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Magi: The World of Magic » The South West » Heliohapt » [Solo] [Training] Remembering Old Talent

[Solo] [Training] Remembering Old Talent

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Zachariah

Zachariah
C-Tier
C-Tier

"So... what do you fools want?"

It was a dreary sight, Zach was surrounded on all sides by a myriad of thugs, wearing armor on one arm with a half plat strapped to their chests, tassets and such. They wielded short swords, tridents, shields, all variations of weaponry. Some things were easy to imagine being in the hands of thugs, others seemed a bit far fetched. It would be a moment before he would feel a cold chill go up his spine, one of the thugs looked familiar. Why, it was that old soldier from the Red Dragon a little over a month prior! "What are you doing here," he would ask.

"What are we doing here? Nothing in particular, but at the same time, everything in particular," spoke the old man. One of the thugs would elbow him a bit, "Hey man, try to make sense for the poor guy, he's lost his memories." The old man would grunt a bit and unsheathe his sword. "We are all the gladiators that you used to be friends with. We fought for the pleasure of roaring crowds. and we are here to make you remember," the old man would speak up. Zachariah would blink a bit, "Okay, but couldn't you have issued this a bit more formally, I'm totally unequipped right now."

Suddenly a familiar sheath and handguard was flying through the air at him. He would catch it and twirl it gently, before gripping the handle and slowly unsheathing the rapier. "This is my weapon, how'd you know where I was stowing it?" he would flourish it a bit to make sure they didn't screw with it. The old man would respond, "Simple. The orphans' knowledge are very with the lubrication of violence." Suddenly the man would feel a blade touching his throat, "Did you hurt those children? I swear on my life, I'll end you right here." A small number of black butterflies would float around him for a moment, a single white one appearing as well. The rukh that he attracted were mixed.

The soldier would laugh a bit in the face of death, "Trust me, no kids were harmed. A few empty threats were enough." Zachariah would take a few steps back and sigh. "Very well, so what are you even trying to make me remember, despite clearly having mistaken my identity for that of someone else," he would inquire.

With a little bit of explanation later, he would be told that he was an ex-champion of the gladiatorial ring, and was a masterful combatant. All they wished to make him remember was his own strength and the memories would come to him with it. "Sorry guy, but I cannot accept these terms. It's pointless anyways, but even if I did live that life, I doubt fighting old comrades would let me have back some strength." The old soldier would grin, and laugh a moment, "Oh, but I've already gotten you to the next level." Zachariah would leer at him, his eyes shooting daggers. "Explain yourself," he would demand. The old soldier would respond promptly, "That step you took, the poise of your blade. It was beyond what you'd had moments prior to this event. All it took was a little push, and I unlocked your next level of potential. Which only means I need to push a little harder next time."

Zachariah would be confused, and as he thought about it, some other techniques he'd used before, he felt them in his muscles. He could feel his skills growing. It was amazing, but scary at the same time. He wouldn't have noticed it if he'd have just killed the old soldier a second ago. Something had awoken in him, latent talent, no latent skill that he'd attained. However his mind felt his body remembered something else, something new, something old. He would look at his hands, for a moment, the rapier held in them.

The gladiators would just walk away at this point. "For now our job is done. Remember us or forget about us, but you'll never forget what we made you remember." Zacharia was left, confused and enlightened on his own in the alleyway. Also they took his lunch.

Word Count: 702/500

Zachariah

Zachariah
C-Tier
C-Tier

Training - Wing Clipper:

The techniques that he'd held in his muscles ached to come out, they beckoned to him and even threatened to go away. This warm feeling of remembering skill was very nice, he didn't want it to go away. He would look upwards, seeing a bird flying rather low to the ground, maybe 15 meters overhead. His eyes would glint as he would speak up, "Wing Clipper.... I remember it." One of the gladiators would blink and stay behind to watch him stare at the bird. Zachariah pointed his rapier up at it, and he would feel the technique in his muscles.

He hopped a bit to see how high he would get if he just jumped normally. He managed an even meter, but this was a wholly effortless jump. The bird was going to get away if he kept screwing around though. With an extra sum of effort, he cranked his legs down and used more strength to get himself skyward. He managed about 10 meters, which was impressive, but it was not his goal. As he landed he noticed the bird flying off into the distance. He wasn't fast enough, which totally bummed him out. However, this strengthened his resolve.

Zachariah would put away his rapier, and he would begin to stretch his leg muscles out: Getting a warm-up going. His eyes glinted with confidence. The memory-less man would wait now, for a similar bird to fly overhead for him. He needed 15 meters, which was high, yes, but not too high for him to jump. Suddenly the moment had arrived another bird, flying overhead. It was at 15 meters exactly, he calculated, and far be it from him to be incorrect on that detail. He would suddenly unsheathe his Rapier one more time, and crouch really low, placing a hand on the ground.

Suddenly he would shoot up, using all of the muscles in his legs to shove himself off the ground. He would find himself flipping for flavor, primarily due to needing to find stability in his jump. However he finally found it and he noticed that he was a bit above the bird's altitude. He would suddenly start to fall, and he took the time to swipe at the bird, as it did so, he instinctively poked it with his sword in a very key location, and the bird's wings seized up and it began to fall as well. Zachariah would land on the ground now, and he would look at the bird that hit the floor behind him. He didn't necessarily clip its wings, but they curled in slightly and stopped moving immediately. Maybe this was what it was like to be a champion? Probably not, it was a simple technique with a simple premise. Just jump high enough to strike that point with a pointy object and it was as good as copied. The gladiator would approach him now, "Woah, you just jumped 20 meters into the air and stabbed a bird out of the sky. Isn't that proof enough?"

Word Count: 506/500
Learned

Zachariah

Zachariah
C-Tier
C-Tier

Training - Fleche:

Zachariah would stare at the soldier for a few moments, taking in what was happening to him. "You want me to believe that I'm some kind of champion. Someone you fools think of so highly that you'd wish for me to regain my memories no matter what the cost?" The soldier would open his arms pleadingly, "Zachariah... What are you saying? You were a model for all gladiators of the kingdom to look up to. Very little actually stood in your way, your rise to power was destined from the beginning! I couldn't possibly think of you as anything less than a King of Warriors!"

This obviously brought great confusion to the memoriless mind of the regal man. "The man you think I am... must have been pretty great," he would mutter to the soldier. He would sheathe his blade and turn around, about to walk away. But without so much as a sound, the soldier placed his hand upon Zachariah's shoulder, despite having been at least 10 meters away. "Listen, Zachariah." "How did you...?" "Even if you aren't the man I think you are, and we're all just chasing after the feint hope that you'll become something greater than all of us... I still want you to be strong. You taught me everything I know, or at least I think it was you, and if you let me, I'll teach you in return."

The man without memory would look at this soldier, he was something like a mad man. "Did I teach you how to move like that?" he would ask. "It's one of your finer techniques, I'll admit. Fleche, is the best stepping method that you've ever used in combat. It's such that a mere man like myself before learning it was incapable of following you." The soldier responded, "If you'll let me, we'll have this mastered my nightfall."

311/1000

Zachariah

Zachariah
C-Tier
C-Tier

"Alright so the premise of the technique is simply to generate as much force from your rear leg as possible, and never once shift your footing," spoke the soldier to the man of no memory. "I see, so it's a no-holding back technique, then?" responded Zachariah, clarifying what was spoken to him. "Indeed. There's not much to it once you've devoted it to muscle memory. It's just like any acrobatic maneuver," responded the soldier. With that though, the man would lower his rear leg into position to spring forward, while not altering his other foot, causing him to lean. Suddenly his forward foot would lift gently off of the ground, and his entire body would launch forward.

In this instant of movement as he made a forward and return trip, Zachariah noted that the soldier followed his own advice, even going so far as to launch himself backwards with his rear foot as well, not altering his footing at all. "It looked like you were gliding across the distance. That's amazing!" Zachariah would note aloud. The soldier would grin. "I learned from the best," he responded, rubbing under his nose. Zachariah would nod and speak further, "I've got a similar technique, but it works off of the use of both legs and using their combined length and strength to attain distance, but if I master this 'Fleche', it should enhance my combat potential greatly."

"Right. It was a staple move of your combat style back in the day. Now then, how about you try it, as I've shown you," the soldier would direct. Zachariah would take a sideways saber fencing pose, keeping his sword in its sheathe, now rightfully placed upon his hip. He would begin by placing all of his weight upon his rear foot, and bending his back leg. This cause a backwards leaning effect, as he would attempt to spring forwards when his forward leg was lifted gently. He would push of with great force, and found himself face first on the ground. "What...?" he would question aloud as he would lay there awkwardly for a moment. This was a baffling experience.

666/1000

Zachariah

Zachariah
C-Tier
C-Tier

Laying there upon his face and chest, Zachariah pondered life and the intricacies of society while he, for some reason, probably due to the velocity at which his head had struck the ground, had momentarily lost touch with reality. The soldier would prod him with a stick, and his mind snapped back to reality. "Huh, what!?" Zachariah would stammer as he would roll over with haste. It would all come back to him. "Oh, I just failed horribly didn't I?" he would ask with a sad tone to his voice. The soldier would shake his head, "Not at all! In fact you're closer than I got in a week of practice. All that you did was lean forwards when you sprang forward which threw off your balance."

The memoryless man would sit up and look at the soldier, "So... I just need to adjust my balance, and then I can start trying to apply this in combat?" His tone was inquisitive and a bit immature. The soldier would get a bit flustered, "I... er... I mean..." Without letting the soldier collect his thoughts, Zachariah would kippup to a stand and assume a fencing pose once again. He would immediately disappear, and reappear with his head placed very firmly against the pavement of the streets. "Oww..." he would complain. The soldier would finally gather his thoughts, "The thing is, balance is very difficult to establish when moving at that speed, especially with the fact that you can't switch legs mid hop." Zachariah would make an utterance, which was unintelligable, but almost sounded like, "You're kidding me, right?"

The memoryless man would sit back up and rub his face, which was quite scuffed from the violent impact with the ground. "So it's going to be like that, then?" he would say with a serious look in his eye, causing a comical sweatdrop to form over the head of the soldier. A few hours managed to go by and, finally Zachariah was capable enough to use the step proficiently with combat. Clashing against the blade of the soldier, he would speed backwards and maintain the appropriate footing. Managing perfect balance forwards, backwards, and sideways. "Great, I've got it down pat." The soldier, worn out from the practical training, would note, panting greatly all the while, "Yeah... Since we've got time, I can teach you your other staple..."

1025/1000 Complete

Zachariah

Zachariah
C-Tier
C-Tier

Training - Hornetswarm:

It would be a short while afterwards that the soldier would have managed to set up a dummy made of hay and twine that he found a short walk away. He refused to allow Zachariah to assist in the process, so the man of no memory would simply sit on an empty crate that was nearby and watched intently. The dummy was quite simple, using 6 lengths of twine to assume a human enough shape to get a general torso down.

Thereafter the soldier took a moment to set up a few targets, using paper dishes with bullseyes drawn on them with an unsteady hand. While they were crudely made, the small circle in the middle of each was the only one marked red. "So, the technique I'm going to remind you of is the simple, yet equally difficult to master, yet oh-so useful, Hornetswarm," he would say. The soldier would pull open his robes slightly and then each into an area which appeared to be under his armpit, and then removed a sword, it was fabulously crafted. "This is my favorite blade, I carry it into all matches, but I only use it against the foes I'm serious against."

"Hey... that sword looks familiar for some reason," Zachariah would state, eying it. The soldier would look at the man of no memory, "Yeah? That's a good sign, you gave it to me a couple years ago. It was celebrating my debut match in the gladiatorial ring, after your tutelage." Zachariah would blink a bit, "I still don't know if it's that familiar. But if you say so, we can continue this training, right?" The soldier would shake his head, and sigh, "Yeah, I suppose so."

The soldier would turn and face the dummy he'd set up. "Alright then," he would begin. He would take in a breath of air, and unsheathe his sword, notably the blade was black. while the hamon of the edge was shining silver. With what appeared to be a single thrust for a moment, the blade was suddenly plunged into the bottom-most point on the dummy. Dead center. "Alright... so does that mean any point will do? Wait a second..." Zachariah would have begun to inquire yet then he realized something truly terrifying. All three plates, no longer held a red spot upon them, instead having a hole where the red spot was. "Woah..." Zachariah would mutter.

402/1000

Zachariah

Zachariah
C-Tier
C-Tier

"Impressive, right?" the soldier would respond haughtily to the awe which lit up the face of the memoryless man, who only nodded in respond as he slowly picked his jaw up off the ground in a humorous visual metaphor. The man would remove the targets from the dummy, and he would set up new targets which he'd made ahead of time. Zachariah, however noted that the wounds made in the dummies were utterly shallow. "Those stabs didn't make it to any level worth real damage," he would say out loud, in a questioning tone that had no actual inquisitive intonation.

The soldier would look at him for a moment as he would set up the points once more, in the exact same spots. "The red points I mark and the wounds that correlate. They are in exact pinpoint locations. The actually damage done with this technique is low and can be healed by any two-pitched doctor world his smelling-salts. However those locations on the body, any body according to your exploits, are key nerve clusters. Triggering them with assaulting force, especially for the small instant that this technique does, causes excruciating pain for each one, and this technique strikes 3 such points. The overall damage done via pain is well over what a man could handle, and thusly he'd pass out from a single instant. Those who aren't so lucky as to pass out immediately, usually scream for a few seconds, and then surrender in a gladiatorial match. The wounds aren't grievous though, so they can fight again another day in most cases."

Zachariah listened to the description of this technique and the points that it targets. "Nerve clusters, pain, was I some kind of monster when I developed this? It's battlefield torture!" he would declare, displeased with the sound of it. The soldier would remain silent for a few seconds as he would finish attaching the new targets exactly. "Alright Zachariah, this is a technique that will prove to me that you are exactly who I think you are. The only people who can master it are the rare few talented with such abilities as ours, who can think of a technique like this one, or see it one time and copy its essence and use it immediately!" the soldier would declare mightily. "That places a lot of stress on me, don't you think?" Zachariah would complain, drawing his sword.

803/1000

Zachariah

Zachariah
C-Tier
C-Tier

Zachariah would hold his blade upright and in front of him. He would gaze upon the targets, plotting out the order in which he was going to strike. Suddenly his mind was filled with the bodies of several hundred body types that he'd faced in the gladiatorial ring, these points always correlated. Imuchakks, Fanalis, Humans, Monsters of all sorts. These three points were a constant among all of them. He could remember it very clearly. He would blink and his vision was made clear. "This technique... might actually have been mine..." he would say, some of his memory coming back to him.

The man of some memories would lunge forwards, and struck with a single thrust by the appearance, but the same thing happened, except his final target was the one closest to a human's heart. The rest of the points were punched out with the blade's point, and he retracted his blade and took a step back almost as if on instinct. "Hey... What's your name...?" he would ask to the soldier. But as he would turn around, he would see no man.

All that was left was a steel playing card on the ground, upon it was engraved an Ace of Spades, jeweled with onyx. It was a very valuable card. "Hmm... I'll remember him as... 'Ace'... for now," he would say. Thereafter he would look at the training dummy. He would pick it up and carry it away with him to his small shack that he stayed in.

1054/1000

Training Complete

End

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