Idle Hands (open)

The equipment is a little shoddy, but you have to make due with what you've got.

Idle Hands (open)

Postby Samuel Marston » Wed Sep 07, 2011 12:51 pm

Standing alone in a dark room, the pudgy tall medic wore only an undershirt, an unbuttoned dress shirt hung loosely over his shoulders, and a pair of slacks tightened around his waist with a tired brown leather belt. His bare feet spread on the soft mat, his wrists unencumbered by the starched fabric of his shirt, the cotton waving a little bit in the breeze from the ceiling fan up above. His feet were shoulder width apart, his hands wrapped around twin lengths of solid oak, wrapped in soft white tape, each only one foot long.

Samuel's breath was measured, even, almost slow, though his entire body was tensed. Any person walking past would think he was simply standing there. But every morning during ceasefire, he devoted at least an hour to of every day to keeping his body in peak physical condition. Relaxing his muscles, the medic brought his heels together and knelt down quickly, closing his eyes to remove his glasses. Taking one last breath in, and exhaling slowly, he lifted up one foot so that it was resting again on the mat.

In an instant he was on his feet, sprinting twenty feet forward to the training body, a log with a series of eight arm-like protrusions sticking out. Moving quickly, Samuel struck at each of the eight arms, the loud click of wood on wood echoing through the room, his strikes moving outward from the center, as if fending off bloes from an attacker.

Raking both of the wooden knifes down the torso of the dummy, he counted in his mind all of the arteries he would be slicing through, all the organs he would rupture. Pulling back both of the knives, he came back forward with a barrage of strikes, against the arms, the torso, the head, each one faster than one would expect from a man of his age, each one hard enough to make the entire dummy shake with shock. Every strike would have been enough to break a man's bone.

Jumping up, twisting his entire body around, Samuel brought down all of his weight, all of his strength, all of his anger down on the "shoulder" of the dummy, the thick varnished oak of the torso splintering around the wooden knife. Samuel could feel that the material of his blade had been reduced to a sticky bag of splinters in his own hands. Sighing, Samuel dropped the fake knife in disgust, throwing the other in it's wake, before he knelt again in the middle of the room, breathing slowly, though heavily.
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Re: Idle Hands (open)

Postby Gerhard Melsbach » Sat Sep 10, 2011 2:46 pm

{Just gonna drop in here...}

It was the noise that attracted his interest, the sharp clacks and thuds and other noises that were foreign to his ears, and after figuring out where it was all coming from, the TentaMedic decided he could take a short break from fighting the Company filing system to see what was going on. He paused a moment before the unfamiliar double doors, head cocked slightly as he picked up the sounds of labored breathing amidst the other noise, and cautiously pushed one door open to get a peek inside.
The man was a stranger by sight, but his nose caught on and he frowned slightly at recognizing that disturbing new Medic who had made Fritz faint. But what was he doing...?
Curiosity overwhelming caution for the moment, Gerhard slid the rest of the way inside, closing the door quietly behind him before moving to sit down by one of the supply lockers, since there didn't seem to be any benches. Something to remedy later...

As the display wound down and the other Medic tossed away the ruined training equipment, the hybrid voiced a soft hum.
"You know, if you need to spar vizh somevone so badly, you should ask, instead of ruining perfectly useful equipment."
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Re: Idle Hands (open)

Postby Samuel Marston » Sun Sep 11, 2011 11:38 pm

Samuel continued kneeling in the middle of the room, his chest heaving in and out slowly, his eyes clamped closed as he listened impatiently to the foolish words of the lead medic. Moving his hands slowly onto his thighs, he grated his teeth, as his right hand refused to clench. Instead of the usual feeling of his old muscles straining against tendon and bone, he felt the bones grating together, the pain keeping his fingers from closing.

Opening his eyes, he looked down at his hand, the very same hand that had splintered the training body in twain. The fingers were twisted and tangled, and no matter how he tried, he couldn't move a single diget. Dislocation of the proximal and distal phalanges of the thumb, fractures of the second, third, and fourth metacarpals, all symptoms of slamming your bare hand around to much. This was going to be a bitch.

Lifting himself onto his feet, Samuel walked over to where his coats laid in a pile, working as he walked to set the bones, popping his thumb back in place, massaging his with his palm until it felt to be in order, all the while never expressing more than a wince. Finally he stood in front of his coat, and crouched down, taking up his medi-pistol, the small thing still attached to his coat's belt by the power cord. Pointing the soothing rays at his hand, he let out a sigh, all the while ignoring the other medic in the room.

Although functioning slower than most other guns, the pistol would work easily for small jobs like this. For a whole minute, Samuel stood there, willing his muscles to flex and unflex, until finally they complied, with grinding ache, and then, none at all. After what had seemed to drag on for hours, Samuel broke the silence, "All these people ever want is to fire guns and cause explosions," He sighed, dropping the pistol back on his coats, "the second someone draws a blade, they run away in fear," he slowly raked his eyes over to the other medic, "would you care to prove me wrong?"
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Re: Idle Hands (open)

Postby Gerhard Melsbach » Mon Sep 12, 2011 1:02 am

There was a slight twitch of the TentaMedic's eye at seeing the mangled ruin of the other Medic's hand, but he made no move to help, seeing as the man didn't seem to be too bothered by it and seemed pretty well prepared to deal with it himself, though the crunch and snap of bone being put to rights made his tentacles curl.
At the question, he huffed, arms crossing idly over his chest.
"Nein, I agree vizh zhe sentiment. I zhink it ist perhaps zhe fact zhat a gunshot or ein explosion happens qvickly, no time for zhe mind to catch on to zhe approaching hurt or imagine zhe magnitudes of pain. A knife, zhough, a knife ist slow, measured. Zhe eye can follow zhe motion of a blade, anticipate zhe pain und fear it."
Ah, the wonders of psychology...
Shifting a bit, the hybrid moved to pull himself upright and approached the other Medic, picking up the shattered wooden dagger from the floor and tossing it into a nearby wastebin before crouching beside the man, a swift but gentle hand reaching out to double check the work done on the injured hand.
"You did gute. How many years have you been practicing?"
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Re: Idle Hands (open)

Postby Samuel Marston » Tue Sep 13, 2011 12:17 pm

"Setting bones? Thirty seven years." Samuel said flatly, simply reciting facts. Was this what small talk was? Normally at bases, people have him the space to do whatever he wanted, only saying a few words to remind him to eat, or call him into battle. With a sigh, he continued on, walking slowly away toward a duffle bag a few feet away "Den master in cub scouts fell off a bluff and shattered his ulna in three places. Had to set the bone before we could move him, and only I could fit between the rocks"

Kneeling down, Samuel pulled three more of the wooden knifes from his training bag, holding two by the tip in his left hand, the third in his right by the handle. Straightening up, Samuel did a quick juggle of the three fake blades, only tossing each one up once, before catching them, and whipped around to face the other doctor, "But you misunderstood me herr doctor," the slightest of Mona Lisa smiles cracked across his face as he popped up the single blade that had rested alone in his left hand, the little bit of wood spinning sharply end over end three times before he caught it by the handle.

"I asked if you wanted to prove that you weren't a coward" and with that he whipped his left arm around, and with an arm that only four years of pee wee baseball could have spawned, he threw the knife towards the other doctor, the bit of wood making a low arch in the small room, only spinning slightly, the tip bearing down on the doctor, aimed straight for his heart.
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Re: Idle Hands (open)

Postby Gerhard Melsbach » Tue Sep 13, 2011 12:42 pm

The answer quite honestly surprised the hybrid, though it only showed in a slight widening of his eyes behind his glasses and a curiously quirked eyebrow as he rose with the other Medic, listening intently to the short snippet of a story the man used for explanation. It certainly said a lot for the man's experience, and Gerhard couldn't help feeling just the slightest bit impressed, if not intimidated.
This doctor had quite a lot for experience...
He jerked from his musings at sensing the sudden movements, and stiffened at the presence of those practice weapons being wielded with a terrifying amount of skill.
"I am not sure I-"
Instinct lurched to the fore as the wooden knife was thrown, and the TentaMedic reacted with lightning speed, a tentacle lashing out to block the projectile as he voiced a snarl, body hunching in a defensive position as his prehensile lower limbs flared, preparing to take action should the other man decide to attack again.
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Re: Idle Hands (open)

Postby Samuel Marston » Wed Sep 14, 2011 12:02 am

Samuel's eyes widened as the lower limbs of his sparring partner fizzled out of existence to reveal a mass of tentacles. Almost forgot about those... Relaxing his shoulders, both of the knives still held by their tips in his right hand, the older medic slowly rolled his head back and fourth, the cracking of the bubbles of nitrogen escaping his cartilage creating a treble to compliment the resonating bass of the tentamedic's still rolling snarl. This was going to be fun, wasn't it?

One after the other, he threw the knives into the air, one spinning quickly end over end, slowly spinning across the air in front of him, the second making a slow and low arch before coming straight back down, both of them landing elegantly, synchronized, handles in his palms, in one resolute slap. This really, truly was going to be fun.

His eyes raked up and down the body of the other man, taking in the many tentacles writhing in defense, Samuel thought of how he would go about this. Last time he'd been surprised by the tentacles, assumed that he was human. But this time, not so much. Don't strike with the arms, only defend with the blades. Keep your legs free, keep moving, and only when you are certain, come in with a swift kick.

"Doctor?" he said simply, still standing in his relaxed position, until, in a flash, every muscle in his body was clenched as he came sprinting forward. One foot in front of the other, his mass shifting back and forth, but always balanced perfectly, the wooden knives rolled in his hands so that the backs of the blades were along his forearms.

Before he thought his opponent would have been able to react, he had the knives rolled back around so that they were again an extension of his arms, and came in with a low swipe to the tentacles, distracting the many tendrils of flesh so that he might find an opening.
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Re: Idle Hands (open)

Postby Gerhard Melsbach » Wed Sep 14, 2011 1:22 am

This was a bad idea. This was a very bad, stupid, awful, horrible idea!
Gerhard struggled to keep his instincts under control, the animal in him seeing a threat that wasn't actually there, and his human mind was fighting to make his instincts understand that wooden knives weren't weapons to be considered lethal, that this fight was a practice spar, not an actual fight, but it was a losing battle on a slippery slope, and the TentaMedic felt a thrill of fear as he realized he didn't have the control he needed to pull his punches.
But then the other Medic was rushing towards him, and the tentacled hybrid hissed as he slid to the side to avoid the attack, his prehensile lower limbs lashing out to shove his opponent away with considerable force.
"Don't make me fight you!"
The words were gutteral and coarse, backed by that dangerous snarl from before.
If this continued, someone was going to get hurt.
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Re: Idle Hands (open)

Postby Samuel Marston » Wed Sep 14, 2011 2:06 am

Samuel's eyes went wide yet again, all of the tentacles moving out of the way in front of him, forming a sort of delta with the ones that were still standing. For the first time in what felt like, and what may very well have been, the first time in years, a smile cracked across his face. Not a happy, loving, or kind smile. This was a sort of cheshire smile, a frustrated one, one that looked almost like it would belong in a comic book. A smile that covered up anger.

"Tuare," He said simply, his smile relaxing back into his stock sheet of a face, "Safeword." He flipped one of the knives in his hands, taking a few slow steps backward, emulating Muhammed Ali with his bare feet shuffling lightly under him, rolling his shoulders. It had been so long since Samuel had a decent person to spar with. Always they would run away in fear, or yell about needing to practice their aim...

"I go to far, say it. You go to far, the same." His words were short and concise, though his breath was not even quickened. This was his last attempt to make this happen on understandable terms. Regardless of what the other doctor said, his next move would be to attack, no holds barred. He wanted to fight this man. It had been years since he'd had a decent fight, and he knew it would be years again until he found another suitable.
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Re: Idle Hands (open)

Postby Gerhard Melsbach » Wed Sep 14, 2011 9:35 am

Gerhard grimaced, though it was hard to tell with his teeth already bared in a snarl.
If all else failed, there was Respawn, but...
The TentaMedic's prehensile limbs shifted and slithered over one another, twisting and knotting in a visual display of the hybrid's aggitation as he tried to make some more distance between himself and this remarkably stupid older man. He had his reasons for not sparring, for keeping such close control on his emotions, and this situation was a spectacular example.
"Safevords don't vork, dummkopf! Stand down, before zhis gets vorse!"
Please listen, please don't do this, oh God, why the hell had he let his curiosity get the better of him?!
He should have stayed in the Infirmary and none of this would have happened!
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Re: Idle Hands (open)

Postby Samuel Marston » Thu Sep 15, 2011 12:15 am

Samuel would love to have backed off, but ever since he took karate in his pre-pubescent years, Samuel had never backed down from a fight. He didn't care wether or not he got hurt or died, there were two doctors in the room, and a nearly magical machine not fifty feet away that would bring him back to life, should he die in the capable hands of his opponent. His path was set, as was his mind.

At his opponent's screaming words, he shook his head slowly, flipping over the knives in his hands one last time before sprinting back forward. This would end in a fight, one that would hopefully challenge his skills. His feet slapped against the padded floor, one after another, before a quick hop sent him into the air. Leading with his knees, aimed for his chest, Samuel bore down on him.

The twin blades of solid oak were raised above his head, poised to react to whatever way the younger medic would defend against his attack. He wanted his friend to let go, to fight. He wanted to get hurt. He wanted to feel the pain of death at the hands of one of the more capable fighters here in this little spit hole.
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Re: Idle Hands (open)

Postby Gerhard Melsbach » Thu Sep 15, 2011 10:20 am

Gerhard felt his innards twist at the refusal, and swallowed hard as his stance deepened into a crouch.
He would have fled himself, but the subconscious ruled his lower limbs, and the subconscious was easily swayed by instinct; His lower half was more than willing to fight, while the upper very much did not want to cause harm to his teammate. A last attempt to pull away, to run and hide and forget that this encounter ever happened, and the TentaMedic felt a thrill of fear at how his tentacles refused his commands. No no no nonononono-!
Running feet, he jerked up, oblong pupils narrowed to horizontal slits that focused on his airborne combatant, and he felt a growl build in his chest as his tentacles lashed out, one swatting at the uplifted blades while two others worked together to slam forcefully into the other Medic's chest and yet another grabbed for the man's ankles.
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Re: Idle Hands (open)

Postby Samuel Marston » Wed Sep 21, 2011 12:50 am

Watching his opponent's movements, Samuel saw the attack at his blades come in from miles away, pulling the thick sticks of wood in against his body as he came in like a dive bomb, the strike at his chest deflected with one of his raised knees. But the strike to his ankles was both anticipated and accepted, the tight wrenching of the tendril around his ankles easily ignored. Instead of simply stopping mid air, his new found attachment to his enemy actually helped, forming a fulcrum upon which he could spin.

Coming down with both blades, he did a full arch downwards, striking at the man's arms, head, torso, and tendrils, anything that he could get within reach, with blinding speed, each blow more powerful than the last, until when he came to the bottom of his arch, he kicked at his sparring partner's tendril that still wrapped around his ankle, freeing himself from his grasp. With a quick tuck of his legs, he spun quickly in the air, before landing softly on the ground. Smiling, he took a few steps back, waiting fot the next attack.
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Re: Idle Hands (open)

Postby Gerhard Melsbach » Wed Sep 21, 2011 11:59 am

The TentaMedic screeched, reeling back from the hail of impacts, and he swung out with both fists and tentacles, shoving the other man as far back as he could manage before getting his lower limbs under him in a tight knot.
He hated to admit it, but those multiple strikes had hurt, and now, he was pissed. He'd asked, he'd protested, and he'd offered a warning, and still this Medic insisted on attacking him. Time to return the favor.
Crouching down low, the hybrid's lower limbs flared out, gripping at the padded floor for a split second before he darted forward, weaving to come in from the side and tackle his opponent. Once he had the man in his grip, his tentacles went to work, sweeping into the fray in a wave of muscle that curled and twined around the other Medic's limbs, binding the man in place with a firm grip as the hybrid used his weight to pin his confrontational teammate beneath him.
Gerhard growled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest as he bared his sharp teeth, gloved claws digging into Samuel's shoulders.
"I said SCHTOP."
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Re: Idle Hands (open)

Postby Samuel Marston » Thu Sep 22, 2011 3:49 pm

"Nǐ tā mā de húndàn" Samuel roared out in punctual cantonese, each syllable popping out of his mouth one at a time, all six of them right after the other as he struggled to get an arm free. The attack had been anticipated, but the completeness of the attack was something that could not have been foreseen. After a few moments of struggling, he managed to get most of his right arm free, the tendrils still holding onto his upper arm.

Still holding the wooden knife, he brought the hilt of the blade up to hit his opponent square between the eyes, missing his glasses narrowly, and brought the blade back down to the back of his opponent's palm, trying to get those claws out of his shoulder. Again the hilt of the blade came up, the attack going for the throat, to choke and disorient. Back down came the blade, striking the back of Gerhard's palm again. And for the third time the hilt came up and struck the tentamedic, this time in the chest, hopefully a strike that would send his opponent falling back.
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Re: Idle Hands (open)

Postby Gerhard Melsbach » Thu Sep 22, 2011 6:53 pm

While the words were foreign to him, strange and punctuated in a way that made his ears ring, the tentacled hybrid's momentary curiosity was promptly distracted by the sharp pain of the other man's hard blows. He cried out, teeth bared as he jerked away from the strike to the forehead and tightened his grip, but the strike to the chest made him yelp, the hard wooden blade smacking into the delicate filaments of his gill slits where they curved in parallel with his ribs.
Gerhard lurched up, tentacles squirming as he wrapped an arm around his chest, hissing as his lower limbs took over the binding job, one twisting up around Samuel's arm and smacking the man's hand on the mat to try getting him to let go of at least one blade.
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