genessia | Winter Training Camp v. 1.0

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Winter Training Camp v. 1.0 - Week Three

WHO: Winter Schnee, Hamusuke, Young Link, Navi, Ted Satchel, Mael Radec, Eleanor Hume
WHAT: Week three begins! Once a day, recruits are expected to spar with each additional recruit for a minimum of fifteen minutes. More time for sparring is allowed, but recruits may not retire for the evening until all other recruits have completed their drills. Use of additional powers and abilities are prohibited at this time; use only the weapons provided to you to complete your sparring sessions. Throughout this week, Captain Schnee will spend half an hour per day with each recruit between sparring sessions to critique and improve form, technique, footwork, and other necessary components to successful combat. Drills will continue on a daily basis for the rest of the training regiment, albeit at a lesser degree to focus on other necessary tasks.
WHEN: November 18th - 23rd, 2017
WHERE: Fayren

Winter had given the men and women in her group quite a bit of freedom the previous week. So long as they followed their instructions, she saw no need to monitor each and every one of them, but she did occasionally stroll through town to ensure that people were doing what they were told and not using the time granted to them for frivolous purposes.

Apparently some had failed to resist that temptation, because bright and early on Saturday morning, there were two fewer tents in the camp, with no explanation as to their absence. They'd been lectured severely and dismissed with no illusions that they might someday return to try again. If Winter couldn't trust her people to take responsibility for themselves when they weren't under direct supervision, then they could not be trusted to perform their duties seriously.

After the drills, she went from recruit to recruit to hear their reports and evaluate the information they'd gathered. She scarcely expected to learn anything new, but it would be interesting to know which guardians had been accommodating, and which ones could not be depended on under any circumstances to lend aid when it was needed.

It was mid-afternoon when everyone was called to assemble in the center of camp, and told to fetch the weapons they'd been assigned. Once everyone was in formation, Winter got straight to the point. "This week will focus on the basics of combat. Most of you have at least a rudimentary understanding and some level of experience, else you would not be here in the first place. You will be assigned a partner. For at least fifteen minutes you are expected to spar with this person, regardless of any disparity between your skill levels, before you rotate to the next. Once you have completed combat with every recruit at least once, you may spar with anyone you please for the rest of the day."

She clasped her hands behind her back, pacing before them. The particularly astute might notice that Winter seemed slightly more agitated and restless, but as for the reasons, she gave none.

"Each of you will also be allowed time with me for a personal evaluation. I will tell you your strengths, as well as list your shortcomings. Work to improve. And remember," she narrowed her eyes, "the use of abilities, powers, and skills possessed beyond the mundane level are prohibited. You must focus instead on your footwork and grow accustomed to the ordinary rigors of battle. If you have questions or a need for clarification, ask now."

[OOC: Everyone make a top level, and then tag other people's to initiate a spar with them. Other non-sparring threads are fine too!]

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Winter's own sparring moments seldom lasted more than thirty seconds, if that. She was there to demonstrate and provide critique, not to indulge the wondering eyes of fresh-faced recruits. The less a potential enemy knew about her own skills, the better.

And now it was Ted's turn for his half hour drill with the harsh captain. She regarded him coolly as she held her epee lightly in her gloved hand. With his gay merriment and saccharine enthusiasm, she hadn't truly expected him to last this long. Even if by some chance his physical limits were not shattered, she had her doubts concerning his other enemies: boredom and a healthy respect for authority.

Still he remained, and that was at least noteworthy.

"You seem to be having some difficulties regarding your female opponents," Winter remarked, her voice neutral. "Explain your reservations."

"Potential enemy" was certainly possible, given the dark thoughts in his furtive imaginings.

Ted knew no necessary connection between hale hearts and hale bodies. If anything he thought that went the other way. Not to say that he didn't ache in all sorts of new places; Winter, true to her word, had kept things grueling. Still, it's a new experience with a strong flavor; an easy thing to love.

"Aheh, afraid I'm not much for ah, beating women with sticks."

"That much is painfully obvious," she remarked, her brow lowering fractionally. "Is it a matter of physical attraction? Or perhaps you simply don't believe that you will ever be truly threatened by someone of the opposite sex?"

She paced around him slowly, watching his face, his body language, for any hint of the true nature of his reservations.

"The greatest threat we face in our world, the hordes of soulless monsters we call Grimm, are commanded by a woman, perhaps even created by her hand. Surely you would not hesitate against such an enemy with your...stick...beatings."

Winter's first guess provokes a fit of laughter, with all the attendant body language she can stand.

"Hahahaha! Attraction? To a young woman, a giant hamster, and a fairy. Ephebophilia, beastiality, and...goodness, fataphilia, I suppose, respectively. I assure you, Winter, I'm no pervert, especially not so fantastically perverted as that!"

He considers the second, tittering again.

"Oh, no. If I had any ideas about universally nonthreatening women, your own abuse would quite disabuse that notion."

He listens attentively to that. First he's heard of the Grimm having any kind of head at all, let alone a woman. It reminded him of Arthurian romance, when enchantresses set the world ablaze.

"That's very interesting."

For a change, Ted's taciturn. It didn't sound like a question, and he knows how much Winter enjoys curt responses. In the manner of what he imagines to be military conduct, he keeps himself to the minimalist and strictly necessary.

His uproarious laughter was swiftly rewarded with a slap to the side of his head. "Don't be a fool. Any imbecile would know that I was speaking in general terms. Unless you mean to say that this is the first time you've been in a situation where you were forced to engage in combat with a female opponent?"

She regarded him coolly, studying his face and posture, the point of her epee dipped toward the forest floor.

At least he was correct about her own strict training methods. That much, at least, she wouldn't argue.

However, as she awaited an explanation, all she received was a useless and neutral observation. "Enlighten me as to your hesitation. This is a weakness that is easily exploited, I hope you understand."

It was only a matter of time. Winter asks the impossible, for he isn't just any imbecile. Reflexively he brings a hand to his head, expression first with surprise, then a dawning amusement. What an interesting area to hit! He would've expected the cheek, to show one was in disgrace. It seemed like the kind of nasty slap Winter would do. But the temple? That's comic. Slap-stick, if you will. (he will)

Comedic contemplation over, he turns his thoughts to the questions, as though the assault never happened. "'Forced'? Mm, no I don't...think so..."

Now he's thinking about the word in particular. "Forced"? Truly compelled? He must've encountered a villainess or two on his many bounties, but "forced"? Made to with no recourse?

He's tempted to launch into his usual discursion in explaning masculine honor and all the rest. Heroically, he resists, for it seems like the kind of thing Winter would never truly understand no matter how prolix he became. Besides, he was hoping to get something more beneficial to himself than a chance to wax verbose on the sexes.

"Oh, no hesitation, I simply don't want to. Hence the focus on defense. Well, on Earth, where I'm from, we men are hard-wired to cherish and protect women to the utmost. Extremely. A, heh, very far cry from battery."

Edited 2017-12-22 04:08 (UTC)

She could lay into him about the foolishness of unyielding chivalry, and the manipulation he's sure to encounter at the hands of someone who would exploit his reluctance.

But no. Why not let him prove himself and his values in a difficult scenario where he would be faced with the worst possible set-up?

"Adams." Winter lifted her chin slightly, eyes still on Ted, as the young female recruit with the red hair jogged immediately to join them and stopped to salute.

"Yes, captain?"

"I'm going to attack you." Winter's gaze shifted from Ted to Adams, who was doing her best not to look unsure at this proclamation. "Ted, your job is to prevent me from killing her. Prove that you can do so, and I'll say no more on the matter. Fail, and I will drill you until you can overcome this hard-wiring that plagues your sensibilities."

That escalated quickly.

Strangely, if Winter had chosen Eleanor, Hamusuke, or Navi, he'd have leaped at her before she could finish her sentence. But Adams? The soulless sprite? Way to take the fun out of it. It's not that he didn't value the sprites, but more as great possessions than damsels in distress. Thinking upon the difference between what he'd have liked and what he got served to wane his spirits further. What a disappointment.

He crossed his arms, eyes downcast and closed in thought. What was in it for him? Not a good time, certainly. He'd have the double displeasure of fighting a girl while protecting an object as if it were a person. Would the experience be valuable? Probably not. If she used aura, he'd be overpowered instantly. If not, well, what's the good in going up against a handicap? Practice protecting another in melee, then? Eh...

If there was any enjoyment to be had, it seemed paltry. What about the drills, then? Those looked quite a bit more appealing; a test of character! Could he hold out for the remainder of the course? How romantic! But then, he needn't make a decision without all the information. Can't hurt to ask. Probably.

"What, ah, would these drills entail?"

Edited 2017-12-22 23:03 (UTC)

Ted was eloquently answered in the form of a boot slamming directly into his chest. This was not a time for questions. Her terms had been stated, and as her subordinate, it was his job to obey. "You have your orders, Theodore."

Good luck catching his breath; Winter had already turned on Adams, her saber flashing as Adams stumbled back with eyes wide in alarm. When Winter went on the offensive, she was fast, and she was deadly. It was all Adams could do to block Winter's strikes, given no time to retaliate or parry.

So what would Ted choose to do now? He wouldn't have more than a handful of seconds to make up his mind.

Oh, well if it's an order, then that makes the decision all the easier for not properly existing. Well, if it means getting Winter off his back, he supposes he can muster up enough vigor to arrest a catfight.

He kips up quickly, then rushes to interpose himself between the two. Adrenaline competed with the heavy-heartedness he held for having to endure such a grisly task. Might as well make the best of it.

First, a plan. In accordance with his contested ideals, he would endeavor to resolve this with a minimum of pain. A take down would suffice; something to make Winter tap out. The problem was that he'd have to sacrifice every advantage the quarterstaff had to do it: his range.

It would have to do for now as he adjusted to Winter's pace. Ted's talent lay in his agility, and he could adapt just as quickly. He's more used to defending against slashing than thrusting weapons, but he fends away heartily. Luckily, he decided upon armored gauntlets. Why? Well, for one, they look knightly, and that's good enough for him. They'd also allow him to grip and potentially disarm a sword as safely as possible.

But closing is a ways off just yet. For a start, he'll feint with a high thrust, then move to a low sweep, his weapon's specialty.

It was about time, Winter's judgmental look seemed to convey. Adams breathed a sigh of relief, putting a hand to her chest, as Ted effectively took her place.

That didn't mean Ted would have it easy. Winter was a skilled fencer, and though a staff could easily block slashing strikes, he would have a much more difficult time parrying any piercing thrusts.

But whether he was aware of it or not, Winter was deliberately holding back. The goal wasn't to stab and humiliate her student, but push him to the point where he could let go of his weaknesses. It's why she wasn't flipping acrobatically here and there, or separating her sword into two. She'd adjust her attacks to make them more difficult once he started investing the appropriate amount of effort.

Instead of leaping over the staff as it went for her legs, she cross-stepped over it with nimble and precise timing, almost as if she were dancing. She stood at a sideways angle, the stance decreasing the area of her body he could strike as a target while making her sword arm that much closer to striking him. The tip of the blade snaked out, probing at his defenses, always seeking the opportunity to jab at a shoulder or hip.

"Dancing" is a good word to describe Ted's maneuvers. Even in an ugly fight, his footwork was as fluid and free as anything. Fast too, though perhaps wanting in precision. Luckily, he has experience with extremely skilled fencers; the one he primarily practiced with was so insanely precise that even a robot would blanch. Thankfully, it must've rubbed off on him.

Oh, if Winter wanted to, he'd get stuck a few times, and likely wouldn't notice until someone pointed out his clothes were redder than usual. Whether that was due to obliviousness or sheer concentration was hard to say. Winter had gotten into a medium range, prompting him to switch to a half-staff grip, with both hands in the middle of his weapon. A good and a bad development; he was more in her range, but being outside of it would leave blunt beatings as his only recourse. He needed an opportunity to grapple.

As he found his groove, agility and accuracy increasing, he got more daring. He would try and apply his strong side to Winter's weak, beating his weapon into hers and throwing off balance. In that split second of disturbance, he'd step forward and make a grab for her hilt. Would it work? He sure hopes so!

He was more than welcome to try. But in return, he'd have to deal with Winter's left fist punching him in the eye.

Her own strikes weren't pressed hard enough to draw more than a spot of blood at most; she was more interested in proving a point and pushing him hard enough to attack her without restraint or hesitation. He seemed to be trying harder, but at the same time, he was still showing too much mercy in his attempts to disarm instead of strike.

"I wouldn't bother," she said in short, clipped words. "You won't be able to claim a better grip on my sword than I already have. Your weapon might divert an attack, but it isn't enough to claim my blade." The smooth guard that covered her fingers did more than deflect attacks meant to strike her hand, it also made it easier for her to maintain an easy and steady grip. He'd have a tough time wedging his fingers in there, let alone managing to gain a significant hold that would allow him to wrest away the saber.

Winter would have to be truly diabolical to provoke full-fledged fury from him. That or convince him it was for the greatest good. Otherwise, his aversion to hitting women remains no matter how many blows to the eye he takes.

Though it does sting a bit, recoiling slightly as he thinks of a new tactic. So getting the weapon itself is no good, eh? In that case, he'll just go after the whole thing!

Her entire body, to be precise. For that he still values the close distance, so he'll try another grapple, one the staff is actually very well suited for. It'd require an overhead strike, or at least something he can block horizontally. From there he'd leverage his speed and strength to hook the blade, bringing one end of the staff behind her neck. He'd step in after the bind, then "row the boat", bringing her head down and beside his hip for a follow-up.

At least, that's the theory. In practice? Well, at least he enjoys trying new things.

Instead of resisting the motion the way most inexperienced fighters might, Winter rolled with it. He tried to push her down, but instead of struggling to rise, she dropped completely, swinging her long leg with the speed and strength of a sledgehammer against his shins to throw him off-balance in turn.

"Pathetic!" she snarled, her aggravation growing. "You've become fixated on one single and specific objective."

Whether he went down with her blow or jumped back to avoid it, she was smoothly on her feet once more and lashing out with a flurry of quick, powerful strikes from her blade meant to drive him back.

"Your enemies will be able to read you like a book if you don't learn to adapt!"

Not the shins! He suffers the pratfall, yet springs up yet again. At least his "ukemi" is on point.

Ted tittered at the not-quite constructive criticism as he fell back into the pattern of batting away the oncoming thrusts. "Yes, I believe that's called concentration. Mind the difference between strategy and tactics!"

Talking in the middle of combat gave the wordy would-be warrior no trouble. What did trouble him was how to prevail. Perhaps that attempt gave her too much room. Did he need a more inescapable embrace? He may have to dispense with the staff entirely if so.

Grappling, as a skill, wasn't much appreciated in Genessia. The fencers liked their swords and weren't keen on anything closer. That may have explained how Ted, surprisingly, took the gold medal in wrestling a while ago. He remembered the principles taught by Ott: quickness is best. And Ted has quickness to spare. More raw strength, too, if biology between the sexes applied in Remnant as it did on Earth. Sans aura, anyway.

One way to find out! As they got into their rhythm, Ted would wait for another high strike, knock it up and away to create distance, then lunge for the best, most vulnerable part of the body for wrestling: the crook of the knee. Both, in fact, as he tried for a double-leg takedown, aiming to put Winter on her back. A more intimate technique, which he just knows she'll love.

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Winter Training Camp v. 1.0 - Week Three

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