Osprey (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
checksum) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsiliumlogs2012-04-27 09:59 pm
checksum) wrote in exsiliumlogs2012-04-27 09:59 pm
[open] Testing and Documentation
Date & Time: Most anytime post-Roman mission
Location: Gym
Characters: Osprey and anyone who cares to join
Summary: Osprey is feeling out his body/weapon's newly increased limits
Warnings: Possible martial-arts violence
Osprey was unhappy with the Initiative, which was nothing new. He had been willing to offer them the benefit of the doubt up to a point, but that point had passed on the ground outside the Assyrian village, where he and the other transports had been left to their own devices in the fight against the Romans, without intelligence, direction, or support.
Right now, though, his annoyance was more focused. He'd taken his sleeve, his already massively-upgraded body, as his weapon, and as promised, its capabilities had indeed increased. However, exactly how it had improved hadn't been documented, which was irksome.
So now, he ran through practice exercises, speed katas, and anything else he could think of to try and figure out exactly what had improved, and how much. A weapon you didn't know was a weapon in the hands of your enemy, to borrow a line from one of his more philosophical instructors, and he was not about to let his body be that kind of weapon.
Location: Gym
Characters: Osprey and anyone who cares to join
Summary: Osprey is feeling out his body/weapon's newly increased limits
Warnings: Possible martial-arts violence
Osprey was unhappy with the Initiative, which was nothing new. He had been willing to offer them the benefit of the doubt up to a point, but that point had passed on the ground outside the Assyrian village, where he and the other transports had been left to their own devices in the fight against the Romans, without intelligence, direction, or support.
Right now, though, his annoyance was more focused. He'd taken his sleeve, his already massively-upgraded body, as his weapon, and as promised, its capabilities had indeed increased. However, exactly how it had improved hadn't been documented, which was irksome.
So now, he ran through practice exercises, speed katas, and anything else he could think of to try and figure out exactly what had improved, and how much. A weapon you didn't know was a weapon in the hands of your enemy, to borrow a line from one of his more philosophical instructors, and he was not about to let his body be that kind of weapon.
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So, what better way to let off some steam than to practice shooting some fireballs in an area that encouraged such activity. There was just one issue, someone else was nearby. It wasn't a huge issue really, and she could aim elsewhere, but it was a bit risky all the while. For one thing, she hadn't casted much of any spells since she had come here and she didn't trust the environment one bit. They were supposed to become gradually stronger and unnaturally so, but she had no idea to what exactly that could pertain to. Second of all, her intention was to see just how big of a fireball she could create without becoming overly exhausted.
Practice like that usually required a bit of warning. So she approached the man, still making sure to give him space while he ran about with his exercises. "Hey, sorry." She called out. "Do you mind moving away for a moment? I need room to practice something."
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A quick scan of the floor confirmed the floor as almost empty, but the person asking was carrying the sort of big stick that seemed to be the weapon of choice for 'mages' and the like. That suggested that clearing the floor might be wise. "Where would you prefer I stand?" he asked, "and what exactly are you doing that needs that much space?"
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Fiona looked around the room a moment, tapping her chin thoughtfully. There wasn't really much space to use for covering. Covering probably wouldn't be terribly needed, she doubted the blast could become so large. "Just stand behind me." She shrugged. Although, if it did turn out to be a bigger blast it would be a problem. "Far behind me."
She couldn't help but give a small smirk from his question. "You'll see." And then she began to assess which wall might be best to shoot toward, while she waited for him to move to a comfortably safe location.
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Having reached the wall behind Fiona, he leaned against it. "Is this far enough, or should I leave the room?"
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She picked the wall with the least amount of equipment nearby as well as no immediate entrance. She seriously didn't need someone walking in while she casted and she certainly wasn't rude enough to destroy other people's stuff. Even if she got the feeling that everything in the room was likely magic-proof or at least fire-proof. "And just so you know," she said while taking hold of her staff, "being nervous is perfectly rational."
With that she began to cast.
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The giant room had the potential to blindfold him from them for a little while. If he concentrated hard enough, worked himself ragged...Two glasses, now, to catch the black reside that came up after conjuring that lance over and over again. It always left the most unpleasant taste in his mouth, but even that was a better thing to focus on than what was hiding in the back of his mind, shoved forcefully further and further away.
All to slingshot back later, of course; he had to sleep sometime. But until then...
Martin stepped into the door before barely realizing what was waiting for him. His shoes squeaked to a halt when he saw just what – no, who – was already occupying the space.
"O-oh..."
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BOOOOOOOOOM.
The structure of the building shakes for a moment from the impact. And Fiona collapses to her knees from the effort. She'll try standing again after being still for sometime, much of her weight on her staff. "Not good enough." She'll curse to herself.
Still she manages a small smirk when she finally faces him. "You could say that." She'll say through heaves of breath.
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He walks back towards the mage. "Once you've caught your breath, I propose a test. I start on the other side of the room. You try to stop me before I get close enough to touch you."
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"Uhm, I..." He glanced about quickly, head ducking down a little as he took a couple steps further into the room. "If that's alright, then...then I will. Thank you."
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"So! Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm assuming you're looking for sparring of some kind. So we should establish ground rules before proceeding." He looks at Martin. "When you've trained before, what have the rules been?"
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He startled a little as eyes fell back on him, put on-the-spot for a reply. "Uh--" Quick. What were the rules? Every Darkov child memorized them.
"N-no shots to the throat," he recited, automatically straightening up and bringing his feet together, as though he were on a spelling bee. "No fighting past scourge exposure, uhm. No direct joint shots if there's a rookie training. No class mixing unless permitted by Grandfather. No...Nnno..." He squinted. Oh. Right. "No contracted aides."
He paused, licking his lips, then swallowing. "Uhm...I think. I think that's it. Sir."
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He rolls his shoulders as he talks, making sure he stays loose. "I'd suggest adding a few to that as well. First, stop if your opponent says 'Stop', goes limp, or taps out of a hold. Second, for today at least let's say we stop if someone draws blood. And third, please don't call me 'sir'. Are those rules all right by you?"
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"Yes, sir." He flinched, coloring practically the second he heard the words leave his mouth. "I mean...yes. It's fine."
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He keeps his attack to more human speeds, at least to begin with, opening with a feint toward the head followed by a jab for the ribs.
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As he fell, Martin swung his feet forward, crossing his arms in front of his face. He'd rather keep his nose unbroken than aim proper, despite all the advice otherwise he'd had before. Still, he wasn't too far off if he were hitting, say, something stationary.
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