[NOVA] Martial Arts (K 2.3)

edited August 2014 in NOVA
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Ksenia, a few days after departure, you are reading in the Crew Lounge after consuming your bland dinner of paste and paste. What are you reading this time?

Csorba walks into the room. "Ah. Ensign Cribbage." His voice is warm and rich, although his tone is customarily dry and understated. "Time on-ship always feels a little too idle for my tastes. I wonder if you might like to spar a bit? To keep things loose."

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    I was sitting sideways on the couch, which is really comfy, leaning against a little pillow that someone left in here. When he walks in, I was reading The Catcher in the Rye, my third time through. I do so love this book. I power down the datapad and swing my feet around to plant them on the deck, look at him, "Sure, Mr. Csorba, that sounds good to me." My tone is neutral, but I am very interested in seeing what makes this guy tick.
  • Csorba smiles, a little predatorily. "Good. Now, then?" He's dressed appropriately for a workout, in loose pants and a tight t-shirt. Black, as usual.

    You walk together to the gym and begin he begins stretching. He is lean and clearly fit, with no obvious cybernetic enhancements, and none of the bulging muscle that comes along with most of the chemical ones. He moves through his stretches, a series of yoga poses mixed in with a few unfamiliar movements. The muscles of his torso and arms flex and release as he moves smoothly through the quick exercises, a dance beneath the the fabric.

    Csorba's warmup ends with a set of supine leg lifts, after which he leaps to his feet in a kip-up, immediately in a ready position.

    Ksenia, you're both limbered up and ready. How do you begin?

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    I watch him limber up, and no lie, the guy looks badass. Studying him. I only know some of his routines. Corps hand-to-hand, like most things in the military, steals from the best and drops the rest. It can be good sometimes, it can miss the point others. But in the end, we adapt, improvise and overcome.

    Since half my body is mechanical, most warm-up exercises are pretty useless. I pop the knuckles on my left hand, shake out out my left leg, then crack my neck. Frak it, I'm ready.

    I don't stand sideways in some martial arts pose. I stand facing him like a boxer. Duck my head like "yeah, I'm ready," and I wait. I want to see what he's got.
  • Ksenia, you're both ready, poised in your own ways. Csorba sees that you're not going to move first and crosses the distance in a burst of speed that's surprising. One Two Three straight on punches, untelegraphed and quick, all to the left side, and then he spins away fast as a whip.

  • edited August 2014
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    That was good stuff, this guy's impressive. He tapped me in my forearm to get a block, then came around for a one-two to my kidneys. Seems like he's got speed and accuracy. That's a good combo.

    I lean into a quick charge, snapping a front kick aimed at where he is. It's a feint, but a big obvious one. He takes it, and moves where I expected, to my left side. I backhand him, a good solid one. Of course, I'm not able to capitalize on it because of my forward momentum, so we end up separated and square up again for another pass.

    But I got something there. He's calculating, knows to watch my right side. If I can keep him focused on the big threat, I bet I can keep sneaking in jabs and snap kicks with my left. Death of a thousand cuts.

    His cheek looks a little red now. Heh. Good. My ribs are bruised, so I consider it a fair trade.
  • Csorba seems a bit surprised that you connected. He closes his eyes for a split-second, then snaps them open, focusing on you, evaluating you. You see him flick a glance across your midsection, look at the bioport that you protect, and then he launches at you right foot forward, across the 2 meters that now separate you. How do you respond, Ksenia?

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    Shit, he's quick, and sharp, too. I give some ground, trying to get in a good defensive stance. If I can time it right, I should be able to get my right leg up to block. That'll hurt.
  • OOC: Let's set up a roll to see who wins this sparring match, Ksenia.

    Basic Challenge: (Rolled: 2d8. Rolls: 7, 4. Total: 11) It's a fight. You fight.

    Csorba is a badass, and he has some actual stats.

    Duty: (Rolled: 1d10. Rolls: 5. Total: 5) The duty he feels to his mission and the years of training he's had to follow it.

    Security: (Rolled: 1d10. Rolls: 2. Total: 2) Just pure badassedness.

    Distinction: (Rolled: 1d10. Rolls: 3. Total: 3) Full-on Covert Op Training.

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    Alright, let's figure out how to tackle this.

    d6 Discovery - I am trying to figure out what makes Csorba tick, after all
    d10 Security - hand-to-hand, my specialty
    d4 Tough as They Come - he may get in a few licks, but I'm coming out on top (using d4 for a PP)
    (challenging) 3d8 Church - I know that by doing this, I'm questioning why Church let him here.
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    Discovery (Rolled: 1d6. Rolls: 1. Total: 1)
    Security (Rolled: 1d10. Rolls: 5. Total: 5)
    Tough as They Come (Rolled: 1d4. Rolls: 2. Total: 2)
    Relationship Church (Rolled: 3d8. Rolls: 8, 4, 3. Total: 15)
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    My 13 scrapes by his 12.

    There's a 1 out there for you (on a d6)
  • Ksenia, you manage to kick out with your right leg just as Csorba aims a sharp, straight punch at your bioport. The crunch of his fist connecting with the metal of your leg is loud, and surprise and pain war in his face. You have definitely prevailed in this exchange, but you can see him learning your style, your tics and preferences. The two of you continue sparring for another ten minutes, and by the end it's hard to tell who would prevail in a "real" fight.

    OOC: I'm giving you 2 Plot Points for a d6 Complication that will last until the end of the session: Csorba Knows K's Moves. I will use this should you ever find yourself in a physical conflict with this secret agent man.

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    We keep fighting for a while, swet starts pouring off both of us. I admire his grit. He's not just flashy style, not at all.

    "You don't seem ex-military, Csorba." I tell him when we stop to hydrate. "Where did you train?"
  • Ksenia, Csorba gives you a wry smile. "I've picked up a few things here and there, Ensign Cribbage." There's a brief pause while he rolls his head to stretch the neck muscles. "My first organized instruction was at a Jute Keen Do dojo, when I was growing up in the Pwyll dome, on Europa." He smiles again, and it's warmer this time. "Sensei Siegel seemed so ancient at the time, but he could kick serious ass. I worshiped him."

    You return to the exercise and after a few more exchanges, Csorba asks. "You're clearly Corps, Cribbage. How'd you wind up in Psi Corps? And an officer?"

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    I haven't heard of Sensei Siegel, but he sounds interesting. I give Csorba a nod of acknowledgment.

    "Yeah," I shrug my half shrug with my left shoulder. "I spent most of my service as a ground pounder, did some special ops, then ended up pulled into Psi Corps. Can't argue with the paycheck, you know?"
  • After a few more rounds, you're both blowing pretty hard. Csorba looks at you speculatively, then seems to make a decision. "Listen, Cribbage. I packed in a humidor and a portable air-scrubber. My vice. Captain agreed to allow lighting up, in my quarters, with the scrubber on max. Would you like to join me for a cigar? Real Earth leaf, hand rolled on the thighs of virgins." He grins.

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    Even my scarred brow rises at the mention of an Earth leaf cigar. "Hell yes, Csorba." I notice he left the gender, or the species of the virgins out of his comment. I guess he knows about me and Mei. Woinder who told him?
  • Ksenia, you both take a moment to towel off the worst of the sweat, and then Csorba leads the way to his quarters. The scrubber, a trim little box, is already set up and connected to power. He hooks a chair out from the little desk with his foot and pushes it to a spot a comfortable distance from the bunks, then opens a large box sitting on the desk, bringing out two cigars, one banded in yellow and one in purple.

    Holding out the yellow-banded one, he looks at you. "Male?" The purple one. "Or Female?"

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    "Hah!" I laugh a genuine laugh when he follows up on the virgin thighs and reach for a yellow-banded cigar. Bring it up to my nose and inhale. God, it smells great, like Earth. Haven't been there in so long. I look at him, a new-found appreciation growing, "You're definitely a man with good taste, Csorba."

    Does it need the end clipped? If so, I'll look for a cutter. If it is ready to smoke, I'll pop it into my mouth and scan for a lighter somewhere.
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    Csorba takes a cigar punch and lighter from a hardwood tray sitting next to the humidor on the desk. He hands you the punch, and after you've made a neat hole in the end of your bullet-shaped smoke, he clicks on the blue flame of the lighter, holding it as you roll the cigar to get an even burn. His posture, demeanor, is completely different from what it was during the briefing and the other times you've come across him during the last few days. Loose, relaxed. A puma sunning itself, not stalking prey.

    "So, Cribbage," he says as he punches and lights his own cigar, "Good spar. You can learn a lot from the way a person fights."

    It's true, you know. His style wasn't pure Jeet Kune Do. It was a mixture of things that you almost, but not quite, recognized, but defined by efficiency. Never telegraphing, almost like a stage magician's sleight-of-hand misdirection. Short, savage kicks, direct punches, elegant throws.

    Ksenia, you've fought many men and women, over many conflicts, seen the content of their character in their eyes and shoulders. What have you learned about Csorba? And did he let you learn it, or did you earn it? Oh, and what do you think he learned about you?

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    "I completely agree," I say between puffs as I light the cigar. I take a moment to enjoy it. Damn, this is some sweet smoke.

    "Way I see it, Csorba." I say after a little while of quiet relaxation and enjoyment. "You're the kind of man who is never satisfied. With anything. Always hungry for more. That's why you've learned so many fighting styles. You had a Sensei, but you moved on, eventually, right?" I look to him, checking. Yes, I nailed it.

    "You love a challenge, but once you feel like you understand something, you move on." I inhale a bit, then blow it out in a not-that-amazing ring. "It's made you strong. But you're restless."
  • Ksenia, this cigar is the finest instrument of smoke delivery you have ever experienced. It must've been humidored for a while, given the hint of leather that lingers behind the spicy cinnamon and pepper. You swirl the smoke around your mouth before exhaling.

    Csorba gives you a casual, two-fingered salute. "Maybe Psi Corps makes more sense now, Cribbage. Are you ready to take some of what you dished out?" His smile is sly as he takes a deep drag on his cigar.

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    My head's a little light when he salutes me. I grin back at him. "Go for it. I am curious what you saw."
  • Csorba looks at you, K, from that relaxed, almost arrogant pose, with another one of those sly grins, cocky and knowing.

    "You've been having trouble adjusting to being human and machine at the same time, and it's hitting you in the genitals as well as your head." He keeps the knowing look, but less cocky. "You still wish you were a ground-pounder, somehow, feel disconnected from the job a bit, but want to make it right. Also, you depend on the cyber. Were you left-handed before?"

    Ksenia, how did he do? What do you say?

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    Frak me, he is perceptive. I chuckle at the last, "Yeah. I'm still learning to be a lefty. I may never learn it." I'm not about to say out loud that I'm not comfortable being an officer. I used to tell soldiers "Don't call me ma'am, I work for a living.". Now, I'm the a-hole Ensign.

    I don't trust Csorba entirely. But I like him. And his cigars. I take a look at my yellow-banded beauty, "This is. The best cigar I've ever had, Csorba." I look up at him, "Thank you." I put it back in my mouth and puff a little more.
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