Southern Dragon Style Fist (Open)

Sounds echoed through the Chapterhouse. A dull thumping sound, continuous in its beat. Almost musical.

Occasionally a strange sound is heard, more bestial than human. Waah! Tik! Hok! Followed by further rhythmic noises that call to mind a dance of some sort.

A note had been left in the Foyer that simply read: "Training in the Gym, all night, all welcome - Supplicant McCann". He didn't feel it really needed much more explanation than that. If his fellow Dragons wanted some one on one time he was happy to provide it, and if not? Well, these bags really needed softening up. They hadn't seen much use of late it seemed.

OOC:

Thought I'd offer thread for any Dragons interested in learning some unarmed combat skills, or just conversation of a different type than is usually found in the Chapterhouse.

Dr Drake looks up from his books, he was feeling restless tonight and he couldn't make any headway with them, the sound reached him at last, like a heartbeat, forming a subconsious tempo in his head. His fingers tap the table to it, one...two...one...two, until he slams his notebook shut, he obviously wasn't going to make any new progress tonight, and he was well aware that he should do some work on his neglected body, there might not be an inch of spare flesh on him, but he was dangerously out of practice, but being aware of it was a diffrent thing from doing something about it, so he shrugged off his suit jacket and undid his tie, leaving them with his notebook as he headed off to the gym, following the pounding.

He opened the door, finding another inside, and as a his memory dredged up a name he recognised him. "Oh, Mr Drummond, havn't seen you around for a while."

Cal finished in mid-punch, sending the bag flying despite that he hardly seemed to have touched the thing. It swung back and forth as he looked his fellow Dragon up and down. "Guess I've really been out of circulation huh? Drummond's prettier, but I've got better hair." He grinned disarmingly and walked over, offering his hand.

"Callum McCann, Supplicant of the Terror. Pleased to meet you again Dr Drake, Supplicant, right?" He waited for the response, and gave a polite shake if the gesture was reciprocated.

If he was still human, drake would have gone crimson with embarresment, as it was, he simply paused slightly too long before answering ""Sorry about that, my eyes arn't what they used to be. Yes, still a suplicant He regretted leaving them in his jacket, but he really couldn't afford them getting broken.

He moved over to an unused punching bag and began a little rythm of his own, as he halfclosed his eyes and let the blurrines take on the shape of a body, stomach, solar plexus, inside of elbow, upper exterior of arm, throat, nose, carotid and repeat he began to repeat that checklist over and over, with only the faintest smacks on the bag, but executed at a whithering pace

Callum waved it off, though the tiger growled from its cage. "No problem, you'll definitely remember me next time." He gave a wry smile and moved over to hold the bag for Dr Drake.

"Looks like you've got good instincts there Supplicant Drake. Any formal training?" He was always interested to know what skills his fellow kindred had picked up along the way. While professionally he felt his own choice of traditional Kung Fu styles gave him an edge over most, he was always keen to see what could be learned from others. "You know, I'd really like to set up a training dummy in here..."

He nodded gratefully as Mr McCann held the bag for him, "No, no, nothing formal, but put people back together long enough and you see how you can take them apart, and a few hairy situations have cultivated a dislike of being unarmed in me, so I do this the same reason I keep a sharpened scalpel up my sleeve sometimes..." He blinks a few times, and the blur refocusses into a bag, he agrees with Mr McCann that a training dummy would be useful "Yes, these all all very well for learning how to punch" he gives the bag a desultory tap "But knowing where to hit is a but more important..."

Callum nodded, it was very true. "Yeah bags don't fight back. Neither do concrete or wooden blocks..." He'd never understood the obsession some martial artists had with breaking boards and such. Who really gave a fuck?

"A good grounding in anatomy is a fine thing for a martial artist to have, and I must admit that all I know is what I've gained through yers of training. Maybe you'd be interested in teaching me a thing or two in that department?" He shrugged. The exchange of knowledge was part of what made the Ordo so appealing as a Covenant.

"How's about we start with a lesson on linking footwork and striking? I'd like to see how you naturally carry yourself, and your attacking posture. Developing your skill really begins with stance training, but everyone has certain natural tendencies that we can work on removing or improving." Not so different from their ultimate goal as Dragons really.

Dr Drake agreed with this suggestion, and so he hunkered down, bending at the knees and slipping one foot behind the other, his torso twisting slightly, presenting a smaller area to the bag as he resumed his rapidfire pummeling, between strikes he said If you'd care to imagine this bag as a body, you will see me targeting vunerable areas... he slowed his pace a little, he saw no reason why he couldn't multitask, and practical demonstrations were always better. "First is the stomach, just below the ribs on the left side, then the solar plexus, these two cut off the opponent's wind, followed by the inner elbow and upper exterior of the arm, plenty of pressure points to abuse, and an added bonus of putting his arm out of commision if you're lucky, throat to stop them calling unwanted attention, nose to get them to move their head back, and finally... his fingers straightened as he delivered his last blow "exploit that by applying focussed trauma to the side of the neck, hopefully you close the caratoid artery for a few seconds, and this knocks them unconscious, after that is up to the individual

Callum kindly let the Doctor give him an explanation while he held the bag and watched his foot work and hand-eye coordination. "Yep, way ahead of you there." He raised an eyebrow and offered a bemused smile. "It's the textbook knowledge that I'm lacking."

His pride swelled within as he continued. "I know how to kill, maim, distract, tear, silence, deafen, incapacitate, or lightly scold an opponent. It's the names of all the parts that I'm lacking. Well, outside of the Chinese traditional medicine side of things." He gave Drake an encouraging nod. "Sounds like you've got a good grounding in theory though."

While trying to ignore the near irresistable urge to go off on a rant about chinese traditional medicine which even though he had been a walking corpse for over a decade, still considered to be a steaming mound of horseshit. He turned from the bag and said What exactly do you want to know? I could talk about this for a month and still not cover everything, and I don't mean to insult your intelligence, but this is something people study for years to understand, and it needs a considerable bit of condensing and translating to layman, hell I got my doctrate by learning it so take it from me that it is not simple in the slightest.