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Most users ever online was 29 on October 1st 2013, 12:09 am


    You Can Do It!

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    Bad John
    Freelancer Operative

    Posts : 1205
    Join date : 2013-01-17
    Location : A box in the United States.

    You Can Do It!

    Post  Bad John on May 8th 2016, 5:45 pm

    Author's Note wrote:A medley of Sparring Matches between Alma and a few choice characters.

    "Thank you for agreeing to this, Spartan Manuel." Alma cracked her neck as she stepped onto the cold wooden floor. It was a rather rustic training area, but it would suffice. The Spartan II across the room gave Alma a firm nod.

    "Of course. I intended to proposition you or one of your teammates sooner. My commander is interested in gauging your skill." Manuel raised his eyebrow. "You're at the top of the list."

    "Really?" Alma was a bit flattered by the statement, but hid the fact with her straight face. "Not John, or Maura?"

    "They're impressive, but your personal effort, reflexes, and continued growth in skill is a bit more compelling than their brute force and talent." Manuel grasped a wooden staff from the weapon's rack. "Catch." He threw one over to Alma, who caught it, a bit puzzled.

    "Never used a quarterstaff before." Alma rotated the weapon in her hand.

    "Well, let's see how fast you learn."

    Manuel dipped into a combat stance, and in a maneuver that seemed suspiciously like showing off, he spun the pole around his waist. The speed would easily be a blur to a normal human; the weapon rotated around his arms, before being transferred to a hand. Alma was aware that Manuel used a trident in battle from time to time; his skill made it clear why he considered it a valid choice in combat. He gripped the base of the weapon and charged as Alma roused a defense.

    She blocked a powerful strike at her side. Manuel's staff bounced off hers, then went high. She ducked and struck back, as the Spartan II dodged away, backpedaling and avoiding her swing. He bounced to the side, and swiped with a backhand slash of his staff. She maneuvered under the attack, finding her ideal strategy in the brief exchange; Manuel's power and speed made blocking too inefficient. With reflex and instinct, she would simply avoid each blow and use her staff as a weapon, rather than a shield.

    Alma's reply was impressive; she spun the weapon with her fingertips and struck hard with a flurry of blows from every angle she could conceive, refusing to let up as Manuel held his ground, blocking strike after strike. He repelled one of her attacks hard, forcing her backwards and halting her offense. He stepped forward and lanced is stave at the Spartan III, who sidestepped the strike and tightened her grip. Dropping into a wide, low stance, she charged forward, weapon ready. Manuel grinned, even as her staff approached his face, preparing to dodge.

    "Impressive. You're a fast learner."

    Alma's reply came nearly instantly. "You don't know the half of it!"




    Blaine narrowly moved his face out of the way as Alma's practice dagger brushed past his cheek. He gripped his own weapon in a backward grip, swiping across body at her exposed side; she wasn't nearly as exposed as she appeared. Alma brought back her elbow, catching his arm and stopping his strike. She brought her knife around as he stepped back, the wooden blade passing his shoulder and failing to land the strike.

    "DAMN. Nicole wasn't kidding. You're fast." Blaine stepped back, flipping the wooden combat knife in his hands and pointing it forward. He kept his gigantic body loose; the only straining part of his body was his grip on the knife. Alma adjusted her hair, wiping one of her bangs out of her face.

    "Not fast enough, it seems." Alma approached again, but Blaine was ready; he stepped back, putting his left side forward, preparing to defend with his free hand. Alma's stabs were quickly met with a difficult defense; Blaine's callused, tight hand worked like a machine, blocking and repelling every strike. She switched hands and stabbed with her off-hand, and his palm chopped her wrist, keeping the blade out of his flank's range. Alma switched hands again, and lunged in with her full weight; Blaine's defense failed to repel her, but he replied by wrapping his arm around hers, barring it.

    Blaine could barely tell what happened next, but he heard her knife slapping into her free palm. Clever kid. Alma had thrown the knife to her free hand, and was likely preparing to cut him. Blaine had passed the knife behind his own back, thinking the exact same thing. With their free hands tied, it was a contest of who would get the angle and swing first. She pulled back, grasping his shirt and digging her fingers into him, preventing him from backing off without taking her with him. She brought back her knife, but Blaine responded with an attack of his own. Blaine's weapon clashed against hers as she blocked. The two locked in a struggle for a moment, but Alma was easily bulled back by his superior strength.

    She adjusted her knife, blades biting into each-other, and swiped it upwards. Blaine blocked a downwards swing as he pushed Alma back, but her knife came around. He was forced to drop his weapon and catch her wrist. Alma jumped, taking both feet off the floor and planting them on Blaine's chest. Like a serpent, she wound around and managed to get on his back. Blaine kept hold of her knife hand, as she passed the weapon to her other palm. She nearly brought the weapon down on his heart before he repelled her with an over-the-shoulder throw. Alma hit the mat and rolled as Blaine pursued, now unarmed, but not a lick less dangerous. Turning, the Admiral threw a kick. Alma prepared to dodge as his boot came towards her face.




    Jacob's boot missed by mere centimeters as Alma ducked, nearly going to all fours. She swung her body around and kicked, attempting to strike the Spartan's base foot. He hopped, avoiding the sweep. Alma rolled to the side, and clenched her fists. Her opponent took a common boxing stance, keeping his blue eyes narrowed on the target. Alma took a wide stance, then began moving; her feet lightly tapped the floor; it seemed almost like she was floating on her toes as she danced a wide circle around Jacob, who adjusted on his feet, keeping her in front of him.

    Suddenly, Alma shifted, letting her heels drop for an instant, before springing into a very fast sprint. The trajectory was as jagged as a saw-tooth wave on a monitor, but Jacob kept up with his eyes. Alma swung her body and threw a powerful kick, which Jacob ducked under. He missed his chance to strike back as another blow came from her other foot; the kick slashed past his midsection as he stepped back. Alma stepped in and threw a volley of kicks, which Jacob blocked with both hands. They were startlingly powerful, each chambered and thrown from the hip. Jumping back, Jacob tried to keep Alma at a distance so he could observe her motions; they appeared to be capoeira, but she was at too close a range to accurately observe. Alma closed the distance back up, jumping and throwing a knee. Jacob blocked with both arms, clenched his fist, and threw a punch. Alma ducked, her combination interrupted as Jacob stepped in and took the lead.

    He dipped from side to side, throwing hooks at a rapid, calculated rate. Each heavy blow was dodged or redirected by Alma, but he had the stamina and cool to pursue. Alma shot her head back as a punch passed her jaw. She dipped low as another nearly struck her temple. Tensing her leg, she attempted to throw a kick, but saw a fist coming towards her. It would be a sacrificial move; enduring a strike to give one. The swung her leg, clocking Jacob on the cheek. His fist caught her on the side of the head, and both came away a bit dazed. Alma planted her feet, and Jacob planted his, wiping the bruise on his face.

    "Nice shot," Jacob noted.

    "Same to you." Alma shook her head, and approached to continue.




    Alma had faced a lot of grunts in her time, but Kayap took the cake by far. She bounced on her feet, and threw a combination of strikes. Once again, he planted his feet and absorbed the damage with his chitinous limbs. If anything, Alma was being pushed back as she struck what felt like a brick wall.

    The grunt looked up from his arms, and threw a powerful jab. The grunt was six feet tall; an anomaly for his normally squat, humble species. Without her armor, Kayap was proving a decently challenging opponent. Alma blocked the strike, and stepped back as the grunt clubbed at her with his other hand. She stepped back and weaved to avoid the blows; Kayap had power, but she had the speed to keep out of the way. "FOR BAHALO!" The grunt swung an arm low, and managed to sweep Alma's front leg. He stepped in and threw a hard punch, catching the Spartan III on the stomach. Alma fell backwards, genuinely surprised she'd been hit by the Deacon. "You okay?" Kayap stepped forward to help Alma up, but she rolled back, stood on her hands, and landed on her feet. "Let us continue!" The grunt tromped forward, as Alma bounced on her toes.

    She moved to the side, and the Deacon covered up, preparing to block, but Alma had just decided on a different tactic. She leaped beside the grunt, swept his legs, and threw a hard kick into his arms. Kayap was knocked off his feet, and Alma grasped his arm with her hands, wrapping her legs around his chest and neck, going for an arm bar.

    "My carapace has withstood more than that! Harder!" Kayap defiantly roared, as he rolled onto his feet, standing up with Alma barring his arm. This grunt was even more than met the eye.




    "That all you got?" Vance smirked, wiping his nose as Alma surged forward. Her wide, sweeping style was easily dodged by Vance; he had the chops to keep up with John in combat, so it would take more to bring him down. The dark skinned Spartan III stepped back as Alma threw a wheel kick. She sprang off from her low stance and stepped in with a combination of fast punches. That actually got Vance's attention; he covered up, blocking strike after strike, unable to accurately dodge.

    Using what she'd learned against Kayap to break someone's guard, Alma pounced low, swinging her legs. One struck Vance's calf, the other caught him in his stomach, tripping him up and knocking the wind out of him. He hit the ground and Alma mounted him, throwing jab after jab as he blocked.

    Not even gonna buy me dinner first? Vance sardonically thought to himself, managing to catch her hands. He slid his body lower, and swung his knee up, catching her on the back. She stumbled off of him as Vance got to his feet, wiping his nose; she'd managed to tag him during the combination. He clenched his fists and charged, weaving under a kick and grasping Alma's waist. The two struggled, and Alma brought up her knee, tagging Vance on the chin. "Son-of-a..." Gritting his teeth, Vance turned, claimed Alma's back, and went up and over, executing a crisp German Suplex. Her shoulders hit the mat, and for a moment she was too stunned to move, but the moment she caught her wits, she rolled backwards and charged Vance. She pounced onto him, making him stumble as she wrapped her legs around his and put her elbow behind his head.

    "Oh god," Vance sighed.

    As the two stumbled towards the corner, Alma kicked hard off the post, taking Vance down into a stone cold stunner. His face hit the mat mouth first, and Alma quickly jumped off. Vance stood wiping his bloodied lip. "THAT was pretty good." He rolled his neck, popping it. "Gotta say, I haven't had a fight this tough in a while."

    Alma kept her fists up, and a smirk on her face. "That so? Who gave you that much trouble?"




    Alma laid prone on the mat, completely exhausted and covered in aches and bruises. She felt a shadow over her as the victor approached, completely unscathed. Despite everything she learned, this opponent was completely unbeatable.

    Maura roughly dropped to a seated position on Alma's back. A squeak of pain escaped her mouth as Maura crossed her legs, pulling her phone out of her pocket. She took a quick selfie of herself and the beaten-up Alma, who found the energy to lift her middle finger. "Good fight today, Alma. You've gotten better."

    "Uunngh..." Alma released an unintelligible groan as a response.

    Maura smirked, lifted her hand, and placed it on the loser's backside. Alma growled loudly, but didn't do anything of substance. "Want an ice-pack for this? I think it needs one, being so damn hot." Maura chortled to herself. "So, want to go to bed?"

    "...Sure. It's been a long day." Alma grumbled. Maura stood, picked Alma up onto her shoulder, and walked out of the gym.

    You can't fight forever. Sometimes a little R&R is in order.

    Author's Note wrote:Unfortunately, you can't win 'em all. But, Alma's constant effort makes her one of the worst Spartans to piss off.

    Second only to Maura, of course.

      Current date/time is July 26th 2017, 2:43 am