Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Nasazura's Rest: Training Yard

Tiko

Tiko

Draconic Administrator/Mentor
Administrator
Mentor
Nexus GM
Ritza's footsteps carried her swiftly down the roughly polished stone steps that spilled outwards into the open training yard. The entire area appeared as if someone had carved a bowl into the rocky mountain itself, and rich veins of adamantine left their mark upon the surrounding 'wall'. Bits of rock and stone had been blasted away to leave scorch marks behind, but the adamantine beneath remained strong and unmarred by the combat that the training yard often saw.

As she stepped onto the rocky earth, combat was already underway. She was a bit taken aback by the nature of the instructor, but she had little time to speculate on the ghostly specter of the soldier currently engaged in combat with Rayen - the latter of whom had been notably absent from the barracks earlier.

Brent wasted little time in overwhelming Rayen, and as she stumbled and tripped backwards he brought his spectral bastard sword down at her unrelentingly. She desperately rolled to one side as it hit the earth and a deep growl rumbled from nearby.

"Don't you even think about it you oversized lizard," Brent growled back his own warning as he pointed a finger at the young dragon that often seemed to accompany Rayen.

Rayen herself managed to roll back to her feet and she held a hand out to stay the creature from joining the fray. It rumbled its displeasure but lay its head back down as the fight seemed set to continue. Rayen was breathing heavily as she gripped the hilt of her longsword in two hands and readied herself to parry the next attack. The attack didn't come as expected though. Instead, Brent turned his attention to Ritza.

"Well, you seem more punctual than the rest of the lot," Brent barked. "Let me see what you've got!"

Ritza was shocked and surprised at the speed and directness of the specter's attack as she drew her sword. She scarcely had time to raise it to deflect his aggressive downward strike.

"An enemy won't wait for you to ready yourself!" Brent growled.

Ritza was skilled in the sword, but the unexpected rush of combat left her fumbling to capture a proper form as she leaned back to avoid the arc of Brent's bastard sword. She couldn't get her footing right in time, and the slam of Brent's shoulder left her sprawling in the dirt as Rayen had been moments earlier.

"I didn't tell you to stand around," Brent growled at Rayen.

Rayen - a bit more confidently than before - began to circle Brent. She exchanged a brief glance with Ritza and wondered if they were supposed to fight together against the specter, or was it a competition?
 
Tentative footsteps brought Kallis forward from where he'd been lingering just out of sight, or perhaps just out of mind, of the combatants in the yard. One was easily confused for the other, given that for the most part the latter happened subconsciously. It wasn't quite invisibility, but when he didn't want to be seen, people tended to just ... overlook him.

He hadn't been sure whether he should disturb the ongoing spar, but when Ritza had arrived, he'd taken it as cue to move into view. His dual blades hung at his sides, sheathed, but his hands hovered at their hilts, ready to draw should he be drawn into the session in the same manner as the other new recruit.

It was certainly a far cry from the structured, disciplined sparring sessions with his teachers at the monastery. There, his lessons had been formal; as much about form as efficiency. There'd been regular pauses to correct his stance, his grip, to chide him for over-aggression... Somehow he doubted such would be the case here.

He stopped at the edge of the yard, hesitant again to interrupt.
 
Hendrik, having forgone breakfast, was the next to arrive after Kallis. He arrived almost silently, despite his large frame, flapping coat, and heavy, iron lined boots. Anyone with an ear that could recognized prowess knew that eliminating the noise from ones steps wasn't something one did accidentally. That had to be trained into a person. Could it be that despite his quiet, withdrawn, scholarly nature, there was more to the young biomage than would appear at first glance? What sort of experience with combat could a medic this young possibly have?

"...Do you know if there is a place for cardio? I am aware you are as new as I, but I am hoping you know the answer."

He stood stooped forward, but head held straight up. It certainly looked like it would be an uncomfortable way to carry one's self. It was almost as if his entire upper body was weighed down, and he was struggling to lift it. With how dark those raccoon masks around his eyes were, perhaps it was a severe case of sleep deprivation that ailed young Dr. Keitel.
 
Striding towards the gathering crowd, Joshua peered past them at the demonstration in play. Flat eyes studied the combat carefully, keenly even, even as he slid his hands into his pockets nonchalantly. He'd seen it before.

Despite what he was, his appearance was fairly ordinary. Lighter clothing than what would be the normal for this climate, but the mind found ways to ignore such details in the presence of the strange and new. Remarkably solid, though he'd long had the practice to unconsciously maintain the concentration that kept people staring at him, rather than through him. His expression was of one detached, studious and not particularly inviting conversation.

Coming up to the rear of those already there, he veered to the right, finding a place where his view was unobstructed. Still uneasy in other's company, he paid the other recruits no mind as he continued to observe.a
 
As Kamini entered the training yard, she was surprised to see that a few others had gotten there ahead of her. She had stopped for a morsel, sure, but she thought everyone else had taken to the tables for a seat and a chat. There was more interest than she had expected. Still, that wasn't at all a bad thing. She hadn't once spoken to any of the other students here. Perhaps the demonstration would offer a favorable time to connect.
 
(written by Script and CaerBear)

"I'm not sure," Kallis answered honestly, before pausing for a moment as he took in the other boy's almost haggard appearance. Careful not to let his hesitation show too much, he quickly continued. "But judging from the lay of the land I got yesterday, I suspect your options may be limited to circuits of the grounds. I expect the instructor will know more than I."

The combat demonstration continued on, heedless of the gathering numbers of spectators. Despite Ritza and Rayen having the advantage of numbers, it was obvious that Brent had them outmatched. The two girls displayed plenty of skill, as their blades danced with the instructor's, but up against what Kallis presumed was the experience of more than one lifetime, it was no surprise that it was all they could do to hold their own.

"I expect I should wait until I can ask them then." He'd yawn then, so loud and drawn out that it was almost deafening. More than anything, Hendrik wished for a feather bed, and a mug of disgustingly sweet hot cocoa to help ease him into the slumber he had ignored the night before. "Will...you be participating next? Assuming we get the chance of course, but I am still rather curious to see what some of my fellow initiates can do." The biomancer explained slowly, doing his best to not come across as haughty or overly expectant.

Then he realized his slow speaking might be taken as a form of condescension, and he balked internally. And it also occurred that he hadn't given his name to the young man before him. So already he might have accidentally treated one of his peers like a buffoon, while simultaneously setting himself up as an impolite lout. This was very much why the towering blonde much preferred equipment and lab notes to actual socialization.

"Ah...I am Hendrik, by the way. Hendrik Keitel."

Kallis half-raised an eyebrow at Hendrik's slow speech, wondering at the oddity of the Lutetian man and his exceedingly high collar. "Kallis Winters," he replied. "And I'm not sure. If there was some indication of what was to come next, I did not arrive in time for it." It seemed, rather, that this was more of an impromptu exercise - at least on Ritza's part. "Dame Shelby described this as a demonstration, so it may be that not all of us will participate at all. But I expect there will be more to come once the others are present."

"I should hope so. This is...less than half by far." He'd comment, addressing the number of people currently around the two of them. Hendrik had no intention of being one of the unlucky, or lazy, prospective members to not 'make the cut'. There was simply too great a resource of knowledge and experience here at the temple. One that the young doctor planned to devour, greedily.

For the good of the Vanguard, of course.
 
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Azzam arrived at the training grounds, noting how many others had shown up. Many of them seemed to fit in, with the more muscular or toned frames he had come to expect on the field of battle, but the one with the white overcoat had him a bit confused. He'd come up the mountain with the man, and though Azzam was unsure of how the man had made it, he was no less impressed by it. He shrugged, the heavier cotton cloths that swathed him moving slightly with the motion. He continued forward, finding himself a spot to watch the demonstration from the side of the group, one eyebrow arching high at the sight of the combat firstly, followed rapidly by his other at the sight of the spectral form of one of the combatants. He immediately knelt and said a quick prayer to ward off any evils from seeing the spirit.
 
(Written by Script, glmstr and birdee10)

"There actually wasn't any formalised teaching before you guys got here," Ari was saying as he, Priscilla and Jake approached the training yard. "Some of the wardens had time to show me some stuff, but there was nothing like a schedule, or classes, or demonstrations like this. I guess they're upping their game for the new wave of students. Wasn't long ago that it was just me and a couple others here."

He took note of the sparring taking place, watching with interest as blows were being exchanged. "Looks like they started already! They weren't kidding about dawn, huh?"

"Really?" The blonde cocked her head slightly to the side and raised an eyebrow at Ari's statement. So, you're telling me that they not only called almost a dozen new trainees but also are just now adding organized training?" Her mother had told her the church back home has done so more than once to induct new members into the Order, particularly during the skirmishes just half a century ago. "Makes you wonder if they're preparing for something."

Priscilla shivered as the frigid mountain air bit into her sides in a particularly strong gust. The witch-child clapped her hands together and rubbed her palms against one another for a few seconds. Upon pulling them apart a gentle ball of flame flickered to life and floated lazily between her hands to provide at least some warmth to herself.

Jake followed them into the yard. "I wouldn't be surprised if they were. After everything that's happened." He said glancing at Priscilla and her little flame. He returned his attention back to the fighting. "What do we do now? Just watch?"

"Seems that way," Ari answered with a shrug. "I guess we'll find out."
 
The demonstration continued on with fervent intensity and it was beginning to show in the two girls engaged with Brent. Ritza who initially showed more discipline and expertise was swiftly beginning to lag behind Rayen. Despite her apparent physical fitness, she was panting heavily and struggling to keep her sword up. The higher altitude was taking its toll on Ritza, whereas Rayen had been at the temple for several weeks now and had already begun to adjust on a physiological level. It was giving her the stamina to outlast Ritza.

Brent had other plans for this particular demonstration though, which he acted upon with the growing number of onlookers.

Ritza was sent to her knees in the dirt with a well place blow and Rayen's overhead strike was intercepted by Brent's fingers grasping her wrist mid blow.

The result of the contact was immediate. An icy cold blossomed out from his grip and stole the very breath from her lungs. Her lips grew blue and she dropped to her knees clutching at her wrist as her sword slipped from her numbed fingers.

"Up!" he barked as he let her go.

She tried to rise, but her breath came in short puffs of frigid air and her movements became clumsy as she tried to grasp for the hilt of her sword. The chill in her fingers had left them sluggish though and Brent quickly kicked the blade clear of her grasp.

"So... cold..." she chattered.

"That's what happens when you dress for the Savannahs of Arteghia instead of this frozen tundra," Brent noted.

"What did you do to her?" Ritza asked as she managed to regain her own footing.

"I stripped her of her arrogance," Brent explained. "I look among you, and few seem to be taking their situation seriously," he continued with a look to those watching on. "No respect for the dangers you face, or even the elements themselves."

"But..." Rayen spoke against the chattering.

"But what? Magic?" Brent snorted. "If one relies upon only one tool at their disposal, it can and will be exploited by your enemies. I offer to teach you," he paused and looked to the others again. "All of you. To battle without crutches. Without safety nets. I will teach you the art of the sword, the hammer, the axe, the bow. I will teach you to survive even when stripped of every defense you have. And then, when your opponent thinks they have victory within their grasps, you will still have some surprises up your sleeves instead of stamped on your forehead for the whole world to see."
 
Joshua weathered the tirade with a detached, almost bored expression. He almost feigned a yawn, recovering as he realized that such an act would draw attention, a display of mocking arrogance. Though the idea of his other half getting their ass handed to him was almost appealing...

Joshua felt the ghost of a smirk on his face, killing it before, he fervently prayed, the man had noticed.
 
"Would warm furs really have helped against ... ghost-grip, or whatever that was?" Ari asked with a raised eyebrow, arms folded across his chest. "I guess you know how it works better than I do."

"No doubt," Kallis noted, giving Ari a dour sidelong glance for his casual address to their instructor. He turned back to Brent, then, bowing his head towards him in respect. "I'm ready to learn what you have to teach, sir. I have always striven not to rely on my magic. I would be honoured to learn what one so experienced could teach me of the sword." Of course, it was more out of fear of his powers than true pragmatism that Kallis had chosen to rely more on his martial skill than upon magic, but the result was the same - or thereabouts.

Hurried footsteps drew his and Ari's attention back towards the training yard's entrance, then, as the final latecomer jogged into view. Now firmly ensconced in a thick coat, complete with hat, scarf and mittens, the green-skinned boy looked a little comical as he came to a halt alongside the rest of the group, grinning broadly as though he hadn't just barrelled in late. "Yo, hope I didn't miss too much!"

Ari rolled his eyes. "Only the demonstration," he remarked with a slight chuckle. Kallis just grimaced.
 
Azzam lifted his gaze to watch the final strokes of the demonstration. The sudden and tricky end of it caused him to smirk as he stood.

"I too desire to learn what you can teach, though I am nervous of being near spirits," he said without so much as a chatter of his teeth. It seemed that despite the brisk winds, the young man was at ease and relaxed. He continued, "I do not know how far I will be able to learn though, as I have never known magic of any sort. I have been told I do not have magic at all, by my parents."
 
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