Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: The Monastery Courtyard

Tiko

Tiko

Draconic Administrator/Mentor
Administrator
Mentor
Nexus GM
as written by glmstr

The Courtyard was rather calm: a few birds chirping back and forth in the venerable oak trees, a few groups of proselytes of various ages scattered around the grassy enclosure. The other students studied for tests later that day, gossiped about possible romances between classmates, or simply shared food and told jokes.

In one of the un-populated corners, a small proselyte plopped down next to a tree and opened up a colorful box, out of which came various sweet pastries from the local bakery. Some were filled with fruit or chocolate and others were simply buttery and flaky. The proselyte, an upperclassman by the name of Camille, spread out a napkin on his lap and started to nibble on the assorted treats. He loved pastries, particularly the ones from this bakery, and would buy a box of them every few days, which cut through most of his monthly allowance very quickly.
Thankfully that didn't really matter, as he was by no means living off of this money. He visited his family at the Lacroix manor almost every weekend, and he would get to see various cousins and family-friends that were also in school or at the Monastery.
Speaking of which, I wonder what Perry is up to right now..
 
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as written by Emperor Jester

Across the courtyard, well in view but also just as un-populated, a fellow upperclassmen labored under an intense, expert level sword mantra. Moving the weighted, blunt object, meant to simulate the balance and weight of a wide-bladed claymore, in a wide, sweeping pattern, moving through a complex series of rhythms and muscle control, part combat part meditation.

He was fairly tall, and broad of shoulder. What little fat remained on his body would soon be worn away by more rigorous training. His tone and definition were astounding for one so young, and none of it was geared toward vanity muscles. He was older than most of the students he shared the outdoor space with, and a rough stubble adorned his jawline and chin, the early forming of a grizzly, lumberjack style beard. In the broad daylight, the sun was pleasantly cooking his skin, covering him in a fine beading of sweat.

Izaic wasn't much of a student, not in the traditional sense. He was struggling in some of the core academic classes. Anything he could apply to a battlefield however was his bread and butter, especially if it was based around physical ability. Taking a break, he'd blast himself with a splash of cold water from his bottle, breathing heavily.

Due to having few if any friends, no one was around, so his words were wasted on empty space. "This new model is much heavier than I expected it to be. Switching from an aluminum core to an double-iron one in one transition...Phew..."
 
as written by glmstr

Camille eyed the man swinging a rather hefty greatsword around, noting that he seemed to be really exerting himself. He yawned and sat up, dusting off his shirt (which was so long it was almost a dress) and carrying his half-eaten box of baked goodies with him. The large scruffy proselyte slowed down to a halt and started pouring water on himself, and remarking on the sudden weight change of his weapon.

"Maybe you should try those weights you can wear on your arms and chest and use the lighter one, then keep putting on more until you can swing that one like a stick. It's a lot less intense on your body and gets the same results, but just takes a little bit longer," the tiny proselyte chimed in on the stranger's out-loud-monologue. That technique was exactly what he used with fencing, in order to make his lighter weapons of choice practically weightless in his hands.

"Also, have a pastry," He plopped a chocolate-filled croissant into the man's hand before he could have a chance to decline it, "I bought a few too many, and they'll go bad if they aren't eaten by at least someone today."
 
as written by Emperor Jester

For the longest time, Izaic would only stare at the piece of confectionery before slowly taking a bite. It wasn't so bad, even if it was needless carbs and sugar. Still, the gesture was an innocent enough one, and he'd seen the much younger proselyte around the monastery a few times. He'd never done anything to the older youth before, so Izaic had no real reason to be hostile, sassy, or angry about being interrupted, but he half couldn't help himself, really.

"Thanks for that." The sweaty young adult would respond after swallowing a bite, ignoring the tips on his exercise routine. He hadn't become one of the best academy-level swordsman by following the advice of pipsqueaks, after all. "And I'll keep it in mind. I've seen you in the practice yards a few times, but never in sparring clothes. What gives?"
 
as written by Script

"I still feel it was unnecessary."

A pair of figures emerged into the courtyard from one of the monastery's doors, making their way along the arched walkway on its edge. The first was a young man who was no doubt familiar to both Camille and Izaic. Peregrine Lacroix was a paladin who had taken the silver less than a year ago, and had shared many classes with Izaic throughout their studies. Dressed in the black and gold attire of an off-duty paladin, he struck an imposing figure despite his relatively slim build. His features were effeminate but handsome, and his hair a golden blonde, tied into a thick and lengthy ponytail that fell all the way to the small of his back.

It was impractical in combat, yes. But that, he always noted, was why he wore a helmet in the field.

The man he walked with was older, but not by much. He was gaunt of face and hard of eyes, and his hair was a blonde so light it bordered on white, falling to his shoulders in unruly tresses. He was clad largely in black, with a red cloak draped across his shoulders. The outfit bore the insignia of the Inquisition.

It was Peregrine who had spoken, his expression a frown. His companion's features remained stoically neutral as he replied. "And that is why your order lags behind. You don't see what is necessary. If humanity is to move forwards, sacrifices must be made. Mercy is not a luxury we can afford."

"Hold on, I take-"

"This conversation is over," the taller man interrupted, "If you take issue with my methods, boy, then stay out of my business. You wouldn't want to sully your shining armour with real blood, after all."

And with that, he sped up his pace, leaving Peregrine to slowly come to a halt behind him. As the man disappeared through a door on the opposite side of the courtyard, the young paladin scowled after him, before giving a disdainful grunt and turning away.

He paced over to the wall of the walkway, leaning onto it with a sigh and a shake of his head. "I will never understand inquisitors," he muttered to himself.
 
as written by glmstr

"I do a lot of practice at home, my family runs the big fencing school," Camille shrugs and smiles. "As a result I mostly just work on academics and discipline here."

He put his hands on his hips and leaned against the wall. "Hey, aren't you a part of the class that's about to graduate?" He leaned forward curiously, the student seemed notably older than his peers. "It'll be 3 or 4 years before I get there, but that means I'm almost done!" The Proselyte beamed, clearly not acting his age at the moment.

"Hey Perri!" Camille trotted up to the paladin, his cousin, and hugged him.
"Why was an inquisitor talking to you? I thought you didn't like those guys," he looked in the direction the inquisitor exited and sneered.
 
as written by Emperor Jester

Izaic would make a short move to follow, though no where near as affectionate, his practice sword resting comfortably on his shoulders. There was a hard look in his eyes, as if the youth had suddenly become cross. "The Inquisitors provide a necessary service for the Church, Peregrine. Maybe if you stop being such an idealist, you'd realize that we are actually at war. No one stays clean in war." Though he seemed grim, this was the jock's favorite topic of conversation. He'd been born and raised to be a soldier for the holy order, and Inquisitor was his second pick after Paladin.

"Have you seen the headlines these days? The lycans are fighting openly in the streets, people are disappearing, and I've heard rumors that the vampires are back as well. This is no time for being softhearted." Though he hadn't heard the entire conversation, Izaic had a pretty good idea what the topic had been, given the ending dialogue. And he made no effort to hide the accusing tone in his voice. "Of course, if you're scared..."
 
as written by Script

Peregrine smiled as he heared Camille's voice. He hadn't spotted his cousin when he entered the courtyard, distracted as he had been by the inquisitor. "Hello, Cam."

He returned the hug over the wall, smile fading somewhat at the question. "We were assigned to the same incident," he explained, "And that's not strictly true."

Before he could expand, however, Camille was joined by Izaic. Peregrine knew the larger man well. The two had never quite seen eye-to-eye, but a mutual appreciation for the other's skill along with a shared zeal for their calling had usually kept their banter good-humoured.

He straightened and flashed a cocky smile to the proselyte, a tell-tale sign to those that knew him that he was entering what some affectionately referred to as 'peacock mode'. "If you must wave your opinion around like it's one of your hefty wood swords," a smirk briefly crossed Peregrine's features at the not-so-subtle innuendo, "at least save it for something you're actually informed on."

The paladin flicked his hair with a shrug, "Much as I'd love to enlighten you on the context of that little exchange, so you can criticise to your heart's content without sounding foolish, I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to do so. Official church business, and all. Suffice to say that I haven't had as much time to peruse the headlines as you, I've been awfully busy living them."

The disarming smile returned once more, as genuinely friendly as a smile could be. "But enough about me, how is your training going? I've ever so missed our little verbal dances." He hesitated. "Not so much the physical ones, mind..."

Izaic always had been much better with a longsword, and Peregrine's own favoured weapon - the rapier - wasn't a standard class. No matter how much Peregrine might have outmanoeuvred the larger man when it came to exchanging quips, Izaic had more than made up for it every time they were matched together in sparring classes.
 
as written by Emperor Jester

"Your strengths always were in the fields of humanities and academia. I'll never know how you became a paladin with the type of attitude you have, strutting around like a dressed up pheasant. Who knows though. I could be jealous. Here I am, still in school, while you are out there, at least trying to do good in the name of the Light."

He's pause to take another bite of his surprisingly wonderful pastry. The chocolate creme was surprisingly well done. Better than he'd expected anyway. "And keep your flippant smiles to yourself, Lacroix. You may outrank me but you'll never beat me where it matters." Peregrine would know full well that despite his outwardly jocky exterior, Izaic was surprisingly gifted at tactics and warfare in general, as if bred and born to be some kind of soldier. "Besides wasting an Inquisitor's time, what brings you out here? Come to see the shorty?"
 
as written by glmstr

"Hey! I'm not that short!" Camille pouted and put his hands on his hips, still leaning on Perrin. "Well, come to think of it," he looked at his cousin and at Izaic, "I kind of am." He then glanced down, noting that his uniform's shirt nearly reached his knees, but he honestly liked it that way. He would then wear shorts underneath it, but the monastery was somewhat strict with clothing and he'd rather not invoke their ire (very much, at least).

"I see that discipline isn't a strong suit of yours, making harsh personal comments like that. Maybe that affects your ability to graduate, hmm?" The proselyte's tone became rather pointed almost immediately. He despised bullies, and he was especially protective of Perrin, even as the small-statured little cousin he was.
 
as written by Script

"It's alright, Cam," Peregrine chuckled at his cousin's defensiveness, "Iza's just sore that he's lagging behind so much in his smarts that there are children in his classes for some subjects." He shot Izaic a knowing glance, "I hear that Aurelion's little brother has mentioned you a few times, Iza. I hope you aren't being too mean to the little clever-clogs."

He paused, as though just then registering Izaic's final jab. "Also, 'where it counts'? Not everything's about swinging a big stick around or wrestling in the mud. For the record, in case you forgot, I'm just as good a shot as you are. And the high calibre rifle is mightier than the sword."

Peregrine paused once more, only to laugh at the way the conversation had unfolded. "Ah, it's just like old times. We can play fight all day if you want. I only just got back from field work a couple hours ago. Unless anything disastrous happens, I've got some free time."
 
as written by Ronin

"'The rifle is mightier than the sword', huh?" A strong, smiling voice boomed from the Monastery. Sir Robert Arodring walked towards the trio, dressed in the same black-and-gold that Peregrine sported. He was much taller than the other paladin, his fine-pressed uniform clinging to his bulky frame.

"I think my claymore would take offense to that, Perrin," Robert chuckled, clapping his peer on the shoulder. "See how well you handle your gun with my sword four feet up your ass." He looked at Izaic, quickly sizing up the young proselyte and offering the boy an appreciative nod. "This lad's got the right idea. You Lacroixs can talk all you want about your fancy fencing rapiers, but it's tried-and-tested claymores that get the job done - real swords, not toothpicks."

He looked to Camille, his smile broadening. "And sweet Selene, is that Cami?" He looked incredulously at Peregrine, "Light preserve us, he was this tall last I saw him!" The paladin put a hand at his mid-thigh. He laughed. "You're going to be a fine paladin, Cam. We should get some meat on you, though. Don't want to end up like your older brother, falling on his face in a strong wind."
 
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as written by glmstr

"I don't know, big swords can be plenty destructive, but a claymore can't pierce through the seams in full-plate and let the target bleed out. Next time you find someone wearing armor or holding a shield, you might change your opinions," Camille shrugged. He didn't understand what users of larger weapons had against the smaller and finer blades, and thought it must be an insecurity if anything. Compensation, perhaps?

"Hey Robert, it's been a long time, yeah," the proselyte smiled. He wasn't sure if he actually was that size back then, but he thought the gesture was funny enough.
"Perri isn't my brother, he's my cousin. My actual brother is too much of an idiot and a failure to be a paladin," he frowned, his voice steeped in contempt.
 
as written by Emperor Jester

"A claymore doesn't have to pierce anything. If its made well enough, and in the right hands, there are plenty accounts of a great sword or similar weapon cleaving through a man and his steed alike. It also has superior reach and force behind it. Tactically, its a better weapon against the enemies of the church." Thats all Izaic would say on the topic, bowing to the new paladin before taking another bite of his cake.

He refused to let Peregrine's insults get to him. They were groundless. No one understood that Izaic didn't "lag" or "struggle" with basic academia, he simply didn't care about them. They didn't help his dreams come to fruition, and if he could, the proselyte wished he could just forgo that whole section of the school.
 
as written by Script

"There's no denying the relative effectiveness of a greatsword against a regenerator," Peregrine conceded with a smile and a shrug. "But close range is also where many of those enemies excel. It's far from clear cut, no pun intended. However, Robert... I feel as though it's less than appropriate to discuss so openly any designs you might have on your sword and my rear."

He snorted with amusement, giving the older paladin teasing wink before looking across at Cam with a smile. "And Cam, don't be so hard on poor Levon. He has his own strengths, just as you have yours."
 
as written by Ronin

"Agreed Perrin," Robert nodded, folding his arms over his broad chest, "I spoke in jest, mostly. There are clear advantages to both." He chuckled. "And Light knows what happened last time we sparred - me with my tree trunk, you with your needle. I don't want to relive that memory."

He looked to Camille. "We're all brothers and sisters in the Order, Cam. And your older sibling isn't a half bad swordsman, as I understand it. All the Lacroixs are pretty handy with a blade." He nudged Peregrine. "Say, which student is Monsieur Lucas fixing to enter into the Auraella this month? His school beat the Monastic academy last year in junior fencing, didn't they?" The Auraella was a well-known church festival taking place in mid-autumn. It lasted for three days and celebrated the harvest season with feasting, music and parades. There were also a host of athletic competitions, most notably the swordsmanship and marksmanship tournaments. It was the perfect place for aspiring proselytes to be noticed by the masters ... or students of the Lacroix Academy to make a name for themselves.

"You're entering, I hope?" Robert looked at Izaic. "I was watching your form. Your muscle-control is fantastic. Haven't seen balance like that in a long time." He nodded. "Footwork needs some touching up, but that can be fixed. I think you'd go far in the tourney, if you signed up."
 
as written by glmstr

"My brother isn't even a part of the church, nor is he particularly good with the sword," Camille's mood hardly lightened up. He was adamant in his hatred, and some almost-condescending words from a paladin was not going to change his mind.

When Robert mentioned the tournament, his mind finally drifted away from the subject of his brother. He was hoping to enroll in the fencing competition, but Perrin was also extremely skilled and his father would have to decide which of the two was more worthy to enter. "It'll probably be Perri, but I guess we won't know until it happens," Camille was several years younger, he had much more time to make a name for himself.
 
as written by Emperor Jester

Izaic would only return the stiffest of bows at the compliment towards his swordsmanship. Honestly, he was just going through the motions of different attack patterns. His footwork was another routine, and most of the time, he combined the two together, but today was also arm day. "Thank you sir. And I have already signed up."

A glare towards Peregrine that could set oil on fire.
 
as written by Script

"There are several promising students," Peregrine noted with a smile. He himself had graduated from his uncle's academy almost a year before he'd taken the silver. As the Lacroix Academy was purely a fencing school, he'd been able to balance the lessons there with the more full-time education of the Monastery without too much trouble.

"I'm sure that Lucas will encourage all the top students to enter - you included, Cam. I myself will, of course, be entering the senior competition this year. I don't qualify as an under-twenty-one any more." He paused dramatically, "A moment of silence, please, for my fading youth."

The paladin managed to maintain a sombre expression for all of two seconds before his face was split with a grin, and he carried on speaking. "I'm considering trying my hand at the marksmanship tourney as well, but I fear that there are far more better shots than me than there are better fencers."
 
as written by Ronin

"That makes me an old man too, Perrin. Don't make us both look bad," Robert smiled, "now, the REAL question is, if you take the tourney, who will have won? The Monastic Order, or Lacroix Academy?"

He looked to Izaic. "Looks like you've got some competition, lad. Cam here is a fine fencer." He grinned at the younger Lacroix. "There's another proselyte that has a fancy for heavy weapons, I hear. Celeste Hogan or Howard or..." He tapped his chest, pondering the name. "...something like that. I hear she's pretty good. One of the better upper classmen."
 
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