Solo [Tuvya Sasaran] Snap City

[Wikus]

54th - Winter - 515 AV

9th Bell

He would skip work today, thought Wikus as he warmed up. The thought of slowly losing his warrior lineage was haunting him in the last days, finding himself being more passive and cowardly than he deserved. This city and the slow rhythm found inside was slowly turning him into a citizen, into a lazy simpleton that followed a routine as if he was never to leave. This couldn't be allowed to happen. Wikus was born into the Diamond Clan, the clan of the strong, and in a way he was proud of this trait no matter how much hatred he held for his family and race. One of the best disciplines he had learned in his life was that of wrestling, the art of using one's body to break the opponent's. Wrestling was by far the only method he had of fighting beside his whip, as only fools used punches and kicks.

After paying the small fee and finding a room in which no instructor was present to give him unwanted advice, he began warming up. Taking a push up position, he began performing small hops with his extended legs as they bent mid-air and laid sideways on the mat, hopping once again and twisting his hips the other way around to land on the other leg. Hips were very important in wrestling, being the core of the sport if he recalled well. The motion was tiresome, yet a good warm up was mandatory before trying to recall the techniques that were taught to him in his youth. He repeated the motion for two entire chimes, something that had even brought sweat to his forehead. Thankfully, he was ready for this as he had brought his harem pants. He removed his torso's attire until he was left shirtless, tossing the clothing into a corner.

Exhaling sharply, he would not proceed with some other warm up - if he could recall any. He only remembered that stretching before exercise was certainly not advisable as the muscles would later complain and under-perform. Thus, he did not stretch. Instead, standing firm he would begin to perform side-way rows with his legs, bending the knee and bringing it forth to later row sideways up to the leg's limit until he was forced to bring the leg down on the ground. Afterwards, he repeated the motion with the other leg. His feet were bare and felt free, if not somewhat smelly due to the poor hygiene of them as most of the city fountains were frozen. Despite paying quite a big sum in his inn, he prefered to bathe in fountains as he did not trust the inn's owner. The smell was no problem for him - the smell reminded him that he was a man.

After a couple of chimes repeating the tedious motion, he decided to perform a last warm up. His body had grown lazy since his ousting, and he intended to bring back the strength it deserved to at least be able to protect himself against those whom wished him no good. His condition often made him very alert of the crowds - perhaps even paranoid - as they didn't appreciate death and disease befalling upon them. He wasn't quite used to being the source of trouble for others, yet this winter he had slowly began convincing himself that he was not the one doing wrong - they deserved him. They all had sinned in their lives no matter how innocent they seemed, and eventually they would create a mess of a man just like he was created by the disgusting Drykas. They would all die for the horror they made him live.

Falling back down on his chest, assuming once again a push up position, Wikus would begin to perform burpees - a motion that began as a push up, and consisted of bringing his legs forth towards his chest while still on the ground with a hop, afterwards returning them back and erecting his torso to perform a jump up in the air as his hands were extended all the way up as further as possible. This exercise, although great for warming up the entire body, was also extremely exhausting. Energetic at first, his rhythm would quickly begin to faulter the more repetitions he performed, eventually struggling greatly to conserve his breathing as he barely managed to carry out a repetition. As he didn't know how to count beyond twelve, he didn't track the total repetitions yet imagined that the exercise was performed for a couple of chimes. Sweat was no abundant in his soft flesh. He was very aware of the ink of his tattoos, giving it a glance as if warning it to stay in its place and avoid smearing or segregating while he trained - as if the ink was alive and not directly under his command.

Endurance was something he too needed to work, as he now moved to retrieve the training dummy. Panting lightly and somewhat furiously due to his easy exhaustment, Wikus promised himself to train more frequently and master his body. His body was his gift and the only thing he had in the world, having already assumed that he would die alone in a ditch somewhere and his memory would be as remembered as the one of a worm stepped on in the mud. The dummy itself was made to train wrestling, and was sewn with leathers. It possessed the basic human shape, all its limbs being still and hard to bend as well as rather heavy. The dummy weighted around 60lbs, thus making it somewhat useful to train strength in the multiple motions of wrestling. Dragging it to the center of the room, with a sharp exhale he would slowly begin to assume the basic wrestling posture.

Said posture consisted of bringing one's body forth and bending the knees to act like springs for the harsh motions. Wrestling often began with two individuals standing in front of each other as their hands fought for grip on the opponent or a point of leverage. The posture itself was designed for maximum balance and weight distribution around the body, lowering the center of gravity and avoiding any easy takedowns. The torso leaned forth and the hands extended forward was useful for wrestling indeed, yet the posture was very exposed to any other kind of attack - especially against fists or kicks. Nevertheless, wrestling was far more deadly than any of the other disciplines and far quicker to bring the opponent to its pyre. Assuming the position, which was rather clumsy due to his lack of practice, he would lean the dummy against him and lightly push on it to anchor its leather legs onto the ground, thus recreating the basic initial struggle to push the opponent and make him lose balance. The first one to lose balance was the one exposed to a takedown and consequently, to defeat.

1156 / 50000

[Wikus]

Pushing onward with his feet as he kept his back neutral, his torso was perpendicular to the floor as he practiced the basic wrestle. While he didn't do anything really, his body was slowly readjusting itself to correct balance issues in the staged struggle. His feet often slid forth or back in search for that concrete posture that felt just right for both his body and his wrestling. Finding one's balance was the first step to using techniques to shatter the opponent's will. The perfect spot was characterized by being easy on the body and still allowing maximum power to be unleashed in a short lapse of time. Wikus, having lost his skills due to laziness mostly, found himself struggling to find his posture. His feet were even on the ground, standing with the plants of his feet as his body struggled to keep his hips intact - they were suffering, in a way. They were taking too much strain and exhausting themselves as something was not quite right. Shifting a leg back and forth, closing the distance between them or opening it, and even easing the pronounced lean of his torso were of no use. He didn't give up, however, and kept pushing against the dummy that merely supported the man by pressing its hard leather legs against the ground.

Almost like a revelation, he remembered. He wasn't doing the standard wrestling position, but the basic wrestling stance! A stance and a posture was different - one was made to expect attacks and properly receive them without much damage, and the other one was made to actually offer a fight once the contact between the two opponents was made. By simply bringing his right leg slightly forward and with the rear foot standing on the toes, he felt every tension dissipate. His body finally felt free of straining and unnecessary exhaustion, thus finally setting him free to begin practicing his techniques. Still pushing against the immobile dummy, he still corrected his posture to find the ideal position and the ideal balance. As he was practicing with a dummy, he couldn't quite practice dodging an enemy nor evasive steps, yet he could practice the takedowns freely. Takedowns were by far the most effective techniques, designed to bring an opponent down on the ground with great force. Most of them were simplistic but very effective, while being at the same time easily avoided by an opponent. Thus, wrestling often became a battle of patience and endurance until one of the two fighters lost their attention.

The dummy's leather arms were always facing forward, almost as if about to hug whomever they faced. Wikus took a hold of those arms and pretended the dummy was a live opponent, still pressing onward with his legs and adding progressive force with his hips. The exhuastment of this was real, as he found himself panting already. Making sure to breathe through his nose and exhale through his mouth, finally he would go forth for a takedown. His forearms harshly and abruptly removed themselves from the opponent's arms and spun by their joints to deliver a blunt hit from below at the dummy's forearms. The sudden removal of his own arms made the dummy shoot forth, its head landing on Wikus' shoulder. The hit from his forearms, however, made the dummy shoot back, going to fall back on its own as it was nothing but an object. Wikus, while this happened, crouched down and in a type of hop would jump forth as his hands wrapped the dummy's thighs, his shoulder acting like a boulder as his hips pushed onward.

The dummy, instead of falling back slowly, instead fell quickly and very violently against the floor, the sound being direct proof of the motion's effectiveness. Wikus stood up in a hop and retrieved the dummy back, returning it to the same position it held before as he analyzed his motion. While he wasn't an expert, and certainly was far away from the competent standard most wrestlers displayed, he was very self-aware of his motions. As he attempted to catch on his breath, he recalled his motions. His forearm slap had been rather evident despite being a good hit. A good opponent would have seen it coming, and he could have easily countered him by stepping back as his arms flew back. If that were to happen, Wikus would have taken a lower hold of the opponent's frame, which meant a worse leverage to send its body on the mat. This was even truer as he felt his lunge towards the dummy's legs was rather clumsy - the motion needing to be perfectly fluid for maximum result.

After making sure that neither his flesh would leak out ink due to his exhaustment, nor his strength waned by giving himself a harsh slap on the chest, Wikus would once again returning to the fighting stance he held before. Once again pressing the dummy's legs against the ground, he would obligate himself to maintain the pressure to at least give his breathing some trouble - through effort and suffering one advanced most. After a few intense ticks, he would repeat the motions needed to perform the takedown. Letting go of the opponent's arms and slapping the dummy's forearms with his own in an ascending motion, this time his lunge onward was far more fluid than before. His arms wrapped behind the dummy's upper leg, his shoulder shoving with force against the dummy's lacking groin thanks to the strength applied by his pushing hips, the dummy would fall to the mat with an even bigger force than behind.

Panting heavily now, he would raise an arm to sweep some sweat off his features. He was very exhausted by now, almost unable to do anything but seek air with despair. He didn't close his eyes no matter how tired he was, as closing one's eyes while tired often lead to a loss of balance. He wouldn't fall down after that beautiful takedown! Wikus did fell down on his butt, however, wishing to catch his breath as he analyzed his motion once more while he regained his fighting requirements. Raising an arm, he would begin to shift the ink from his body. His ink capacity was pretty good for such, having absorbed ink he stole from his inn. Lately, he had begun to control this strange ability rather well, despite still having doubts as to why he began manifesting it in the first place. Even his black sweats were rather well controlled, and he had stopped trying to absorb books as his thoughts and the knowledge absorbed often mixed together. In his flesh, he represented the motion he had just performed, drawing it rather pathetically with his thoughts as he wasn't an artist. Looking from a side both black frames that moved on his flesh, he tried to be as thorough with the details of his takedown as he could.

After some replays, he finally realized something. He had tackled the dummy just below its hips! How could he have forgotten about such important detail! The closer to the center of gravity a shove landed, the most effective it would be. If he was to tackle by the feet, the dummy would barely notice in its fall. If he was to tackle it right by the hips, the dummy would have fallen just because of Wikus' strength, thus losing the point of wrestling in the first place. Landing the shove just below the hips was the most effective method, and something he would make sure to remember. Always aim just below the center of gravity. Confident in his training, he would stand up and go for another round - wrestling was rekindled in his list of interest.

1295 / 50000

[Wikus]

Placing the dummy back on its position, the somewhat rested Wikus assumed his stance on more. This time he did not spend so much in useless pushing in attempts of bringing struggle upon his breath, but immediately proceeded to retry the takedown performed twice already. Let go of the arms, shove them upwards with his forearms, and immediately tackling just below the pelvis. The motion was far more fluid than its first execution, and while not perfect, it was definitely effective to bring the dummy down on the mat with a loud clash being the audible cue that reassured him of the effectiveness of the motion. A smile almost broke out of his lips, happy with the result of the training already even if he was to stay far longer than this. One takedown was recalled, yet hundreds of them awaited to be practiced, to be discovered and used upon an unwary opponent. A takedown was often countered, and it needed time to finally be used in a battle between wrestlers. Perhaps against conventional fighters it would be easier, yet he also had to make sure he survived the hits they threw.


Wikus retrieved the dummy from the ground and returned it back in the middle of the room. Once again, he began his self-imposed suffering as he pushed onto the dummy, whose hard leather feet pressed against the ground and gave him almost unlimited resistance. Keeping his knees bent and his back slightly arched, Wikus would press his hands against the dummy's shoulders - those being imaginary, of course, as the dummy lacked any kind of shape that weren't limbs. Struggling to hold his breath due to the exhaustment, Wikus would finally move to perform an arm throw which was another takedown that proved easy and effective for newbies. From the struggle, Wikus would let go of the dummy's left limb. As he did so, his feet rotated as he positioned the dummy's right limb beside the human's head, Wikus' arms taking a hold of the limb as his body arched forth explosively. Something was wrong, immediately felt by Wikus even when the motion had almost ended. The result of this takedown was the dummy laying on Wikus' back, and with the impulse it would vault over his back up into the air before falling on its back in front of Wikus.

Something was really wrong, indeed. The vault over Wikus' back had taken too long, the dummy flying through the air for more than one tick, which was a very long time in this type of fighting. Even more, when the dummy fell Wikus fell way further than he should have, his knees landing beside the dummy's head instead of its body. For a tick, he frowned as he pondered as he analyzed what went wrong. Finding no explanation in that very brief ponder, he would once more rise the dummy and try again instead of standing around thinking about it. Trying and trying again was far better than sitting and thinking about it, which is what he believed as it was what he was taught throughout his life. Starting once again from the struggle, he would cut it down and instead get right to the takedown. Once again, he would spin in his heels as the dummy's right limb was leveraged, Wikus taking a hold of it on his chest and arching his body forward violently. Expecting better results, this time he felt the mistake even further - the dummy flew forth, yes, but Wikus had to actually use force to complete the motion. The dummy weighted, and while it wasn't much, even if it weighted the same as a boulder would Wikus shouldn't feel his muscles working at all. The fact that his body had to compensate for the motion was alarming - there was definitely something wrong with his technique.

Refusing to desist from his practice, he would arise the dummy for a third time. He stared into the plain black features of the dummy, almost as if watching an opponent he wished to humiliate. He performed the motion once more, yet the results were even worse. Wikus crumbled to the ground when the dummy was flying, and instead of taking down his opponent it was him the one whom was crushed by the dummy's weight. Frustrated and alarmed, he immediately stood up and watched down on the dummy with all the rage he felt. For a moment, he wanted to kick that dummy until it was torn to nothing. The frustration of failing something that he once knew was too grave for him to ignore, yet at least he managed to control. Once more, he would rise the dummy and plant it before him. His breathing was struggling a lot, his eyes almost closing from the exhaustment. Instead of getting directly to the takedown, he laid his weight on the dummy as he rested for a dozen ticks. Why was it not working? Before his negatives thoughts crushed him, he instead used his rage to fuel his fourth attempt.

With a raging grunt, he would perform the motion once more. Spin on his heels, take a hold of the arm in his chest, pull the arm and arch the back violently. This once it wasn't him the one whom was crushed, but it was the dummy the one that hit the mat very loudly, fueling the morbid thoughts of the results of this takedown on a live opponent without a padded floor to welcome it. The motion was so good that even he was dragged along the dummy, his shoulder landing in the middle of the dummy's torso. This was the motion he wanted to perform, and this once he had done it. How? What was different between this once and the previous attempts? Everything was the same, and he honestly believed that. Broken by the exhaustment, he would let go of the dummy and lay against it as he turned on his back and panted freely. He would have to use it again.

Raising his forearm, he began to redirect the ink in order to clean a space in his skin and draw two figures with his thoughts. They were simplistic, once more, made of sticks and a single circle that represented the head. He watched as he began the play. The spin, the grab, the arch, and the throw. Spin, grab, arch, and throw. Everything was in order no matter how many times he watched the same motion, drawing it just as he imagined it looked like. If everything was in order, how come it felt so wrong? The spin really felt off, and the throw was often not powerful enough to send the dummy flying. Wiping his sweat with the forehead, he would return the ink to its original shapes, as otherwise his skin felt weird. One day, he had to try and absorb more ink that he currently did -the pain of absorption, however, kept his whims in check. Not wishing to linger any longer, no matter how tired he felt, he once again raised both himself and the dummy.

After a deep breath, he would try once more. This time, however, he did it in slow motion. The spin, the grab, the arch. As the motion was slow, he did not attempt to throw the dummy. He simply repeated these motions again and again until he decided to change. The spin was definitely the problem. This time, instead of spinning on the spot he would wrap the arm before spinning. The motion improved, but not by much. Even after a harsh pull before arching his back the dummy felt heavy. After a couple of more slow motion repetitions, he realized what the problem was. It was indeed the spin. Wrestling was not about spinning and using force, but using momentum and the opponent's weight against him. Spinning in place was simply a mistake, more proper of a dance rather than a fight. Pondering for a second on how to replace it, he finally came up with answer.
Having lost count of the number of attempt this one was, he simply focused on putting all his attention on his motions. From the starting position, he would skip the spin and instead place the dummy's arm between his head and his shoulder, still facing it. The answer was revealed to be correct once he used it - he didn't spin in place, but instead turned just before he jumped. It was a back step towards the opponent, which granted extra momentum once he arched his back. He didn't even have to pull, as the dummy was quickly thrown over him and landed harshly on the matt with Wikus' shoulder pressing on the leather torso. Finally, he was satisfied. Standing once more before taking a break, he would do it once last time, this time sure of what he was to do and even going to pull the arm before arching his back to test the result.

From the initial struggle, Wikus would entrap the dummy's hand on his traps as his hands forced it to lay there. Jumping and turning at the same time, the back step brought his rear to the dummy's body. Taking a good hold of the dummy's limb as if he was to try to retrieve it, Wikus would harshly pull just as he arched his back. The motions, although not perfect, were certainly fluid, thus conserving their momentum and using it against the poor dummy. Being thrown very harshly over the man's back, the time spent in the air was almost null, as instead it landed with brutal force on the mat, Wikus' shoulder harshly landing in the middle of the dummy's chest with enough force to perhaps predict a broken rib if the dummy was alive. Completely satisfied now, he would sigh and take a chime to regain his breath - he was done with this takedown. More remained, however.

1665 / 50000

[Wikus]

Wrestling was a tool better orientated for short individuals. Their lower height assured them their center of gravity would be lower to the ground, which gave trouble for taller individuals. Wikus was one of the latter. Standing at 6’5, he couldn’t be considered small in any way. Often in his youth he cursed himself due to his height, always being the one to be tossed down on the ground in the many wrestling practices. It had taken him a lot of time to overcome his insecurity, and find a way to use his height to an advantage. It was pretty clear that, with increased height came increased limb reach, which often gave him advantage in discouraging his opponents in trying to reach him. They often performed shoots in attempts to grab his leg, yet he quickly learned to sprawl – driving the feet back as much as possible as one’s bodyweight rested on top of the opponent – in which he had advantage due to his weight. Those days were long ago, and since he believed he had come to at least appreciate what little he had in the world.

Rambling aside, he exhaled as he brought the dummy up once more. Training with a dummy was far away from the real experience of wrestling, yet nevertheless it was something. By practicing the takedowns he would be able to face a wrestler some of these days. Standing in front of the dummy once again, he would ponder as to what other move he could practice. While one could invent many just by looking an opponent, a dummy did not allow for sequences. Thus, his options were limited. Finally, he decided on an option. Another basic throw that was often given too much credit was the one he would practice next. Standing in front of the dummy and laying his hands on the leather ‘shoulders’, Wikus would quickly duck underneath the dummy’s constantly erected arms. As he moved past it with a side step, his hands wrapped around the dummy’s waist, and once he was directly behind it he would finally bend back. The suplex was rather dull in execution, Wikus bending while still holding the dummy until its leather head impacted against the mat. Not very impressed, Wikus would stand up and try again.

The suplex was a very attractive move, and very powerful. The executioner often took no damage at all no matter how it may seem from outside, yet the executed received a harsh blow right on the head. Add some stones on the ground or other hard surfaces, and you can easily kill a man. Blunt force trauma was the surname of the suplex. Standing back up with the dummy in his hands, he once again placed it before him to try again. His muscles were already sore from lifting the dummy again and again, as it still weighted quite a bit. Nevertheless, he tried again. Once again placing the dummy before him, he would duck and slide under its arm, wrap his hands on its wrist and quickly bend backwards. Just before reaching the ground, his legs would twist to avoid landing himself on his back, but instead prepare him to jolt up and do any further motions needed to subdue the enemy. The impact was successful, Wikus being certain of its effectiveness. Rising up with the dummy once more, he was certain of what fueled that effectiveness. It was the fluid motion what brought the momentum, and it was the momentum what brought the strength in wrestling. Once again, anything he did seemed to lead into that necessity to be more fluid and use as much momentum as possible.

He did the suplex twice more, being tired of it already. This once, he found no trouble on grasping the concept of the technique, and he didn’t actually feel need to keep practicing. For once, he had done it well. Running his hands over his face, he was about to conclude his training. He felt tired, his muscles felt sore and his heart was about to jump out of his chest. Stretching his arms, he’d raise the dummy once more and rest it against his body. He wondered for a minute if any more training would give him better results, perhaps overworking his abilities. Just in case, however, he had once more technique he wanted to try. Thankfully, the dummy was already on its feet. Wrapping his arms around the dummy’s torso, left one hugging between shoulder and head as the right one hugged from the armpit, his hands met on the other side. The grip was complete and with a quick motion Wikus’ feet would spin as his arms rose the dummy. The dummy flew through the air without much trouble, landing harshly on its back as Wikus landed on top of it. The body-lock had proven to be very effective, just as he imagined.

By now, Wikus was really interested in attempting these techniques in a live target and a hard surface. He didn’t wish harm upon nobody, yet the curiosity of the result was too great to ignore. Standing up on his feet again, he would repeat the body-lock takedown once more. Wrap the torso through the chest, connect hands on its back, swiftly spin on his heels and raise the arms with the momentum to smash the dummy’s back on the mat. Simple, yet very effective. Satisfied, he now concluded his wrestling training. Unfortunately, he noticed something on said mat – a small ink stain had formed during his training. Quickly he would look around his body to detect if any of his clothing was smeared with the black substance, yet luckily finding none on his pants. They were black after all, so the stain wouldn’t be visible even if looked for it. He considered the possibility of reabsorbing the ink stain from the mat, yet due to his hatred towards Akalak he rejected the idea. Let them clean it themselves, he thought as he sighed.

1001 / 50000

[Kiva]

Wikus

The Good Stuff :

Experience:

Wrestling	4
Acrobatics	4
Endurance	4
Body Building	4
Observation	3
Logic	2
Running	1
Philosophy	1
Detection	1
Drawing	1

Lore(s):
Wrestling: Standard Position
Wrestling: Standard Stance
Wrestling: Takedowns
Wrestling: Throwing An Opponent
Wrestling: The Surplex

Loot:
Wikus is going to be sore for the next several (3-4) days.

Notes:
As someone who knows very little about wrestling, I am kind of scared that I missed something, or overlooked a detail, so if there is a lore or skill you felt you deserved, I am more than double check and fix any mistakes on my part. I enjoyed watching Wikus' training, and his struggles. I particularly liked the part where he watched the maneuvers on his skin to try and understand them. I also saw you working your superpower into your posts. ;) Last but not least, you did a great job writing a straight forward training thread and congratulations on winning the challenge.

If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, please send me a PM and I'll be happy to discuss it with you. Keep writing!