Guard Training

Moirean · August 2013

So, the Spirean government voted to let the Carnifex train the peasant guards. The spitting and slouching was getting out of hand.

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(Carnifex): You say, "Carnifex, the Spirean peasants are due another training session. If you are free, meet at the Inner Gate to train."

(Spinesreach): You say, "Comrades, the Carnifex will be training the peasant guards some more. Do not be disturbed by any loud cries."

The barracks of Spinesreach. (Spinesreach.)

This mainly bureaucratic office is used to recruit new men and women into the Spinesreach army. On the wall, the large tricolor of Spinesreach hangs, its presence inspiring patriotism in all citizens. A variety of patriotic posters also hang around the walls, the most notable one imploring each citizen to join the Militia to ensure a safer Spinesreach.

The new recruits stand before you armed with salutes and eager for their postings.

A grey-clad peasant conscript settles down in a corner to sleep.

Grimdale says, "What? Nap time?"

You have emoted: Moirean's eyes narrow as the new recruits promptly begin to yawn off. "AT ATTENTION!" she screams at the new trainees.

Exayne murmurs something softly to Tsvanni.

Grimdale looks resolved as he cracks his knuckles in preparation for the task ahead.

Tsvanni snickers under her breath.

Tsvanni nods her head at Exayne.

A grey-clad peasant conscript blinks and starts in surprise, nearly falling backwards as she jumps in response to Moirean's shout. She seems utterly confused and stares down at her spear in bafflement.

You have emoted: Moirean loudly repeats, "At ATTENTION, conscripts!" She glances to either side, letting out a cough as she tries to get the rest of you to demonstrate what to do.

Grimdale prods Argolis hard in the chest.

Fixing himself in a disciplined position, Grimdale stands sharply at attention.

Fixing himself in a disciplined position, Argolis stands sharply at attention.

Tsvanni fixes herself in a rigid stance, sands flowing tempestuously at her feet like a roiling oceanic storm, as she fixes her steely gaze on the new recruits.

Exayne straightens his back, hand coming up sharply in a formal salute as he turns on his heels presenting himself to you.

With a baffled frown, a grey-clad peasant conscript stares away from Moirean to look at the rest of you. She shrugs and does her best to mimic the straight-backed posture - the movement bumps her into another guard, who roughly shoves at her, sending her careening into a third guard. Voices raise as shoving continues, until the entire group of guards is nearly embroiled in a brawl, limbs and curses flying in chaos.

You sigh and apply your face to your palm.

Exayne rolls his eyes.

Exayne says to Tsvanni, "Useless lot this draft."

With a long-suffering sigh, you say, "Carnifex, break up that...that...." She waves her hand in frustration at the fistfight. "...that bunch."

Grimdale's mouth turns up as his face breaks into a smile.

Sharply, you say to Grimdale, "Do not break THEM."

Tsvanni strides forward and slams a wave of sand through the crowd.

Grimdale gives a pained sigh.

Grimdale nods his head at you.

Argolis smiles wryly at Grimdale.

Tsvanni recalls her sand, leaving the gaggle of them disoriented and scuffed, but unharmed, before gliding back to her place.

Exayne relaxes his stance and moves towards the back of the barracks. Lighting his cigarette he leans back against the wall, looking at the rabble of conscripts in amusement.

Grimdale steps into the group cracking the whip over their heads, peeling one peasant off another as he does. Kicking a third he stands in the middle of the crowd.

Tsvanni says to Exayne, in Albedi, "The point is to mold them to what we need, the raw state has less impact than you think."

Exayne grunts at Tsvanni noncommittally.

Exayne says to Tsvanni, "A good skirmish with Enorians will see 'em straight."

"Oi!" one peasant cries. "Ow!!" shouts another. "My kidneys!" screams a third. Despite the complaints, however, soon a measure of order is found, with all of the "guards" lined up in a ragged row to stare at Moirean expectantly.

A grey-clad peasant conscript spits on the ground in boredom.

Coiling the whip around his shoulder, Grimdale steps back into line, snorting at the whines coming from the group.

Exayne says to Tsvanni, "That spitting one ought to have his tongue removed."

Exayne grunts noncommittally.

Grimdale says to Exayne, "That can be arranged."

Argolis says, "At least they aren't smoking."

Tsvanni smirks.

Exayne shrugs at Argolis and takes another drag from his cigarette.

As if in spite, one of the guards hocks again and makes to spit another glob of whatever onto the floor. Something goes wrong and all he manages is a slight gurgle and a thin, long trail of drool, slowly dripping down to the ground. He smiles awkwardly up through the saliva at Moirean as if proud of his...spunk.

A grey-clad peasant conscript spits on the ground in boredom.

You have emoted: Moirean sighs and places her face in her palm again.

Exayne narrows his eyes at a grey-clad peasant conscript.

Exayne nods his head at Grimdale.

Grimdale points his scimitar into the group, "Just say the word Commander."

Grimdale says, "Maybe we gut one as a warning."

Argolis tights his grip on the handle of his warhammer, "We could always see how far I can make one fly through the air."

Tsvanni says in an exotic tone, "Being too soft."

Tsvanni says in an exotic tone, "May I, Commander?"

Tsvanni looks resolved as she cracks her knuckles in preparation for the task ahead.

You have emoted: Moirean lifts her head and shakes her head, squaring her shoulders as she gives the line of recruits a narrow-eyed stare. She begins to pace down the line, boots clicking across the floor as she gives each new guard a withering stare. "Useless," she scowls in disdain.

You have emoted: Moirean adds "...for now." She pauses at the end of the line and crosses her arms over her chest. "You hear my soldiers here? They want to just slaughter the lot of you and find more."

Grimdale says, "They should thank the Gods they are not Carnifex Recruits."

Grimdale snorts arrogantly.

Exayne takes a long drag from a lit slender white cigarette.

Exayne says to you, "Hells i'm not even one of your soldiers and I want them dead."

A grey-clad peasant conscript stares blankly at Moirean as he absently wipes at his bloody nose, broken in the scuffle. "But I wuz promised a hot meal," the man protests, taking a step back from Tsvanni. "I jes' wanted tha' 'n' th' uniform. Like th' uniform, it's real purdy."

With a slight sigh and a slump of his shoulders, Grimdale utters a quiet "Ugh."

You have emoted: Moirean nods her head a fraction at the man's mumbled protests. "These men and women are NOT Carnifex," she coldly points out. "And while they may be pathetic, they are just doing their duty to serve the city - your eagerness to kill them for amusement is just as pathetic as their untrained ability."

Exayne's eyes sparkle with amusement.

Snorting, you say, "Spinesreach will not become strong because we slaughter our volunteers and prison conscripts." Her eyes narrow and her words become like ice, sharp and piercing. "We will become strong because we TRAIN them."

Argolis takes off his helm and tucks it snugly under his arm, "We could start with some basic drill, Commander." He offers in way of suggestion, "Teach them to at least function together."

You have emoted: Moirean turns back to the guards and curtly informs them, "Meals will be provided at the Hound and Halberd for any who are hungry. Those of you who are willing to undergo more intense training, remain." Briskly, she continues, "The Ironmaw complex has far less dangerous work options available to the rest of you - report there for duty."

One of the guards turns on his heels and promptly departs, his spear clattering against the ground as he nearly dashes out of the barracks. Another one makes to follow the first and then frowns, lingering in the doorway. After a few moments, she turns back to the assembled group, bending down to retrieve the spear dropped by the other. Holding both weapons, she returns to stand in the line before Moirean and shakily says, "Beggin' yer pardon, Lady Chair, but the Spires're the only home we know. It's only right that we fight for 'em, even if we don't rightly know how."

Tsvanni's mouth turns up as her face breaks into a smile.

You have emoted: A faint smile reaches Moirean's face at the sentiment, and she nods over to Argolis. "...Which is where the Ser's suggestion of basic drill comes in, conscripts." Her smile widens and she firmly announces, "Stand taller, you lot. You're now all Carnifex recruits. Don't let us down."

Sharply, you say to Argolis, "Ser, start with the very basics. How to properly hold a spear, for one. None of this lazy leaning crap."

A grey-clad peasant conscript blinks at Moirean's words, staring down at the spear clutched awkwardly in her hands.

Argolis steps forward with a nod, replacing his warhammer with his halberd. "Very well, Commander." He states in acknowledgement while sweeping his gaze over the assembled conscripts, "I'm going to go out on a limb and assume none of you have any kind of weapons training."

One of the guards raises his hand eagerly, spear still clutched in his grasp. He nearly knocks down the peasants on either side of him as he eagerly volunteers, "I helped my da chase a snake off the farm once!"

Tsvanni peers about herself suspiciously.

With a nod, you say to Argolis, "Let's consider that a no."

Argolis cracks a faint smile at the enthusiasm. "A farm boy, eh?" He muses while taking a measure of the man, "You likely know how to handle a pitchfork then." With a grin, he widens his stance to about shoulders length apart and uses the halberd to feint a jab at the nearest recruit, "Like so, yes?"

The guard leaps backwards at the jab, reflexively lowering his spear to chest height in a shaky defensive gesture.

Tsvanni sucks thoughtfully on her teeth.

Tsvanni says in an exotic tone, "Commander?"

Tsvanni clenches her jaw tightly, pressing her lips into a line with a grim look on her face.

Raising an eyebrow, you say to Tsvanni, "Yes?"

Tsvanni says in an exotic tone, "May I teach them next?"

You nod your head at Tsvanni.

Her attention on the initial basic training, you say to Tsvanni, "You can handle hammer use."

Argolis draws the weapon back, maintaining it at a ready position. "Now then. Take your spears and try to mimic my stance." He instructs in an even tone, "And don't knock each other over.."

In a disorganized, somewhat-flailing mob, the assembled recruits do their best to imitate the stance. Spears clatter against each other with loud clacks and a few of the peasants nearly lose their footing, but....eventually....the group manages to copy the position.

Gliding forward through her sands, Tsvanni draws her black hammer from her weaponbelt, and lays it over her shoulder, demonstrating the relaxed stance "Alright, Let's try a coordinated attack routine I like to call the Horizontal Split, once you manage that stance."

One of the guards stares up at the knight with a clear look of trepidation and an audible gulp.

Tsvanni holds her immense hammer at arms' length forward, steadying the weight.

Tsvanni indicates that the group needs to seriously spread out, and swings the weapon slowly and controlled in a gentle side arc.

With a few muffled curses and grunts, the gaggle of guards fan out, filling the chamber in a more spaced-out arrangement. One by one, each new recruit tries to mimic the side arc - one man spins off to nearly get impaled on another guard's spear, while one woman seems almost afraid to swing her weapon, her pantomimed strike tenuous and uncertain.

Tsvanni sucks thoughtfully on her teeth.

Tsvanni gestures to Argolis "Think you can step in to help them personally?"

Dryly, you say to Argolis, "Try not to let them skewer you, Ser."

Argolis says, "Aha.. sure.."

Tsvanni strides up to the woman with the shy grip and swing, and demonstrates it for her and the people around her, breaking down the weight and swing of the head of a hammer, and letting them test the weight of her own. "Try to work out some more, muscles will build up slowly with use of these weapons but a little extra muscle will help you not tear yourself up from contant practice" she explains methodically.

The woman nervously watches the demonstration, clearly doing her best not to bolt at the knight's - and the weapon's - proximity. After a few practice swings, she seems a bit more at ease, however, and her grip around the spear tightens into a more confident hold.

Argolis goes down the line from one recruit to the next, adjusting grips on weapons and demonstrating proper technique with his own halberd. "Now then.." He states taking a few steps back, "Once more, slowly though."

A general ripple of activity flows through the room as each of the recruits does their best to mimic the swing again. This time there is actually a noticeable level of improvement. It's not great, but....it's improved.

Tsvanni nods her head at Argolis.

Argolis says to you, "Seems there may be potential in this lot, Commander."

You have emoted: Moirean crosses her arms over her chest, giving a slow, assessing nod. "They....they are actually not bad," she admits, clearly surprised. Twitching her tail thoughtfully, she suggests, "Try pairing them off. Even though they will be fighting against Daskalos, it won't hurt to see how they do against more than just hot air."

One of the guards lets out a squeak at Moirean's words. "My ma told me about Daskalos!" she cries, clutching her spear to her chest. "Is it true he's ten feet tall and rides a mountain of Ankyrean weaponry as a steed?!" Her face has gone pale white and her hands shake.

You have emoted: Moirean rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh, rubbing her hand against her temples. "No," she mutters. "He dies just like any other man. Just poke him in his ego, and you'll be fine." She grunts over to Argolis, nodding for the training to continue.

Tsvanni taps her boots, and then says "Next, Ser argolis will teach you about dodging and sliding".

Tsvanni says in an exotic tone, "First, we'll do as the commander says. Teams, pair off with the person beside you."

Argolis shoots you a skeptical glance, "Do we really want them jabbing at each other at this point, Commander?"

The guards fall back into teams of twos, looks of apprehension on their faces.

With a faint nod, you say to Argolis, "Just run them through the paces slowly and carefully."

Tsvanni presses her fingers in her eyes and motions to Argolis to take over, and then salutes you "Permission to go to rest, Commander, Ser."

You have emoted: Moirean returns the salute and crisply says, "Granted, Ser. Dismissed."

Tsvanni nods her head emphatically.

Tsvanni gives you a respectful salute.

Argolis nods to Tsvanni as he steps back out to resume.

Tsvanni gives Argolis a respectful salute.

Argolis gives Tsvanni a respectful salute.

You have emoted: Moirean turns her attention back to Argolis and lowly prompts, "Have them just practice thwacking the staffs of their spears against each other. Get them used to the shock of hitting something physical."

(Recruits): You say, "Speaking of recruits..."

(Recruits): You say, "Recruit, join us in the Spirean barracks. Either you can learn from this training, or maybe (though I doubt it) you've picked up enough to help instruct this lot."

Argolis shifts his attention back to the recruits. "You heard the Commander. Practice swings but at each others weapons. This will also be good practice for you in regards to parrying."

A series of sharp cracks echo through the chamber as the recruits smack their spears against each other's - as well as more than a few thuds and sharp yelps, as several fingers find their way in between the connecting weapons.

Conroy arrives from the east.

Fixing himself in a disciplined position, Conroy stands sharply at attention.

Conroy gives you a respectful salute.

You have emoted: Moirean masks any sympathetic winces at the crushed fingers by returning Conroy's salute. She then turns her attention back to the training guards, and gives a vaguely approving nod. "Not bad," she allows, beginning to stride around the room, pausing to inspect each guard's stance and grip, adjusting hands and feet here and there.

You have emoted: Moirean jerks her chin downwards to indicate a spot in the barracks next to one pair of guards, eyes on Conroy. "Ser Argolis and our recruit here will demonstrate a proper parry," she says firmly, leaving little question as to where Conroy should stand.

One of the peasants lets out a snicker at the newest recruit. "He ain't even got a spear," the man whispers to his partner, who smothers a smug grin.

Conroy gives you a short nod, marching quickly and stiffly to stand in the indicated position, facing Argolis with cleaver in hand.

You have emoted: Moirean gives the guards a sharp look - they abruptly fall silent, mumbling in embarrassment as they look to the ground.

You have emoted: Moirean gives Argolis a nod. "Parrying," she prompts.

Argolis gives Conroy a curt nod as he takes his place. "Parrying is very simple. The goal is to deflect an incoming blow away from yourself." He states simply, drawing back his halberd before taking a light jab at Conroy.

Wisps from the cleaver trail in an arc as Conroy shifts the weapon into the halberd's path, his own body jerking the opposite direction behind the cleaver instinctively as the weapons meet with a light "clang". His feet slide a bit farther apart as he widens his stance, his grip tight on the pole as he stares at Argolis, waiting for the next mock attack.

One half of the group of guards awkwardly mirrors the swing as the others raise their spear staffs in defence - surprisingly, they all manage to deflect the blow this time, and a few of them even let out gasps and celebratory whoops.

Nodding in approval, Argolis draws back into an idle stance, "Very good."

You have emoted: Moirean watches the demonstration, giving a firm nod of approval. "And finish it up with a counter attack, Ser," she suggests. "Demonstrate how to sweep a foe to the ground, once he's been pushed back." Her gaze flickers towards Conroy, a faint glimmer of amusement in her eyes at her own command.

Conroy's eyes dart curiously to you, an eyebrow arching softly as his attention shifts away from Argolis for a brief moment.

Argolis deftly spins his halberd about, the haft of the weapon whistling through the air as it arcs towards Conroy's legs.

The movement catches his attention and Conroy jerks his head back towards Argolis, but a heartbeat too late. The blunted haft of the halberd catches the Grecht on the ankle, sending his leg flying in a graceless kick to the side and thoroughly toppling him to the ground. He rolls to land on his back, his eyes wide and his cleaver still clutched in both hands in front of his chest defensively, eyes fixed firmly back on Argolis.

Snickers run through the crowd of guards, with one man actually bursting into audible laughter as he points at the downed recruit.

You have emoted: Moirean narrows her eyes, glaring at the guards in a sudden, sharp stare. Silence abruptly replaces the laughter.

Argolis returns to an idle stance, the haft of his halberd planted firmly by his right foot. "On your feet, Recruit." He states sharply to Conroy, "Should you get knocked down, it is imperative you find your feet rather quickly."

You have emoted: Moirean coldly informs the crowd, "Or else...once a man has been knocked to the floor like this..." She steps closer, lifting her halberd in an easy grip until the bladed end of the weapon hovers above Conroy's torso. "...It is an easy matter..." The blade lowers an inch. "...nearly smooth, natural, instinctive..." It lowers another inch, nearly cutting into Conroy now, before she steps forwards, plunging the halberd into the floor next to the recruit.

You have emoted: "To skewer a man, pinning him in place and ripping his innards open," Moirean says, releasing her grip on the halberd. The blade quivers in place, wobbling back and forth from its impaled gouge into the ground.

Conroy flinches slightly away from the blade embedded next to him, placing the haft of his cleaver on the ground to pull himself upright again, standing at attention between you and Argolis, facing the assembled guards.

The guards watch, wide-eyed, with one even flinching at the simulated skewer, and there's - finally - a measure of coordination among the recruits as all of them stare wordlessly at the halberd. "Pit!" one finally cries out, breaking the silence. "Can you teach ME how to do that?!"

You have emoted: A slightly pleased expression crosses Moirean's face and she nods over to Argolis and Conroy. "Another round of drilling," she instructs. "Walk them through - SLOWLY! - a sweep and a skewer, and then we will call the training done." She pauses. Frowns. Studies the dirty, clumsy recruits, and then adds, "...for today."

There's a tension and a clearer focus running through the group of guards now, their attention more keenly fixed on each and every aspect of the demonstration.

Argolis carefully demonstrates the maneuver, explaining in detail the proper grip and motion for each step, "Now you lot try."

Conroy moves to take his place at the end of the formation of the recruits, cleaver in hand as he watches the maneuver demonstration.

One by one, the sound of bodies falling to the floor fill the room as each guard sweeps his or her partner down to the ground - Conroy included, downed by the knight's demonstration. Loud thumps follow, as the peasants stab their spears down in a mock skewer.

Conroy is faster to his feet this time, the skewer landing where his rising body once lay as he stands at attention once again, weapon in hand.

You have emoted: Moirean visibly struggles to hold back a grin as the intense concentration each guard had is swiftly swallowed in a sudden eruption of proud cheers and hollars. "Did you SEE me!" one cries out. "Pfft!" another replies. "I stabbed twice as hard!"

You have emoted: Moirean gives the conscripts a few heartbeats of celebration before she shouts out, "At ATTENTION, recruits!" She emphasizes this last word proudly, giving each guard a long stare and an approving nod - and, unlike before, the men and women respond impressively, still clumsy but far more eager and enthusiastic as they attempt to snap into what is actually a pretty passable stance of attention.

You have emoted: Moirean studies the freshly trained guards for a few moments longer before she nods again and declares, "Dismissed! Serve the Spires well!" Eagerly, the guards begin to disperse, voices rising in enthusiastic chatter and excitement as they trot off to their posts.

You send out the order for the city guards to return to their assigned positions.

The alarmed pealing of the militia bell rings out over the area ordering the guards to return to their posts.

Conroy releases himself from his tensed posture, lowering his shoulders to a more relaxed position.

Argolis releases himself from his tensed posture, lowering his shoulders to a more relaxed position.

You have emoted: Moirean turns back to Conroy and Argolis. "You two as well," she says. "Dismissed, and excellent work." She gives a wry smile and shrugs. "At the least, they will hopefully stop spitting. If we keep up the training, though...?" She lets her words trail off, and merely gives the two of you a crisp salute.

Argolis gives you a respectful salute.

Argolis leaves to the east.

Conroy gives you a respectful salute.

Conroy leaves to the east.