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Post by SEBASTIAN E. G. BRANDT on Oct 18, 2013 15:16:07 GMT -8
 Sebastian lifted a pair of black, tinted goggles up and away from his eyes, ignoring the crinkle of paper in his right hand as he did so. What he had was Anastasia Sokolov’s personal files—or rather, a meager substitute of them. Dominic had handed off the copy this morning, with direct orders for Sebastian to personally oversee and analyze her combat capabilities after giving the papers a glimpse, since Dominic himself would be too busy running drills with the other recruits. Put frankly, Dominic did not want her in his training sessions until he knew—exactly—where she stood skill wise. Sebastian might have taken the trust and the task itself as a compliment, or some small sign that his status here at the Society was improving, but he’d been promptly reminded that he was not to play teacher. If anything, he was to assess the damage and report back later—which meant he hadn’t moved up in rank or respect at all. He was just another subordinate to dump work on.
Sebastian sighed.
Really this was little more than a sparring session hidden under the guise of an assessment. Dominic had informed Sebastian that she would know to report to one of the smaller sparring rooms and not the typical training area he had the other recruits at. She would know it was important that she do so. And then he was gone, leaving Sebastian to clean up and switch duties without another word (he’d been formerly handling dangerous new artifacts and writing up reports). And now here he was, prying the goggles from his eyes, hanging up his coat and waiting for her to arrive. He’d only been here a couple of minutes. Sebastian hadn’t even bothered to do much more than skim the information either. To Dominic’s credit, he had blacked out entire sections of her history and personal life details. Anything and everything that was not remotely relevant to her health and physical history was considered unimportant and strictly need to know.
And if those black lines were any indication, Sebastian did not need to know.
It was a surprisingly decent gesture on Dominic’s part, but generally speaking, Sebastian did not need the files either. He actually folded them up and slipped them into his jacket pocket after hanging it up, having not read much more than a few words before flexing his hands and cracking his knuckles. He would not really need words to read into her anyway. Not for this.
Time Stamp: May 9th noonish
Notes: Yaaay I started a thread!
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Post by ANASTASIA SOKOLOV on Oct 25, 2013 6:01:35 GMT -8
It had been two days since her parents died, and one day since she'd have the bomb dropped on her, metaphorically speaking. Even that depended on how you counted things with timezones, since she'd crossed plenty on her way to America. Regardless, it had hardly been any time at all, but neither her, her parents, nor Pasha had been ones to sit around and mope. If she let herself sit in her new room, with no distractions except for the photo of her family, she'd stop. She'd break down where she was, and she wasn't sure she had the capacity to put herself back together. Focus was what would keep her sane, and training was what she'd keep her focus on. Even thought she was new to the society and struggling to understand the scope of it, she was hardly new to training. She'd spent most of her life practicing sambo under the pretense that she'd be going into the military, and while it had rapidly become obvious that the Russian military was never going to be a thing she could join, it had been explained that the Impedio Society did value those skills.
Well, she could work with that. What she needed more then anything right then was a way to exhaust herself, to get all her aggression out. Even the Impedio Society office was oddly oppressive, and as Pasha went off to his own office, he gave her a quick point in the right direction.
Sparring was something that Anastasia had done multiple times a week, every week for the past few years. In Sambo you trained with everyone, both bigger and smaller, because there was no way of knowing what size your enemy might be. You couldn't just assume they'd be the same size you were, which was why she'd had a variety of sparing partners over the year. Even so, she'd never had someone from outside sambo itself. Combat sambo could be damned dangerous, since it wasn't intended for sport but instead for actual combat. Whoever it was, she was probably going to have to be careful to avoid injuring them.
She found the room Pasha had told her about without much difficulty, pulling the door open and stepping inside. She hadn't put any thought into what sort of person would be evaluating her, but what greeted her couldn't have been far off of what she would have imagined. He was tall, muscular, and a bit on the physically imposing side. He was also definitely an adult, although he didn't look to be as old as Pasha was. So someone middle of the pack who'd been pulled off their normal duties to test her. That was fine. At least it meant she wouldn't have to hold back as much.
She stepped forward, offering her hand. Introductions came before violence. In Sambo, you greeted your opponent formally, discussed what you'd be doing, and only then did you get down to business. "My name is Anastasia. You are the tester?" Her English was heavily accented, and there could be no question where she was from. |
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Post by SEBASTIAN E. G. BRANDT on Oct 25, 2013 8:32:31 GMT -8
“Sebastian, and yes,” he reciprocated automatically. His own words were punctuated by years of German and Italian influence, marring the melody of his speech permanently, but it was a sentiment Anastasia would probably, hopefully understand—if that thick Russian accent was any indication. Regardless, he accepted her hand, a mild dose of indifference reflecting back through his expression. English deserved to be strangled to death for being a difficult, convoluted language, as far as he was concerned. That said, Sebastian noticed Anastasia had a reasonable grip, given her age; Sebastian remembered her file had indicated some sort of combat stylized training, but whom these days, in the Impedio Society, was lacking that? He had skimmed the part over what hers was, exactly, deeming it unimportant. Judo, jujutsu, capoeria, MMA; it could have been called anything really, but in the end, it was all the same and stated bluntly: I can defend myself if necessary. He had no intention of underestimating anything—not even someone seven years younger than himself and female to boot.
Sebastian snorted. He’d had his ass handed to him by women before, and if there was anything the Impedio Society had impressed upon him over the years, it was the idea that no one, absolutely no one, was a perfect, untouchable combatant, no matter your fighting style or training. “I assume you know,” he said, “I am to report,” he hated english ‘r’s, “to some or one of the Hunters so that you can be placed in a good training session.” He knew ‘good’ was not the right word, but sighed and moved on with his necessary speech quickly. Sebastian reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, rolling his shoulder irritably. “Hate English,” he growled. “But we will not be using weapons. Or you won’t be. Mine is defensive; it is a good way to test certain things, and will likely be used at one point or another. As a warning, I am not permitted to take it easy, and you are not either; we are not meant to hurt one another, but it may be…unavoidable, given the circumstances. Dominic and the other Hunters believe you can handle that, but I would prefer you be told again if you have not been already. If at any point you believe you cannot manage anymore, step off of the mat. The same will go for me; the Hunters care less about pride and more about your life.”
There. Was that everything he was supposed to say?
It had better damn well be. He had never talked so much at once in his life. He glanced away, toward the center of the room and the blue mat that took up most of the space.
“Sind Sie bereit?” he asked absently before remembering that no, she did not speak his native language, damn it, “When you are ready.” At least, more or less that had been what he said.
Time Stamp: May 9th
Notes: N/A ANASTASIA SOKOLOV
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Post by ANASTASIA SOKOLOV on Oct 26, 2013 16:05:56 GMT -8
tag • date • time • notes The man's english was stilted and heavily accented, and considering that hers was only a tad better, things were bound to get confusing fast. She was getting the general jist of what he was talking about--that he was going to report back so she could be properly assigned--but any smaller nuances were totally lost on her. Even so, it became rapidly obvious that he thought she knew a lot more then she did. She had only the vaguest idea of what 'hunters' were, and she had no idea who Dominic was. In fact she had only a rough idea of what was going on. He was going to use a weapon though, although she didn't see a single one in the room. Maybe he was going to get one? Her eyes ran around the edges of the room, coming up with nothing, and then she decided he was probably going to bring one up later. Probably just light sparring early.
Anastasia had yet to realize that the Impedio Society didn't half ass anything. She didn't speak, simply because she was used to letting her instructors speak first, and he'd stepped into the role even if it wouldn't be for long. She wasn't entirely keen on the idea of not taking it easy. Most people weren't used to combat Sambo, and for the moment she was vastly underestimating how he thought of her. Most people, faced with a girl of her size and age, would tone themselves down to try and be 'at her level'.
She'd nearly broken someone's arm the last time someone had done that. She'd learned to be better about holding back, but he was explicitly saying not to. She was just going to have to not hold back at all, and if he got hurt... well, she'd just have to trust that he wasn't going to.
She nodded as he told her to come at him, sliding back a foot to what she considered standard sambo distance, arms raised in front of her. Sambo wasn't a style that had a lot of waiting around though--it was the sort of style that favored acting quickly and putting down any opponent. She knew better than to try and kick at the distance, and knew that with her size, knees would be more effective.
So despite having just moved back to 'start', she proceeded to immediately close the distance, ducking slightly to keep herself a small target as she brought her knee in front the side, hard and fast to try and strike at his leg. |
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Post by SEBASTIAN E. G. BRANDT on Oct 30, 2013 17:13:58 GMT -8
Anastasia was fast. And brutal. He would have to get used to that. Sebastian’s brow quirked as she cut forward, but fell in a hard line as her leg slid back seconds into her stride, realization snapping through his mind. His hands shot down to check her knee strike; one side of his palm targeted the lower hip, the other, the upper thigh in an attempt to deflect. He did not dial down the force of the repel either, and quickly stepped in and forward to meet the movement. This close, it would be difficult to try that again effectively, but it had been wise of her to duck down as she came forward, as Sebastian had little to grapple with. He settled for attempting to sweep his left arm under the crook of her right, clasping her shoulder and sidestepping roughly, tugging her around to the side. He could have implemented another maneuver easily enough, but instead, partway through the jerk he released his grip and slid his his arm out from under hers; how far she stumbled or staggered pended on her own ability to react quickly and jump back into action without missing a beat.
It was really an attempt to test her rebound capabilities and capacity to read into an opponent’s combat stance and techniques. Anastasia should have an effective counter strike ready if she was prepared—or at the very least, she wouldn’t have stumbled much if she predicted that accurately. Most would assume she wouldn’t handle it—but Sebastian did not like to assume when it came to combat. He braced himself anyway, both hands open, one low and one high, stance solid. If she came back around like he expected, he would be prepared to face her again.
Notes: Posts are gonna start getting short. Also, Sebastian will take his fair share of blows during the fight. xD I expect Anastasia to impress him; he can't keep up with that speed forever, especially not as a power player. Should be lots of fun.
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Post by ANASTASIA SOKOLOV on Oct 30, 2013 18:17:32 GMT -8
He was good. Or at the very least he wasn't bad. It was hard to tell so early on in a fight, and there was no time for analyzing. Later, when things were calmed down, she'd be able to go over the fight in her mind and work out how good or bad the two of them had done when fighting each other. She'd pick through every move each of them made, working through it until she knew exactly what to do the next time.
In the spur of the moment, she could rely only on instincts. She didn't need to think about what to do when he knocked her knee aside, planting it quickly to avoid being caught off guard. The arm under her arm was tricky and a bit dangerous, and there were two options. One, however, required her to be on about the same level as Sebastian, and regardless of their particular fighting skills, he was taller then she was. Some moves simply couldn't be done if there was a height difference, and there definitely was.
Which left her with a single option that she flowed into without having to think about it. She let her hand grab his arm, making his hold on her as much of a hold on him, and then went with it. When he went to let go, she didn't--she simply kept going, turning his swing of her into a swing of him. Momentum was perhaps the most important part of any fight, and making good use of it was important.
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Post by SEBASTIAN E. G. BRANDT on Nov 2, 2013 22:28:42 GMT -8
Sebastian actually smirked as Anastasia swung him around and used his own powerful momentum against him, effectively reversing their former roles. Larger opponents were often intimidating in battle, but brute force could be manipulated and undermined with a mix of skill and agility—both of which Anastasia clearly had plenty of. In some ways she was literally borrowing his strength and expending none of her own. Clever girl. He was mildly amused, but in a sparring session those thoughts and emotions were quickly lost; he couldn’t break her hold on his own without potentially straining his muscle unnecessarily or wasting more energy. Whether he liked it or not, he still staggered under the force of his own throw turned against him, but Sebastian managed to plant his feet quickly, his back turned toward her, and pivoted.
He stepped in. His leg swept out—aiming not for her shin, but her left ankle, attempting a hook kick that had every intention of knocking her off balance and sending her straight to the floor. If only it were actually that easy. Sambo training was no joke. Later, he would be sure to review some of the finer points of her technique and explain to Dominic that she seemed more than capable of improvising efficiently in battle—a skill that most new recruits needed more training in. She seemed to have grappling down pat as well, but he wondered vaguely about her footwork and ability to counter more than just grabs. No matter what people were trained in or what they thought they could do, he had to test her anyway.
Notes: Fight posts are actually a lot of fun. ^-^ I'm enjoying myself.
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Post by ANASTASIA SOKOLOV on Nov 3, 2013 14:50:38 GMT -8
There was no time--and no space--to read facial expressions. If she'd been watching the fight from a distance, she probably would have been able to glean something about Sebastian's mental state from the fact that he was smiling. As it was, she was only a few inches away at the best of times, and it was damn near impossible to get a good look at his face while trying to throw him off guard.
Her technique was far from flawless unfortunately. The sort of trip he'd done wasn't unknown in sambo, but it had only seen rare use in her practice. She simply wasn't ready when it came, and she went down as he hooked her ankle, tripping her up and sending her tumbling. If there was one thing sambo was good at though, it was adapting, and she let herself hit the ground rolling. It still hurt, but it would at least get her clear of his feet, and hopefully give her enough time to get back on her feet if he went after her. If he did... well, she'd simply have to use her position to her advantage and strike out at his feet.
SEBASTIAN E. G. BRANDT | MAY 9TH, NOON |
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Post by SEBASTIAN E. G. BRANDT on Nov 10, 2013 11:39:10 GMT -8
Sebastian hadn’t expected the rough smack when Anastasia hit the surface of the mat. She rebounded quickly enough—a common trait amongst Sambo experts and trainees alike, they knew how to bounce back from a hit—but he was more surprised by the lack of retaliation really than her ability to recover. Sambo was a brutal combat sport that specialized in doing as much damage as possible, especially in its counter strikes. Anastasia instead rolled, and Sebastian grunted, forcing himself to go after her. There was a fair chance that she was purposely drawing him in and close, but whether he liked the thought or not, he had to understand how she adapted and thought; Dominic would not appreciate assumptions about her process. Besides, Sebastian was also curious. He liked the challenge she posed. She was reserved and focused—it wasn’t often he dealt with that. The monsters he had fought and tangled with in the past had a habit of warmongering and rampaging their way through life—the last time he’d had a quiet, somewhat equally skilled opponent to deal with had been back in Italy.
And that had been a lot of fun; he actually missed it.
So he charged after her retreat, somewhat curious of how she'd respond. Relentlessness was one of his specialties, even if it did gain him trouble from time to time. But it worked for Sebastian. He could wear and cut an opponent down—even the most well defended beast—with endurance and dogged action. But such tactics with someone fast and equally brutal might not work as well. If it overwhelmed her, he might actually be disappointed.
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Post by ANASTASIA SOKOLOV on Nov 10, 2013 11:54:45 GMT -8
Sambo was brutal and violent, and favored offense over defense, but Anastasia sitll knew the value of not injuring yourself. Sebastian was larger and stronger then her, and he was trained in god-knew-what kind of self defense and combat. She had no idea about his combat capabilities, while he knew exactly what hers were. She knew that Pasha wouldn't have held back--anything Pasha knew, Sebastian likely knew as well, and it meant she was going to have to keep adjusting, to keep from going straight to the sambo instinct. If she did, he might very well be able to guess what she was planning, and that could end quite badly for her.
So she went with something that was far from sambo standard, and thus likely unexpected as far as she was concerned. He went after her as she rolled, and as she completed her roll she made as if to pop up, to get back on her feet. She planted her feet, leg muscles flexing--but rather then going up, she went sideways, aiming to slam her shoulder and side into his legs.
Anastasia was a bit over average height, but Sebastian towered over her. It meant his center of gravity was higher as well, and an abrupt tackle to the knees was more likely going to take him down. If it did, then she'd have an advantage--grappling was something Sambo did well, and while much of what she'd learned had limited utility against someone so much taller then her, it came full circle, back to being useful the moment he was down.
SEBASTIAN E. G. BRANDT | MAY 9TH, NOON |
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Post by SEBASTIAN E. G. BRANDT on Nov 10, 2013 12:40:39 GMT -8
Well that was not what Sebastian expected her to do. Not at all.
His brow snapped up and his eyes narrowed in surprise, barely catching that fluid movement with his gaze before the hit landed, therefore rendering him incapable of blocking it. He staggered, a graveled pant leaving his throat before he lost his ground and slammed almost sideways onto the mat. Instinct made him twist and throw his arm out to catch the fall before it left him dizzy and vulnerable, because when people his size hit the ground they typically hit hard. Hell, the shock of losing his own balance was still trembling through his one arm when he jerked his head up again to keep an eye on her. There was in fact, a strange ringing in his ears, not dissimilar to the sound that sometimes plagued him when his hearing was shot for a few hours. He could not afford distractions however, and Sebastian might not have been particularly agile or fast about it, but he was on the defensive now, digging his fingers into the mat, bangs in his simmering eyes and watching Anastasia, having just barely wrangled himself into a crouched position.
Because of his size and his own combat style, he had not found the time to prep any counter strikes himself; he’d barely managed to recover from that fall, and the next move was hers because of it. He simply was not fast enough. Sebastian would make sure to note later that Anastasia was smart enough to fall back on techniques that were not Sambo orientated when she was pressed--a fact that her file had conveniently not mentioned when he skimmed it. It was good. That was fighting smart. Dominic would respect that--probably even admire her for it. At the moment though, Sebastian's mind was too busy to do much more than brace itself for the inevitable strike he'd have to weather from her end.
Compliments would have to come later.
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Post by ANASTASIA SOKOLOV on Nov 10, 2013 14:31:37 GMT -8
Falls could be damned painful. Anastasia knew that sort of thing--had learned it over and over when she'd been made to practice falling. Pushed, shoved, tossed--whatever possible way you could go down, they'd made her go, all to teach her to recover. Some had hurt more then others, and she could only imagine that Sebastian was hurting a good deal when he went down hard. He caught himself, but not all the way--he didn't roll or pick himself up nearly fast enough.
She rolled, moving to the side to disentangle herself from him, not wanting to go over him entirely. That sort of grappling would only end badly for her. She still had the momentum though, and she used it as best she could, coming up on her feet and then driving herself back towards him, elbow out. Sambo loved elbows and knees, using them for maximum damage, and they were far less likely to break the feet or hands. She wasn't going for anything specific--she was simply driving her elbow hard towards his chest, expecting him to block and still knowing it'll hurt.
SEBASTIAN E. G. BRANDT | MAY 9TH, NOON |
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Post by SEBASTIAN E. G. BRANDT on Nov 12, 2013 18:19:12 GMT -8
This was gonna hurt. Probably a lot.
Sebastian knew that even before the hit landed. His eyes widened and he reacted a little too slowly, raising one hand to block and trying to rise to his feet, only to have his grasp on her elbow slide and the pressure on his already pained arm increase; of course he failed. Anastasia had more power in her lunge and his arm was already trembling under the strain of the fall he suffered. So he lost his grip just as he was beginning to stand. As such, her elbow slammed into his gut, winding him instantly. Sebastian crashed this time, a mosaic of colors spurting behind his eyelids as he landed on his back. It wasn’t the fall that hurt the most—it was his abdomen. Anyone would find it difficult to breathe, let alone gather enough energy to think after a strike like that. But Sebastian gritted his teeth and fought the poisonous miasma drowning his mind; he rolled onto his stomach and swung one leg out in a sweep to force distance between the two of them if Anastasia had not backed up already. This time he lurched to his feet quickly in the seconds that followed, unwilling to make the same mistake but admittedly cradling his abdomen with one arm.
“Lucky shot,” he teased, panting, eyes narrowed. He grimaced. There were still splotches of unusual color and shapes flickering in his vision and it pained him to breathe. He had weathered worse in his life though, and Sebastian was hardened and trained enough not to collapse and curl up in defeat after a blow like that. He snorted and forced himself to press forward, knowing the session wasn't over yet. She had certainly earned a few more respect points at the very least. But this time he sidestepped instinctively to dodge any preemptive strike, pivoted on the balls of his feet and attemped a basic, but powerful roundhouse kick in her direction. Really Sebastian was trying to work his blood up again and shake off the lingering pangs that quivered through his lower body and lungs; he had to keep going. He would keep going, if he could manage it.
At least he was, in some sense, having fun.
Anastasia made it a challenge at least.
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Post by ANASTASIA SOKOLOV on Nov 12, 2013 19:00:23 GMT -8
Years ago, Anastasia had badly injured someone during training. She hadn't known how to properly assess her opponent, and it had nearly broken the boys arm. That was years ago, and she had little doubt she could do even more damage if she wasn't careful in the present. It made her skittish about practicing with strangers, about sparring with those who had no history in sambo. Would they know the right blocks? Would they be prepared enough to prevent any major damage? What would happen if she managed to seriously maim her instructor?
So she hesitated as he rolled back, letting him get some space between them. He was definitely hurt, although it was difficult to assess just how badly he was hurt when he was still on the move. At the very least he was going to have one hell of a bruise.
Were they supposed to stop? It seemed like it--better to stop and get him checked out. He'd been hit hard enough that her arn stung, the sort of deep protesting pain that muscles made when they'd been used a bit too much. She'd probably bruise a bit around the elbow, but the bruising would be minimal because of how she'd hit.
It went without saying that she wasn't expect a kick. By the time she realized he was already swinging towards her, and her sidestep wasn't going to be fast enough, catching her just above the hip. It hurt, even as a glancing blow, and she sucked in a breath on instinct as she pulled back fully before going right back in again, reversing her momentum and driving a simple punch to his gut--a dirty move considering he was already winded, but sambo loved dirty moves.
SEBASTIAN E. G. BRANDT | MAY 9TH, NOON |
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