Training Day

[Te'Oran]

  Amahn stepped out onto the training grounds, mixing in among the other recruits. Dust hovered around his ankles as he stirred it up with each step. Tottering anxiously from foot to foot he awaited some form of instruction. All of the recruits were murmuring to one another within their various groups. Amahn frowned as he noticed this, growing slightly impatient. At least at the end of this day he would be a better swordsman than before, and that in itself was worth the wait on the instructor. He watched a few already working their forms to the side curiously, these were clearly some of the more experienced children. They moved about gracefully, almost as if they were dancing with swords in hand.

 

  Shaking himself Amahn averted his attention back to the front of the group. They were all standing about rather awkwardly. He rubbed his hands together and then dropped them to his sides. ' Bloody hell what is this some sort of patience party? ' Amahn thought. He began loosening his sword in its sheath, this action in itself did bring a bit of pleasure to him. Suddenly a man stepped out in front of the group and Amahn slammed his sword into its sheath with a loud click! and stood at attention. 

Edited October 29, 2013 by Te'Oran

[Sherper]

A wind rose on the open topped courtyard in the Fortress of the Light, its hand a cool caress across the line of sweaty faced recruits. Ackley scanned the list he had in front of him warily, the parchment was growing long these days and the Children’s ranks seem to have swelled considerably during the past month. He leaned more heavily against one of the cylindrical pillars that lined the edge of the training yard and let out a sigh under his breath. It all meant more work for him at the end of the day – as if he did not have enough on his plate already.

 

He longed for a nice cup of wine or even some distilled ale he knew a few of the taverns served, but that unfortunately was a luxury denied to him. He had made a promise to Lord Captain Daiem that he would never drink on duty ever again – a hallmark of a responsible officer or so the man told him. He trusted the man’s judgement and after all, he had given the man his word. Words and honour did not quench a man’s thirst however and Ackley had to add another item to the list of reasons he had to grimace every morning. A Hundredman’s duties never end, and they waited for no one until that said Hundredman got out of his way to do something about it. He looked up from reading the list of the recruits assembled in the yard. Twenty today it seems – more than a handful for him even on the most pleasant of mornings.

 

He wore his white Hundredman Tunic; the one with the silver lightning bolt under the Golden sunburst imprinted on his front and back which indicated his rank. But thanks to the shadow from the pillars and the casual way he stood, most of the recruits passed him over as just another Child after just one look at him. He chuckled wryly. He was going to make them learn that lesson soon enough.  

 

Nearly all the recruits he saw were growing impatient – another lesson they’ll have to remedy quickly if they wish to survive in the Army. All except one it seemed.  He looked back down on the list and ran a finger over the particular name he had been searching. Amahn Luthgar. Ackley stared at the name on the parchment then raised his head to examine the recruit.  Aged nineteen, the Andorian fresh face looked clean shaven and had his hair tied neatly back with a leather cord so as to not interfere with his movements. Eagerness oozed from the boy, yet it was held back by what seemed like self determination and discipline. The face turned to stare at him and Ackley smiled. “A recruit with a brain,” he thought to himself, now that was something you didn’t see every day. The boy was perhaps the only one who had noticed his presence, whilst the nineteen other buffoons chattered away like hens. They might be wearing armour and had belted swords on their hips, but all of them still had a long way to go before they’d make proper soldiers. He cleared his throat and stepped from the shadows.

 

“Stand to attention.” He barked and the line of faces instantly jerked upright. A look of confusion passed between them as a few recognised the man they had dismissed earlier. Confusion soon turned to contempt however, as a few of them gave him passed judgemental looks in his direction.  Ackley was not a particularly tall man, a fact he was very much aware as he returned the looks with his own flat eyed stare.

 

“I was told you layabouts want to join the Children of the Light.” He said levelly after he found his place at the front of the column. “Though perhaps the clerks got the orders wrong, since I only see prime candidates for the woman’s knitting circle here.” Insult the recruit; that was the tip the Master of Arms had left him before the man finally decided to take his annual leave. It makes them want to prove you wrong. It certainly did just that. A few angry mutters came from the back few rows and showed in more than one face as Ackley nodded to himself.  

 

“I see a few of you clearly disagree with my assessment, well – I’m not always right. But what would you say makes a good soldier?” A few hands shot up and Ackley pointed to a stocky brown haired Domani.  

 

“Soldiers need to fight sir! They need to know how to fight good.” Not the brightest bulb in the shed, but that had been the answer Ackley was expecting.

 

“I guess by that logic, if you beat me in a fight – then that would make you better soldiers than me? Very well…” he unbuckled his sword belt from his waist and smiled at the line of puzzled faces. “Guess you’ll just have to beat me in a fight to prove yourselves.” He dropped it on the ground and gently nudged it to one side. He did not think he can beat all twenty of them at once; only a blademaster would be crazy enough to even try. But he did have the advantage of surprise on his side, one he intended to utilize to full effect.

 

Standing with his chest raised and both his hands resting lightly behind his back, he raised a casual almost lazy eyebrow and asked if four of them were willing to prove him wrong. After a moment of shifting, four recruits that shared sneers earlier stepped forward to meet him. Ackley couldn’t help keep the smile off his face.

 

“Now, draw your weapons and attack me.” He said, as the four exchanged brief looks with one another. They hastily obeyed and drew their swords from their scabbards. The crowd murmured and made room by forming a large circle around the five combatants. The words unarmed and crazy were repeated not just once. One of the four, a tall skinny Amadician decided to step forward holding his long sword like a wooden cudgel over one shoulder. Ackley rolled his eyes at the man; these kids really did have a long way to go before becoming soldiers.

 

Before the man had the chance to take another step, he launched himself into a series of lightning fast attacks. The wooden Jo whirled in his hands as the small wooden staff appeared from behind his back and began cracking heads as soon as it was free from the belt loop. The thing was alive and it sung its willowy song as Ackley turned the staff over and over again in his hand, all the while issuing pain and injury across his four opponents.

 

Ackley dodged between poorly conducted sword swings and all too unsteady foot work, as his Jo neutralised all the opponents within the space of heart beats. The entire fight was over within the space of a minute as he stood over his fallen opponents. He pointed the end of his staff at one of them; the blunt wooden end gently touching the man’s throat to drive the message home.  “There is much more about being a soldier than simply fighting.” He said, proud his voice didn’t even sound breathy after taking on four armed opponents.  The recruit was staring wide eyed at Ackley’s staff as if the blunt wooden end was in fact a sharp spear. Ackley raised the stick and the man sighed audibly with relief. “One of them is mercy… We don’t kill unnecessarily, and we don’t kill the innocent or those who chose not to fight.”

 

Grass crunched behind him and Ackley let out another sigh. “And we don’t resort to underhand tactics like sneaking up on a man when he is speaking.” The recruit that had been closing in behind him yelped in surprise as the staff whirled in a full arch and cracked him over the side of the head. Satisfied by his handy-work, he turned his attention back to the fallen recruit. He had showed them discipline; now it was time to show them kindness. Extending a hand towards the fallen man, he helped dragged him to his feet.

 

“All of these things will come naturally with time. Just be sure to listen and follow instructions and never let laziness creep into your bones.” He looked around at the circle of faces.
“Now, split up into pairs. I want to work on basic stances. Some of you will also need to learn how to hold your weapon properly.”

 

The remaining recruits eagerly hopped to it, drawing their weapons and splitting into pairs. He’ll need to go and correct some of them later, but now he had something else he wanted to work on.

 

“Recruit Amahn,” he said crispy, “would you kindly step forward.” The fresh face gave look of surprise but jogged quickly towards him and stood to attention after giving a precise salute. “Hundredman Ackley, sir!” Some of the other recruits gave the man sympathetic looks, yet relief showed clearly for it meant Ackley wouldn’t be taking his wrath out on them.

 

“Now, you’re a bright lad.” He began once having told the recruit to be at ease. “You two stop gawking and get to work.” he said after seeing a pair staring at himself and Amahn. Recruit swords were never sharpened for training purposes and he was satisfied in seeing some of the other groups were already trying to pommel their neighbourhood opponents to mince meat.

 

“From the way you’re standing, I’d say you’re already somewhat familiar with that sword of yours.” He scooped up his own sword belt lying to the side and buckled it on once more. “I’ve been told you give you some more advanced training than the others. So draw your sword boy, and let’s see what you can do.”  

 

He drew his own whilst settling the Jo to one side; the staff tended to get caught and it had already served its purpose. The fresh face drew his sword and held it out in front of him with both hands resting on the hilt – Good. “At least you know how to stand when stationary.” He commented, shifting his own blade and making small loopy gestures with it. “But let’s see what you do when you have to strike. Hit me.”

 

The recruit obliged and waited no time in between to start a crosswise diagonal swing, which would’ve taken Ackley’s left shoulder had he not blocked it in time with his own blade. “Good, good.” He muttered under his breath, as he meet the surprisingly swift attacks. The boy was good, though there was still much to be desired over. He parried and deflected the recruit’s blade with ease, all the while pointing and correcting the man’s form and swing. Recruit Amahn did not fight in any particular sword form, rather it was a straight forward affair of slashing and counter-slashing, with the occasional lunge thrown in between.

 

Ackley sent a hard kick to the recruit’s side after a particularly ballsy swing from the man. He had to learn to not only attack but defend, and the kick sent him rolling to the ground in a comical tumble. Getting up, the recruit panted heavily but was ready for another round.  A mischievous twinkle crossed the man’s eyes and Ackley smiled as the recruit moved forward once more. No doubt the man was going to try something clever to try and catch him off guard. He readied himself with his own sword poised and waited for whatever the recruit was trying to pull.  

 

 

~Ackley Carnel
Hundredman in the Army of the Light

Edited October 30, 2013 by Sherper

[Te'Oran]

  Amahn winced as he stepped forward toward the man who had given him a nice boot to the ribs. A mischievous look ran across his face, his usual method of attack was clearly doing him no good against this man. He had another idea. Rather clumsily he raised his sword above his head and brought it down in a wide ark. As the man in front of him reached to block the attack and more than likely counter it, Amahn slung his right foot towards the fellows ankle knocking the leg out from under him. Instantly he spun around, throwing his elbow at the mans head, the attack barely connected but Amahn thought he had gotten his point across none the less. A few of the recruits who had strayed from their instructions gasped in surprise. 

 

  Suddenly a blow took Amahn right in the shoulder and he crumpled to the ground. He shuddered a bit as he became aware of the cool breeze that had been working its way back and forth along the training grounds. Slowly he stood from his place at the ground, grunting as he did so with a grimace on his face. He muttered a curse under his breath and stood with a slouch in his step. Bloody hell, he thought, just had to look away from the fellow eh Amahn? He quickly averted his attention back to his superior. Only now did he finally take the time to truly observe him.

 

  He wore the tunic of a Hundred man; a silver lightening bolt lay under the golden sunburst that was embroidered on the breast, which indicated his rank. By no stretch of the imagination was he an impressive figure, but he had a look of discipline and reserved strength about him. The look of a true, battle-hardened soldier. Amahn leaned forward intently, bracing himself for the bitter critique that was soon to come. He no longer noticed the wind...

[Sherper]

Abruptly, Ackley broke into a haughty laugh at the top of his voice. The boy did have steel in him! He had been confused at first by the extremely peculiar strike the boy did, raising his sword high above his head like that. But little had Ackley anticipated, the kick that nearly knocked him over to the ground – and thus ending the fight in favour of the recruit instead! He shook his head in silent mirth as he clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulders.

 

“We’ll make a fine swordsman out of you yet, boy. That was some ballsy move you pulled.” Tension seems to seep out of the recruit’s body as the boy grinned back up at him. The other recruits, now returned to their individual spars as if they hadn’t gasped a moment before, and Ackley took the boy a bit further away from the throng of clashing steel on steel.  

 

He turned to face the boy again. “Ballsy moves like that are never taught in the books,” he explained. “For the pure reason that they’re just plain silly and stupid.” He instantly smiled to take the sting off the words, and make sure to imply that he was not stupid. “But it is often this unpredictability take lets you win nine times out of ten.”

 

He stared into the eyes of his candidate, and pivoted on the balls of his foot to face him once more. “Ready to go again? Remember, be unpredictable – but don’t be stupid.” The two raised their swords once more to begin another round of dance.

 

 

~Ackley Carnel
Hundredman in the Army of the Light

[Te'Oran]

  The man who Amahn had been sparring with clapped him on the shoulder with a heavy hand. “We’ll make a fine swordsman out of you yet, boy. That was some ballsy move you pulled.” He said loudly, not seeming to be the slightest bit worn out. Tension instantly drained from Amahn and a small smile spread across his face. He breathed a sigh of relief. The few recruits who had been observing them had averted their attention elsewhere as soon as the session had ended and the man glanced in their direction. The sound of steel clashing upon steel rang through the training grounds with loud echos.

 

 Suddenly he turned back to Amahn.  “Ballsy moves like that are never taught in the books,” he explained. “For the pure reason that they’re just plain silly and stupid.” The man said and quickly smiled to take the sting from his words. Amahn had not been offended though, he knew that he was not stupid.  “But it is often this unpredictability take lets you win nine times out of ten.” Amahn nodded and replied in a worn tone, " Yes, Sir. "

 

 The man began staring into the eyes of Amahn and pivoted on his heels. “Ready to go again? Remember, be unpredictable – but don’t be stupid.” The fellow said. Amahn imitated - not very well of course - the stance of one of the men from earlier. He crept forward slowly, holding his sword ahead of him with both hands. He thought for a moment, and swung two, well placed blows. They both connected, one landing on the mans right shoulder and the other ramming into his left elbow. Quickly the man countered with a floury of attacks and it took all of the energy Amahn had just to direct the blows elsewhere.

 

 Finally one connected to his hip and the fellow quickly followed up with a blow to the rib-cage. Amahn fell down on his back but quickly rolled over, coming up on his feet. He ducked low with great speed and swung a blow at the mans knees...

[Sherper]

Acutely wary of any more ‘unpredictable’ moves the boy might think of trying, Ackley steadied his grip on the hilt of his sword as his opponent came forward. Sword raised upwards at an acute angle, the recruit performed what was unmistakably ‘Boar rushes down the Mountain’ and managed to land two glancing blows to Ackley’s shoulders despite his initial defensive stance. Grunting at the impact – the blade would’ve made a rather sizable gash had it been sharpened – Ackley launched his own series of offences, starting with a simple ‘ribbon in the air’ but changing it mid-swing to ‘parting the silk.’

 

Again, the recruit fell back from his onslaught – sword just barely turning away Ackley’s cuts and slashes in time. ‘The Heron spreads its wings’ followed ‘Kissing the Adder,’ which itself followed ‘Moon on the water.’ Blow after blow he issued, and blow after the blow the recruit suffered and was forced on the retreat – yet still miraculously standing upright. Sword forms met untrained blocks and footwork, as the recruit finally fell after a lightning fast flick from Ackley’s blade to his opponent’s hip. The fight wasn’t over however, as the boy speedily recovered by rolling backwards his feet. He came on Ackley with surprising speed, realizing it was a form of ‘Low wind rising’ Ackley took a step back and just missed getting his shin bones smashed as the diagonal blow found only air.

 

Forgetting sword forms for a second, he cut in through the recruit’s blind area and sent the man’s sword flying with a solid kick. The recruit yelped as he felt Ackley’s boot make contact with his wrist and the weapon flew out of his reach, before the Hundredman settled his sword across Amahan’s neck.

 

“Do you yield, or do you choose to die?” he said in a flat voice which carried no emotion at all. He had not quite embraced the void during his spar against the recruit, yet his voice still took on an icy indifference.

 

“I yield,” the recruit gasped, as Ackley raised his sword as soon as the words were out.

 

“Come,” he said, extending a hand to the boy and pulling him upright. “Let’s go talk in my office.” A look of confusion flickered across the boy’s face, but quickly disappeared as Amahan swiftly emulated Ackley by sheathing his sword with ‘folding the fan’. He turned towards the other recruits and gave them all the dismissal command, telling them that they had all done well for themselves, and to see him at the same spot tomorrow at the same time.

 

The other recruits parted, wide grins on their mouths as they stalked off to enjoy the rest of their day. Amahn followed Ackley as he led the boy down flights of stairs and through corridors to where his office stood. Reaching the stout wooden door, he pushed it open and gestured the recruit inside. “Careful of the carpet, I just had it moved yesterday. Take a seat if you want.”

 

He sat down in his own chair on the other side of the large wooden table facing the door, and unbuckled his sword belt and cloak, tossing them to a coat hanger in one corner. “Now, tell me a bit about yourself. This’ll just be a friendly chat, so no need to look so serious.” He said, seeing the slight worried frown across the other man’s face.

 

“Whatever you feel comfortable with telling me – I’m just a bit curious, that’s all. Also, have you given any thought about which path you might want to take further down the line?” He leaned back in his chair and studied the other man as he gave his reply. Now, where had he left that pot of Kaf?

 

 

~Ackley Carnel
Hundredman in the Army of the Light

[Te'Oran]

  Amahn followed the man he had previously been sparring with down a series of well kept stair wells and hallways until they finally came to a stop near a stout, well worn wooden door. The man shoved the door open and closed it behind the pair as soon as they were inside. Amahn chose to take a seat when he was offered. He knew he wore a worried look on his face but the man soon put him at ease with a few kind words. He just wanted some basic information apparently. Fair enough, he thought, and so he began speaking to the fellow in confidence.

 

  " Well, " Amahn began and shrugged his shoulders, he was still a bit sore from the sparring session and was finding it difficult to make himself comfortable. " I was first born son to my father, who was a poor farmer who lived just outside of Caemlyn .. " he paused for a moment, adjusting himself once more and clearing his throat. " At an early age I was exposed to the many evils of the world, and saw the hand of the dark one in the world myself, I soon decided that if no one else was going to do anything about it, than it was my duty to take care of the issue myself. "

 

  Amahn stared over the desk at the man with a casual gaze. " I did all I could to walk in the Light, but I soon learned that the real battles were being fought by those who out right opposed the dark one and fought him and his spawn both in a mental war as well as a physical one, and so I heard about the Children and beyond that, the Hand. " Amahn shrugged once more, clearly meaning he was done giving his back ground.  He hasnt the need to know anymore. He rubbed his hands together roughly and tried to plaster a fake smile on his face. He had never been very good at smiling... But then again he had never had much to smile for.

Edited October 31, 2013 by Te'Oran

[Sherper]

Ackley listened to the boy’s tale with interest, leaning his head on one arm whilst giving encouraging nods whenever it felt appropriate. The boy, Amahan, definitely sounded like he had a troubled childhood. Ackley himself had a rather stable environment growing up, but he understood all too well what poverty and fear could do to a person from a young age. The time between his running away from the courts and joining the Children, held some of the scariest memories he had ever had the misfortune to experience.

 

His eyes flashed back to the boy as Amahan continued talking.

 

“At an early age I was exposed to the many evils of the world, and saw the hand of the dark one in the world myself. I soon decided that if no one else was going to do anything about it, than it was my duty to take care of the issue myself.”

 

Again, Ackley nodded. He already knew where the boy was going with this, and he guessed he would’ve made the same choice had he been in the boy’s position ten years ago.

 

“I did all I could to walk in the Light, but I soon learned that the real battles were being fought by those who outright opposed the dark, and fought him and his spawn both in a mental war as well as a physical one. So I heard about the Children and beyond that, the hand.”

 

Yup, they’ve got themselves another budding Questioner. He’s heard the tale many times before, sometimes from old records, and at others from second hand retellings. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind which group within the Children was the most dedicated to their work.  Yet too often it seemed to Ackley, questioners took to their own standard of moral, which he felt was just as tainted – if not more –wicked than the shadow. Ackley could only pray this fresh face – full of energy and eagerness, is not eventually shaped into the same mould.

 

“Can’t say I won’t be disappointed with the prospect of losing a good sword like you to the Hand, but I respect your decision – whatever it may be in the end.” He said, taking a deep breath to look the boy straight in his eyes. “You’ll get far if you dedicate yourself to your studies, if there is anything you need or want to ask, my office door is always open – just remember to knock first before you come in. I’ve already had a few problems with that lately.” He said, remembering Daiem’s unexpected visit a couple days prior.

 

 “Don’t forget what I taught you today on the field. Be unpredictable, but don’t be stupid. That doesn’t just apply on the battlegrounds, mind you. Dedication and trust are useful tools to have, but everything is a double edged sword. In the end, trust your common sense and constantly look to your inner morals for guidance.”He finished, hoping the seed he planted was enough.

 

“I won’t keep you any longer than I need to; you’re free to go if you wish.”

 

The recruit stood from his seat, and gave him a crisp salute before leaving through the open door. Ackley wondered as he watched the boy’s snowy white cloak disappear behind the closing door, whether he would ever see a Questioner he could grow to like.

 

“Sure as hell hope so,” he muttered as he returned to searching for that missing bag of Kaf. He needed the caffeine in the beverage so he could get some more work done.  

 

~Ackley Carnel
Hundredman in the Army of the Light

 

 

OOC: I think that should conclude your WS requirement for an increase. But if you feel like you wanted to contemplate what Ackley has said whilst walking back to your quarters, then you’re more than welcome to do so. Report the completion of this thread to your progress board so the RL could increase your WS.

Edited November 1, 2013 by Sherper

[Te'Oran]

  As Amahn stepped out of the room, he closed the heavy wooden door behind himself. He stopped for a short moment, a frown sprouting on his face. He shook his head vigorously as if to snap himself out of some sort of a trance, and then proceeded down the hall. Not many thoughts budded in his mind and he was fixated on the sound of the loud clicking noise his boots made on the polished floor. Suddenly he stopped in mid step, remembering the frown that had crossed the other mans face when he mentioned the Hand of the Light. Amahn was not blind, however much it disappointed him, he knew that  other children held an open contempt for the ' Questioners ' as they called them.

 

  After a short while he continued on down the hall, and eventually stopped outside of a shabby, wooden door. Home sweet home, he thought, and was shocked to realize that he had spoken aloud. A small cluster of passing recruits stared at him warily as they passed by. Shaking his head Amahn shoved the door open and stepped into the room. Once the door was closed behind him he slid the bolt into place. He then began shoving the few bits of furniture up against the wall, creating a decently sized open space in the floor. 

 

  Amahn drew his sword, stepping into the middle of his small space, it was a rather poor attempt to clear his mind. He swung random, undisciplined strikes here and there. Why did he even call me in there? After a short while he gave up, making his way across the room and sheathing his sword, he fell backwards on the bed. Bloody ashes I need some rest! He thought. Rest did not come easy however. He could not help but think over the days events. Amahn sighed aloud. He soon realized that he was still in his cloak and armor and began laughing at himself.

 

  Without getting up from his place he pulled off his boots clumsily, he then untied his cloak and rolled off of it, tossing it down into the floor. After a short while all of Amahn's clothes made an awkward pile in the floor. Being in nothing but his small clothes he worked himself under the thick blanket that was on his bed. Now that he was out of his armor sleep came easy to him.

Edited November 1, 2013 by Te'Oran