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+---- Thread: [Training] brambles and dust (/showthread.php?tid=12024)
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brambles and dust - Deimos - 09-13-2025
Today Deimos’ plans involved getting the dreaded paperwork out of the way before culminating in anything fun or amusing, to see if it would be beneficial and more enticing. The notions turned out to be falsehoods once he’d cut through a large stack of signing, letters, and other masses and litanies from dawn through to mid-morning, growing grumpier and far more taciturn by the minute. Sneaking out of his office thereafter had been a damned relief, and he’d marched along to the barracks the moment he had the opportunity.
Stepping within a threshold he cherished was the breather he required, and a long sigh contorted out of his lungs the moment he slid his bag from his shoulders, and the armor back over his tunic. Nodding at several of his soldiers nearby, he almost thought to join them, save for the beckoning of the climbing wall nearby. Signaling he’d be right back, long strides carried him to one of his favorite portions of the entire training grounds, already snagging at the harness and joining his brethren as several of them aimed to get to the top.
So, eventually, when anyone came to find him – as it often occurred – he’d be square in the middle of the icy, opposing fixture, the moodiness contorted into rough amusement as his hands slid amidst divets in the ice.
RE: brambles and dust - Damien - 09-16-2025
The barracks were easier to find than their keeper, though Damien supposed that was the point. The Warden never quite sat still, and when he did it was under more weight than Damien had ever been shouldered with. Today, though, Damien had half a mind to see if Deimos wanted another set of hands with something—hauling, fixing, hunting, whatever needed doing.
Instead, he stepped through the doors and found soldiers sparring, steel ringing, and Deimos halfway up a frosty climbing wall like some kind of mountain goat with a grudge. Damien stopped short, a low breath huffing out between his teeth. [say]“...Right,”[/say] he muttered under his breath, half to himself, [say]“that explains it.”[/say]
Aria padded at his heel, ears pricking high at the sound of shouted encouragement from the climbers below. She gave a chirp as if asking why they weren’t joining. Damien’s eyes narrowed upward, following the Warden’s progress with a look that was equal parts skepticism and reluctant amusement.
[say]“Was hoping to find you for something useful to do,”[/say] he called up, voice carrying easily enough across the stone-and-ice hall. [say]“Didn’t think I’d have to drag you down off a wall.”[/say]
One of the soldiers nearby snorted, and Damien’s mouth twitched despite himself. He rolled a shoulder, tugging his coat tighter before he started toward the rack of harnesses. [say]“Suppose I should ask if you’re looking for company up there, or if I should just wait ‘til you fall on your ass?”[/say]
He said it flat, but the gleam in his eyes gave it away—he wasn’t here just to watch.
RE: brambles and dust - Deimos - 09-17-2025
Muscles pulled, contorted, rippled, all strength, fortitude, and might as he tackled the wall. It wouldn’t be his first, nor his last; for he’d ventured up and down the climbing apparatus many times, frequently changing the thresholds so that it was an ongoing challenge for anyone who might deign to test their skills. He settled onto one portion, before moving to another, steady progress, deliberating, and plotting, before ascending further, taking it piece by piece and hold by hold.
Finding it settled and grounded him greatly, he’d hardly heard another below until another soldier at the top pointed downward. Briefly glancing, Deimos snorted, spotting Damien, before continuing his ascension, wholly unbothered by the chiding. [say]“Depends on what you are looking for,”[/say] he rumbled, placing his foot on another prime location, before pushing off and upward, a propulsion of prowess; of which they’d had a recent conversation about the litanies of action required around this sphere.
As for joining him though, Deimos shrugged through his practiced movements and motions. [say]“Up to you,”[/say] he smirked, and then clambered to the top, amused as he sat atop the portions for a moment, gazing towards Damien and the ground level. [say]“I do have something I could use your help with, if you feel like testing some armor.”[/say]
RE: brambles and dust - Damien - 09-18-2025
Damien tipped his head back to watch the last of Deimos’s climb, jaw tightening faintly at the ease of it. The Warden made scaling a wall of ice look like nothing more than taking the stairs. A man could either be discouraged by that or challenged; Damien found himself leaning toward the latter, though he hid it under the usual gravel.
[say]“Armor, huh.”[/say] His mouth tugged crooked, somewhere between a grimace and a grin.
Aria chirped, circling his boots, and he stooped long enough to brush her aside with a hand. She gave an indignant chirp and toddled off, keeping out of trouble for now. Damien shrugged out of his coat, rolling his shoulders against the cold, then crossed to the rack for a harness. The leather was stiff, but he buckled it without much fuss, checking the straps with steady, workmanlike motions.
[say]“Don’t expect much of a show,”[/say] he called up, dry but without apology. [say]“I’m not here to impress anyone.”[/say] The corner of his mouth tugged upward as he looked up at Deimos again. [say]“But if you need something beaten on, I can manage that well enough.”[/say]
Damien’s breath fogged in the cold as he gave the first hold a testing pull. Solid enough. He set his boots, leaned his weight forward, and began the climb. No sudden bursts, no fancy tricks, just the same steady rhythm he’d used a hundred times hauling firewood up ridges or game over uneven ground. Hand, foot, hand, foot, until the wall gave him no choice but to trust the next hold and keep moving.
The muscles in his shoulders and back burned quick enough, but he ground through it, jaw set. Aria’s faint chirrups followed him up from below, sharp little encouragements or heckling—it was hard to tell. By the time he hauled himself over the lip, he was breathing heavier than he’d like, but on his feet all the same.
He gave Deimos a look that carried a hint of wry amusement through the breathlessness. [say]“Well. I made it.”[/say] A pause, a short huff of a laugh. He noticed the armor Deimos wore, the details clearer now at close range. The weight of it looked like more than most men could stand for long, but the Warden carried it as easily as a second skin. Damien found his eyes tracing the plates and fittings, curiosity stirring despite himself. [say]“What'd you have in mind, then?”[/say]
RE: brambles and dust - Deimos - 09-18-2025
Deimos glanced below, faintly amused, mouth quirking into half a juvenile grin as Damien seemed set to respond to the challenge. Regardless, the Warden would have come down eventually – perhaps the hunter took the notions to heart, or there was something else at play. Rising from his sitting position, he turned to stare across the wake, along the distances of nearby rooftops, before sifting his attention towards his fellow soldiers at the top, granting Damien his lack of interruption as the man settled himself to tackle the wall.
When the Accepted had reached the peak, the Sword had settled into conversations, alterations of plans and schedules, where they might patrol at the next opportunity, things seen from over the top of the walls. Only then did he shift his focus back to the other man, head tilting, the rogue smile remaining. [say]“You did. Well done.”[/say] Maneuvering over to where the landing portions were much wider, he granted Damien more room to breathe and ease back into impending potentials; noting how the other was already studying the armor. [say]“Leviathan scale. I asked Safrin to improve it. Needs to be hit with only physical attacks, if you are interested.”[/say]
RE: brambles and dust - Damien - 09-19-2025
Damien huffed a low laugh, shaking his head. [say]“Leviathan scale? If I’m meant to punch you in that, I’ll be walking out with more broken bones than you.”[/say] His eyes flicked over the plates again, respect clear in the weight of his look. [say]“So unless you’re trying to send me home in a sling, I’ll need something else to swing.”[/say]
He glanced past Deimos, spotting one of the soldiers with a quarterstaff leaned easy against his shoulder. Damien tipped his chin toward it. [say]“Mind if I borrow that for a bit?”[/say] The soldier passed it over without argument, and Damien gave the staff a quick test in his grip, rolling the wood in his palms. Solid, with a little flex, and—most importantly—blunt.
[say]“That's better,”[/say] he muttered, more to himself than anyone, before setting his stance across from Deimos. He brought the staff up, one end braced low, the other angled toward the Warden. [say]“Alright then,”[/say] he shrugged his shoulders a few times to drop muscle tension, voice carrying that dry edge again, [say]“let's see how much this armor of yours can take.”[/say]
Without much else of a warning, he stepped in with measured footing, nothing flashy, and brought the quarterstaff around in a clean arc. Not a full strike—just enough weight behind it to test the feel of wood against scale. Truthfully, Damien was a little worried he'd bounce off.
(Training 1/4)
RE: brambles and dust - Deimos - 09-20-2025
Deimos hadn’t said punch, nor implicated any broken bones – so his brow arched, snorting, as conclusions seemed to have been drawn without his inference. But Damien snagged at a worthwhile weapon, and so the Sword did the same, creating a wooden staff in his hands with a simple golden glow and no other fanfare. He wasn’t going to let the Accepted simply hit him. No need to make anything easy.
Nor did he need the warning – well versed, well orchestrated, to the use of armaments from multiple lives of bloodshed and war. He knew the signs, the cast motions, and so he simply stepped over to the left and back a step, avoiding the full arc and breadth of the other man’s motion. In turn, to test, to see, he used the long length of his arms, and swiped his own staff towards Damien’s knees, a slight smile ghosting along his mouth.
1/4
RE: brambles and dust - Damien - 09-24-2025
The staff whistled low, and Damien caught the motion just in time. He shifted his weight hard to the side, boots scraping across the ice-slick surface as he yanked one leg back and let the other take the brunt of his balance. The swipe missed clean, but only because he moved like a man who’d learned to keep his legs under him in bad terrain.
Straightening, Damien gave a short huff of a laugh, dry and unbothered. [say]“Thought the point was you wanted me to hit you,”[/say] he said, brow ticking up, the staff braced again in front of him.
He didn’t press forward immediately, just adjusted his grip and stance, testing the wood against his calloused palms. The gleam in his eyes said he wasn’t discouraged—if anything, he looked more intrigued. [say]“Guess I should’ve expected you’d make me earn it.”[/say]
He didn’t linger on defense any longer. Twisting the length of wood in his hands, Damien stepped back in with a sudden jab toward Deimos’s midsection—not a wild swing this time, but a tighter thrust, testing for openings.
(Training 2/4)
RE: brambles and dust - Deimos - 09-24-2025
The presumption that Deimos would simply let someone hit him was quite amusing – enough to send and ignite a rumbling roar of a laugh from his sides. The Warden had never intended to be a living target - one didn't survive that way. [say]“You wanted me to make it easy for you?”[/say] Of which he couldn’t quite recall a time he’d ever done so – not even for Evie – and he maneuvered, stepping lightly around the sudden jabbing implementation, wholly unbothered, long strides sweeping upon the precipice. [say]“Then neither of us would have learned anything.”[/say] And the Sword was a stickler for education, in many forms; training, understanding another’s weaknesses, strengths, openings, and barbarities, were just sewn potentials.
Granting him naught in return, save for a light, boyish and juvenile grin, his easygoing saunter abruptly switched, aiming to whack the staff near the Accepted’s back.
2/4
RE: brambles and dust - Damien - 09-24-2025
The laugh that rolled out of Deimos was big and unbothered, like a lion shaking the walls of its den. Damien felt it in his ribs before the words even landed. He should’ve known better—of course the Warden wasn’t going to stand there and play target dummy. That wasn’t how men like him survived.
Still, Damien straightened under it, squaring himself up. In most ways he had nothing to lose here, everything to gain, and that steadied him more than it rattled.
The strike came fast, a sweep meant for his back. Damien twisted, too slow to dodge clean, the wood cracking against him with a solid bite. The blow stung, jarred bone, but he let the momentum carry him forward instead of buckling. His staff snapped across in a sharp, sideways clash against Deimos’s own—aimed not at the man but at the weapon, the kind of move that was half-defiance, half-instinct.
The collision jolted his arms, but he pressed it, teeth bared in something like a grin. If he couldn’t knock the staff free—and he doubted he could—maybe he could force the opening. He shifted quick, pivoting into a short, driving thrust aimed low toward Deimos’s side.
[say]“Alright, how was that?”[/say] Damien rasped, breath fogging as he went to retreat a few steps.
(Training 3/4)
RE: brambles and dust - Deimos - 09-25-2025
He waited for a complaint to rumble through, but when nothing was uttered along the wall, he let it be, watching for the reaction. The reverberation of the wood and its impact had done its job, but the Accepted didn’t give in either. Commendable, perhaps, given Deimos’ line of work – he’d seen plenty fold immediately if something was difficult, the modest and minor trials and tribulations too much to bear.
Then the crack of the staff crashed into his own, and he smirked, taking the impact for what it was. He met it head on, equally unbothered once more, pressing his strength, fortitude, and might into the onslaught, and as Damien moved downward, he persisted, angling the staff to catch it out right. [say]“Better,”[/say] he extended. [say]“Be careful you are not leaving yourself open in the process.” [/say]To which he’d permit a slight warning, as he rushed forward on a long, sweeping, quick, swift stride, intending to knock his armament into Damien’s shins.
3/4
RE: brambles and dust - Damien - 09-30-2025
The sweep laid him flat, no denying it. Damien hit the icy ground hard enough to rattle bone, breath scraping out of his chest. He lay there a second, the sting in his shins buzzing sharp, before a rough chuckle cracked out of him. It wasn’t defeat, not yet—just the acknowledgment of pain and lesson both.
[say]“Alright,”[/say] he muttered as he rolled back up, planting his boots solid. [say]“Keep myself covered, or get knocked on my ass. Got it.”[/say]
This time he set himself tighter, staff angled across his body, not leaving that same open line. With a sharp move forward, he suddenly pivoted and brought the quarterstaff in hard; a driving strike aimed for Deimos’s ribs. It wasn’t polished form, but all weight and stubborn rhythm, the grit of a man chopping wood or breaking ice.
(Training 4/4)
RE: brambles and dust - Deimos - 10-04-2025
Deimos arched his brow at the momentum of movement, to an abrupt flattening – as the knock to Damien’s shins hadn’t had such an intention. He’d have to watch his own power and prowess through some of the motions – but he kept his distance, waiting for the Accepted to stand back up and sharpen his own decisions.
Which would end up being a hard and fast strike; and the Sword opted for a different decision and position on the matter. He took the jab, felt the motion jostled through the armor. Without the barrier, it might’ve been some severe damage to his ribs, but he’d wanted to closer proximity – as with many things in sieges and assaults, there was always a take and give. Snagging at impending damage might still serve a better outcome, coming in to strike harder than one’s opponent.
He didn’t often recommend it, but when the opportunity was there…he’d take it. From that point, he swung his staff to strive and try jamming the blunt end of it into Damien’s shoulder.
4/4
RE: brambles and dust - Damien - 10-09-2025
The strike connected solidly this time, the staff biting against Deimos’s side with a dull thunk that Damien felt clear through his arms. The jolt ran bone-deep before it bounced back through the wood, and he almost didn’t believe it had landed until he saw the faint shift of the Warden’s weight. A small victory—earned, not given—but it barely had time to settle before Deimos came back twice as fast.
The counter hit square against his shoulder. The impact spun him half around, a grunt catching in his throat as the ache flared sharp and hot. He staggered back a few paces, boots slipping against the frost, before catching himself with the staff planted like a walking stick.
[say]“That’s—”[/say] he started, breath coming in rough. Then he huffed a laugh, shaking his head. [say]“—that’s about what I expected.”[/say]
He leaned on the staff for a breath, then passed it back to the waiting soldier with a nod. [say]“Appreciate the run,”[/say] he said to Deimos then, rolling his sore shoulder once. [say]“Learned more in a few hits than I have in a while.”[/say]
A beat passed, his lips twitched. [say]“Next time, maybe I’ll last a little longer.”[/say]
It wasn’t bravado, just quiet promise—the kind a man makes to himself. Then he stepped back, breath fogging, already feeling the ache that would follow him into morning.