Training Day (Open) (Read 410 times)

[Andrew Christian Excelsior]

Andrew came dressed in his normal attire, which consisted of jeans and and a slightly tight T-shirt so that his own clothing never got in his way in combat, which would be starting soon enough he hoped against other demigods and not just fighting these dummies. He was never one for a physical education class, but it was mandatory here for students of all ages with rare exceptions so he decided he would at least try to have fun with it.

He made his way to the weapons barrels. He had not had a specific weapon of choice. In the regular classes, studying the variety of weapons was always one of his favorites, and he simply didn't know where to start. He liked the bow a lot, but he was no son of Apollo and those that were his children seemed to have God-given talent with it, which was probably the case here. He also liked the spear, the weapon that his mother Athena was seen most often with in the pictures painted by the original Greeks. But he was never one to hold it for too long.

He reached in the barrel and pulled out a sword. He was left-handed though, and had to keep searching through the barrel until he found one of the three left-handed swords crafted. He sighed with mild annoyance. Being one of the older students at Omega Academy, maybe he could talk to someone about getting a little more organization. Or he could just do it himself. That's what he has always done anyway.

He walked over to a makeshift rack and pulled off of it the one thing he was more comfortable with than anything else on the whole Island: the shield. Well, next to his strategy books that is. He twirled it in his hand, testing the weight and curve of it. Just right, the one thing he could find no complaints about even if he tried. He was probably going to take this one back to his dorm tonight and decorate it, to make it a true weapon of Athena's. so far none of his half-siblings had made any motion to truly represent who they are, and if the rumors are true and competition was going to get started soon he needed to be a little bit more open than he already was about his heritage, not that there was a single person on the island who didn't know by now..

Andrew was always open about life at the Academy. He was one of the first to welcome any new students and show them around the basics and then lead them to their respectful family. A lot of the younger kids of Athena looked up to him for that, and for being able to stand up to anyone who wanted to throw their weight around campus. He trained so hard just so that he would be able to school some of those kids himself if they were too hot-headed to take a hint and leave someone alone. He despised bullies.

He turned to the closest training dummy with as fast as he could and thrust his sword out , his shield tucked in close. He just knicked the arm, which was the general area that he was aiming for. Straightening up and nodding to himself with satisfaction, he looked around. It was break time in the late morning, so not too many kids were there. But there were a few talking amongst themselves across the Arena. Sometimes despite all of the social activity he threw himself into, he still felt like a loner. But that was fine by him. He's always been that way.

He crouched back into his phalanx formation, practicing the movement itself as he advanced on an imaginary target, lunging when needed and finally turning to cut the edge of his shield across a dummy's wooden shield and crack it. Using his shield as an actual weapon was a tactic that Spartans used often and was arguably their most effective weapon, but not too many of the others paid attention in that class or read as avidly as he did, so he was the only one that he knew of that implemented that strategy. Which was great. One more trick ip his sleeve an enemy would never see coming. But one question stayed in his mind: when and what would they ever actually attack? 

Meh, he thought. The training was probably just to have a theme for physical education besides using the same thing they did on Mondays, which was sort of like what one would see on a tv show about military boot camp. They may not have to fight at all. But rumors had it that some of the gods were getting restless with themselves.. Not that they were too open about it at the moment. Rumors were rumors, but they were always based on a tiny grain of truth..

He sighed loudly to expel these thoughts. He was here to train, not to try and be philosophical about the affairs and workings of the Academy. He forced his attention back to the dummies and stood there a moment before deciding it was time to go back to the bow. He would never be a full-fledged archer, but it was wise to be familiar with it should he ever be assigned a ranged duty. He tossed his sword into the barrel and set his shield down across the rack of bows, picking out a longbow and four arrows. He set the four arrows down in front of him, tips in the dirt at a fifteen-yard marker from a row of targets.

He pulled his first arrow out and drew back, holding the correct form as good as he could muster before exhaling forcibly, releasing the arrow and watching it glide across the air and just barely catch the outer edge of the target. He grunted to himself in dissatisfaction. One day, he would get good or at least decent with the blasted bow. Maybe he could ask a child of Hephaestus for a specialized bow. He had enough credits to turn in for a favor. 

He liked the system of credits that the Academy used as a kind of currency, seeing that these other kids came all over the world their national currency could hardly do any good here. He obtained his own revenue of credits from the money sent in by his parents for 'college' that were converted, which would be plenty enough but he liked to work for his own things, so he always used that stash on his card to help the poorer kids out and using the credits he earned by working as a mentor for pretty much all subjects available here for his own personal luxuries, like a special mechanical shield he had been working on a design for that he would kill to actually get.

He came back to the set of weapons and such to get what he had stupidly forgotten, lost in his own thoughts: protection. Even though he really wasn't in need of them as he wasn't facing any real enemies, it was always good to get comfortabke with the equipment, so that when he actually did need them he would feel at ease and not like he was just carrying clunky obstacles. He strapped on the leather chestplate and vambraces for archery, not bothering with the helmet. He hardly wore one. Which would be his secret sign of cockiness. He wanted people to see who he was when his moment finally came to shine in battle. He laughed to himself. He was deciding to sound like a child of Ares.

Andrew looked around again, which was beginning to become a random habit. It was getting towards the beginning of lunch, so maybe he would see someone he recognized or a new face soon enough, or at least he hoped. More likely rhan not it was the other way around. Not everyone liked to skip lunch as he did more often than he should to get in that extra two hours of training. He picked up his second arrow and notched it against the bowstring. Today felt like it was going to be a hard day.

( OOC: I sincerely apologize for the length.. No guarantees i'll keep this pace up though! ^_^;; )

[Marissa Faith Warr]

It had been such a long day, really. All those boring classes that seemed so meaningless just seemed to annoy her from time to time but she got through it all. All this learning, all that repetition of things she had already been told. It got on her nerves pretty quickly, but Marissa was getting better at holding all those things inside. She was getting better and taking deep breathes and calming herself down. Probably only because of the fact that she had known she would either have lunch soon or, even better, that she'd have arena time.

Time in the arena was something she always looked forward to. The thrill of holding a sword or spear or even a just a shield in her hands just sent delightful shivers through her body. Any weapons that the teachers would let her use, she was determined to try out and, eventually, master. Maybe it was just because her father was Ares, or at least the father of the woman she was reborn as had been Ares. Her real mother and father were not all that important. They were bums, nothing more. Still, she loved to fight and to have fun with it. Sure, sometimes she picked fights with the wrong people and ended up getting sent to see the head guy at the school but she hadn't gotten kicked out yet, so she was certain that she was fine.

Riss stared in the mirror she had put into her locker in the locker room and fixed up her hair, pulling it back into a high ponytail as to not have any stray wisps fall into her eyes. Didn't need the distractions or the annoyance of it while she was out on the floor. Adrenaline was already starting to pump into her veins just at the thought of going out here, of practicing, even if it was only on a few dummies. The second you put a weapon in her hand, she was off in a world all her own. Her mind created imaginary warriors and monsters to attack usually as she would do her 'dance' across the sandy floor. Just the thought of it even made her excited.

When her hair was up tight, she readjusted the straps on her sports bra, the cloth clinging almost suffocatingly close to her chest. A pair of tight fitting shorts hugged her hips and upper thighs, leaving her completely aerodynamic. Less clothes meant less weighed down. It also meant she'd be able to move faster, better, make more precise movements without the restrictions of clothes making it harder on her. Of course, she was wearing sneakers as well, which had great traction, though somedays she just wanted to go out there bare foot.

Today wasn't one of those days, though, and, as she closed her locker door up, she couldn't help but grin. It was only a few steps to the door before she entered the Arena. She wanted to treasure these moments to get ready. Taking in a deep breathe, she did a few stretches to get herself prepared before heading out into the Arena. Her eyes closed as she took another deep breathe, the smells in the Arena seeming to be somewhat peaceful to her. Almost immediately after, she headed for one of the bins holding broadswords and picked one out, weighing it in her hand for a second to see if it was good enough. After a good few moments of analyzing the weapon, she nodded her head and went to one of the dummies.

Eyes closed, she took one last deep breathe to calm herself down and slow her heart beat. Everything around her faded out and any noises that had filled the area were all but a gentle buzzing at the back of her head, easily forgotten of. As she opened her eyes, her imagination took over. The dummy was not longer just a dummy but a feirce warrior, far taller and mightier than herself. Just the kind of attackers she craved. The bigger they were, the harder they fell. And she always loved making them fall. In her head, he made the first move, lunging forward and making her sliding backwards on her feet to dodge the attack. She went forward and parried his next thrust, a rhythm already seeming to form in her head as to how the fight would go. With no shield, she had to make do with her surroundings during the attack. Ducking here, rolling there, but always finding her way quickly back to her feet to counter a thrust or to do a lunge of her own. It was a dance, a war dance, and one that she favored more than anything else.

Marissa's dance with the imaginary assailent lasted several minutes, probably looming into the range nearing a half hour at most. His methods were never changing, which was annoying. He had an attack strategy of smash and destroy, something easy for her to figure out and devise a counter strategy for. In the end, her sword met the head of the dummy, cutting it clean off and ending the 'vision'. She was used to the stares that came with her intense fights with the creatures that were never really there and she had come to ignore them. Though she wasn't necessarily breathless, she was panting a bit. She lifted her free hand to wipe away the sweat was beading down her forehead and onto her cheek. She could sure use some water right not, but she new that her training wasn't over. A warrior couldn't drink in the middle of the battlefield without fear of being attacked while distracted. Why should she herself drink?

No, instead she weighed the sword in her hand again, tossing it from hand to hand to get a good look at it all over. "Damn this is one good sword."