Completed Next Crack at the Whip

[Salara Kel'Halavath]

Destiny's Lass, Suvan Sea 15th summer, 517 AV “Bowdel,” she’d approached with her mind set, “I’ve done as you’ve instructed and then some. I’m ready to learn the next crack.” Salara had spent days refreshing her skills at the forward whip crack that Bowdel had gotten her back on track with. Reflectively agreeing that her state of mind at the time, still raw at the loss of her heart-mate Karyk, wasn’t the best for whip-work regardless of how good it made her feel to release the stress. Now those moments of hollow loss caught her more unaware, arising abruptly after a spell of almost normalcy making her wonder that she’d forgotten the shipwright for a spell. So she’d practiced and returned several times over only for the ex-slaver to squint at her with one eye and turn away. Well, Not This Time. Squint it goes, but instead of turning away he reaches into his pocket pulling out a dirty sweat rag. Confusion clouds her eyes as he ties a knot in one end about the size of a peach pit, then holds the opposite corner out to dangle about a foot below his hand parallel with his torso. Her gulp of realization is audible as he growls, “You miss you practice more. You hit you learn more.” He leans in scowling through his squint, “You hit me you learn no more,” ~Ever~ his tone punctuated. How confident did she really feel? Sharp teeth grate in firming jaw, eyes meet his with a flash as she calls his bluff, “I’ll take my chances. Do hold still as I’d not have you cheat me.” Her sass didn’t sit well, she could tell. If this didn’t work she’d be lucky to escape a much worse whipping – bent over his knee like a child. Loosening the 10’ bullwhip from about cocked hip she gathers black coils tidily and steps near his outstretched hand. Attentively counting paces back Salara marks her distance with a scuff to polished deck boards. By now mutters were growing as deck hands that could dawdle in their duties began gathering a healthy distance from the pair. Anything different on a ship was sure to catch attention of those who see the same watery horizon beyond the same rails every day. Bets were being made and Salara tried not to notice that most seemed to be for Bowdel even after all of her practice efforts. She’d learned that he was well liked among the crew so it worried her that they were betting she’d nip him or worse. Tongue moistens lip as she loosens coils to lay outstretched behind while the wind and waves were doing distressing things with that tiny knot too far away. Study long study wrong, her routine mantra as she aims at the slowly swaying target just feet from flesh. Feeling each roll of the ship upon waves beneath her feet she times the smooth draw straight over her head with an upward swell to the crest that drops the whip at the downward swell. Elbow locked and arm straight in smooth cycle, too quick for the eye to follow, the rag knot explodes into a shred of fabric. Whoops and moans were tossed about to the jangling exchange of coins as Skinny Bogart winked, clapping her on the shoulder for congratulations with his coin pouch weighing a little more for having sided her. A bit embarrassed at the attention, it was only the first basic motion after all; she grins and tries not to blush while gathering whip coils ready to begin her next lesson.

[Salara Kel'Halavath]

The crowd began dispersing but Salara could still feel eyes upon her as she approached Bowdel for more instruction. Aboard ship she’d become more accustomed, beyond her natural inclination toward obscurity, to being a curious attraction in either form. It was unlikely there would be a great show, yet whip work was dangerous so her continuing efforts and chances of loosing an eye were worth watching for a day’s entertainment. Yet Salara’s step faltered seeing the ex-slaver lifting ragged shirttails to begin unwinding a well-worn whip from about his waist. As its 15-foot length slithered through his competent hands she could see it was tattered with wear. The brown leather thong was flexible with age but sported a newly replaced fall. She hadn’t really thought about him breaking out his own whip. A cold shiver dashed through her veins as she suspected this whip had a history upon the flesh of others. Had the old fall been blood splattered? Did he carry it with him always or had he anticipated her request? Anticipation surely, as what use could it be on a merchant ship? Still the ominous image of a slaver uncoiling his tool of trade was disturbing. She spared a thought for Fallon as she looked around to see if her companion was present. It seemed Fallon had her own slavish devils to deal with and her reaction might have been interesting. The only acknowledgement of her achievement or hesitation was a gruff, “Overhead Crack.” As easy as taking a breath the man held the handle at ready then effortlessly swings the whip in a circle about his head to the anticipated resounding CRACK. Too fast for her eyes, “Overhead. Self-explanatory. Ummm, could you do that again but a little slower?” A small smirk plays about the hardness of his mouth as he begins again. She watches closely as he mimes the steps in slow motion. Instead of aiming ahead, then lifting his arm straight up, over and just as the tip of the fell reached the ground behind, naturally allows the weight to draw the whip forward into the Forward Crack as she just had, he circles the whip about his head in one singular revolution. It rather reminded her of swishing flies. He speeds up in the next pass as she sees his circle turns sunwise ~CRACK. Shaking loose the inky black coils of her own weapon she settles into stance. Knowing enough to recognize she wouldn’t be able to crack her whip on the first cycle she tries first to build momentum into the effort by circling it about her head several times but couldn’t figure the time or motion, so ended with the braided thong lamely wrapped about her body. “No, girl,” Bowdel scolds as she should know better, “sound comes from change in direction. Try to circle widdershin until hand is above shoulder then sunwise to create loop outside of arm.” Thinking it through for the logic, Salara nods and steps forward immediately noticing how awkward it felt circling her arm in this direction, the more natural inclination apparently was sunwise. This might take more work getting used to giving her all the more reason to quickly learn how to crack it in the first cycle as he had. By the time she felt comfortable swinging her whip widdershin through the wind until it whistled smoothly, any audience she had had was on to more interesting things like swabbing the deck. Her instructor had even diverted his attention to concentrate on mending a nearby fishing net. Figuring she was ready for the reversal, she counts down the last three swishing cycles and, changes direction… the whir of an angry bee too near her ear startles her as a constrictor’s coils wrap and wrap and wrap about her throat, breathing saved only for having also captured her upraised arm. A strangled grunt and falling to her knees in a thud preceded shouts and a lunge forward through a tangle of netting by Bowdel to begin unwinding the leather cord from about her neck. “Stupid girl. Overhead. Over. HEAD. Ya cannot drop ya arm lower than OVER HEAD until the loop forms outside of ya arm.” Finally freed, eyes cast downward in chagrin, Salara tries to work out his meaning as her left hand burrows into hair to rub a welted spot rising on the back of her head. A Close Call. The tip of the fall had come inches from marking her face. With trepidation it takes several more tries, fortunately without the drama of choking or crippling, beneath the more attentive gaze of the slaver who corrected her timing and form again before she could finally create the crack with this new maneuver. “Good.” He concludes his participation in the lesson, “Now go practice.” Overhead Crack and Overhead Crack2

[Grim Ravenwood]

Your Grades

Salara

Skills:
Observation: 2
Rethoric: 1
Philosophy: 1
Weapon - Bull Whip: 2

Lores:
Self: Study long, study wrong
Whip: Dangerous to the wielder
Whip: Overhead Crack
Whip: Cracks come from change in direction


Grader's Comments:
Hoi! It's me again! I've awarded the technique lore, as well as the lore regarding her "personal mantra". Note that I have added a comma after "long", while you did not. As always, tell me if you want me to remove it, or change the lores in any way (Whip: Lore to Bull Whip: Lore, and the like). Likewise, tell me if I have missed anything while going trough the thread.

Always a nice read~

Also, no need to thank me (though it is a nice gesture). It is thanks enough that I don't have to clear the grading thread all by myself.

As always, Death guide thee~
Grim