| Summary: | Two guys, one spar. Plenty of censure. |
| Date: | 28 June 2013 |
| Related: | None |
| Gym — Volkan — Imperius |
| There are plenty of advanced weight lifting machines in Haven. This gym doesn't have a single one. Instead there are racks and racks of dumbells and barbells, punching bags hanging from the ceiling, and two roped-in sparring rings. Small racks near the sparring rings hold protective gear so that sparring doesn't result in broken bones or concussions. One wall is formed entirely of a floor-to-ceiling mirror, one has the entrance from the commercial district, the third has entrances to changing rooms for men and women, and the fourth is a window overlooking the gray and red expanse of Volkan. |
| June 28, 3013 |
This place was starting to become almost a fond location, if only because in some ways Jor Aeldan felt like it was perfectly normal to be doing things the "old fashioned" way. While the attire he wears as far as exercise goes isn't exactly that - say what you will about the pants - one can't call it out of style to be slamming one's fists into a punching bag while stripped to the waist… if one is male anyway. Women might have a harder time with that argument.
In the place he's at, it's clear Jor is no stranger to using his fists for the purpose of causing some damage, given that he's got both hands wrapped and is currently unleashing a blistering series of powerful strikes to a punching sack, the dull sound of fist colliding with reinforced-and-stuffed cloth filling the area near him as he engages his otherwise imaginary opponent.
Feeling like a ragdoll still, Michael decides to venture to the gym to work out in his newish armor. Well, new to him but by no means 'new'. He spies that familiar man, mercilessly beating a stuffed opponent silly. Michael ponders if Jor would like to spar, the man is large but not as large as Thalo, and hopefully not as coordinated as Thalo is. How Thalo pulled off a motherfucking backflip like that, Michael will never figure out.
"Hey old man," Michael teases, "Care for a spar? Fist to fist?" he asks after approaching from the locker rooms where he's changed into his military cut black pants and belt. Wrappings on his hands and feet to show that he intends to kick something.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Jor=Unarmed Vs Michael=Unarmed
< Jor: Success Michael: Good Success
< Net Result: Michael wins - Marginal Victory
It might be coincidence that there's a loud SLAM as you call him old man, might be coincidence that his fist just rammed full speed and force into it to cause such a noise, but coincidences /do/ happen. What isn't a coincidence, is how his head turns to you, eyeing what you do.
And quite suddenly, the old man is roundhouse kicking you, just to see if you're ready. It's still something he's getting back in shape on, but certainly the kind of attack that can be blocked… if you don't blink. He just wanted to see if he could surprise you with that, without even a word of warning. Honest.
Michael takes just enough of a blink to not need it when the foot comes flying at him. He is able to narrowly side step it, and then moves onto a mat with a beckon to follow him. "Come on old man, lets get interesting." he smiles, still teasing.
Oh, he'll follow, but not exactly because you baited him with words about being both old and boring in how he just tried to ambush you with a foot to your face. "Don't get cocky, squire," is all that bass tells you, Jor's hands not rising up in front of him. Instead, he just stands there, arms at his sides, faintly gleaming with sweat, feet shoulder-width apart, and …
Doesn't attack. No, he waits, just stands there, watching, observing, hardly blinking while clearly of a mind for you to make the first move.
Michael just returns a smile at Jor's words. He watches him, curious but not distracted, in fact he's a bit more wary now at the lack of readied stance. Michael puts himself into a ready position, resting lightly on the balls of his feet with his hands up. He moves in for a feint punch to the face with a right hood to follow.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Michael=Unarmed Vs Jor=Unarmed
< Michael: Success Jor: Success
< Net Result: DRAW
At least his hands aren't as slow as his foot was a moment ago. A feint punch is taken for exactly that, which is why the arm that comes up to oppose the right hook is given a faint glimmer of amusement. From there, it becomes a matter of starting it off with, he hopes, a humiliation tactic of a sort: a two-fold blow, one for the stomach, followed up with a sudden descent and sweep of his leg to send you down to the mat.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Jor=Unarmed Vs Michael=Unarmed
< Jor: Good Success Michael: Success
< Net Result: Jor wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Jor=Unarmed Vs Michael=Unarmed
< Jor: Good Success Michael: Good Success
< Net Result: Jor wins - Marginal Victory
Michael takes the hit to stomach with all its force, and then he finds himself getting sent to the mat. He does land on the floor, then he rolls to the side and is up with straight kick to the man's abdomen.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Michael=Unarmed Vs Jor=Unarmed
< Michael: Good Success Jor: Great Success
< Net Result: Jor wins - Solid Victory
A sudden grin breaks out on Jor Aeldan's face when he catches that kick as though he'd dreamt just this morning of exactly how this would go. There's a distinct /pause/ as he holds your foot there, gripping it tightly with both hands while staying well aware of the fact you have /two/ legs. "Come on, squire," he replies, his narrow eyes at odds with that feral flash of teeth at you, "try to make it interesting." Which he'll do in the form of an axe kick, aimed at your stomach again. He's not trying to hurt you /too/ much, but winding is most definitely on the itinerary, an almost sure way to take the advantage, if not match.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Jor=Unarmed Vs Michael=Unarmed
< Jor: Success Michael: Good Success
< Net Result: Michael wins - Marginal Victory
Michael doesn't blink when his foot is caught. He figured the big guy could do that, and though it wasn't exactly the 'plan' it also isn't a surprise. When the kick comes at his stomach he shows that he isn't as locked in place as Jor thinks. He's able to jerk his foot free with enough force to take a step back and out of range of the kick. His mouth begins to move in silent words, as he focuses on Jor during his next strike. A kick to the thigh coupled with an elbow to the temple.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Michael=Unarmed Vs Jor=Unarmed
< Michael: Success Jor: Great Success
< Net Result: Jor wins - Solid Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Michael=Unarmed Vs Jor=Unarmed
< Michael: Success Jor: Good Success
< Net Result: Jor wins - Solid Victory
"Pathetic." It's a cold reply, that one word, lacking in sympathy, empathy, and most of all, approval. Disdain is the only attribute that Jor Aeldan bestows upon that singleton utterance, one that he gives after immediately counterattacking. This time, he'll be endeavoring not to wind you, but to teach a bit of a harsher lesson: to right hook you to the temple as you strove to do from the start. The likely difference between your attack and his being: if you don't block at all you'll go to the mat. Even then, it'll be obvious he puts considerable force into it. Again, this isn't exactly to injure you, but it'll leave a spectacular ache there if it goes through.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Jor=Unarmed Vs Michael=Unarmed
< Jor: Failure Michael: Success
< Net Result: Michael wins - Marginal Victory
"Without you to combine all these gifts, the world would be without a splendor." he concludes his poem in an undertone as he strikes. When Jor blocks both attacks though, and then counter attacks. Michael can only move to block to the strike to his temple, bringing his other arm into a full straight punch to the man's chest.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Michael=Unarmed Vs Jor=Unarmed
< Michael: Great Success Jor: Success
< Net Result: Michael wins - Solid Victory
There's a strong grunt as your fist connects. He had been planning on effectively clubbing you to the ground with his knuckles. Oh well. Whether the sound that escapes from Jor is because you just gave his pectoral an inevitable bruise or because of the poetry, it ill doubtless be up to the observer in question. "Focus, /squire/," he replies in that harsh tone, again spinning to try again with his feet, spinning in a kick heading towards your face.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Jor=Unarmed Vs Michael=Unarmed
< Jor: Good Success Michael: Good Success
< Net Result: Michael wins - Marginal Victory
Michael smiles, "That is my focus, the poem is of a woman who's important to me." Then he ducks under the spinning kick, and brings in a quick one-two jab at Jor's now exposed kidney.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Michael=Unarmed Vs Jor=Unarmed
< Michael: Good Success Jor: Success
< Net Result: Michael wins - Marginal Victory
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Michael=Unarmed Vs Jor=Unarmed
< Michael: Good Success Jor: Amazing Success
< Net Result: Jor wins - Crushing Victory
He doesn't care you smack his kidney: it opens you up to something else. The second jab is where he takes the opportunity, in both catching the blow and adding his own special little surprise to it: Jor pulls, hard, pivoting such that he can use your own momentum against you to /throw/ you past him, which is to say . That's why he'll be standing on the mat still and you will likely be trying not to fall to your feet when he evicts you from it.
"I don't care," he replies, to your response. "If you spent more time on what you should be learning, squire, and less time on trying to fuck women with poetry, you would have done better than this."
<FS3> Michael rolls Athletics: Success.
Michael this time blinks as Jor surpises him with the twisting, throwing motion. Here we go again… and Michael is thrown under his own momentum away from Jor and towards the mat. Luckily Michael is a bit more athletic that that, and he's able to use the motion to drop into a rol and turn himself around. He comes back at Jor with another kick-elbow combination, just changing which side does what from before.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Michael=Unarmed Vs Jor=Unarmed
< Michael: Good Success Jor: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Michael=Unarmed Vs Jor=Unarmed
< Michael: Good Success Jor: Good Success
< Net Result: Jor wins - Marginal Victory
And it's that change which he had half-expected already. It's obvious by now that this man is not only regaining some of his groove as far as the martial arts are concerned, but also that he's had, shall we say, supplementary education in handling people attacking him. Your attempt to switch sides nets you no real victory, and in truth he was able to more or less fend you off. When you elbow him, however, the blow that he avoids better than the one prior, you're met with a response in the form of an uppercut to the jaw.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Jor=Unarmed Vs Michael=Unarmed
< Jor: Failure Michael: Good Success
< Net Result: Michael wins - Solid Victory
Michael backs off after his kick is blocked, killing the force of the elbowing and but also allowing him to dodge the uppercut. He returns the winding attempts with one of his own, a knee directed at Jor's abdomen.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Michael=Unarmed Vs Jor=Unarmed
< Michael: Good Success Jor: Good Success
< Net Result: Michael wins - Marginal Victory
Another grunt, as one knee makes contact with one set of abdominal muscles. He staggers slightly, the force catching him backwards, but he's ready (and willing, needless to say) to respond in kind, with Yet Another Spinkick Meant For Your Head. The side of it, to be more preicse. Jor does not speak, of course, outside of those guttural responses to stimuli; he's purely focused on this little brawl.
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Jor=Unarmed Vs Michael=Unarmed
< Jor: Good Success Michael: Failure
< Net Result: Jor wins - Solid Victory
Michael acks! And though he was able to land the blow, his recovery needs work as the side of his head meets the Jor's foot and the negotiations are very much in Jor's favor. Then Michael meets the mat, and hugs it rather impressively if you call sprawled out impressive. "Done." is all he gets out as he lays there.
If you thought you were done, Michael Athyros, Jor Aeldan thinks otherwise. He may not have taken a squire, in those days when he still was Sir Jor, but that doesn't mean he forgot his own tutelage. When you call out 'done', he's moving to follow-up. Not to attack, but to make it very clear that his fist is in a position to do damage, which is why he'll position it right between your eyes, just above your head, as he looks down at you sternly.
"Does your head hurt?" he asks. "Because it should, for more reason than I kicked you. Who was it who tried to teach you how to fight this way? Names!" he barks.
Michael stares up at Jor, the command in his voice belies his former title. Not asking the question that rises to his mind, he instead replies, "Three years of gymnasium martial arts, just a teacher at my old school."
"Let me make something /very/ clear," Jor Aeldan replies, his voice almost a growl with how quietly those words come out, a blast of winter air erupting from his lips and all of it aimed at your ears. "You are dead, right now. No more pretty women for you to coo at, recite at, admire, seduce, fuck. Nor will they come look at you, once you're buried; you're just another corpse, to them now. They'll find someone else. All this because you need to train harder, /squire/. Go to your Sir and tell her - it /was/ she, wasn't it? - that you want her to batter you bruised /daily/. Because if she doesn't, /I/ will. And make sure you aren't staring at her chest when she does. Boy."
There, he backs off, hand disappearing from your sight as Jor makes his way to where had been enjoying some alone time with his sack, and soon enough, those fists are again slamming into the punching bag as though you hadn't wanted some entertainment, or he had denied it.
Michael moves to his feet, he looks after Jor. "Sir Johana is worse at this sort of combat than I am, but we do spar when we have the chance to." he pauses, and smirks, "I'm not lusting after Sir Johana, however it is hard to ignore her body when she's training. My poem is to remind me of why I fight, and it isn't about her." he shakes his head, "You should see me in battle… you should be in battle. What happened? You have the command and the skills of a knight, why aren't you in the fight then?"
<FS3> Opposed Roll — Jor=Unarmed Vs Michael=Unarmed
< Jor: Success Michael: Good Success
< Net Result: Michael wins - Marginal Victory
The words flow from your mouth much as the sweat pours from his glands, over time. Jor continues working his fists into the bag with a will, not even glancing at you while you reply. For all the change to his expression, he may well be ignoring you. Which is why it might be a surprise when his attack comes again, and attack you'll catch when it comes slamming towards your face. It would have hurt, too, aimed right for your nose as it was, and it could well be that it would have broken your nose, too, if you were unable to stop him.
But even though his fist doesn't quite make it to its goal of one more squire with a bleeding nose, Jor Aeldan seems entirely unconcerned, and even more disdainful, a far cry different from that man who had been hiding from the rain several days back.
"Those questions, squire, do they even deserve an answer? Why, when you haven't even earned the right to ask them?" From there, he stares at you, eyes as soft and warm as a day on Niveus. That cold, almost hostile gaze regards you, looking for your eyes, yet his breathing is even, controlled, composed, despite the fact that he just tried to bloody you for real.
Michael catches the punch, and returns the hardened gaze with his own. "They do deserve and answer, and I have earned the right to ask. I just recovered from serious wounds I sustained in battle against the hostiles. I slew three of them, one of them being an elite in much heavier armor that took the lot of us to bring down." he shakes his head, turning away, over his shoulder he says, "You act and speak tough, Mister Aeldan, and certainly you're a great fighter, but for all this you still hide like a coward. Earn your spurs, you say, train till I'm bruised and battered you say. What right do you have to tell me those things?" he leaves it at that walking away.
"Isn't that nice?" the older man replies, as impressed as though you had told him you tied your shoes this morning. "At least you have an idea of what it is to fight, squire, that's just wonderful that you know first hand what it's like to have to earn the right to live. And yet you still think that entitles you, which is all the more reason that I don't have two fucks to give to your question. So no, /boy/, you don't get an answer to your questions, you don't get to ask me whatever you damn well please about myself, or better said I could care less what you want to know about me. I am not your friend, your Sir, or anything other than a curiosity you can't satisfy. Now shut the fuck up about your rights and entitlement - you have /nothing/ that your Sir doesn't give you. Not. a fucking. thing."
Michael stops mid step and turns around, "Is that so? You think I honestly care who you were in whatever past life you led? I know you've just been released for crimes you won't talk about. I don't rightly give a fuck. I asked why you aren't out there." he motions outside arbitrarily, ".. fighting like the rest of us. Earning /your/ right to live. Just because you put in however many years you did into prison, doesn't entitle you to just sit by and watch the worlds burn. You don't want to help with the war, fine. Don't lecture to me about bravery or honor then, or how I need to train harder."
"You think I don't want to be contributing, squire? Explain to me why I should fight, when I have nothing to fight /with/. There's a difference in knowing what you should do, squire, and what you /can/ do. Your education is woefully incomplete if you haven't even asked yourself the obvious questions of /why/ that man wouldn't be out there right now, if he had the ability. You never once thought that it was as simple as not having the means to do so, weaponry, armament, protection. Or did you think I should fight without even a skinsuit? Get your fucking mind straight, squire, because right now it's so far up your ass I can smell the shit from here."
"What was that you were talking to Lady Sophie Sauveur about then? You know there are ways of getting your hands on equipment. First and foremost is showing up. You lost rank and respect, not skill or prowess, you can demonstrate to a house or just a company that you're the right man for the job." he chuckles ruefully, and shakes his head. "Fine, grump about not having something to fight with, shuffle about in the cities and wait for that shining moment when something just lands in your lap. You don't seem like the type to me, but if that's what you are far be it from me to see more in you." and now he fully walks away into the locker rooms, presumably changing back into his armor.
Jor doesn't pursue the matter further. Instead, he'll let you have the last word in this encounter, in so far as who is the final speaker. The dull thuds of his fists starting again on the punching bag are the only answer he'll give, and the only information he sees fit to divulge, after the blizzard that came from his own lips a moment ago. If he's allocated any brain power towards your words, you wouldn't know it from his facial expression.
Michael walks past Jor towards the doors out onto the street. He doesn't look back at Jor, just continues straight. If what he's said has had any affect on the man, he'll never know, and he's stopped caring. He disappears from sight when he turns the corner in the direction of the Ways.
