shift the weight of your body to the leading leg, then you twist the hips and turn on the ball of the weight bearing foot at the same time you turn the shoulder into the opponent. Avoid dropping your guard while throwing an elbow strike, there is no reason your other arm should not be protecting your face." "There are other methods, but time is against us. You must become familiar with what techniques you have learned before you move on to more complex lessons." he raised both bulky gloves and slapped them together. "Attack my sparring gloves with the one-two combination then finish up with an elbow strike. I will throw in counters every now and then to keep you on your toes." Lyner started the training with a few opening jabs, then he progressed into the one-two combination after minutes of simple jabs coupled with heavy footwork. Then the counters came and he had to dodge, block and reply with front push kicks occasionally. Things started getting heated up when Honse rewarded his hard work with punches that Lyner had never seen before and Lyner resisted the urge to panic and relied on his training. He stepped back, measured the opponent's speed and moved in with a series of jabs, a one-two shot then threw in dangerous elbow smashes when the defense started letting up. It was vigorous exercise but neither combatant seemed to be getting tired. The Shinya was too busy enjoying a re-enactment of the life he had before being thrown into captivity and the Syliran was enamored with this world of calculated fighting he had never known.

[Lyner]

The legs are strong muscles. They bore most of the weight of the body and could do so for extended period of time. It came as no shock to the Syliran that knee strikes housed so much force. Even when holding back and despite wearing heavy padded armor and a sack of rice under the armor itself the Shinya's practical demonstration took the swordsman's breath away. "It is your turn now." the monk said as he parted from the clinch with Lyner. The bandages were applied, the padded armor swapped wearers and now the swordsman was looking at the Shinya who was invitingly leaving himself unguarded. A deception. Honse would not condition his fighters to relaxed complacency. "Come." Lyner took the invitation, but not with open arms. His left hand flew, the jab being intercepted by the padded sparring gloves. Honse replied in kind, handing out punishment in the form of a weakened elbow strike that forced the young fighter to roll to one side in order to disperse the blow he'd caught with his hands. "We do not have all day." the taunt wasn't serious but Lyner had to respond or risk testing his teacher's patience. He stepped inside again, left hand leading into a jab and the cross joining the first punch in haste. Honse guarded himself, his stance switching from orthodox to southpaw to avoid the cross follow-through. Then things got messy. Lyner pressed forward, elbow swinging out to hit the man's chin. A jab was all he got for his efforts and even with all the safety equipment it stung. But it wasn't as strong as a true punch meant to harm an opponent and that was the difference Lyner needed to finally close their distance with the left leg leading. He took the Shinya's neck with his right hand in a parody of an embrace and he drew the monk forward but not before snapping the right knee up to come to the height of his hips. He suddenly raised himself on the ball of his leading leg then thrust the knee of his right leg violently into the Shinya's midsection. All this he performed in the same moment. The damage was obvious on the face of the monk. Even with the protective gear it was enough to push the air from the man's lungs. Honse called the match off to catch his breath. "Now that we're sure you can do that properly, go be a good kid and strap the armor to a pillar and practice there."

[Lyner]

The last two days were a blur of activity for the monk and the swordsman. Learning the techniques were only the beginning for the Syliran, incorporating them into his fighting style was the real challenge. Honse did his best honing the boy, turning his pupil's raw skill into polished competence though they did not have the seasons usually required to accomplish the task. When the time for their battle came up, both Honse and Lyner were as ready as they could be. Honse groomed the boy to take advantage of the rest of his limbs whenever he managed to establish weapon-lock while he familiarized himself with the famous longsword. Their opponents for this match were fresh meat, new to the pits. All they knew they'd learned the day before the match. The first was a mercenary who'd made one too many debts, he was a big man of Benshiran descent who favored his falchion and claimed that he'd felled his fair share of Syliran knights. His partner seemed a more dangerous adversary, a dark-skinned man who rarely spoke and wielded a gladius in one hand and a flail in the other. A dangerous combination in the hands of a seasoned fighter. It was unsettling for the two comrades that their adversaries had probably discovered a thing or two about their respective fighting styles, the only thing they could hope for was their two rivals wouldn't be good enough to exploit their advantage. The gates on either side of the pits opened and the four fighters were ushered in, two standing on each side. Only two could leave the place intact. Lyner and Honse had no desire to become maggot food at the end of this fight.

[Lyner]

Even though he would be at a disadvantage against the man who wielded two weapons Honse suggested that Lyner take the man bearing the more conventional weapon. The Syliran wouldn't complain. Lyner had no misconceptions about his skill, he was only competent at the blade and he wouldn't mess with a fighter who had the confidence to use two weapons simultaneously. In the worst case scenario Honse cryptically told him that he had a trick up his sleeve, a magic discipline the Shinya were known to wield. Lyner didn't care to ask, he had bad experiences in dealing with magic. As the gates behind them fell and the crowd cheered the fighters slowly approached each other, cautiously eyeing their respective opponents. Strange fate that the Benshiran with mixed blood eyed him as well. Lyner supposed he looked like the weaker of the two. He was young and his face was not at all difficult to gaze at. He probably looked like a pup and he would encourage that idea about it. It was why he wore the ragged long-sleeved clothing to this battle. It tore when it had to so it didn't serve to hamper him, was light and concealed his physique well. Lyner didn't take his eyes off the Benshiran but the cheering and the sound of the rapid footsteps from Honse's corner of the pit told him that the monk's fight had began. His would start at the mighty cry of his opponent and the vicious arcs of steel that swept towards him. The Syliran was strangely calm even though he was staring a man who wanted him dead. Tolerance they called it, the decrease of response to something due to frequent exposure. He'd experienced it before with food, when he'd had fish for an entire season straight because it was cheap. At first he had no complaints, food was food, it tasted alright... but eventually all he could taste was the oil and salt. He was experiencing the same thing now. He was excited, the adrenaline rush and the beating of his heart still told him he was in danger but he was no longer afraid of that flash of steel. He'd seen it too many times, was threatened by it at the end of every week. Lyner didn't feel intimidated and thus he was able to act rationally. Meeting that sword was stupid, he wouldn't take it head on even armed. He took a step back then retreated another step as soon as the one behind touched the sand firmly. He held his sword low, assuming the fool's guard with the tip of his blade hovering downwards to counter a powerful strike from above. Lyner continued to avoid an exchange, hi bidded to fool his opponent into blind rage but the Benshiran was no idiot it seemed. The Benshiran stopped advancing and rested his falchion over his pauldron where the Syliran had no doubt he could whip that falchion into a downwards slash. The crowds were annoyed at their cautious swordplay. Playing smart wasn't always going to work in the pits. Fighting was supposed to be entertaining, people liked mindless combat. Lyner would have to step forward and brave the Lion's maws or risk the rage of the mob clamoring for a fight. Lyner roared, moved forward with his blade held high in a position where it could swoop down and cleave. It was a challenge to his opponent, he would meet the Benshiran in a contest of strength and the man responded, matching his charge. The crowd cheered, they wanted blood and now it looked like they would have it... The swordsman wasn't about to gamble with his life in a contest of strength. He was more amenable to a test of wits. He was going to apply his newfound limbs and the Shinya principles he'd learned to good use. As soon as both weapons clashed and locked for a moment the Syliran stepped forward with the foot that was in the direction that the falchion came swinging down from. While that alone would have done little to reinforce his attack, he shifted his body weight in that direction, twisting his hips and shoulders to the left before kicking off with the right foot. The burst of strength was unexpected and the falchion was pushed back. Despite looking harmless Lyner was just as tall as his opponent and was far from wiry underneath his clothing. He took advantage of his opponent's surprise and used his longsword to keep the falchion at bay and he got into extremely close range. His plan was unveiled here when his opponent finally retaliated with power. Lyner took a retreating step on the leg where the opponent's sword was nearest and the momentum of his attack drew the Benshiran forward. Then the Syliran used his blade like a shield, he applied pressure on the handle with one hand and supported the blade section near the central ridge of the blade which was close but not too close to the blade point with a vambraced forearm. It was common knowledge that the foible was the weak part of a longsword but when the opponent couldn't apply sudden force it was good as mail. Then he shifted the center of his weight again, grounding the leg that he'd allowed to slide back and used it as a pivot point to swing the entire weight of his body into. He would slam into the man with the knee that he'd raised to his hips, driving it fast and hard into the Benshiran's pelvis. The effect was remarkable. The Benshiran's thick and solid legs quivered and his face mirrored the look of a man constipated.

[Lyner]

It was not with fancy swordplay or a valorous swordstroke which Lyner would use to end his opponent's torment over the loss of his scrotum. He would capitalize on the moment's distraction and raise the crossguard of his sword against the man's face where he would then impale the Benshiran's eye past the socket and into the brain with it. It was a gruesome and fast end, but that was how real fights ended. Beautiful and showy fights were only done by performers and the rare peerless fighters. Lyner was neither. He was just a young man who wasn't prepared to meet Lhex without a good long story to tell. When he pulled his sword free of the Benshiran's eyesocket blood came spilling out and the crowd loved him for it. Lyner had no time to bask in glory or listen to angry gamblers yet, he still had to help Honse. The monk was in trouble. His opponent had control over his spear, a flail was wrapped around the shaft of the polearm immobilizing it and he was pressing his advantage with his gladius. Just when it looked like the dark-skinned man would cleave Honse's neck he seemed to miss his target. The monk had buried his spear deep into the soil and relinquished his grip on it. The flail which the man had used to keep the spear from moving freely about had kept him from moving forward instead. He abandoned it. He would still have the advantage of being armed against an opponent who was without a weapon. But he was mistaken. The monk took off the heavy prayer beads on his neck and held it in front of him, stretching it like a chain. He hesitated, the strange improvised weapon intimidated him. His fear almost spelled the death of him. Lyner's blade swept towards his neck and he stepped backwards to avoid it. But it seemed the fighter was not as good against multiple opponents as he was in single combat. He didn't see the heavy beads coming. The necklace hit his head, disorienting him and left him open to a sword slash. The man clutched his neck but he found his voice turned into a stain on the edge of Lyner's longsword. He looked at the monk and the last thing he saw was it's gleaming point and the red tassel whipping in the air as it penetrated his eyesocket. Blood became the carpet of that pit once more and Lyner couldn't help but wonder, how much had he changed since being turned into a prisoner? He stared at the dead body feeling nothing. No guilt, no disgust, just relief that it was over. "Lyner." the monk was short of breath. The Syliran smiled weakly. "Yeah?" The man smirked, bowing at the waist. "I'm glad you were my partner today." "And I you."