Nero dropped his fists, folding his arms. Though it was difficult to tell, Roen's form was more lean than it was muscular. She would not have much weight behind her blows, but she could potentially compensate for that with speed and endurance.
The paladin yanked her foot back, an indignant expression cresting her face. Nero tapped her shoulder, gesturing at her to raise her fists. "Let me see your stance." Roen nodded, obliging his request.
With a studious eye, the smuggler examined how she held her fists in the air. Vail would have been far better qualified to teach her how to fistfight properly, but in lieu of his foster parent, Nero supposed that he would have to do. He was by no means an expert, but he knew enough to know where her form was sloppy.
"Your stance is your foundation. Everything else is built upon it. An improper stance means less punches, weaker blows, and less speed. Now," Nero clutched at her right fist, bringing it closer to her chin, and pulling her left fist out. "your lead fist is always your less-dominant fist. Hold your left hand out about six ilm in front of your face, at eye level."Â
He tapped at her elbow, bringing it towards her chest. "Use your elbow to guard your ribs." Another hand pushed against the top of her head, tilting it down. "And keep your chin tucked in. Your opponents will be aiming for your face and your arms will primarily be guarding your body, so you have to adjust for that. And loosen up a bit," Nero tapped her shoulders. "If you're too tense, your blows will be weaker. Your arms aren't swords; you don't just stab with them. You use them," he turned to the side and threw a punch forward to demonstrate, the air resounding with a whff, "like a sling, or a whip."
Roen nodded, making the needed adjustments. She held her shoulders with a bit more slack and corrected the position of her fists.
Nero stepped back and held his hands at his hips, admiring his handiwork. Or something else. "Not too bad." The paladin's expression was concentrated and focused; her head was bent and her gazed focused at the ground. "Now, a basic one-two combo."
The smuggler stood next to her to demonstrate. His left fist shot out straight, while his torso remained still. "Left jab, and...right cross." After the jab, his right fist reached forward. "Twist your torso as you send your right fist forward." He demonstrated the right cross again, then another, demonstrating the position of his shoulders and how they swivelled as he sent the punch forward.
Nero shifted his position so that he was standing in front of Roen. "Your opponents will probably be taller than you, so you'll have to aim up." He repeated the manoeuvre, aiming his punches at the space above the paladin's head.
She nodded again, and followed through without warning; a jab, then a cross. Instinctively, Nero flinched, tilting his head to dodge. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "That was...pretty good."
The Hyur let out a sigh. "Guess I'll need to find a way to resurrect ol' paps so that he can teach you properly. I can't pretend I'm qualified to give actual lessons." Nero folded his arms in front of his chest. "But you have some promise. Potential. That's the word. We might make a scrapper out of you yet."
Roen's expression of somber focus brightened, giving way to a small smile. "I would like that," she said, nodding. "Perhaps if not lessons..." she shrugged. "You can teach me through sparring."
"I have been mostly practising on dummies," the paladin explained, wrinkling her nose. "They do not move much."
Nero gasped, an expression of feigned horror on his face. "Are you suggesting that I strike a lady, Miss Deneith? But I am the very soul of manner and etiquette!" He placed the back of his hand on his forehead and glanced skyward, as if to imitate fainting.
Roen pursed her lips, stepping closer to him. "I am sure you will get over it. But...another day, perhaps." She tilted her head, her eyes examining his temple. "On a day when you did not fight a pillar...and lose."
Nero's face took on a cocky grin and he responded to her advance with one of his own, as he brought his face closer to hers. "I am not so sure I would get over it that easily, Miss Deneith," he said softly, his voice taking on a hint of challenge.
The paladin yanked her foot back, an indignant expression cresting her face. Nero tapped her shoulder, gesturing at her to raise her fists. "Let me see your stance." Roen nodded, obliging his request.
With a studious eye, the smuggler examined how she held her fists in the air. Vail would have been far better qualified to teach her how to fistfight properly, but in lieu of his foster parent, Nero supposed that he would have to do. He was by no means an expert, but he knew enough to know where her form was sloppy.
"Your stance is your foundation. Everything else is built upon it. An improper stance means less punches, weaker blows, and less speed. Now," Nero clutched at her right fist, bringing it closer to her chin, and pulling her left fist out. "your lead fist is always your less-dominant fist. Hold your left hand out about six ilm in front of your face, at eye level."Â
He tapped at her elbow, bringing it towards her chest. "Use your elbow to guard your ribs." Another hand pushed against the top of her head, tilting it down. "And keep your chin tucked in. Your opponents will be aiming for your face and your arms will primarily be guarding your body, so you have to adjust for that. And loosen up a bit," Nero tapped her shoulders. "If you're too tense, your blows will be weaker. Your arms aren't swords; you don't just stab with them. You use them," he turned to the side and threw a punch forward to demonstrate, the air resounding with a whff, "like a sling, or a whip."
Roen nodded, making the needed adjustments. She held her shoulders with a bit more slack and corrected the position of her fists.
Nero stepped back and held his hands at his hips, admiring his handiwork. Or something else. "Not too bad." The paladin's expression was concentrated and focused; her head was bent and her gazed focused at the ground. "Now, a basic one-two combo."
The smuggler stood next to her to demonstrate. His left fist shot out straight, while his torso remained still. "Left jab, and...right cross." After the jab, his right fist reached forward. "Twist your torso as you send your right fist forward." He demonstrated the right cross again, then another, demonstrating the position of his shoulders and how they swivelled as he sent the punch forward.
Nero shifted his position so that he was standing in front of Roen. "Your opponents will probably be taller than you, so you'll have to aim up." He repeated the manoeuvre, aiming his punches at the space above the paladin's head.
She nodded again, and followed through without warning; a jab, then a cross. Instinctively, Nero flinched, tilting his head to dodge. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "That was...pretty good."
The Hyur let out a sigh. "Guess I'll need to find a way to resurrect ol' paps so that he can teach you properly. I can't pretend I'm qualified to give actual lessons." Nero folded his arms in front of his chest. "But you have some promise. Potential. That's the word. We might make a scrapper out of you yet."
Roen's expression of somber focus brightened, giving way to a small smile. "I would like that," she said, nodding. "Perhaps if not lessons..." she shrugged. "You can teach me through sparring."
"I have been mostly practising on dummies," the paladin explained, wrinkling her nose. "They do not move much."
Nero gasped, an expression of feigned horror on his face. "Are you suggesting that I strike a lady, Miss Deneith? But I am the very soul of manner and etiquette!" He placed the back of his hand on his forehead and glanced skyward, as if to imitate fainting.
Roen pursed her lips, stepping closer to him. "I am sure you will get over it. But...another day, perhaps." She tilted her head, her eyes examining his temple. "On a day when you did not fight a pillar...and lose."
Nero's face took on a cocky grin and he responded to her advance with one of his own, as he brought his face closer to hers. "I am not so sure I would get over it that easily, Miss Deneith," he said softly, his voice taking on a hint of challenge.
