Live Combat [I]

[--Rob]

Frank Jefferson, an elder man sitting alone in a class room that was far from modern, believed in a couple of founding principles: When your company was requested in a business agenda, you showed up on time; if you weren't 10 to 15 minutes early, you're late. You respect your elders, but it is not necessary to bend for them. Your primary objective in life is to better yourself and the world around you. Plans can change any moment, so you must be prepared to adapt in an instant.

A letter resting on his desk was most pertinent to the latter, which read as follows.

Mr. Jefferson, I regretfully inform you that your wife has taken ill. Doctors say she has little time remaining. Her final request is to see you one last time before she passes. My sincerest apologies.

Besides address information and a signature, it gave little else. It was to the point and contained all relevant information. In concept, it was everything Frank would ask for in a letter. In practice, it was the most devastating thing he had ever seen.

Later that day, a select few students would enter the room. They should surely notice the inadequacy of the place that promised to teach them Live Combat. Perhaps a few comparisons to an arithmetic lecturing hall would be uttered, perhaps not. What was certain, however, was a letter on a students desk. This letter was addressed to Donovan.

I've been summoned for duties I feel I can not yet admit; to do so would cripple me in ways no warrior could manage. I trust you remember what we have discussed. My notes and instructions are located in the bottom-right drawer. The key remains where you last knew it to be.

Frank Jefferson.

Spoiler:

Carlos will be posting after all other students in the class arrive.

[Aromatic]

As she opened the door, Sasia inhaled.

All at once the room took shape in her mind, a symphony of hard coffee and dark chocolate boxes whose shapes cut sharp with old ash, the quiet complexity of age and the musty fragrance of human age instantly recognized as the hallmarks of an old haunt of an old man. The walls swirled a gentle vanilla, a custardy soft vanilla, a vanilla which complimented and assuaged the strength of the room's features in ways only found in the antiquated. Yes, she liked this room. She would not complain if she had to smell it all day.

She sat at a random desk, swinging her bandaged legs slightly to scuff the wooden floor. The friction through the gauze spread a comfortable warmth into the soles of her feet. Since she was the first to arrive, she permitted herself to close her useless white eyes, lean in closer, and breathe in the form of her seat. The chocolatey fragrance asserted itself as swirling melted ripples she knew to be wood grain, along which she slid a finger to bring definition to the texture. The oppressive hint of ash was stronger too, but not entirely unpleasant. Much worse was trying to ignore the looming worry that she might be in the wrong place.

She had left for class early and got help from some kind woman on staff, but all that assurance had been abandoned with the atmosphere of the place. Now, there was nothing she could do. She could never navigate her way alone among all the unfamiliar, indistinct buildings. She would have to wait.

[Faustus]

The door swung open a second time. In stepped Donovan. For reasons unbeknownst to him, related to the escalation of political tension between Rosinder and Renovatio, Donovan had been having a hard time separating his dreams from reality as of late. Not to say that he walked about daily, struggling to distill the delusion from the concrete, but rather than when he delved into memory-space, he'd find himself dwelling on a scene from his history only to later realize it had never happened.

See, he thought he brought a wagon with him when enrolling into the academy. Being that this was only his second year and he'd already been asked to act as a Teacher's Assistant, Donovan thought over-preparing less unsightly than under-preparing. But he couldn't find his damn wagon, because he realize all too abruptly that he never owned any such wagon.

So when he came into class, it was with his arms wrapped around an uncomfortable load of wall posters and charts, leaning forward as he dragged a book filled pack along the ground strapped to his waist.

Establish dominance.

"Hello class. I'm Donovan. Mr. Jefferson was called away for personal business, and he asked me to take over the class until he returned. Shouldn't be too long, last I heard. Oh and I was to be his teaching assistant before this unfortunate turn of events, so don't think I'm a complete ninny or anything."

Though the weight of the pack and the strain of the posters clearly slowed the boy down, he seemed to show nothing for it. No exertion on his face; no fatigue in his voice. He had clearly defined limits but could operate on the razor edge of those limits to capacity. Slowing only when at the very front, he unloaded everything into a big pile on the ground and turned to face the class.

"But there's only one of you!"

Donovan paused and canted his head, looking directly at Sasia. At her eyes in particular.

"Are you blind?"

[Aromatic]

A long, excruciating wait it was. Just how long she had waited was a mystery, but it very well could have been hours, with the length of minutes nowadays. And with each second, or minute, or dozen, Sasia found herself less and less sure that she shouldn't just get up, leave, and wander around until finding her way again. The campus was large, but it wasn't that large, was it? She hadn't been able to smell the tops of many buildings. She could feel blood rushing into her face with each new doubt, and every desperate attempt to will it away only exacerbated the problem.

It hadn't really been that long, in the end.

Wrapped in her thoughts, the sudden sound of the door shot electric tension through her body, and served well to drain the blush from her face for her. A reflexive inhalation told her everything about the newcomer. He was lumpy and awkward, a swirl or a soft block bristling with flimsy sharpness, or no, maybe he was just carrying things, round and papery things. And the bulbous tail he dragged around clearly smelled of books, that awful reek of pitch and leather, to which she scrunched up her nose for just a moment before remembering her manners.

He was much younger than she expected from a teacher, especially this teacher. In fact Donovan didn't smell much at all like the room, but he seemed to know what he was talking about, and the way he talked about it gave his scent a faint touch of purple that she did not at all expect. She turned to watch him, more as a courtesy, but she didn't at all think to offer assistance until it was too late. She couldn't help but try to study the figure more, to have a more refined picture of her interim instructor than a blob that spoke plums, but stopped concentrating once he asked, obviously, about her eyes.

She certainly wouldn't lie to a teacher, and so she would only be slightly more likely to lie to a teacher's aid - not likely enough to lie to him now, or so she weighed. But, at the same time, she couldn't afford to display any weakness if she wanted to get the most out of the class. So instead, she stood up.

"Uh, my name is Sasia."

She navigated around her desk to the front, offering her hand for a handshake. Her left hand, of course, as the right was busy being wrapped up like her legs. She tried to ignore her lack of classmates, and tried to ignore Donovan's lack of being a teacher. She had to be professional.

"Is there anything I can, maybe, help you with, or maybe why are we in this room, I think is a good question. Um, and it is nice to meet you Donovan."

[Faustus]

Donovan shrugged. Sasia's non-answer coupled with her deft navigation around the desk pretty much shut the book down on his question. He slipped his hand into hers, gave her a firm but pliable grasp, and shook the hand casually. He then tossed her hand aside, like 'Here I'm done with this' and started going through the pile.

"Pleasure to meet you too Sasia. I uh, I don't know what happened to the rest of the class. There's supposed to be two more of you. I dunno, maybe they'll show up later. So to just be honest, I'm a feeling a little tossed up on if it'd be cooler if you were blind or not.

"See, since you aren't blind you get to see all the neat stuff I brought."

Donovan fished around some, selected a poster from the stacks of them, and undid the twining in a few deft strokes of his fingers. He let the poster unfurl, bringing his hands up above his head so that it would show in its complete glory. The canvas showed a woman in 37 different poses of a single style. The language along its side was incomprehensible, but Donovan could read it and intended to later on.

The nuance of each picture was horrendously detailed.

"Right?! Right?! But, think about this. If you were blind and had the cojones to come out to a combat class anyway, then I'd be real interested in finding out what it is that made you want to take the course and how you plan on making it through."

Donovan brought his hands down and began to roll the poster back up.

"What's your forte?"

[Aromatic]

The more he spoke, the less interested Sasia became in pleasantries, and the more her dissatisfaction showed on her face. She hadn't even bothered to pretend to look at the poster he bore, though it was large enough that she might have been able to discern the figures if she brought it right under her nose. His tone was showing some green. Not surprisingly, her blindness was either glaringly obvious or just obvious enough to arouse significant attention, so there was no room for more games. Angry and uncomfortable with how it seemed he was toying with her, she tugged at the bandages on her hand, deftly working on unfurling them up to mid-forearm.

"Okay so, you are clever, and also mischievous, but in a malicious way, and also I am blind, but I can see fine, so can we put on the record that, um, this is acknowledged, and move on?"

Her bare right arm was held aloft, almost in Donovan's face. It was an awful and pitted landscape of scars - burn tissue and discolored puncture wounds. In several spots it seemed as if there was a glint of dull metal, debris either inserted for some purpose or unable to be removed. The colors were utterly revolting to her sensitive nose, but they were tones she was accustomed to.

"It works fine, thanks to the priests, but if I had been able to defend myself it never would have happened."

The gauze soon covered her arm, the cottony marshmallow relief brought quickly thanks to the age of the routine.

"There is plenty more, if you would like to see, but it is the least of reasons, I guess it is more of a reminder."

Somewhat unwound, she let out a sigh. She suddenly felt like she was running out of steam, but couldn't give that notion authority. She focused her eyes squarely upon his and decided she might as well keep up the coming clean.

"Maybe I will not make it through, but, then again, this is not the goal, I just need to learn everything I can, so I insist that I not be, um, taken easy upon. In fact I maybe, probably, should not be, um, here, anyway, not because of my eyes, but because the lady who helped me said this class was already, uh, full with three, but she then said that maybe someone would drop it, or maybe if I got here early enough I could talk my way in. But you are not the instructor, and, um, no one else has bothered to come, so we are in a strange position."

She spoke too much. Suddenly she was vulnerable, and for some reason feeling out of breath. Absent-mindedly, thanks to the social setting, she began taking quiet breaths with her mouth instead of her nose. She didn't particularly register descending into a...well, blindness.

[Acies ab Vesania]

Chaflin stood outside the classroom, steadying himself before entering the class. The campus was a completely new concept to him, concentrating more people in one place than he had seen in entire villages from where he grew up. Everything brought shock and awe to his poor inexperienced eyes, each new sight something far different from what he had seen before. He managed to gather his books and pick up a list of classes, the first he planned to enter was the one he stood outside now, training for combat techniques. With the world being the dangerous place it could be, he wanted preparation for the world and everything it could throw at him. Who would have thought that someday he would be a college boy?

Chaflin adjusts the books in his hands nervously, reaching out with a tentative grasp and opening the door to his new path. Two students already sat inside, both engaged in conversation of their own, leaving him the third wheel in this group. He takes a vacant seat apart from the others but not so far as to suggest isolative intentions, he was simply nervous. His massive frame barely fit at the desks, however, and this only added to his discomfort and anxiety. Setting his books down on the table and pulling his work materials. About then he notices the note, which serves to add a little confusion to his already precarious understanding of his situation.

Once prepared and ready to learn, he takes in the environment of learning, if you could call it that at least. Hardly adequate for the needs of such a subject, he wondered what they would be learning here in this class. He hoped it was good; he could use all the help he could get. Sure, he was told he could out wrestle a troll who ate his vegetables, but just because he had the power to bop a bull on the nose and make it weep didn’t mean he knew how to use it. That was what he worried about.

[Faustus]

He secured the poster by a sash attached to one end of it and tossed it back into the pile. At her allegation, Donovan could do nothing more than smile.

"Now what you just said defines a trickster. Most people think I'm a little bit of an airhead. It's pretty easy to tell from the get, even though I don't think I give 'em much reason to get that in their heads. But I let them go right on thinking it. They set up the veil, they can rough out how solve it. You though. You roughed me just about the same moment I roughed you out, but you put the trick up first. I say you're the trickster."

Donovan couldn't help but smile even wider as he brought his hands out to either side of him, forming himself into a human T, and then voiced what he'd already forgotten Sasia could not see.

"Always stretch before a fight if you can help it. You can't always help it, but if you can then stretching is good. It limbers you up. Lets you get a snap off that much quicker, or reach that much farther and every inch counts."

Having accrued considerable experience with seasoned warriors and veteran swordsmen, Donovan was not unaccustomed to 'the rite of scars'. The showing of battle wounds was sometimes a painful event charged with tumultuous emotion, sometimes it was a joyous recollection of a heated battle or expert interchange, but the purpose never changed.

To show off. So while Sasia continued, and Donovan paid her well in attention, he also stretched. Twisted at the hip this way and that, touching his hands to his toes and his head to his knees, and then segueing into a backbend.

It was impossible not to wonder at what the young, blind girl had to suffer through to get those kind of battle scars, but Donovan checked his childish curiosity with well learned propriety. He'd ask her about them, that was for damn sure, but not when they had just met. Strangers shouldn't pry where friends could.

"I can't make any big decisions cause I'm not the teacher, you're too right about that, but the others didn't show and you're here. I'll let him know that, Mr. Jefferson will appreciate it I'm sure."

Round about that time, a figure loomed in the doorway. Chaflin's immensity immediately demanded his attention. When the light fell across his face and Donovan saw in the titan's eyes no ill intent, he relaxed and waved him over.

"Hey! You're pretty big. I'm Donovan, I was just telling Sasia here about the importance of stretching. If you can that is. You can't always help it but if you can stretching is good. You got a forte, big guy?"

[Aromatic]

So he was helpful, after all! It was nice to at least hear that she'd be getting a good word in. Maybe it would help, maybe it wouldn't...short of deception, which clearly wouldn't much work here, it was her best bet. In fact, now that she thought of it, Donovan's notion that she was a trickster was rather amusing. Sasia had never really considered herself much of anything in particular. Maybe it would be worth exploring... She offered him a smile, but was not really sure if it was out of gratitude, or optimism, or formality.

"Thank you, it means a lot. I will try to be, um, worth the trouble."

Oh yeah, and stretching.

"Oh. And, uh, stretching. That is something, I think, that I can do."

Sasia interlocked her fingers and inhaled deeply...only to cut it short with a gasp at the figure that arrived so suddenly by her account. She wheeled around to face the newcomer, to get a better whiff of him, but took a step or two away and kept her head low. He was almost monstrous, but not at all monstrous, a deadly tower wrapped in human skin, but worst of all was how he had snuck in right under her nose. Her lack of attention was a little embarrassing, and a shade of blush betrayed it.

Was he a student? Or was he staff? Donovan answered that well enough, but he also gave away her name, announcing her for the slightest of moments. She would have preferred never being noticed by someone so menacing, ever, but to be polite she gave a weak wave to the big new guy as Donovan continued.

[Acies ab Vesania]

Chaflin gives a slight start, a little startled by the interaction of the others in the room. They were engaged in their own conversations and appeared busy enough to take little interest in his passage into the room. Perhaps this was the mark of a good fighter, being aware of your surroundings despite distractions. Chaflin made a note of this as he processed his peers’ attempts to converse with him; he realized he had much to learn if he was going to be any kind of decent fighter. Already, even at the start of this beginner’s class, his fellow classmates had a start on him. If only he had spent more time training, better yet training off the farm, he may have had a better chance. He certainly did not want to flunk out!

Addressing the first to speak to him, Chaflin turns to Donovan and replies:

“Forte? I guess I do not really have one, none that I know of anyway. I have been doing some training with the War Hammer, but I am not very good with it yet; I have only started learning to use it a few months ago.”

Chaflin looks to other and nods back, only to see her eyes and realize that his gesture would go unseen. Turning a few shades of pink in embarrassment of his faux pas, he instead gives a shy but still firm greeting.

“Hello.”

Turning back to Donovan, who seemed to be the more open one in terms of engagement, he asks:

“I haven’t missed anything have I? I realize I was almost late, but this campus is quite overwhelming.”

Despite his size, his tone melts away some of the intimidating presence he carried with him into the room. He has a gentle voice and a soft demeanor, making the initial feelings his entrance wrought seem silly after the fact. Despite his bulky form and handsome looks that lend towards stereotypes of brawn and no brains, his speech suggests otherwise.

[Faustus]

Sasia's rampant timidity amused Donovan, and in no small measure. In affect she reminded him so much of Shay that Donovan could not help but find himself drawn towards Sasia. Not in a romantic light, but it lit a fire under the protective aspects of Donovan's personality that drove him to the Templar's sword in the first place.

The smile lighting his face at that moment mocked her, but in the friendliest way imaginable.

While Chaflin and Sasia introduced themselves, Donovan continued to stretch and hoped Sasia mindful enough to continue as well, and Chaflin keen enough to pick up what Donovan put down. Having brought one knee, and then the other, throughout the course of discussion Donovan brought the last leg down as Chaflin punctuated his very last question.

"Nah, you haven't missed anything. We just barely started stretching by the time you came in, that's about it. And I was asking Sasia here about your speciality. You say you got a war-hammer huh? Then you're exactly what you look like: effing strong.

"So the first thing we gotta do is establish a baseline. We'll give the academy grounds a once-around for speed and endurance and then we'll go to the indoor training grounds to see what else you two have to offer.

"But before that, I think formal introductions. Confidence in your voices, the two of you. It prepares the mind for strength of will," Donovan tapped his temple thrice with an index finger. "And that's just about the most decisive factor of all.

"I'm Donovan. My weapons specialty is the sword, my physical forte is speed and I'll be the interim teacher while Mr. Jefferson attends to his personal affairs."

Donovan looked expectantly at the other two, waited for the introductions to pass so that everyone could call one another by name, and then herded them out of the classroom. The lap began at the entrance, circled once around, and ended with a light jog towards the indoors training ground.

[Acies ab Vesania]

Chaflin caught on to the stretching quickly enough, eyeing both at work limbering up. It occurred to him that a class having to with combat techniques would entail physical activity and thus necessitate a need to keep everything warm and limber. Chaflin, keeping in tempo of the conversation, starts stretching at the same time, taking time to ensure that especially his shoulders and hamstrings were well prepared.

“I am Chaflin. I don’t know much about weapons I admit, but I can use the War Hammer well enough to hit straw dummies and keep from injuring myself.”

The last of that he says with a smile.

“I guess you could say my physical forte would be my strength, I always ate my vegetables growing up. However, I am told that in spite of my size I am quite fast as well.”

Chaflin finishes stretching, politely listens for the young woman’s answer, and departs the classroom as instructed when the introductions were over. Chaflin manages the run well, accustomed to works of endurance from tough farm living and constant running after livestock. On his way to the training facility, he shows no sign of a broken sweat, unaltered breathing and no slowing of his pace until the instructor slows himself.

[Aromatic]

Sasia calmed down a bit as the big guy spoke, his tone reminding her of flowers...gardenias, probably, she thought. It was weird and kind of cute, like a gorilla playing with a kitten, only much more delicious. In fact, it fit the room quite nicely. She would still keep an eye on him, so to speak, but went ahead and stepped away between two desks to stretch as Donovan was. She brought her arms in before unfurling them as far out as they would go, bending them back, and then rotating them around and down to her feet. Fingers touched hard floor, and then knuckles, and then palms, which she held as Donovan began to speak. She had made sure that her bandages covered everything anyway, but with the short length of her tunic she still made sure to face the two while she was bent over.

Donovan's voice was still solid, but ultimately didn't work well at all with the room. In fact, nothing about him smelled like it belonged here. She straightened up, twisting and tilting a bit, and planted her hands on the desks to either side. She hoisted herself up, brought in her legs, and extended them out to do some splits. After a few seconds she lowered herself down, resting her legs upon the desks and stretching more with her arms. She was a little embarrassed about showing off, especially when it was just about all she was good at, but tried to milk the experience for confidence to meet Donovan's quota as the men introduced themselves.

As Chaflin spoke she lifted up and brought her feet back to the ground. She took a few steps closer and straightened up in some unintentional parody of military attentiveness, trying to assert confidence and figure out exactly what represented confidence at the same time. She was making herself nervous, holding back a small tremor that instead manifested as glaring electricity down her spine, and nearly started shouting just moments after the big guy finished. Volume showed confidence, right?

"Um! I am, or, my name is Sasia. I don't really know the first thing about, you know, fighting, or fortes, or things of that-"

She cleared her throat and realized her eyes were staring directly forward, awkwardly between Donovan and Chaflin, and simply closed them to avoid thinking about it.

"...of that nature, but I guess I- yeah, er, yes, I move well, and learn well, and, well, I am excited to do that, uh, the learning part."

Shortly after, Sasia would have some trouble running the lap. She was mortified to find that both men kept a slightly faster pace than she did, forcing her to strain her legs to play catch up every now and then. She was certain she could walk the legs off either of them, but running was simply something she wasn't accustomed to, even with the occasional necessary flight for life in an emergency. By the time they finished the lap she was dripping with sweat and had trouble keeping her breath. She recovered well enough during the closing jog, but almost tripped once or twice as her heavy breathing disrupted her sense of smell.

[Faustus]

"Oh ho ho! Size AND speed, you say? Chaflin, you sir are a perfect carbon clump waiting to be found and exposed to tremendous heat and pressure and forged into this flawless diamond that will cut so much glass. Sasia, you're not that bad yourself. Let's keep the run brisk!"

He took five, maybe six, steps out of the room before barging back in and running right to the bottom-right drawer. Notes, instructions, and clipboard awaited him. As for the key . . . Mr. Jefferson was not transparent with its location in the letter, so Donovan assumed he meant to keep it secret. The other two waited outside for him. Donovan removed the face of the large clock, after noting the time mind you, and removed the key pressed into the largest gear of the time-keeping mechanism. After pocketing the key, he went outside.

Donovan led the brigade. Not far behind him thundered Chaflin, and somewhere behind him pattered Sasia. The lap around the academy grounds didn't take too long. Some matter of minutes, the pace quick and steady enough to have the seemingly fit child, albeit blind, sweating but that left the beast of labor and seasoned veteran relatively unscathed.

The pace slackened when they completed the circuit to a slow jog, and Donovan lazily led them to the indoor training grounds. Donovan pressed two fingers against his neck and looked up at the sun just moments before the door's arch eclipsed the sky.

"Hey! Not bad, not bad. Sasia, grab floor for a few minutes and catch your breath. There's a water fountain around the corner there."

She wasn't in terrible shape. Clearly Sasia had what it took to keep up with them, and he didn't plan on 'taking it easy' on her because of her 'disability', but it made no sense to push her to her very outer limits before they even began training proper. He waited a few minutes for Sasia to catch her breath and then led the two of them down a stretch hallway to two doors side by side

Both he unlocked with the single key procured from his pocket.

"Past this door is a waiting area. All kinds of weapons. Choose the one you feel most comfortable with. Past the waiting area is the training room. One at a time for now, though we'll do group exercises shortly. Whoever wants to get tested first, walk through first. The other can wait in the . . . waiting room."

He had no more to say and stepped through the door alongside the door Sasia and Chaflin were to take.

[Acies ab Vesania]

Chaflin listened intently to Donovan, ready to take in any information he was giving out. Chaflin heard prior to his arrival that the classes here could be quite difficult, and he was not going to take a chance of having his dreams dashed early on by poor studiousness and halfhearted efforts to learn. If he were to become a warrior, he would need to exercise his body and his mind. This was a journey with a thousand strides ahead of him and the first step was important as any other, more in fact, which is why it needed placing with calculated care.

Donovan opened a door and prompted them to select a weapon of choice. Chaflin stood in placing, weighing the possibilities in his mind. He did not want to seam too eager and too full of confidence, but neither did he want to show a lack of confidence and hesitance. Would it be wiser to allow her to take her turn first should she want it, or would the best decision be to move forward and take this opportunity now to begin his lessons? The environment was new to him, but he knew on the farm that while patience was important, hesitation to do work was simply a waste of time. It was then he decided to take action. It was time to stop standing around like the oaf he looked like and put his feet forward.

Learning could only take place by doing.

Chaflin stepped through the door, walking to the room Donovan pointed out just seconds ago. With what the instructions given, Chaflin picked out the weapon he felt most comfortable using. Leaving the room, he continued on to the training room. Unsure of what to expect, Chaflin could feel the rise of butterflies in his stomach, taking violent flight in the torrent welling within. Beads of sweat broke out along his hairline, sweat caused not by the run earlier but simple jitters before a test. He worked hard to get to this point of his life and to make it into the academy, he worked to make her proud. With a calm and collected face, an expression worn over the smoldering anxieties burned within, he hoped that the choice he made here and now would not prove to be a fatal mistake.

Entering in the room, Chaflin carried nothing.

Hands empty, nothing but the clothes on his back kept upon him, Chaflin enters the room with nothing but himself.