• Graded • I. Before

[Kasoria]

A lot went into making what he did look simple, and seamless.

He'd never thought about it as a kid, but then again, couldn't everyone say that? The end result, the final flourish of movements, the victory and the glory, all these were obvious, but not the trials and seasons and arcs of training that paid for them. Which wasn't to say that he didn't train, in his own way, back in the half-forgotten times when he'd been a different man.

For one thing, you weren't one.

Ashan was a dozen trails old and already Kasoria could feel the heady excitement for the season crackling through the air. The Eternal Night had been banished and lo, the suns returned! There was more buzz and hubbub beyond the walls of his tiny backyard, street traffic seeming to double as the whole population trundled and bustled through a city newly liberated. The little man did his best to drown out the morning noise. His world was but the dummy, his body, and the cobbles and air between them.

His arm moved slowly. He was in no rush, not yet. His arm straightened, his fist twisted in the air, and as it drifted towards the head of the dummy his hips pivoted into the movement. No need to shift his feet too much, he decided. He wanted his leg supporting the blow, but he still needed a solid stance. His knuckles touched the head, and he pulled back his arm... repeated the slow-motion punch... and again... and again.

Then did it with his left arm. First one, then the other. Speeding up slowly, gradient almost unnoticeable, feeling how each slow punch felt in his limbs, his torso, the joints and hinges across his body.

Satisfied, he returned to fighting stance, and then-

THUNK-THUNK

-two lightning-fast punches snapped out, one from each fist, hands blurring and knuckles ringing as they hammered into the head-

THUNK-THUNK-CRACK

-two more, less than a trill later, aiming lower, bruising and breaking imaginary ribs, and the third was no fist at all-

-his right arm retracted and inverted, so after the punch from the left he was already swinging it in an elbow strike, stepping forward into a burst, lending yet more power to the blow-

-smashing his elbow across the face of the dummy and wincing. Because it always hurt, to a degree. Arcs, decades of them, more than both fingers and toes could keep track of, and you developed a hardness over those tough, bony places you struck with. But your body never stopped telling you it was probably a bad idea, hammering parts of it into other humans over and over again.

Kasoria stepped back and rolled his shoulders. Speed. Something that many said could not be taught to a fighter: you either had it or you didn't. He agreed that some men were gifted with more than others, but over thirty arcs of brawling from gutters and docks to the Citadel and the sewers had taught him anything could be taught. One just needed patience, and commitment.

There was a soft snort in the air. The felines watching the hairy little human blinked and mayhap wondered what amused him so. Kasoria gave no hint to the memory that ran before his eyes. Just the merest squirm of his lips, smirking under his beard, before he faced the target again.

That was a long time ago. And it hadn't been speed that saved him.

[Kasoria]

21st Trial, Ashan, Arc 688
Outer Perimeter
16th break

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been hit that hard. Maybe never. He blinked and he coughed and the blood choked him so he coughed again and his eyes still wouldn't work. But his ears worked just fine.

"Fuck were youse thinkin', ya wee cunt?"

Which was a valid question. The wanker leering over him was almost twice his size, big beefy arms, sloping shoulders, sixteen arcs old and already with the body of a man. The bleeding, coughing, insensible figure at his feet was... none of those things. An arc younger, fifty pounds lighter, at least seven or so inches shorter. But he'd squared off like a prizefighter when Rand and his mates cornered him on the way home from school, malice in their eyes in the way only children can bear it.

With glee, and sweet, sweaty anticipation.

Kasoria coughed and raised his head off the cobbles. The blinding suns were eclipsed by a plan far uglier, bending down to peruse him.

"Fuck's a shopkeeper's boy know about fuckin' boxin'?" Their laughter rang and scraped through his ears as he hauled himself upright. Blood was pounding in there, too. So loud and hard he though he was bleeding from there, too, but a tentative hand held to one told him... no... not yet. "Pretty fuckin' dumb of ya, shit-eyes. S'just not, wadayacallit... feasible. Aye. Like that teacher says."

"How the... fuck would you know?"

The laughter stopped. The smiles fell. Kasoria had a trill to savor his victory before another set of knuckles crashed into his face like a comet, and his vision shattered like a mirror. He reeled, he spun, but by a miracle he stayed on his feet and-

Run!

"Oi?!"

His feet were doing his thinking now. Muscle he had yet to properly pack on, but speed? Oh, he'd had that for a while, and he had far less to carry than the lumbering fucks coming after him. The short, skinny figure flew across the stones, skidding around corners, dodging around carts and donkeys and squawking pedestrians. But through their cries and curses, he still heard the sounds of pursuit. Angry voices, but not adults. Pounding feet dogging his steps. His breath came out shallow and harsh and he swung into yet another alley-

Not that one!

But it was too late to turn around. The alley was so tight and crooked it was almost sunless inside. Barely wide enough for him to walk through without scraping his skinny shoulders on the sides, let along run at full tilt. But that was good, he realized in a flash that almost drew a smile. The three lummoxes after him were even bigger, broader, taller, so they'd be slowed down even more and his foot stirred-

-moved against something loose, and heavy, and hard-

Kasoria looked down and in the one, maybe two trills it took for him to look at the broken chunk of masonry his foot were nudging, something changed in his mind. Something so proud and confident before was quieted, and would only come back afterwards in odd, nostalgic moments. What replaced it on the stage of his psyche was colder, calmer, and far more... efficient.

He dropped down and scooped it up and started running again, just as-

"Fuckin' makin' it worse for yerself, cunt!"

Cunt. Shit-eyes. Shortarse. Whoreson. They had an endless litany they doled out to him and all they knew it would hurt. Such were bullies the world over. Kasoria had avoided them, smoldered silently and dreamed of one day learning to trounce them like a real man would. Yet the voice in his head now, coolly sending him plunging into the twilight of the narrow alley, that was... different. It wasn't that of a child, but nor did it make him think of the heroes of old, the knights and renegades of bards and sagas.

"Fuck, s'fucking tight-"

"Shadup and move, y'shites!"

But he listened to it. As the alley closed in and he heard the threesome forced into single file, Rand of course leading the way, bulky body waddling unevenly through the narrow walkway. He listened again as it told him to stop and face his enemy. This boy with eyes wide and shining but in the way a frozen waterfall was. Rand reached out to grab him by the throat, and Kasoria's skinny hands reared up, the bully's face twisted up in confusion for the last half-trill he saw of it before-

-he dropped down to his knees in front of him-

-bringing the broken brick crashing down on Rand's sandals-

-and the scream went on for an eon in the dark, narrow alley.

[Kasoria]

They were bullies, who traded violence and fear for the feral joy that came naturally to them. The morality of what they did... well, such things didn't occur to their ilk. Strength and size made a man right in the world, and everything else was just fancy words from faggots. The trio had delighted in finding Kasoria, so small and skinny yet carrying himself with the airs of a man so much better than his peers. They jeered and hurled cursed, pushed and shoved, stole little things, easy to replace but missed at odd, important moments.

He sneered at them. Used his words, like a little cunt. Couldn't fight back like a man so called them names instead, like a woman. That didn't sit well with Rand, their leader, the Alpha of their little pack. So they'd cornered him on the way home, determined to beat some respect into their lessers. And what did he try to do? Fight. Like a man.

Only he wasn't. He was just a weak, skinny little fuck, and he went down from one fucking punch.

"FUCK ME!"

So it stunned Ferdie and Zephyr all the more when he crushed all the toes on Rand's foot with a shriek like a goddamn demon.

Then it was Rand who was screaming, hobbling, falling down to one knee and they couldn't get around his bulk, couldn't help as-

CRACK

Both of them flinches, mouths slack as Kasoria swung the brick upward as if he were tossing it up high into the sky... but Rand's face was in the way. Bent over his ruined foot, he was too focused on that and his squealing to put up his hands, and when the brick hammered into his face... Ferdie would never forget the sound. It was a snap and a wet crunch and a thing filthy and solid all at once, like rotting garbage set alight. Rand went back, and little white things flew into the air as he went.

Teeth, Ferdie realized. They were teeth.

"Y-You littleKACchhhhhh-!"

Zephyr was a brave one. Wanted revenge. Wanted to get even. But the little daemon in the shadows of the alley wasn't playing fair anymore. He threw the chunk of brick and it smacked squarely into his balls, doubling him over in a trill, yet another obstacle in Ferdie's way. Only now Ferdie wasn't so sure about his chances. Ten trills ago they were laughing and grinning, salivating like rabid dogs at the prospect of working this cunt over, three on one, just like always...

And now it was just him. Rand was still and bleeding, mouth a red ruin of pulped flesh and broken teeth. Zephyr was trying his best to curse, but only vomit was coming out. Thick and nasty and stinking into the alley, all over Rand, and Kasoria scrambled over the unconscious bully, just as Zephyr looked up-

"F-Fuck...!"

Ferdie's face went pale as he saw Kasoria's face, pinched and pale and twisted in fury. He grabbed Zephyr by the ears and seemed to swing all of his body into twisting, yanking, almost throwing it-

-into the alley wall-

A hollow crack, this time. A bright, fresh red smear left on the wet stones. Then he did it again. And again. Before letting Zephyr go and watching him sink down with a bubbling, bloody sigh... leaving Kasoria standing there in the half-alive shadows, skinny chest heaving, panting, breath coming through in great shuddering sighs.

Ferdie's feet stirred as he realized the boy was smiling. Smirking. He took a step forward. Across the couple of boys bigger and stronger than him who were now just broken dolls and-

Kasoria watched the older boy scramble away from him, scratching and tearing his shirt on the side of the narrow alley in his haste. He watched him flee and then fly out into the street like a cork from a bottle, letting the light back in, bathing the boy in white and gold and-

-red, he saw, looking down-

-smeared on his hands. The boy with fifteen arcs to his history turned then over and marveled at the way it seemed to stick like glue yet shimmer like paint. He smelled them and... no, the smell was definitely not as pleasant, or as fascinating. He didn't want to have it on his pants, though, so instead he used the back of Zephyr's shirt to wipe them off as best he could and then he realized what he was doing and he blinked again.

They were bigger than you. Stronger. Older. And now they're either fled or...

Kasoria swallowed hard. Nudged Rand over and over until he was practically kicking him and-

-a groan drew a sigh of relief that almost made him boneless. Thank Fuck for that. Exhilarating though breaking that fucker's face was, it wasn't work a life in the dark, buried alive in the cells of the Citadel. He stepped over the bigger boy and kept walking into the light. They would live. Scarred and toothless and Kasoria imagined the moist looks and pungent stench of fear on them when they saw him again.

He stepped into the suns and smiled even wider.

Continued here

[Rynata]

Name: Kasoria

Knowledge:
Endurance: Developing Calluses Over Knuckles and Joints
Tactics: Knowing When to RUN
Tactics: Nullifying a Numerical Advantage With a Narrow Battlefield
Unarmed Combat (Ki'Enaq): Perfect Your Form, Then Work on Speed
Unarmed Combat (Ki'Enaq): Targeting Feet to Immobilize Your Enemy
Unarmed Combat (Ki'Enaq): Hurling Hard Objects at Soft Targets

Non-Skill Knowledge
Rand and Co.: Schoolyard Bullies and Future Thugs
Etzos: Riddled with Narrow Passageways Between the Rings
Etzos: Some Schooling Made Available (Quality Dependent on Payment and Location)

Loot: N/A
Injuries: (Memory: A bloody nose and bruised face)
Renown: 5 (Did you hear? That scrawny one took down three kids twice his size.)
Magic XP: N/A

Points: 10

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Comments:
Minor thing, you seem to have swapped the Debit and Credit on your wage ledger, so please fix that to prevent confusion. The thread itself was an exciting read. You hammered out a great rhythm with you words and it really had the "Rocky Road to Dublin" vibe going for it.

If you feel I've missed anything or if you have questions about your review, please don't hesitate to send me a quick PM. Thanks!