Rolling Thunder (open)

[Arlen]

Wham! Wham! Wham! Wham!

A sound that often echoed through the gymnasium when a student was practicing their powerful hooks and haymakers. The raw power Arlen's body had to offer however meant the quick series of thunderous reverberations came from a series of jabs and single cross to finish off the combination. The heavy bag that suffered the blows reacted violently to the punishment as it strained against the heavy chains that secured it to the roof of the gym, fighting against them as if it was attempting to tear itself from the ceiling to simply escape further punishment.
Not satisfied with his initial combination Arlen gave a low grunt as he allowed his left foot to slide toward the bag, then as he surged his right fist forward in a hooked body shot he would place the balls of his left toes firmly into the mat, while his right foot glided effortlessly along the floor following the motion of his hips and shoulders as Arlen literally drilled his entire body mass into one catastrophic punch. The Heavy bag this was flung like a rag doll into the air. The sheer power of Arlen's punch enough to lift it into the air. The chains that securded the bag went limp and as the bag descended once more a loud clank resounded as the chains became taught once more.
Another low grunt would come from Arlen as he watched the bag swing toward him, With his right foot now taking the lead Arlen would follow the same motion as before, but allow his left arm to do the work instead of his right. The outcome was much the same before. As the bag swung away Arlen took a slow step back, preparing himself for a series of jabs and crosses. The sound closely resembling rolling thunder would continue to echo through out the gym.

[William Fletcher]

ooc: Hope I'm not intruding too much?

ic:

Nearby to the powerfully built man, in relative quiet, another young man drilled himself through a series of reflexive speed-bag exercises...Whilst he was heavily built himself, he was nowhere to the powerhouse whaling on the punchbag a little ways away. As he'd arrived, William had briefly smirked at the theory that, to someone, he looked 'small'. It was a rare feeling for him, especially in an age where fighters relied so much on their speed. Power was under-rated. Endurance was key, and speed was relative. If you could punch faster than they could move, who matters how quick you were on your feet?

William testified to this thought as his hands, so quick they were almost impossible to pick apart, drummed against the speed bag, beat against the small target with quick, chained blows. The rhythm droned out to him as he mentally timed himself...He'd been working on this bag since a few minutes prior to the big guys arrival, and by his count it was due time to change to something else.

Then again....

As he gave the speed-bag one last blow, a right cross that snapped out quicker than an average fighters jab, he turned from it and approached the guy as he continued to throw hammer after hammer at the bag, speaking with a calm that he hoped would portray to the other lad.

"If you'd like, I'll hold the bag steady..."

He gave a moment or two before he spoke again, his fists unconciously twitching after the previous exertions made, "Most guys that come in here tap that thing like it'll bite them in the arse, makes a change t'see someone give it a proper leathering....."

[Arlen]

Arlen unleashed what someone could describe quite simply as the atom bomb of the punching world. Arlen didn't just have the power when it came to punching, he had the technique. He had drilled himself countless time on the fluidity and speed of his punches. The results were quite simply devastating. His body turned, his hips and shoulders ploughed forward and his arm exploded toward the bag until those massive gloved fists thundered once more into the leather. Arlen loved every second of it.
What he was displaying now was years of constant nigh on daily training in the art of fighting. Arlen was not martial artist. He wasn't the right build, he wasn't agile in the sense of being able to do backflips. But he could bob, sway and parry with even the smartest pugilist. The bag swung back toward Arlen, and with a simple step to his right Arlen had squared his body at just the right angle to unleash his left fist into the bag with a blow that would thud gruesomly as it stopped the bag dead in its tracks. It was at this moment that Arlen heard a voice...

"If you'd like, I'll hold the bag steady..."

Arlen stopped his onslaught and turned to look at the student who had spoken to him. Letting out a slow breath of air through partially clenched teeth Arlen slowly nodded his head before he spoke, smiling at the last comment offered by the student as he commented on the manner in which Arlen laid into the bag. Arlen couldn't help, but pick up the accent that the student spoke with. Another Irishman so far from home.

"Aye, I wouldn't mind the hand big man..."

Arlen waved one of his gloved fists toward the bag inviting the large student to come and hold the bag for him. Before they started however Arlen thought it would make sense to find out the name of his new found training partner.

"So, what's you're name then mate?"

[William Fletcher]

ooc: Bah. Short...

ic:

Giving a simple nod as he took a couple of steps through, passing behind the bag as an arm reached up, grabbing the chain sharply to halt the 75lb swinging mass with a small grunt as it quickly detoured against him. His free arm clasping at the worn leather, he shifted around and braced the bag against his shoulder, turning his feet to balance himself. Odds were, he'd need to put more than a little of his weight into stopping the blows from pushing him back too much.

Glancing up as he scuffed his feet on the floor, finding his sneakers didn't grip too badly, he smirked at the question before he answered, somewhat curtly, but with enough of a smirk on his face to put across his nonchalance.

"Will Fletcher. Since you're about to lay into this bag, and by that, also me, you got a name yerself....?"

Waiting on his response and a casual nod in return, he braced his right shoulder against the bag, his right arm partly curled to grip it a little to the side, his body holding it in place for the left. Whenever the bigger lad began to throw his punches, Will would be set to take the hit.

[Arlen]

((OOC: Short...but sweet. I go by quality not quantity mate. So no worries if you think your posts are a bit on the short side.))

Arlen turned his body back toward the bag as his new found training partner made their way to it. He watched as they braced themselves for the impact and hardly shifted as the heavy bag thudded into them. Arlen took a mental note of the big mans strength, it came as no surrise really, although they were smaller than Arlen. They were indeed big by the standards of many in this school. Arlen waited patiently as the young man who introduced him self as Will Fletcher braced the bag steadily. It was clear that they had experience in the gym, Arlen had partnered up with some people who hardly braced the bag at all and when he had hit it he'd sent the swining and the person holding it flat on their ass. Something Arlen didn't think would be happening today.

"Aye, I'm Arlen O'grady."

Arlen offered a brief reply as at this point it was all that was required. Talking while you were throwing punches would fatigue you pretty rapidly and Arlen had no intention of taking it easy today. In truth Arlen had never taken it easy when he was training, he lived by the principles of all or nothing, with Arlen it was always the former rather than the latter.
Rolling his shoulders backwards Arlen brought up his regular gaurd, his left foot sliding forward his right foot sliding back slightly as his feet came to roughly a shoulders width apart. Rather than remaining flat footed Arlen put most of the pressure on the balls of his toes, this allowed for easier foot work, and as a result a more fluid motion as he began to drill into his combinations. Giving a curt nod to Will, Arlen signalled that he was about to start giving a few seconds for Will to brace before he threw his first thundering Jab, swiftly followed by a right haymaker as the left hand retreated back into it's gaurd. Keeping his upper body moving and swaying at all times Arlen began incorporate a series of hooked body shots, straight jabs and couple of uppercuts. His most powerful shot His right handed haymaker always ended each combination. True to Will's stature the bag offered a lot more resistance to the combinations, instead of swinging wildly it remained stock still as if in deffiance of the raw power that was being unleashed into the leather.

[William Fletcher]

Nodding at the name given, he watched the bigger mans feet shift somewhat below him, his own bracing back as he set his shoulders into the bag that little bit further. He'd played a little rugby back in Ireland, not much, but he'd dabbled in it. A guy his size had no place on a football field, he just wasn't the build or speed for it, and as such he'd spent a lot of time in scrums.

The first punch hit lighter than he'd figured, but from behind the bag he wasn't to know it was just the jab...The second blow was much more like what he had expected, and he exerted his own deep growl as he drove back momentarily at the drive of the blow, careful not to over-extend himself and send the bag hurtling forward out of sorts. He withstood the following hits with little trouble afterward, considering the force of the heaviest one had given him insight into what to expect.

'One strong piece of work, that's sayin' nothing....'

The last punch was another of the huge strikes, and Will had expected it to be the concluding blow for a guy of Arlens build, this time pushing much quicker into the impact to give it more resistance before he relaxed slightly, still tense to await another punch before letting go of the bag when it didn't come. Sidestepping past it, a few short breaths leaving him from the slight winding the first of the heavy swings had dealt him.

"You hit like a feckin' tank...Ate yer porridge growin' up, I guess?"

Raising an eyebrow as he spoke, the clear humour in his voice was not hidden as he slipped one of his palms into his pockets, sighing quietly.