[The Pit] Gauntlet and Fist

[Lorden Ladis]

10th of Spring, 515 AV

Lorden bent his armor-weighted arms into a ninety-degree angle, before he began to push back up once more.

Good Gods it hurt! -Lorden took a breath- Was there no end to the pain?

His self-induced aside, and even as Syna glared her magnificent warming light, that caused Lorden to all but cook in his armor, the swordsman knew and believed, that what he was doing was necessary. Weakness was his bane. And a lack discipline was his weakness.

The knight had to build his body, had to get stronger, faster, better. All these things, he had to achieve; for the looks, the glory, the power, but most of all, just to clear his mind. Maybe, just maybe, if he could conquer his body, and his insecurities, he could strike the frightful events of recent days from his mind, if not history itself.

Lorden frowned.

He might be lying to himself, strength might not be the key to his destiny... But for all he knew, it could lead him to the door, that needed to be unlocked? The training, all his work, it had to do something; it hurt too much, to reap nothing. The gods couldn't be so cruel, as to allow someone to work, to strive, and to gain no reward; they just couldn't be.

The knight raised his weighted body all the way up, snapping his elbows, and inducing the clanking of metal plates, as he did. Lorden's biceps screamed, as a chill ran up his sweat-covered spine.

Could they?

With that thought, Lorden pushed off with his palms, and bent his torso up shakily, and came to his knees. Following a forceful shove of his gauntlet against the ground, the knight was soon standing, among the many patrons of the Pit.

[Kreig Messer]

Kreig found himself practicing a lot with his fists and feet lately, he found that both pleasant and grating. Pleasant because he quite enjoyed fighting with his arms and legs, throwing bone breaking strikes with his body rather than a weapon, but grating because he knew there was better things to focus on, skills that deserved just as much attention. This also added further aggravation as he knew why he didn’t focus on them and settled on focusing on his fist; he felt he was closing in on something. Kreig always had a bit of talent when it came to the using his body as a blunt instrument of pain again foes and these days it felt like this talent was getting closer to a breakthrough as he began to formulate his own style, he was not simply throwing punches focused on simply the raw power of his arm. Nope, it also included the weight of his entire body.

Each rotation of his hips added power to his studded gauntlet-clad fists as it struck empty air, similar rotations brought power to his legs as he swung his left food in ax-kick that stood a fair chance of cracking a few ribs. Along with it came the old-knowledge that every part of him was a weapon, and every part of the opponent is a target; such as jabbing his right pointer and index fingers forward in an eye-poke of eye-gouging proportions or grabbing the opponent’s shoulders and smashing his left knee into their private bits for maximum devastation.

It was a strenuous exercise, even under Syna’s light, but it was well bloody worth the focus and exhilaration he felt that polished the dull edges of his fighting style and mixed it with the bloody brutality of brawling to turn it into a precise tool of dirty destruction. It felt even more exhilarating as the added weights of not only his gauntlets, but the armlets, breastplate and grieves that added to the strenuous activity and trained his muscles as a bonus.

Training against air was a fine thing, however it wasn’t as practical as having an actual opponent to fight and as Kreig took a brief break to wander around the pits, he found himself yearning for an opponent. It had only been less than a day since he returned from Kenash, yet already so soon he found himself back at the pits whilst his Patron was busy organizing reports for higher ups to take a look at and to attend at other private matters involving her. Once he arrived to the pits he found himself easily slipping into old habits and now taking a break from them, he sought another habit in the form of actual opponents.

He thought he found one when he saw an opponent, one that was a bit of an unusual sight as it seemed to be a knight; seemed being the keyword here as the order wasn’t the sole users of platemail, just the most numerous users and thus near-synonymous. Kreig raised his brow, feeling impressed by the mans dedication as he performed push-ups in a suit that felt like a metal coffin, and with Syna’s light being bright and warm today that certainly spelled a hot experience for whomever was wearing it.

Out of politeness, Kreig waited a bit till the man was done, having already decided on who his partner for this bloody soiree would be. Once the man in plate armor was done, Kreig approached him with a friendly grin on his face that failed to hide the blood lust he’s feeling.

“ I hope I’m not intrudin’ mate, um…or Ser? But I was hoping if ye were up for a little bit of sparrin’ if ye ain’t too tired?”

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