combat training mingle log

[policier]

characters: everyone
location: the village gymnasium
date/time: every wednesday & friday throughout october
content: at the town hall last month, javert offered to set up a place for combat training. this is him making good on his promise. as he mentioned in his bulletin ad, these sessions are open to absolutely everyone, not just those who want to learn how to fight. partner up with someone and spar. do whatever you want, just don't hurt each other too badly—or javert will have words with you.
warnings: violence

setup

The gym's certainly seen better days, with it's crumbling walls and lost ceiling tiles. Javert doesn't need it to be pretty, though. He only needs it to be functional. In the last week, he's been doing what he can to clean it up, washing the floors and making some minor structural repairs.

Once the first day of combat training begin, the day after the ferry sinks, it's as clean as it possibly can be without any sort of overhaul. There are mats set up along one end of the gym, for people to stretch or otherwise use for sparring, and a collection of swords near the door. Some are blunted and old, perfect for training — though they may still hurt — while others are sharp or unwieldy, and will need to be handled with care. Use them, Javert says, but return them when you are finished.

There's a tiny collection of knives, too, though there aren't any targets to practice throwing them at. It's a work in progress. For light, there's a torch set up along the wall, illuminating the room and allowing combatants to spread themselves out from one another.

meetings

For the sake of not being micromanagey, there isn't going to be any formal structure to these practices. Javert is available to teach hand-to-hand combat and swordsmanship, should anyone wish it. He's also enlisted the aid of Jason Grace, who will teach hand-to-hand and swordsmanship, and Bucky Barnes, who is proficient in knife fighting as well as hand-to-hand combat. Anyone else, of course, may teach others as they please. Just this once, Javert's not going to be a stickler for formalities. He just wants to see everyone making productive use of their time, in some fashion.

Training will run from seven o'clock to nine o'clock in the evening. Arrive promptly, or Javert will berate you for being disruptive. No one is required to come to every single meeting, so come as often or as little as you like. If regular exercise is supposed to help combat the effects of total darkness, why not give it a try?

Comments

javert | ota

[policier]

setting up

( Javert's there early before every class, getting everything set up and making himself available to those who wish to speak to him beforehand. He looks far less imposing dressed in only his shirtsleeves and trousers, his greatcoat and hat tossed to the side along with his lantern. He still cuts an intimidating figure, though, watching everyone as they come in, examining their appearance, and frowning at anyone that comes close. )

Yes? What is it? ( He may have volunteered to run these training sessions, but he's still not any good at being social, sorry. )

training

( He doesn't start each session with a speak or anything grandiose as that. He only asks if everyone has a partner or a group, and once it's confirmed that everyone does, he then orders everyone to get started. Javert may be on the sidelines watching, making sure no one's getting too rowdy. Other times, though, he may be partnered up with someone. In the case of the latter, he turns to the other fighter and asks, )

Do you wish to train with a sword or with your hands? ( It makes no difference to him. As it has been his entire life, he's only here to serve others. )

cool down

( Javert lingers long after training is over, collecting his things and sitting down on the bleachers to scribble down some notes. It's all written in French, with a pen and notebook he's taken from the general store, but it's information about each participant. What they're good at, and what their weaknesses are. He has notes of this sort about almost everyone in the town. It was his duty of his as an inspector to keep a detailed record of business owners and merchants, of vagabonds and suspicious men. He has not given up on this practice, even in death.

When someone draws nearer, he snaps the notebook shut and looks them, his brow scrunched together quizzically. )

setting up - first day

[worthallthis]

[The Soldier may not beat Javert here (or it may, who knows), but it shows up pretty early, and whenever it spots Javert it immediately approaches.

And stops just out of arm's reach, ducks its head, and waits. Like it's waiting for Javert to do something. (Technically, it's waiting for punishment. It fully expects punishment out of Javert for its part in the ferry crash. Even if Javert doesn't actually know about that part yet. Handlers are supposed to be all-knowing when it comes to mission actions like that, all right.)

You got a weird one, Javert, sorry.]

[policier]

( It doesn't take long for Javert to acknowledge him. He was just in the middle of laying out his swords, pulling them one by one from a makeshift bag. He looks up and gives the other man a questioning raise of his brow. )

You're here. Good.

( He has no idea that the Soldier was involved in the ferry crash. He hasn't had much time to investigate it, preoccupied as he was with trying to save supplies and people. And then later, trying not to relive that night on the Seine. He gets back up to his feet and smooths down the front of his shirt. )

I believe there's something you can help me with.

cool down, idk some random day

[pure_havoc]

[Cao Pi only drifts in once or twice, not to practice and definitely not to learn, but to observe and calculate. There's an interesting spread of age ranges and skill levels around here, he likes to keep tabs on readiness.

He naturally waits until Javert is done and not busy before wandering over to chat.]

Your style is interesting. Very light on your feet, compared to some I've seen.

[policier]

Thank you, sir.

( He lowers his head, mostly out of respect but also partly because he wants to hide the prideful smile that spreads across his face. It might've been easier to do so had he had his hat. He reaches for the brim instinctively, stopping once he realizes it isn't there then continuing, unaffected. )

It is a discipline known as fencing. I learnt it when I was a young guard, at the bagne, though I never had much occasion to use it. It is good to get back in practice.

cool down;

[originallutece]

[There are very few things that Rosalind is not instantly good at. It's not really her fault. She just absorbs things, soaking in new knowledge eagerly, always hungry for more. It was worse when she was younger, honestly, because nothing simple could keep her attention.

But now they've found something she's not good at. And it's honestly a bit of a bruise to her pride.

But it's physical, and she's never been good at that, not really. Oh, she can dance, and she's light on her feet, but she's no athlete. Her stamina is virtually nonexistent. So practice was . . .

It was a learning experience, and let's leave it at that.

Clad in trousers and a tank top, her hair tied back in something practical, she comes to sit near him. It's in part to wait for him to walk home, and honestly in part because she's still catching her breath.]

Je pense que nul autre que vous et moi parlons français, inspecteur.

[I think no one but you and I speak French, Inspector.]

What are you writing?

[policier]

( It's a skill that will come with practice. Javert has almost certainly assured her of that, should she ever find herself despairing about it. He's honestly a little afraid to see what she's going to be like once she does get the hang of it.

When he looks up and sees that it's her, he relaxes a bit and tosses his notebook open again, writing something down. )

Observations. ( He answers, and then, ) Il est utile de savoir de quoi les gens sont capables, si quelque chose se passait.

( It is useful to know what people are capable of, should something happen. He pauses a moment to look at her, and mutters softly, )

Your technique is improving.

a late pre-event thing, don't look at me

[darkeyed]

<sub>[He'd been making use of the rec center long before an idea to hold fight school solidified into an organized effort, so to see the gymnasium portion gradually cleared and filled with novices is a mildly interesting process to observe.

At the town meeting he hadn't offered to take part for a reason, but watching from the sidelines is no great commitment on his part, and it allows him to see who actually seems serious about doing the work. Only after watching several of these sessions does he circle around the outskirts so as not to interrupt the people on the floor and stop by Javert.]</sub>

You told me you could fight, before. I think it's time you finally proved yourself. What do you say?

_{[Who needs casual hellos when there are casual challenges instead.]}

[policier]

( Javert's never been one for exchanging pleasantries, so that suits him just fine. He's seen the younger man hovering in the corners of the gym, watching the students, but until now, he's never had much of a reason to approach him. The question draws a terrible smirk out of him — indeed, he does remember making such a claim, and he's certainly willing to back it up. )

I assure you, I would not lie about such a thing.

( Which is to say, yes, he'll fight. Lord knows he could use the practice, and the challenge. And because he can't help being cheeky, )

Perhaps we shall see if you can live up to your words as well.

( That he is a better fighter than Javert. If that is true, then perhaps we won't have any need to hold back. )

OTA

[worthallthis]

I. Pre-Class

The first day, the Soldier is at least an hour early, inspecting everything there, testing the knives, looking very somber and even more subdued than usual. It's in its leather and kevlar vest sans the usual jacket it wears on top, metal arm fully on display.

The second class, after the flowers have started blooming, it's shakier, but still here. And maybe its voice has a slight Brooklyn accent to it, when speaking in English.

As for the classes once the hallucinations start, well, those are gonna be dicey and the Soldier might not always show up. But it'll sure try.


II. Actual Class

The Soldier doesn't give a lot of verbal instruction-- doesn't even introduce itself. Most of what it does is through is demonstration, occasionally directing a student's motions or stance for them with brief, careful touches. But it's slow and careful in those demonstrations, and has sharp eyes for when someone isn't getting something, needs a different kind of instruction, or is getting frustrated and needs a break. For those paying attention, its language (always understandable, translated through whatever magic is in this place) shifts from English and Russian apparently at random.

It prefers to take the most basic students, those with no experience at all. Its primary focus is on teaching people how to fall without hurting themselves, how to avoid being hit, and how to break holds and briefly debilitate in order to escape an attack: feet-stomping, groin-kicking, and eye-gouging are all fair game, albeit only allowed to practice on the Soldier, not the other students. Only people who show they already know that or have particular talent get to move quickly beyond that to actual offense.

Only those who already show some skill get to learn knives, at least for now. Targets for throwing knives at only show up after a full two weeks.


III. Post-Class

If you want to ask the Soldier questions or attempt to be social, you can certainly try now. After each class, it takes a very brisk walk around the inside of the gym, regulating its breathing and working on getting the flesh hand to stop trembling and the plates in the metal arm to stop shifting. It might talk while it does this.

It's actually, surprisingly, good at this. It likes that it's good at this. There is intense satisfaction in seeing someone properly dodge a swing or a kick, fall and roll back to their feet without hurting anything, or grab an opponent's incoming arm and twisting it away. There is even more satisfaction in thinking that this will help these people stay alive if there is trouble.

But it's also fucking hard. It feels familiar in an uncomfortable way, like it's done this before but doesn't remember it. It requires a lot of people looking at it and quite likely judging it. It requires giving a number of people instructions, and touching them, or letting itself be touched. It's hard.

But it's sure as hell not going to fucking stop just because it's hard.

II as discussed

[savingthrows]

[ooc: CW for referenced abuse and related trauma/PTSD, claustrophobia, flashback.]

She looks, for all intents and purposes, like a normal child, just a 14 year old girl, shot up a little in height, almost coltish. She still favours one leg, having sprained her ankle on the ferry. But she's quiet, thoughtful, watches.

The truth is, Eleven looks a little intimidated by many of the things going on around her, here, and she keeps her distance to most people. This, clearly, is a girl that has no experience in actual physical combat.

Eleven wants to learn, though. Perhaps if she'd been better prepared on any level, the Mind Flayer wouldn't have...

That's nothing to think about now, though. She wants to learn. Her powers, she knows, can fail here - either through over-use, or just because this place is dark and wicked and cruel.

So she wants to learn how to hurt herself less, how not to be grabbed, how not to be a burden.

Liability isn't a word she knows, and if she knew it, she would want to avoid being it.

It goes well, at first. She has a certain bite to her, a certain determination to get things right. Watchful, attentive eyes. A tendency to repeat instructions, as if that will make them sink better into her mind and her limbs. She's not strong, has never even scuffled with friends her own age. But she tries, and she listens, and she begins to learn.

It's when she's supposed to learn how to break a hold on her that things go sideways, hard.

He doesn't do anything wrong, and she knew what to expect from the instruction before, and from seeing others do the stime. But knowing and feeling are different. It doesn't happen all at once, it's fine at first when he locks her into the hold she's supposed to break out of. She tries, and fails - it's normal, she knows. Not everyone breaks the hold on the first try, and she knows that without using her powers, she's weak. Not to use them when they are such an intrinsic part of her.

He's calm. He doesn't do anything wrong.

Despite that, when she tries again and fails, something tenses along her spine. Her lower lip trembles. This isn't frustration. Eleven's breath hitches, and she...

... she feels the orderly grab her. Papa looks at her in disappointment, and she cries, weak and weakened, and struggles, pleading, as he locks her into a secure hold and drags her like a doll towards the small, dark room, where they will close the door and leave her alone with no company but her half-formed, malnourished monster of a mind...

She makes a small sound like a scared animal at the back of her throat.

Nearby, a rack with training weapons wobbles precariously.

The air feels charged, like the sky before a storm break.

[worthallthis]

The change in her breathing makes the Soldier let go immediately. That's not supposed to happen. That sounds like, smells like, fear-- and it isn't going to let any of its students be afraid of it, not here, not now. Not ever.

So it lets go, takes a step back, registers the frightened sound. The rattle of the weapons doesn't register except as background noise. The way the air feels is uncomfortable, but registers more as an unpleasant echo, an almost-memory-malfunction, than something to actively worry about. Because it doesn't know about her other abilities-- not yet, anyway.

jason grace | ota

[notthatjason]

I. Setup
[Routine was not difficult for Jason to find. The Romans had done a good job of establishing a regimine at camp and somehow Jason found himself falling back on that where he could. Beacon and Camp were shaping up to be fairly similiar in the 'we will use this space to prepare for a great battle' kind of scenario that Jason was all too familiar with. Despite a lack of sun, Jason still designated part of the day as morning, part as midday, and part as evening. Mornings were spent with ocarina practice, walks, and possibly exploring; midday was for odd jobs around Beacon (these days usually reconstruction of buildings or ships); and his evenings were spent here or at the armory that Riku had recently told him about.

There was no point in moving all of the weapons, but he figured since they had already established the gymnasium as a place to practice combat they might as well take a few weapons from there as well. Much like Javert, he arrived early to these meetings or sessions and this time he was carrying a bag that clanked as he walked. He may see you waiting outside and hold up a hand.]

Hey. Could you get the door? I've got something to add to our equipment.

[If you aren't early, you may find him in a workout room, going to down on a punching bag or sorting through and polishing weapons on the gym floor. He'll look over at you and nod.]

Glad you could make it.

II. training.
Ready to get started?

[Up until now, Jason has probably come across as a nice guy. He's friendly, polite, and kind. He's muscular, but the glasses and his demeanor make it easy to assume he's just your normal teenager. Probably someone who was class president or captain of the basketball team or something equally mundane. However, he took this very seriously and as soon as it was time, those sky blue eyes of his seemed to darken into an oncoming storm. When he stands there with a sword, no matter how badly balanced or blunted it is, you can almost imagine him standing at the front of an army or perhaps more accurately a Legion.

He was literally born to this.

It was a hard thing to shake. Jason had grown up in a world where only the strongest survived and kindness was not something shown on the battlefield, especially by wolves. He tended not to say much, except 'Again' or 'Shift your grip' or other short, firm commands that were given to show the other how it was supposed to be done.

That's not to say that he was violent or cruel, but anyone could tell he was holding back -- not using his full strength. Still, he took this very seriously and it reflected in the way he did everything when the gym floor was his: armed or unarmed.]

You get first strike.

[Which was a nice thought...if you could actually hit someone who moves like lightning.]

iii. wrapping up
[The clouds pass from Jason's gaze. It's the end of another exhausting combat lesson and somehow Jason has knocked you down and there's a sword tapping against your chest. Jason sheaths it and offers you a hand from your spot on the floor. It's not quite a smile on his face, but there is a ghost of one.]

You've got to remember to watch your footing, but other than that you did pretty good today. I don't think you'll be the only one with bruises tomorrow.

I

[worthallthis]

[The Soldier, who has been here a few minutes already and made a preliminary perimeter sweep (just in case), immediately hurries in front of Jason to open the gym door for him.]

What did you bring.

[Even if it doesn't sound like it given the flat tone, that's definitely a question.]

[notthatjason]

[Jason nods his head in thanks. He doesn't stop walking, but tilts his head back to answer the question as he heads for the main gym. He figures the other man will follow.]

Weapons. Riku mentioned an armory that had been discovered. I figured it would give us more to work with, though I didn't take everything.

[No sense in depleting the armory when this was just for training. Besides, Javert had procured a few things already, but at least this way they could over more than just swords and knives and fists.]

i;

[mellowyellow]

[Masaomi immediately perks up upon being addressed, whirls around, and immediately slumps when he gets his first look at the guy. Keyword: guy.

The best first impression ever.

Still, at least he opens the door as requested.]

What's all this? [He asks, gestures loosely at the clanking sack.] The recycling of the damned?

[notthatjason]

Thanks.

[He steps inside and considers the question.]

I mean, given where we are, I guess that's pretty accurate. I am reusing some equipment from another location after all.

[He doesn't recognize the individual at the door, so Jason imagines he must be new. He adjusts his grip on the bag. Javert must have tried to tell the newly arrived individuals about this as well, that was good, Jason had gotten involved in so many projects that it was hard to remember to actually promote them.]

Are you here for the combat training?

iii-ish

[policier]

( Class is winding down, and Javert takes that as an opportunity to pull Jason aside and ask him for a demonstration. Something to show the beginner how it's done. He draws his sword from its scabbard and takes his stance, and throughout the entire exercise, it's obvious he's not putting his full might into it. Perhaps that is why Jason gets the upper hand. Perhaps it is because he's a demigod. Either way, Javert yields to him with only a small bruising to his pride, and answers breathlessly, )

I suspect you'll recover faster than I do. You are young still.

( He takes his sword and sheathes it, then gives Jason a considering nod. )

Has it been going well so far?

[notthatjason]

[Jason hadn't been so sure at first. Not all swords were the same and these were definitely NOT like the gladius he preferred to use, still since he'd been getting to demonstrate and practice with it he'd figured out the differences. And, besides, he had YEARS of sword training on top of that, so it's likely that the only one aware of the fact that he was not at his best was Jason himself.

He's not sure what to say in response to the first part, so he focuses on the question.]

I think so. We've only just started, so it's hard to say if turn out will increase over time.

III

[originallutece]

A small comfort.

[But the remark is at her quiet expense, not his. There's no question as to who is the superior at this between the two of them; it's all Rosalind can do to keep up. Then again: it's her first lesson. And to her credit, the instant he corrects something, she takes it and applies it to her style. Corrections on posture, on speed, on feinting . . . she'll get there, sooner or later.

Once she builds up some stamina, anyway. She's breathing hard as she sits up, absently pushing the blade away.]

How many years did you study this?

[notthatjason]

Hm. [It's not enough of a sound to be a chuckle, but Jason had perhaps enjoyed the exercise a little too much. Not necessarily at her expense, more so at being able to wield a sword again. He walks over to a bench and picks up two bottles of water and two towels, walking over and offering her one of each. He wipes his own towel across his face, drapes it on his shoulder, and unscrews the cap.]

With a real sword? I guess about eight or nine years. Before that it was a wooden one.

[It's pretty obvious that he's a teenager, but he says it to where it doesn't SEEM like he's messing with you. Why someone is out there giving a seven year old a real sword is anyone's guess.]

Kettara Bloodthirst | ota

[oldtonew]

Pre-class

[ Something about training indoors, with walls on all sides and a ceiling blocking the sky, feels very wrong to Kettara. Unnatural on top of everything else about this place. But she shows up regardless, lantern hanging from her belt and a defiant expression on her face. She will survive this place, and she will do right by her teacher in death the way she could not in life.

And that means she cannot hide away in the woods, angry and isolated. She must engage if she means to be a part of this community.

However, it's taken Kettara an effort to step foot inside, and she's lingered by the door, shifting from foot to foot uneasily. Most everyone she's met here has been human.

She steadies herself and stands up taller. ]

How many usually come here?

[ She will engage if it kills her. ]

Mats

[ This time, Kettara has stepped away from the door. She no longer has her back to the wall and stands up perfectly straight because of it, showing off her tusks to anyone who looks at her longer than a second. Tension is evident in the way she holds herself, but she doesn't flee.

She clears her throat, and puts her hands on her axes. The blades are not dull. ]

I would like to spar. Who will spar with me?

Wildcard

[ Hit me! ]

Pre-class

[worthallthis]

[The broad, kevlar-and-leather clad man already inside blinks at her once, then twice, then says,]

This is the first day. I don't know.

[The guy looks human (unfortunately for Kettara), aside from the metal left arm. The expression is mostly blank, but kind of vaguely uncertain at the same time. There's another lantern, metal and glass, sitting off to the side of one of the larger mats, with metal shutters currently open to let out as much light as possible. Probably belongs to this guy.]

Do you want to learn something.

[oldtonew]

[ He's certainly human, though the arm is unexpected. Kettara is aware of prosthetics, though they're rarely made of metal where she's from and she's never encountered one with such a range of articulation.

Curious.

She eyes him up and down. He doesn't wear the sort of armor she's come to expect from a fighter, but he holds himself with the quiet, thoughtless care of one. ]

I don't know. It depends on what is being taught.

Mats, as discussed

[savingthrows]

[They'd agreed, and Eleven sees the use in it. This place, Beacon and its surroundings... it's dangerous. Dark. Not quite the Upside Down, but it doesn't mean she's not half-expecting the Demogorgon or the Mind Flayer or something of similar dangers to show up. Eleven is on constant edge the way she's been back at home before her...

Before she came here.

Her powers are something she can readily tap into, but they are also like a battery - they can drain, and need to recharge.]

Hi.

[She says it softly. And then when Kettara turns towards her, a small smile curls on Eleven's young face, and she shows her teeth and snaps them.

Orc. Tusks. Choices.

She likes Kettara.]