Who

Daxmer, F'kan, Th'res

What

Even an angry harper can't break the concentration of two focused fighters

When

It is noon of the seventh day of the fourth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Sparring Room, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 19 Feb 2018 05:00

 

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Sparring Room

The sparring room of the guard barracks is wide and square, with a high vaulted ceiling. The floor is wooden, the stain and varnish long since worn off. All manner of weapon that one could imagine the Pernese training with line one wall, open use for those that are there for practice. There are also the expected punching bags and dummies, as well as padded mats to prevent anyone from busting their behind. Near the door a few benches are set out for a person to catch their breath. Sweat and body permeate the overall atmosphere.


The Storm has passed and things are slowly going back to normal, well normal for Southern that is. This afternoon it seems that the Wingsecond of Lynx has had enough rain for a while and is currently training in the sparing room with some other people. Currently Th'res is teaching a small group of people boxing, "Remember the best way to dodge a punch is not be there. use your hips to help turn you out of the way." He demonstrates the hip motion before going back to watch the pairs of people he is overseeing.

And F'kan is late…He comes sprinting into the room, obviously out of breath, dressed for PT. The brownrider looks sheepishly at his Wingsecond as he walks up to the pairs of people and catches the end of what Th'res is saying. "Get the fuck out of the way, got it." See? He's a good student. And these are classes that he can actually use to prevent a re-occurance of his face being used as a punching bag. He runs a hand through toussled blond hair as sapphire blue eyes watch intently to the demonstration.

Th'res makes the note of F'kan and sadly it looks like he needs a partner, "Hey F'kan, why don't you come here and demonstrate." He calls making room in the middle of the circle for the brown rider. "Now, I am going to show you all what it means to dodge. And F'kan here is going to hit me.." But there that teasing grin as he waits for the brown rider to show up.

"You sure?" F'kan says dubiously as he steps into the center of the circle with the bluerider, not really minding that he's being pulled in to demonstrate to the others, he shoots one of the younger women in the group a scintilating smile and a little wink. As he steps up in front of the bluerider, the brownrider settles into a loose stance, one foot in front of the other, hands up. When he is sure Th'res is expecting it, he throws a right hook at the redheaded man's jaw.

It's the light stomping of feet that precedes the entrance of one furious looking teenage boy, flushed of cheek, with tiny seemingly ineffectual fists curled at his sides. His gaze sweeps in a glare over the collection of people gathered for sparring lessons, but it doesn't linger on any of them long enough to suggest that any particular individual present is the cause of all that righteous fury. Daxmer was wearing a harper apprentice knot there on his shoulder of his workout top, all the better for the way he stalks one of the punching bags at the far side of the room. Pointedly, well away from the others, and without further ado lays into that thing like there is no tomorrow. The ironic thing, was that for a boy no taller than five foot and who looked like he weighed next to nothing, he had skills. Fists fly out with purpose and precision, breathing in all the right places, and then high kick with a threatening but muted growl. More fists, bobbing and weaving, a flurry of footwork and then a wheelhouse which hits that heavy bag of sand with enough force that it swings quite noticeably.

Th'res notes the angry youth and chuckles shaking his head, even as the fist of the brown rider comes sailing by he side steps easily and lightly gives F'kan a love tap in the ribs saying "it is easy as two steps. You can gauge speed from your opponents shoulder, some people telegraph there blows openly while some don't, but the body always gives hints on where a strike is coming from." He smiles at F'kan saying "Keep going, your job is to hit me."

F'kan catches himself on a stumble when he fails to connect, even though he didn't have full power or anything behind the punch. The love tap to his ribs gets a grunt out of him as he resets for the next shot, which is going to be aimed at the bluerider's nose, his bright blue eyes narrow slightly at his target as he snaps out with a quick jab from his left hand, hoping the change of hands might possibly thrown Th'res off.

Daxmer is there still, whaling away, releasing the sort of energy that no one his size had any right to upon that poor unsuspecting punching bag. It was because he wasn't pacing himself but rather venting all of that anger all at once, he doesn't keep at it very long. All too soon he's panting heavily and drenched with sweat, but he doesn't have the strength anymore to continue at that pace. At least he knows it, not bothering to swing or kick anymore, but rather places his palms against the abused piece of equipment to stop it from rocking and leans his slight weight against it. Shoulders sag, head dropped forward chin to chest, and he just stands there and trembles back to the two riders and their sparring.

Th'res still addressing the others "see group he is taller, so he has reach" At the little jab he takes two more steps this time closing the distance inside the brown riders guard and tapping him again, before stepping back out to a safe distance. "But reach isn't everything, most fights are won and lost in the mind, if you don't use yours power and skill mean nothing." He looks back at F'kan saying "Now so the rest of the group doesn't think that you are just going easy on your wingsecond, Why don't you stop holding back there Buddy, and lets see what you have learned."

F'kan waits patiently for Th'res to go through his lesson with the others, relaxing slightly, arms at his side. When Th'res turns back to him though and tells him to stop holding back, he shrugs with a little chuckle, a smirk playing on his lips. "Whatever you say Sir." And then F'kan takes up his fighting position again, on the ball of his feet, hands up. Then, because he did say to show him what he learned, the brownrider will strike out with a flurry of blows, first a quick right jab, followed by an uppercut and rounded off with a left hook, no longer pulling his punches.

There are a few soft wet sounds as Daxmer's head comes to rest upon the sand filled bag, hands brought to his face in a sweeping motion, breathing a little uneven at first but then he takes one long and deep steady one just to let it out just as slowly. He remains this way through most of the individual training, only righting himself once again when F'kan is going back to sparring with Th'res. Up comes the chin and he owns that emotional display with a sharp inhale and his head held high, soon skirting the back of the room, as to not disturb those in training or than he already might have. He spares but a single glance towards the class, just making sure he wasn't going to inadvertently interrupt or suffer a high flying fist or kick to the face, soon grabbing the towel he had dropped by the door and using it to mop up some of the sweat he'd worked up. Sure, he was a little red eyed and puffy looking, but he pays it no mind as he expects no one else will either. He stands by the exit, giving himself a few more minutes to calm himself and breathe, all the things necessary if he was going to face the rest of this day.

Th'res is laughing softly, F'kan has got some good form in the swing, though still hard to get through the blue riders defense. Th'res lets him unload, yes there might be brusies tomorrow on his arms and shoulders but still nothing connects they way the brown rider wants them too. He returns volley once he sees an opening, hoping F'kan has learned from the last time his face became a sparring bag. Quick jabs high and low are sent back to the brown rider.

With a frustrated grunt that his punches are just not landing where he wants them to, F'kan's eyes narrow at the bluerider, so intent on landing his own punches that he doesn't relizes that Th'res is punching back at him until the first jab glances off his jaw, and wakes the brownrider up as he tries to do what the bluerider was doing and dodge the series of blows coming at him, which he mostly does, although not with as much finesse as his wingsecond.

Having settled against the wall via a shoulder leaned its direction, Daxmer's eyes eventually came to settle on Th'res and F'kan, watching the brownrider trying to punch the bluerider but either missing or not landing solidly enough. Once or twice it seems as if he was going to say something, perhaps to offer a pointer, but who the hell was he other than an a harper? Harpers had no business messing in the affairs of dragonriders, let alone interrupting their combat training. Nevermind, fifteen turn old ones. With this in mind, the boy remains stoic and silent, but eventually pushes himself back up to standing as he wraps his towel about his neck and wanders back out again. Hopefully there was no evidence remaining of his outburst as he keeps his head down, letting the length of hair atop his head obscure his face in relative shadow.

Th'res keeps his attack going make wide swings and close jabs, if the brown rider doesn't want to get hit he is going to have to loosen up and learn to move more fluidly. But then comes the taunting "Oh so you can move, or do you just enjoy getting your nose moved to the other side of your face alot?"

Remembering the pain of the broken nose he had just over three months ago, F'kan narrows his eyes at the taunting bluerider and starts to duck a little quicker now, stepping to the side to avoid those wide swings. Once he dodges, he strikes out a couple of low jabs of his own. He definitely seems to be warming up to the exercise and reacting faster now.

Th'res grins as the match finally takes off, though still talking to the group "see how he is using his arms to keep me at the end of his reach. He is trying to change control of the match, this is good but every spot has a weak point." Th'res steps in closer again so those jabs glance off him not at there full power before stepping back out adding "Stepping in like that may seem strange but people with longer reach have a harder time hitting close targets."

With a sarcastic snort at Th'res for so easily keeping up his teaching while being infuritatingly hard to hit, F'kan is now breathing hard from all the dancing around he's doing. He knows he can't keep this up too much longer without a break, so he decides to just dig in for one final onslaught, his punches focused with determination behind them which keeping an eye on the bluerider's shoulders as instructed earlier in the lesson, and dodging when necessary.

Th'res, ever the giver, is throwing punches right back, allow for a hit to land on his shoulder hardenough to leave a good bruise. But also allowing the shorter rider to land a blow to the taller mans middle as he steps out of attacking range holding up his hands and rubbing his shoulder saying "And no it doesn't always work, but most of the time you won't find yourselves flatted on the ground bleeding."

Grunting as the bluerider's last connection to his midsection, F'kan doubes up slightly, rubbing the spot, but smiling that he had actually managed to land something on the wily wingsecond. When at last Th'res steps back, he leans over and puts his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath after the exercions. "Nice one Sir." he says breathlessly as he stands back up again, hans on his hips now, blue eyes flicking over at the shorter man.

Th'res nods and grins saying "You to F'kan, go hit the baths…" He looks a the rest of the group saying "You all can practice this on your own, remember try not to hit each other in the face." He then chuckles and adds "See you all next week." He moves to start picking up his own gear and then moves to catch up with the brown rider as they walk out saying "You know you were right about that blonde.." is all that is heard before they are out and heading to the baths discussing the events of the big storm for the past few days.

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