An Average Morning

Ascending Water 3, R.Y. 769

It was early. Too early. Mesa wasn't sure why he'd woken up. He slept on a mat on his floor (this wasn't necessarily a custom among the Grass-Spiders - while it was common in Lookshy, many of the Grass-Spiders had actual beds; Mesa was just too lazy to get one). Judging by the light pouring into his window, it was well before zenith - too early for Mesa. He grumbled and rolled over, pushing the sheets aside and lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. It was movement in his peripheral vision that caught his eye. He looked over to his right (Mesa's bed was against the wall, so looking left wouldn't have been a productive exercise) and saw a black boot, and upon turning his head fully, saw several more. All in all, he saw about a dozen black boots, which meant there were six people in his bedroom. Realizing this was something he probably couldn't put off dealing with, he was at least hoping to have some coffee first. Ignoring the figures standing in his room for a moment, he scanned his room for his coffee mug; he spotted it, but it was unfortunately sitting on a table on the other end of the room. All six of the intruders stood between he and it. That was awfully disappointing. Mesa sighed, getting to his feet with a groan and some effort. He surveyed the invaders more closely. They were all swathed from head-to-toe in black - Mesa made a mental note to tell these guys that their choice of camouflage was really poor for an invasion of range homes at the ass crack of dawn. Their faces were covered, unsurprisingly. The portion of cloth covering their mouths was white, which Mesa assumed had some significance, but pre-coffee Mesa had little inclination to ponder such mysteries. He finally addressed the attackers, several of whom already had weapons drawn, ranging from kusarigama to tantos.

"As much as I could see some of the people I hang around with using guys like you as a courier service, I'm guessing you all aren't here to deliver my mail."

Par for the course, none of them replied; the only semblance of a response that Mesa received was another one of the invaders drawing his weapon, another tanto. Mesa sighed, again gazing longingly to the coffee mug at the other end of the room. He cracked his neck to the left, then to the right, and shook his arms loose a few times.

"Alright, let's do this."

Eight-Legged Harvest Promenade wasn't an easy style to learn. The mindset it espoused was utterly contrary to most conventional fighting styles, but this might've been why Mesa, who had no prior experience as a trained combatant, was able to pick it up so quickly. Despite his notoriety for being lazy about training, Mesa had greatly improved his mastery of the style in a comparatively short time and was becoming a fierce combatant, as he was soon to demonstrate. As it often did for trained martial artists, time seemed to slow down as Mesa analyzed the positioning of his opponents. They stood loosely in a triangular 3-2-1 formation, with the lone man being closest to Mesa; Grass-Spiders were taught that enemies fighting in close quarters often did this inadvertently to maximize the number of the people who could strike at one time. As such, this was a canonical example of a training exercise for Grass-Spiders. No sweat. Think of the enemies as being positioned on a spider web, connected by strands of silk. Figure out which strands to tug to disable them all as quickly as possible. For Mesa, the three-man diagonal on the right side seemed a fairly natural starter. Mesa waited for the lone man in front to make the first move. The intruder lunged forward with a tanto, making a horizontal stab towards Mesa's neck - far too small of a target, Mesa judged. Mesa easily dodged the blow with a feint down and to the right, then set about traversing his web of opponents, like a spider traverses its web of prey. Already leaning rightward, Mesa wheeled all the way around counterclockwise and swung his left heel back around and far above his attacker's head. He brought it down with all his might, hitting the back of man's head with a brutal heel kick. Mesa was only getting started, however. He used the man's head as a springboard, flattening out his foot against the man's head and vaulting himself upwards, launching himself above the heads of his opponents (and only inches from his own ceiling) with a forward flip. He landed behind the triangle and at the end of the diagonal he'd established as his attack line. On the way down, Mesa considered attempting some sort of flying drop kick, but quickly reasoned with himself.

Okay, that was some pretty cool shit, but don't get cocky. Spiders win fights by holding onto their opponents, not by an insistence on disabling everyone with a flip-reverse-double-roundhouse kick.

As he descended from above the back-corner man, Mesa slipped his arm underneath the man's own. When Mesa's feet hit the ground, they were back-to-back, right arms locked. Mesa yanked the man around quickly, securing both of the intruder's arms with his right arm and pulling him to the side. Indeed, as though connected by a web to the man Mesa had pulled out of line, the rest of the triangle advanced forward in attempt to attack Mesa. Anticipating this, Mesa quickly yanked himself and the man he was clinching along with him back toward his attackers. Just before they were about to collide, Mesa began to roll left, and with a grunt, he tossed the man he held over his shoulder and into the three men comprising the smaller triangle to his left - although those three men weren't harmed by the impact, it held them off long enough for Mesa to address more pressing matters. Immediately, Mesa wheeled around to the man he'd intentionally left alone - this guy was the middle man in the diagonal he'd initially designated as his attacking line (the first guy was still on the ground, stunned by Mesa's kick to the back of the head, and the third man in the diagonal was the man who was just grappled and thrown by Mesa). Mesa narrowly dodged the bladed chain being swung in his direction, having to stoop well beneath it as he dashed into the man. That wasn't the approach he was hoping to make, and finding himself coming up a bit short on ideas, he lunged for the man's legs, aiming to tackle him. He did so, though the man managed to swing the bladed chain at Mesa again on their way down in attempt to ward him off. That was perfect. Mesa leaned heavily into the intruder he'd tackled, forcing the man's neck to the ground with his left forearm, letting the swung chain sail over both of them. At the same time, he raised his right arm and snatched the chain on its way back around, instantly redirecting it toward the four men to his right - having understood their relative positioning in the context of a spider web, Mesa didn't need to look to know where they were at. It caught the man he'd shoulder-thrown (who was decidedly in front of the men he'd been thrown into) in the chest cleanly. Mesa couldn't help himself as he spoke up, having heard the blade hit the man.

"Shit, nice."

Knowing he had to act quickly with the three remaining men to his right approaching quickly, he accepted that not all of his kills could be so elegant. He somersaulted forward with his left forearm still holding the man beneath him down, and as Mesa rolled over the man's neck, he shifted his grip and took the man's head with both hands. At the end of his somersault, he wheeled left, hands still firmly gripping the man's face - this snapped the intruder's neck. The three other attackers now only a few inches in front of him, all poised to launch attacks, Mesa rose to his feet quickly and steadied himself. He reaffirmed the formation of his enemies as insects caught in a spider's web, planning his next sequence of attacks. The men were once again aligned in a loose triangle, this time with two in front, one in back. He could cut the number of his opponents down to two if he could hang on to one guy while he fought off the other two. Mesa also hadn't forgotten the man he'd delivered at stunning blow to at the beginning of the fight. He did a low backflip, landing on the other side of the stunned man. He kicked the man's prone body into the air, sending it forward into the two men leading the charge against him with a second kick - as Mesa had hoped, he successfully parried their attack with the man's body. The stunned man groaned as the two tanto-like blades cut into him from above and below. At the same time, Mesa had leapt into the air - he landed on the airborne body of the man he'd tossed, just as it was being cut. Mesa had the acrobatic dexterity to place his foot neatly between the two locations being slashed. He again used the man as a springboard, launching off of him and flipping over the remaining three attackers. They remained a three-man triangle, although now the two-man row was behind a lone man, who presently lunged at Mesa's back, attacking with a low sweep of his kusarigama.

Mesa got one leg out of the way quickly, but swore under his breath when he felt the chain of the kusarigama wrapping around the other one. Devising a counter quickly, he dropped of his own volition before the kusarigama could trip him, kicking the leg with the chain around it forward in the hope of tugging its wielder along and throwing him. This half worked, as the man was thrown, but did a flip in mid-air and easily landed on his feet. Mesa should have expected that - they don't hand out ninja suits to just anyone these days. Quickly, the attacker dropped the kusarigama handle and drew his tanto, charging immediately toward Mesa. The other two men leaped into the air behind Mesa, poising their weapons to attack from above. A Grass-Spider was not kindly outdone in aerial maneuvers, and Mesa kept this mind when he executed his counter attack. He narrowly dodged the slash made by the man charging on the ground, but did managed to get just enough air with a standing vertical jump to place himself above it. He landed precariously on the man's shoulders, quickly backflipping off of them and into the two airborne men. Mesa, reflecting on the fight afterward, would later admit that this was a bit too brash. Although one man was surprised enough to miss his attack, the other aerial intruder managed to catch Mesa across the shoulder with the blade of his tanto. As Mesa and the two men collided in the air, Mesa gritted through the shoulder slash and seized one of the legs of each man. While the three were landing, Mesa ripped their legs upward. This was effective on the man who'd slashed Mesa, and he landed on his back with a hard thump and a grunt. The other man was not so easily foiled, and righted himself before contacting the ground, landing in a fighting stance. He immediately engaged Mesa upon landing, throwing a roundhouse kick towards Mesa's face and following up with an embellished rotation all the way around, swinging his blade at Mesa twice as he did so. Simultaneously, the attacker who had not jumped reached for his belt, unclipping two shuriken and throwing them both at Mesa. At the same time, he lunged in with his tanto.

Okay, now they're getting serious. What does a spider do if its being attacked from all directions on its web? Seek shelter in the safest corner of the web.

Quickly, Mesa took stock of the three remaining assailants. One whom he'd tripped in the air, who was now on the ground, one attacking with the roundhouse kick and two slashes, and one throwing two shuriken and charging with the tanto. Of the three, the man on the ground was least threatening. Mesa fell flat on his back as suddenly as momentum would allow. One of the tanto slashes aimed his way grazed him, but the rest of the attacks sailed over him.

Spiders... have lots of fucking legs. And they can all attack. Let's start there.

Mesa lifted his legs off of the ground and drew his knees forward, then immediately kicked in both directions as he lunged upward, coming to rest fully on his head and hands. Both men were knocked backwards considerably by the kick, coughing. Mesa quickly used his arms to lunge from this same position, legs-first, into the air toward one of the two men he'd just kicked. An utterly bizarre-looking maneuver, the intruder was unsure of how to defend himself and quickly found Mesa's legs wrapped around his neck. Mesa allowed the continuing momentum of his upper half to carry him past the man, legs still locked, resulting in an aerial takedown. Without hesitation, Mesa took hold of the guy and threw him towards the man he'd tripped during the previous aerial maneuver. As Mesa shoved him, he plucked a shuriken from the man's belt. The two men collided, leaving only the third unattended. Mesa whipped around and launched a shuriken in his direction, catching him in the eye. He dropped with a groan and a thud. As the remaining two attackers righted themselves, Mesa, now on the offensive, lunged toward them. He stopped short, causing some confusion on their part, and then immediately trip-kicked the intruder on the right. Before he hit the ground, Mesa shifted that same leg behind the man, kicking him back into the air for a moment. That moment of suspension was all Mesa needed to snatch the tanto from his heads and plunge into the chest of the other attacker. As the stabbed attacker fell, Mesa looked to the man he'd tripped and disarmed. Just as he was starting to get back up, Mesa leapt into the air and dropped an elbow into the side of the man's head, incapacitating him. Despite being the lone conscious man in the room, Mesa couldn't contain his satisfaction.

"Elbow drop. Classic."

With a smirk, Mesa made his way toward the table upon which sat his treasured coffee mug, stepping over a few bodies to get there.

It was early morning on the range homes, and Lord of the Ashen cloud sat at one of the tables in the meeting house. He'd cooked up a sizable amount of bacon after noticing the shelf life of the pork he'd gotten from Nuadha was diminishing with time. He held in one hand a newsparchment from Larjyn, which he read sleepily and in another, half of a grapefruit which he'd been snacking on. When the door opened, Ash desperately hoped it was Opal - the grapefruit was a perfect springboard for any number of lewd comparisons that would provide a perfect start to the day's activities.

Alas, it was Mesa. He walked in, sipping coffee from his dusty porcelain mug. He sat down across the table from Ash, helping himself wordlessly to a few pieces of bacon. Ash looked up from his newsparchment disinterestedly, giving his greeting to Mesa.

"'Sup."

Mesa shrugged, speaking in between bites. "Nothin'. Smelled bacon and followed it here."

Ash replied, "Smells better than it tastes. It was kinda old."

Mesa shrugged again, nodding as he chewed - it was a bit tough. The two men ate in silence for a bit, punctuated only various eating noises and the occasional ruffle of Ash's paper. Mesa eventually spoke up, his tone of voice no more urgent than when he first entered.

"Oh, hey, Ash."

Ash, without looking up from his paper, replied, "What's up?"

"Did a bunch of ninjas try to kill you this morning?"

Ash, still reading the paper, replied nonchalantly, "Yeah, why?"

Mesa shrugged yet again. "Jus' wonderin'."

The two Grass Spiders went about finishing their breakfast in relative quiet.