PM to join Different Disciplines of Unarmed Combat [Tuvya Sasarin]

[Favchean Hronis]

Time Stamp 10th Fall 513

The early morning Bells were a quiet time for the Tuvya Sasarin, the students having not arrived though Syna was edging its way up over the horizon. Inside the building, past the front hall and into the practice area, on the mats that made being knocked on your rear over and over bearable sat a large Akalak. Inside this building it might seem that his skin tone was black, for without the light to sheen upon his flesh the green is difficult to make out, though his icy shade of blue eyes stood out in a startling fashion.

His body might be considered short for his race, topping out around six foot five inches tall, however his girth made up for his 'short' stature. Thickly corded muscles made up his chest and shoulders, which were bare this morning. His neck was thick enough to drive clothiers mad with trying to fit it, and his arms and legs were equally attended to. It was almost off putting, but Favchean Hronis did not seem to mind this fact. His arms were raised over his head as his fingers nimbly woven his long hair into a tight braid. The sides of his scalp was cleanly shaven, since he was so meticulous in the upkeep of his body not a stubble seemed to dare show itself. His hair, a coarse black, hung to the middle back when unbraided, however once he was finished the intricate weave the end lay only at the base of his shoulder, and barely moved so tightly bound was it.

After this was finished he continued to sit on the mat, bare feet curled to meet each other in front of him. His hands falling to grasp his feet as he leaned forward, slowly stretching his muscles. Many know that one should always stretch before exercise, however what many did not know is that before stretches should be light, for the muscle is cold and inflexible. Stretching after is when the deep stretches should be, when the muscle is warm and limber and can be lengthened easier.

He wasn't expecting formal training time today, today was just his day to practice on his own. Eventually he planned to make a space within his private apartments so that he could practice when and how he wanted, but the idea that he would soon be expected to begin at least hunting for a mate to bear him sons stayed his hand. His hope was not simply a breeding partner, like a Nakivak, but to meet a Konti such as his father had within his mother. To find a partner in life rather then simply in parenting. For that, he had to conclude turning his apartment into a twenty four bell training arena might be impractical.

[Caelum]

The Grand Master of the Tuvya Sasarin, Ismail Bahram, had instructed Caelum to arrive two bells after dawn for his lesson; but the ethaefal had woken in the wolf's hour, when the dark of night was still thick upon the seaside cliff where the Sanctuary sprawled. An old, familiar restlessness was stirring in his bones and he had risen to tackle his morning chores far sooner than he typically did. As the Sanctuary was quiet, he made his way through the magic-hewn below to handle some of the first daily chores usually handled by the other family and staff members. He went to the kitchen first to start up the hearthfire, coaxing it from coals to a pleasant burn before setting the wide bottomed iron pot over it to heat water for any number of kitchen tasks it would be required for. He steeped a strong thermos of black tea for himself and carried it with him. From the kitchen he had stepped out into the air, dressed in a plain, long sleeved tunic, leather riding breeches, and his favorite pair of boots to head to the kennel where he let the dogs loose for their morning stretch and set out their food. The horses were taken care of next, feed set out, the worst of the stalls mucked with patient deliberation. He knew Aweston would doubtless appreciate the leg up for the day. His next stop was the healing clinic to check on the floppy earred hunting dog that had come in the day before bloodied with a fractured hind leg. He had cleaned up the cuts and set the bone before sending for Kavala to mend the bone with her second mark healing gnosis power. The hound was doing just fine and could return home this afternoon when its owner picked it up. After a brief cuddle and feeding, Caelum let the dog out to relieve itself before calling him in. The dog was content to go back to sleep and Caelum sacficied himself to the sun rise. By the time he entered the city, having chosen to walk and warm up his muscles rather than ride, he was in his horns with the raptured grace of Syna having transformed him into his taller, brighter form. His intention was to arrive early to further practice his kata, hoping to streamline it further for Ismail's approval. He stepped quietly into the Tuvya Sasarin, closing the door behind him to venture through the small reception area and into the main training hall. Pale morning light was creeping through the high up windows, not yet strong enough to make the shadows that huddled in the corners illuminate. When he spied the dark green Akalak, he halted to watch, hands propped on the loose slant of his hips and chin canted slightly to the side. "Good morning," he interrupted eventually, his accent unfamiliar and far flung. A smile ghosted up.

[Favchean Hronis]

When he was preparing for his morning practice it is Favchean's normal routine to keep an ear for his surroundings. Not because he expects attack or assault but because it is part of his training. A warrior, be it someone who is defending the city against invaders or if he was out hunting the hated Zith or dangerous glassbeak must above all else be observant of his surrounding. It also helped to distract him from his inner conflicts, it would soon be time to loose the dark brother. It had been too long since the dark had seen the light and Favchean felt the chafing within. A small prayer to Wysar was sent silently for help in maintaining his dedication to balance within himself.

So when the Ethaefel entered the practice area Favchean was immediately aware of a presence. He didn't know who, or what, had entered of course for he didn't look up for a moment, finishing the last hamstring stretch of his tendon. Yet his muscles tensed, again not in fear but in anticipation. He wouldn't put it past one of his Akalak brethren to try and sneak an attack for the sport of it, not to hurt but simply a friendly competition. Instead a voice calls out, and the Akalak straightens.

Pale eyes first see feet, then long legs, hands on hips, a lean figure and then ..the horns and the beauty that marked the other as Ethaefel. Favchean didn't know much about the race, in fact he only knew about the race because of the ones living within Riverfall. He didn't know more then that they existed. However they weren't Symenestra or Zith so Favchean didn't immediately discount them as evil threats.

One hand raises to scratch idly at the shaven scalp of his head, not because he had an itch but simply a idle habit that he wasn't even aware that he did when he was studying something, or someone. "Good morning." He rumbled, moving his hands to the mat before him and leveraging himself up. The mountainous man managed to make it look easy enough to pull the massive weight up though he lacked the finess or grace that might have made it look pretty.

"Favchean Hronis." The Akalak offered in way of greeting, the uncomfortable bass of his voice muted in difference to that fact. "I didn't realize there was a training session this morning. Do I need to go elsewhere?" He obviously couldn't tell when the Master of this place scheduled training times, and he was aware occasionally this was used for the Kuvan testing. His habit of practicing in this place was not set in stone and often he found himself heading for one of the city's parks or gardens.

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commentWay to go making Favchean look all lazy fussing with his hair while Caelum was getting work done hehehe

[Caelum]

“There isn’t one insofar as I’m aware,” Caelum replied. The Akalak before him was intimidatingly large. Of course, that was something he had grown accustomed to living in Riverfall. The majority of Akalaks were bigger than him and the majority better skilled in combat. Caelum was not the sort of man who allowed himself to be intimidated, however, not by many things. He could be, but they were few and far between. They were also occasionally surprising. It was not because Caelum was particularly arrogant, but rather because he had in him the meteor weight of ages and experience. He had suffered, and endured. So many traumas and tragedies had befallen him since his tumble from the Ukalas that he had been beaten to dust. Yet he lived, standing here now, and he knew what he was capable of surviving. It also didn’t hurt that Caelum’s instructor in unarmed combat was gigantic. “I have a lesson with the Grand Master in a couple of bells,” he offered while dropping down to one knee. It was so he could hunch over and began removing his boots. “I came early to practice. I’m Caelum. It’s good to meet you, Favchean.” Golden eyes lifted, sparked with good natured humor. He could use an opponent in practice who would keep his ranuri on its toes. He was very serious about conditioning himself for managing it. “Interested in doing a little sparring, maybe? I’m not very good, so I can use all the help I can get.”

[Favchean Hronis]

Once the other man assured that there wasn't a formal training session scheduled, Favchean nods and continues his stretching. His left arm is raised and pulled across his body, his right hand pressing against his left shoulder to extend the stretch gently.

"It's good that you come before training time." Favchean continues, speaking common easily enough for basic conversation though he probably wouldn't be known for writing splendid prose in the language. Often times his comments sounded stilted and awkward due to lack of language nuances but fortunately he was adept at making conversation.

"Many think that training time is only for a bell here or there." His left arm falls and his right arm is stretched across his body, with his left hand now pressing his right shoulder. "When true training happens all the time. I am not a master at this yet myself, though I did earn my Kuvan status using these techniques." Once his arms are stretched he flashes the Kuvan mark that graced his wrist before a general nod in his direction is given to the Ethaefel.

At the other man's offer, Favchean cocks his head to the side and sized up the horned man in a generalized fashion. He didn't know much about this race of people, but that wouldn't stop him only affect his strategy. He drops into the first Kata position, his legs spread for balance, his shoulders flexing to loosen muscle more. "Light, medium, or full contact?" The Akalak inquiries gently. He fully expected the other man to choose light or medium and would not have lost any respect for him. In sparring it is more the learning and not the amount of damage one does, so light or medium is often preferred. It is usually only with his Akalak brethren that he participated in completely full contact sparring. Again it wasn't to permanently damage, it was just yet another competition.

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[Caelum]

“Kuvan status is what I’m trying to obtain,” Caelum confessed. He was bent over, palm flat on the floor, stretching out his legs muscles and concentrating on regulating his breathing. The jog into the city had warmed him up, but he stretched into a lunge, first with one leg and then the other, before straightening with a slow rise of arms above his head to rotate his shoulder ligaments. Bright eyes settled on Favchean once more and he allowed his arms to drop, a smile crawling back into place. “Medium contact?” He suggested tentatively. “I want a work out, but I’d rather forego having the crap completely beat out of me.” And he was under no illusions that the dark green Akalak before him was perfectly capable of doing just that. “I’ve never actually sparred before,” he added, his expression turning wry. He had had the crap beat out of him numerous times and he had been trained by at least two highly skilled professionals, but the latter not at length. Not yet, at least. “So what are the rules?” He was not a terribly competitive person and he knew it was merely a matter of time until Favchean’s likely need to succeed would corrode his ability to compete at all; but that was a good half of his battle, attempting to train and accustom his mind to dealing with the emotional onslaught as well as the physical from any opponent.

[Favchean Hronis]

Favchean nodded, and rolled his shoulders a little to work out any kinks or knots though there really weren't many. He couldn't explain it if someone asked, but already the slow curl of burn began deep within him. The burn of anticipation, that will eventually turn into a single minded focus on winning. Favchean wasn't an ungracious loser, but until the fact that he lost was clearly spelled out there would be a solitary focus on winning. This was true of really in any challenge that he puts forth to himself, even if he was only competing against himself.

If he was disappointed in the other choosing medium contact he didn't reveal it, instead a broad smile and a dip of his head was given to the other. With medium contact Favchean would still be able to gauge whether the Ethaefal was more then just stunningly beautiful, or if there was substance beneath.The positive about choosing a lesser contact spar would mean it would also practice discipline and self-control.

"Medium it is then." The Akalak moved toward the other, not trying to rush him, simply dropping into the very starting position of his own Kata. "The rules are simple. Unlike light contact the strikes are only pulled if they are above the collar, or below the belt. These are the area's that damages can be ..disabling for some time. Any strikes in the head, groin, or leg region that is not pulled will be reason for forfeit. Taps should be made in those regions to show the opponent that their defenses have failed, but no more, In the mid-section the strikes are not pulled, as this section is the most protected." Favchean gave Caelum a grin, "The winner in medium contact is decided by how many blows that one delivers that is not delivered onto a blocking position. The first one to 10 blows wins. Or...of course an opponent may tap out and concede." This last part is given with a wink, as if Favchean didn't truly believe this last option would be used.

The whole time he was explaining the rules, Favchean was watching the Ethaefal carefully. Watching how the other moved his body to stretch, trying to gauge his likely skill in this art. Of course, one couldn't gauge perfectly by just the way one moved or stretched, but Favchean noted that the man did not show the trepidation that truly first timers shown when they were introduced to the Kata and to the discipline of unarmed combat. Nor did he show the hesitation many other races show when they were faced with the prospect of sparring with an Akalak. To this Favchean was pleased.

"Ready?"

He waits for Caelum's affirmation before his body was in motion. The best defense was a strong offense, put your opponent on edge and off balance from the get go if your able. To this end Favchean sprang to action, his body staying low in a crouch, moving forward and twisting his torso to the side, angling his right shoulder at the other. A wall of green muscle came toward Caelum, until the last moment when he used his momentum to bring about his left arm, letting torso turn to put more force behind his strike. His left hand was not balled into a fist, instead open palmed, aiming for Caelum's midsection.

[Caelum]

Caelum stretched his arm over his head with the curve of fingers about the opposing elbow as he listened to Favchean, learning the rules of a spar. He found it amusing that he had come so far in this life and never once sparred. His bouts with Cian Noc in Denval and with Ismail Bahram here in Riverfall were not spars, not in this same vein. They were demonstrative teaching. There had never been a point system put into play and there was no delineation of contact intensity save for Caelum’s trust that his instructors would not seek to injure him unduly. They certainly begged and beckoned Caelum to deliver them what harm he was able, and in the earliest hours of his instruction that in and of itself had been somewhat of a trial. A man whose skin was stitched up by goddesses of joy and healing and desire had to weave intricate webs to catch his lessons in the harsher aspects of life, and to survive them. The brutality and abuse Caelum had been victim and witness to in his life did not count. It had taught him things, oh, yes, but it was a far cry from a smiling opponent in the sunlight Tuvya Sasarin. For the ferocity in Favchean’s desire to win that Caelum felt like a miniature explosion through his chest when the Akalak rushed him, Caelum found he had a hard time being afraid. Of course he did not trust this stranger, but in a way he actually did. This was no scar-seamed Gibran to swing meaty fists until bones crushed and defiance dulled. In this place was no Amadeo Bruin to fling the cat o’ nine whip toward flying the flesh from his back. In the shadows of this place there came no steady bootsteps or a force of ruthless will rolling outwards to herald Delucia’s arrival. Even as Caelum stumbled back, he smiled. This was an altogether different slant of light. A stumbled step and then his back foot caught in the third position of his kata, catching his weight even as Favchean’s open palm connected with his midsection. He moved with the force of the blow, letting in drive him that solitary step backwards so that he could turn about the outside of the Akalak’s leading shoulder and aim a kick at the back of his knee. In accordance with the previously stated rules, the blow was pulled so that no real damage could be delivered his opponent. Caelum found that he could work with Favchean’s desire to win. Work well, and easily. Especially considering that he highly doubted he had much of a chance at winning anyway.

[Favchean Hronis]

Favchean felt the impact as his open palm connected travel up his own arm and into his shoulder. He did not allow himself even a smile of satisfaction, for already the Ethaefal was slipping around him using the Akalak's own strike to give him momentum to move. An absent note that his opponent was an opportunistic fighter was made somewhere in the recesses of Favchean's mind that held onto that sort of information.

The slippery Ethaefal had aimed a kick at his knee, a weak joint if this were real combat or full contact. Grunting the green male shifts his weight, unable to block the blow -pulled though it was- but instinctively dropped his height just a little to take the tap to the bottom of the thigh rather then the sensitive knee. If this were real combat, and not pulled punches, then Favchean would definitely be off kilter but at least his knee wouldn't have been decommissioned...still a point went to Caelum in the Akalak's mind that couldn't help but keep score.

Favchean did not waste time or energy with noises as some insist on doing when sparring or fighting. Those who do claim that it intimidates opponents and throws them off balance, Favchean himself simply believed that it was unnecessary and a waste of precious resources when one was fighting. That is not to say there weren't grunts, or puffs of exhaled breaths, for he was not completely silent.

From his slightly twisted position that his body had taken when he had attempted to block the blow to his knee Favchean quickly straightened but at the same time his left arm shoots up trying to use his southpaw tendencies as an advantage to 'hide' the incoming punch. His fist was curled this time, but his muscles were tight and taunt as he was pulling this one, having no intention of doing more damage, for his punch was angled toward the beautiful face of the other.

[Caelum]

The quiet swell of triumph that rose when his kick connection was utterly disproportionate to the actual act; but the truth of the matter was that Caelum had never successfully performed that specific maneuver before out of the mind numbing repetitions of his kata that he performed every night in the wind and beneath the Sanctuary sky. His training in unarmed combat was defined by opportunistic measures, by deflections and throws and ultimately the wiles of swift defense techniques. It had been arranged, every step, toward the defense of self and others rather than emphasize on the offensive. A very wise healer had been the one to do it, and Caelum was only beginning to brush the surface of his gratitude for it. When Favchean twisted around, Caelum's eyes automatically darted towards the right where the Akalak's first blow had originated before making impact. The foot he had used to do the actual kicking rather than the supporting fell back, almost sideways, behind the other in automatic bid for balance. His left shoulder began to drop in preparation of deflecting a right handed blow, and Caelum realized a few ticks too late that the punch was coming from Favchean's left side and attempted a hasty switch. Another season or more of training and Caelum would know better than to try a last minute switch such as that one, but his inexperience showed here as his left hand cut up and over too late to make contact with Favchean's wrist and successfully deflect his punch. And that was how Caelum's pretty face got smushed. He grunted at the bright splash of pain, fully aware even in the midst of it how much worse it would have been had Favchean not (most kindly) pulled the blow. It was going to leave a bruise regardless, but that was the least of Caelum's worries as he attempted to dance out of the way and in doing so gain a few ticks to recover his equilibrium.