Let's Train in 100 Times Gravity

[shineinside]

Who: Anyone who wants to come by! Tag in, thread with Yuka, thread with each other, whatever you want.
What: Combat training/practice.
When: Sunset, each night for a week minimum.
Where: East end of Islet 1.
Warnings: Possible blood if things get out of hand, implied 80s training montage songs

Yuka chose this location because the ground was level, there was enough space for people to move around, and nobody was really using it for anything else. No wild beasts, no fish people to disturb, no strange psychological effects... the ideal place for people to gather for an hour or two and get some good-natured fighting in. The snow on the ground wasn't ideal, she supposed, but that stuff was everywhere, so they'd just have to make do. It'd probably be snowing during the invasion, anyway.

Each evening, as the sun inched towards the horizon, Yuka set her other tasks aside to come out and wait. Jug of wassail sitting at the edge of the space, bundled in warm clothes and scarves, Yuka paced, wondering if this was really going to be worth the time. Are there people willing to spend that much time to train others when there's so much else that needs doing? Can someone even learn enough to make a difference in this little time? For that matter, are these shadow monsters something you can even fight with your fists? If nothing else, it would be good to do some physical activity in just to get her mind to stop going in circles.

For those who arrived early, there would be less to do, but even just talking through what different fighting skills people had would be useful for later on. Once more people arrived, those who use similar weapons could work together, and those with more combat experience could work with those with less. Or, people who know each other or are curious about each other's abilities could seek each other out for a sparring match.

So: Fight, teach, learn, take breaks, drink, chat. Bring your own wassail if you can - Yuka's can only stretch so far.

Comments

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[lightlessfuture]

[ The Knight has gotten into the habit of watching people here; there are many different ways of fighting, more than they ever conceived. While they'll never be like a Nailmaster, so devoted to their craft that they live at the edges of the world, it's still interesting.

After a while, Gobbet may notice she has a little shadow, mimicking the poses she makes with a staff of their own in hand (a long branch, really). The little bug seems fascinated by her movements. ]

[ratsinadaze]

[The shadow doesn't go unnoticed for long. They may be small, but they're quite distinctive. Gobbet keeps cycling through the poses she's seen the Jormun use - mostly blocking techniques for swiping attacks - as she acknowledges her company.]

Hey, little guy.

[Right, they can't talk. They won't be able to respond. She glances down at them with a half-smile. Is it better to let them lead the interaction or just keep asking yes or no questions until they get somewhere? Do they have to get anywhere? What is interaction???]

Settling in okay?

[lightlessfuture]

[ They give her a little wave in return, and a nod. They're settling in fine, it seems.

They tap at the staff, however, clearly examining it with intense curiosity. Whatever questions they have are understandably hampered by their lack of speech, but they don't seem to have seen a weapon quite like this before.

They're not quite sure what to 'say' to Gobbet, how to interact with her. But she was nice to them, so that deserves some acknowledgement. ]

[ratsinadaze]

The staff? Pretty cool, yeah? The Jormun - the fish people - actually grow them.

[She taps the butt of the staff on the snowy ground. On a whim, she draws a smiley face in the snow with it.]

They're not the sturdiest things in the world, but they regrow in salt water.

[The Jormun had taken care to explain what each weapon was best used for, where to find more, how to repair them, etc. She relays some of this to the Knight, suddenly interested in doodling in the snow.]

[lightlessfuture]

[ These weapons are grown, instead of made. They can sort of understand the principle - many bugs they knew had weapons 'built in', as it were - but it's still fascinating to them.

They draw a smiley face in the snow to match Gobbet's, and nod. This apparently pleases them quite a bit; they pace to and fro as they think of what question to ask next.

They use their branch to write words, this time.

sea

jormun

you like them ?

They've never seen the sea before; they've never seen this much water at once, even frozen. (When the ice melts, they'll be even more amazed.) But they're curious to know what Gobbet feels about it. ]

[ratsinadaze]

[Gobbet examines the words - a bit hard to read in the snow, if only because the dim light of the setting sun tints everything orange. Sea. Jormun. Do you like them? She offers a lopsided smile to the little bug.]

Don't have much water where you come from? The sea's pretty to look at, but I wouldn't go swimming. Too many tigersharks.

[She considers the second part of the question. For all the time she's spent helping them prepare and setting up defenses, she's grown rather close to some of the Jormun. She still can't pronounce any of their names, but many of them had shorter nicknames they let her use. They were a good people, making a solid effort to understand the customs of the land dwellers as the land dwellers tried to understand their own. She was looking forward to fighting side by side with them in the upcoming skirmishes.]

The Jormun are good people. They may not look like us, but we have a lot in common. They act more like a family than just an army, and they're willing to let outsiders become part of that family. This is tradition for them, you know? The death and rebirth of the sun. Hell of a thing.