I wish I could say I have an Art, but I don't. I never trainedin any kind of combat, really, not before I joined the Warriors.I was a street fighter during the year or so when I was a memberof that Soho gang, but that was unsophisticated brawling; I wasfast, I was lucky and I had my field, and that was pretty muchall I needed, or so I thought.After I joined the Warriors, though, I discovered that I neededmuch, much more that that. Fortunately, I managed to pick it upas I went along; near-constant mortal peril is a tremendousincentive for learning. But I didn't really study any particularstyle. Instead, I had a collection of moves and tactics I'dcopied from the fighters I'd sparred with or gone up against inlive combat, strung together once again with my speed and luck.Over the years I'd more or less hammered them together into afunctional mass that didn't really have a name. If I had to callit anything, I'd call it "kludge-fu" -- just like its electronicand mechanical counterparts it was (as Jackson Granholme had putit so many years ago) "an ill-assorted collection of poorlymatching parts, forming a distressing whole."Fortunately, it was distressing far more often to my opponentsthan to me, but that didn't mean I didn't have to work on it.Years of practice -- especially the twenty-plus months I'd spenttraining under and with Alberich -- had smoothed it into acoherent whole, but there was still always room for improvement.Hence my morning workouts, where I endeavored to find more waysto fit together the various pieces stolen from all thosedifferent styles.Obviously, I didn't know the original names for most of the movesand combos, so I'd long ago begun making up my own. Which washow it came to be that I was flowing smoothly from "Rabbit FlirtsWith Hunter" through "Overhand Pie Smash" to "Yappy Dog Bounces".I was working on a transition into the more advanced "Wait ForMe, Bay-bee!" when I heard a little intake of breath behind me.I spun and dropped into a crouch ("Cossack Dancer Stumbles"),only to see nothing more than the tail end of a long lock ofblack hair whip by the door post and vanish out of sight.*Skuld? But why...* Then I shrugged to myself -- what man canunderstand the ineffable whims of the gods, right? -- and wentback to my katas. "Cossack Dancer Stumbles" to "Duck Looks ForBeak" to "I Woulda Baked A Cake" to "Ooh, Wiseguy, Eh?", and fromthere into a long-familiar series of moves that had ceased tohave individual names any more, and which set me to bouncing offthe walls. Literally."Good morning, Doug."The door was in my peripheral vision this time, so the appearanceof another female figure there wasn't a surprise. I let afollow-through carry me via a tumble into a rest position, thenbowed to her. "Good morning, Belldandy."With a smile, she returned the bow. "Breakfast will be readyshortly, if you'd like to join us."I smiled back at her as I straightened up. "Yes, thank you, Iwould."-- Bob
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Chaos isn't really chaos if it isn't Lawful part of the time.
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Chaos isn't really chaos if it isn't Lawful part of the time.