Training the New Recruits (Crimson Please)

[Spots]

Second Brightening of the Second Cycle of the Month of Melora, Era II of the Celestine Mandate

When Spots woke up this brightening, it was still early. So early, in fact, that it was still dark outside. The first thing the Dorin did this morning was stretch his back. After sleeping on the small cot he and every other recruit had been issued, he figured that would become a daily habit.

Spots quickly dressed in the clothing the Legion had issued him. For a moment, Spots wondered if he was supposed to bring any of his gear to the training fields. After only a brief moment, he came to the conclusion that he would show up in his uniform. If he had been meant to bring anything he would have been ordered to bring it. Spots stood in front of his open wardrobe, and looked at the armor and weapons he kept stored there. He could only wonder how long it would be before he advanced enough to begin training with all of it. The young Dorin grabbed his cloak, and closed the wardrobe.

Spots looked around the barracks and noticed that the elf he had talked to earlier, Xavhand, was still asleep on his cot. He walked over to the elf's cot, and gently shook the edge to wake him up.

"Wake up. We don't want to be late for training." Spots whispered to the sleeping elf. Spots stood there long enough to make sure that Xavhand had heard and understood his words before leaving the barracks.

When he stepped outside, the cold winter air reminded him why he had grabbed his cloak. Unlike the long-haired Dorins, Spots wasn't suited for exposure to the cold. He pulled the green cloak on, and began his search for the training field just as the morning sky began to change color signaling the rising of the suns.

[Xavhand Zanneiros]

ooc: Thanks for getting the thread up I owe you one. Plus the timestamp would be one day after the Barracks timestamp.

ic: Once Xavhand was awake he said "I'm up I'm up." He then swung his feet over the side of the bed and stretched. He stood up slowly and yawned. He then made his way over to his wardrobe and put on his uniform and his cloak like Spots did. He looked around the room with sleeping recruits and made his way out of the building. Once he opened the door he was assaulted with cold air they spelled fresh.

He made his way towards the Dorin and the assumed training field. He looked at the Dorin and said "This is better than coffee." He then smiled and looked around for who their CO was and where their training field was.

[Spots]

Spots's ear twitched at the sound of the elf's voice. He couldn't help but chuckle a little at his comment. He gave a slight shrug in response as he looked around the training field. Spots hadn't expected to arrive before the higher ranking Legionnaires. He turned to Xavhand.

"It hasn't started yet. Let me know if it's better than coffee at the end of the day." he said plainly. Spots took a moment to look down at his uniform; it was a mess. In the rush to get dressed and arrive at the training field on time, he had neglected the appearance of his uniform. The Dorin began to quickly fix the deficiencies he could see, and motioned to Xavhand to do the same to his uniform.

"Fix your uniform as best you can before anybody shows up. They're going to find something wrong no matter what, but we still need to do our best to make sure they don't have any legitimate complaints with us."

[Xavhand Zanneiros]

Xavhand watched as the sun started going up in the sky and said "It is just beautiful isn't it." He said motioning towards the sky. Once he was done he turned back to see the Dorin fix his uniform and he did so when he said it. He fixed all the deficiencies he could find. Once he was done he looked around and said "I wonder if we are up too early?" He just shrugged it off and looked around some more.

[Crimson]

Light/Regular Infantry -

* Basic longsword
* Basic spear
* Basic javelin

The Imperial Legions were the most well-trained, best-equipped, and most feared army in the Empire. Their headquarters stretched command over the frozen plains of Carmelyn to the dry, sandy mounds of Arkamat. This was the strong-arm of the Empire; and to achieve the means to their ends, they needed strong men. Recruitment happened almost every brightening while training definately occurred every single brightening under any given calendar. This was the life of a true warrior, not some flimsy, half-hearted guard in some comfortable city atmosphere.

Dressed in their uniforms and armed with their newly assigned gear, Xavhand and Spots stood there with several other recruits waiting for their brightening to begin. Many of the legionnaires were brand new, others obviously foreigners to the Capital. There were a few other elves, but none of the dark. Lightborns were prized for their near immortality while humans were known to be born adventurers and fighters all-around. A few dwarves marked the legionnaire gathering and before long barks echoed along the training fields.

"IN LINE YOU MAGGOTS!", a burly, armored man dressed in uniform growled as he entered with two stoic looking officers flanking him, "IN LINE! FALL IN LINE! NOW!"

[Spots]

Spots heard the shout coming from a man walking with two officers on either side of him. He was yelling for the recruits, or maggots, to fall in. He wasn't quite sure of military formations, but he had an idea that he wanted everybody to be in a line or lines and standing at the position that he didn't yet know was called 'attention'. He tapped Xavhand on the shoulder, and motioned for him to follow him. Perhaps if the other recruits saw more than just one of them doing the same thing they would begin to imitate it.

Spots ran a slight distance away from the group in the direction of the man who had yelled for them to fall in. He wanted to separate himself from the group in order to establish a point for the formation to begin so that the other recruits would get the idea to line up in a similar fashion. When he was a suitable distance away from the group of new recruits, but still nowhere near the yelling man, he stood with his heels together while looking straight ahead and keeping his arms along the seam of his pants.

[Xavhand Zanneiros]

Xavhand after fixing his clothes he followed suit and snapped into attention. He then made his way towards Spots after he moved up. Xavhand followed suit again and snapped back into attention. He watched as the yelling man made his way towards them. He looked at Spots and said "I wonder if he eats recruits like us?" He then waited for the man to give the next orders.

[Crimson]

By the time Xavhand and Spots and the rest of the recruits had fallen into a jagged, makeshift line the Shield Daekin was already pacing up and down the group, eying each legionnaire with a distaste born out of his intense blue eyes. "IF IT TAKES YOU THAT LONG TO FALL IN FORMATION IN COMBAT", he barked, "WE WOULD ALL BE OVERRUN BY ORCS BY NOW! USELESS MAGGOTS!" The soldiers flanking him, Senior Legionnaires according to the single bar on their uniforms, grinned but immediately looked stoic again when the Shield Daekin turned to face them. "ALTHOS!"

"Sir!" One of the Senior Legionnaires, one with a flash of reddish brown hair, stepped forward, saluted, then remained that way until the officer spoke again.

"BRIEF THESE MAGGOTS BEFORE I VOMIT!"

"Sir, yes, SIR!" He moved past the Shield Daekin then announced, "RECRUITS! LEGIONNAIRES! Our brightenings will proceed as follows!

Calisthenics and 5-mile formation run
First rosyun
Drills
Military History
Leadership
Second rosyun
Standing guard at the main gate
Debriefing
Clean weapons
Dismiss
Pracenda

Permission to be absent from training must be acquired through headquarters. Failure to do so may result in disciplinary action. All meals are taken at the mess hall. Recruits are expected to meet all physical aspects of training, no exceptions."

With that, he stepped back beside his counterpart. The Shield Daekin spoke up once more: "Now that we are all friendly like", he grinned before clearing his throat, "RUN! RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN!"

The two Senior Legionnaires began barking their own orders next, yelling something about maintaining the line while they led the five mile run, weapons, armour, and all.

[Spots]

Spots had to fight to hold back a smile from spreading across his canine features while the Shield Daekin was yelling at the new recruits. He wondered how many classes the man had taught, and eventually graduated.

Yeah, Spots thought to himself. This is pretty much what I expected.

His brief moment of reflection was quickly interrupted by the Shield Daekin's, seemingly furious, shouting once more. This time he was yelling for them to run.

Run! It was just one more thing that added to the Dorin's enthusiasm about joining the Imperial Legion. Something about the wind against his face, ears trailing behind his head, and the joy of exerting himself couldn't have made him happier. Although he had never run with the amount of weight he was currently carrying, Spots was fairly sure he would out do at least half of the class on their first run.

While they had began to run, he couldn't help but hear the orders being yelled by the two Senior Legionnaires. They kept saying something about keeping up and making sure that they remained in formation. Spots looked to his right, fell back slightly to make sure he stayed in line with the recruit in that direction.

As they ran, Spots became aware of a problem that he had never experienced while running without military equipment. His sword kept hitting his leg, and in turn throwing his step off. He did his best to adjust, but all the ways he tried to run to avoid having his sword hit him repeatedly worked only minimally at best. The Dorin growled to himself. It seemed this was going to be one of those things that simply required him to ignore to the best of his ability. It would be a test of his determination against his frustration for the remainder of his time in training- or until he learned how to run.

[Xavhand Zanneiros]

Xav watched as the man was yelling at the recruits and he then started running when he said to. He was not accustomed to the extra weight of the armor thus he slowed down alot. As soon as he started running he felt something hit his leg and he looked down to find his sword banging against his it. He grabbed the handle of the sword and started running. It stopped the banging but slowed him down even more.

He was now in the middle next to an elf like him. He nodded to him and said "So it looks like I found an Elf." He then kept on running beside the elf and towards the mark where they tell them to stop.

[Crimson]

The Dorin, Spots, found adjusting his armour and equipment while running to be a not-too inspiring task. He soon fell behind, and the two Senior Legionnaires were flanking him, yelling orders and barking for him to pick up his pace. Several bodies ahead, Xavhand found a fellow elf lord who looked less keen to talk while running. He grunted and threw his fellow legionnaire a grin before picking up his pace, as if challenging Xavhand to a race.

The first mile of the run was killer. Between the heavy breathing, the loud clunks and clicks of weapons and armour clipping, snapping, and rubbing against one another, the men were already out of breath by the time they began their second mile. The two Senior Legionnaires seemed unhindered by this and continued to yell and shout at the top of their lungs. At one point, one of the recruits had to be kicked in the rear for giving up and attempting to walk for a change.

That was a bad move.

"TOO TIRED TO RUN!??", the senior legionnaires roared from behind the single file of men, "WANT TO GO HOME TO MOTHER DEAR???"

"YOU ARE NOT TIRED UNTIL WE SAY SO!!!", the other growled, "WE ARE YOUR MOTHER, YOUR FATHER, YOUR GOD! YOU DO NOT THINK. YOU ARE NOT TIRED! YOU ARE NOT THIRSTY! YOU WILL ONLY RUN! RUN! RUNNN!!"

On the verge of tears, the recruit finally dashed forward. He was in the legion now. There was no turning back. No turning back.

The third and fourth miles was beyond torment. The Suns overhead threatened to incinerate everyone skin despite the cold wintery weather. Each legionnaire now slowed to an even jog, just slightly over a decent brisk walk. Sensing this, the senior legionnaires marched behind the line and urged the recruits forward, picking up their pace, so that those in front would sense the impending forms of their drill instructors and push on. There was no giving up now. One more mile to go.

Sweat, thirst, agony. Their legs screamed, their lungs burned. For a moment, neither Spots nor Xavhand thought that they would make it. The weight of their armour and equipment seemed to sap all their strength. Even the more athletically inclined Dorin felt drained by the 5 mile run. The elf lord, on the other hand, was barely keeping up with the rest of the formation. His tongue, his whole mouth was dry. He longed for water, for some rest, for a break.

They rounded a familiar corner, and all the recruits urged their legs toward the last thirty or so paces, entering the training grounds. They kicked up sand from the floor as the dozen or so new legionnaires weaved their now-crooked line toward the armored figure that was their training officer. In his hand was a mug of water. He sipped it casually but maintained his attention at the arriving legionnaires.

"FORM LINE!" he barked and the legionnaires heavily obeyed the orders. "STRAIGHT LINE! STRAIGHT LINE!" The legionnaires, numbly, attempted to de-wrinkle their formation. "AT ARMS!" Still in disbelief, the legionnaires slowly unbuckled their weapons. But while more than half of them was still trying to catch their breath, there was a movement from either side. Then, a loud, even rhythm filled the training grounds.

It was the sound of a march. A hundred footsteps, all of them moving in unison. From the entry gates formed a line of armoured men, equipped with swords, shields, and spears. Their helms hid their callouses demeanors. These were not ordinary men. These were heroes of the Jade Legion. Their line was five men wide and at least a few dozen men long. They marched like a metal snake, their flanked protected by shields and spears. With each quaking step, they moved closer until they surrounded the dozen or so recruits in a fully circle, spears pointed at them indefinately.

"LEGIONNAIRES!", the shield daekin roared, "AT ARMS! DEFENSIVE FORMATION! WE ARE LEGION! WE DO NOT SHRINK AT THE SIGHT OF A GREATER ENEMY! WE ARE LEGION! WE DO NOT RETREAT! WE DO NOT DISHONOR OURSELVES BY SHOWING COWARDICE! WE ARE LEGION! RISE UP, MEN! RISE UP AND FIGHT!"

The two senior legionnaires among them immediately barked orders, shoving and pushing the recruits around them to form a circular formation with each man facing the hundreds of armoured, faceless legionnaires around them. "RAISE YOUR SHIELDS AND SPEARS AND SWORDS!", he cried, "READY YOURSELVES FOR A CHARGE!"

[Spots]

As he began to fall behind in the run, Spots noticed the two senior legionnaires on either side of him. He heard their words, more like shouts, ordering him to keep the grueling pace that had been set. Feeling exhausted so early in the run surprised him, but he urged his body forward. His heart and lungs protested at the extra exertion. While his heart beat wildly inside his chest, it began to feel as if it were trying to escape its home inside his body so it wouldn't have to endure such an agonizing run any longer. Likewise, his breathing came in quick deep breaths more like gulps. He exhaled forcefully. With the added weight of the equipment, it felt like he had been sprinting for miles already.

By the time they reached the training grounds, all Spots wanted to do was rest. He drank in the air; his body was too tired to even appreciate that he was no longer running. His tongue hung loosely out of the side of his mouth as he panted heavily. His only thought at the moment was that he was glad it was winter. He couldn't imagine beginning his training with a five mile run in full gear during the summer heat.

Before he could regain his bearing, somebody was yelling about falling into a line formation. Still exhausted, the Dorin looked around and loosely understood the orders and began to move into the correct formation. It seemed their collectie efforts weren't good enough the first time. They were still being yelled at to straighten the line. Next came the order "AT ARMS". Spots was still breathing heavily, but he grabbed his spear and shield anyways.

The sound of soldiers marching in unison began to fill his ears. A formation of trained Legionnaires began marching towards them. A formation, Spots noticed, that was much larger than their own. He was fairly sure that they had been properly trained, unlike the haggard group of recruits. Eventually the formation marched to surround the recruits. Their shields were up, and their spears were held at the ready. If he hadn't been so exhausted, Spots was certain he would be feeling excitement right now. Combat . . . next to honor, it was what he lived for. However, fighting at that particular moment made his stomach feel like he wanted to vomit.

For a brief moment, the Dorin felt a wave of shame wash over him. He knew he wasn't about to be killed. This was training to become the best in the Empire. His thoughts caused him to stand a little straighter . . . to attempt to hold his spear and shield at a better ready position. He was a Dorin, by the gods! He would certainly do his best to act like one. He heard the slightly motivational speech yelled to them by the shield daekin followed by the orders to prepare to fight.

Spots replied with all he could think of at the time. "BRING IT!"

[Xavhand Zanneiros]

Xavhand smiled at the Elf and started to run to catch up. The other elf lord had a head start as he began to catch up. He looked straight ahead and looked for the elf lord. He was soon catching up and his leg was starting to hurt from the sword banging his leg. As he rounded a corner he found the elf lord already at the finish line. As he finished he came up to the elf lord and said "Nice race. So what is your name?" The Elf probably did not have time to answer as the shouting to form lines began.

Xavhand stood next to what he thought was Spots and the elf lord. As he started to make himself breath then there was shouting 'To Arms'. He frowned and equiped his shield and training sword. As he watched the soldiers ahead of him he looked for a weakness in their line. If he found it out he would inform the two beside him. As soon as the order to charge was sounded he would run towards the enemies line and try to break their line.

[Crimson]

"CHHAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGEEEEEEEE!!!!!!"

The roaring of a dozen men filled the air, their weariness suddenly forgotten. The elf, Xavhand, was feeling less sociable now while his dorin counterpart, Spots, now felt a fire burning within him, incinerating his thoughts of water and rest. Spearheads, blades, and other weapons clanked against the wall of shields. Despite this, however, the recruits fought on with renewed vigor. They hammers, slammed, some even attempted to smash their way through the ranks of obviously well-trained legionnaires. The recruits were outnumbered, out-ranked, out-trained, but they persisted.

And though they did not see it, the Shield Daekin was grinning from behind the fray. He waited for several moments until the massive metal snake that was the larger legionnaire force had pushed the recruit back so far that they were back-to-back before yelling "HALT! HALLTTTTT!!!" With a defening thud the legionnaires placed their tower shields stiffly on the earth while their own spears returned at a ready position, the sharpened end pointing at the recruits in the center.

Out of a corner, the shield daekin's armored form appeared. He nodded curtly at the two Senior legionnaires who stayed with the recruits. "Good", he said in less frightening tones, "We will get along, I think" he added later "DISMISSED TO FIRST ROSYUN! REPORT TO MESS HALL! GO GO GO!"

(OOC: feel free to RP any interaction while you eat )

After a carefully measured 20 minutes, the recruits were ordered to leave whatever utensils they used to eat (or any regrettably unfinished food or drink) behind to hurry back to the training fields. The legionnaires were still there, armored, armed, and at the ready. The shield daekin was conversing with their command, a sword daekin with short cut hair and blazing blue eyes. They both turned to watch the band of recruits approach the grounds again. "FORM LINES!", the shield called out and the recruits knew what to expect next. "TIME FOR DRILLS LADIES!! CROUCH! CROUCH! I WANT TO SEE YOU BEND THOSE KNEES! NO ONE'S GONNA CARRY YOU IF YOUR LEGS WON'T DO IT! SHIELDS UP! SPEARS UP! THIS IS A WEAPONS DRILL! NOT A DANCE PARTY!!!!"

[Spots]

OOC: Forgive the pun. You'll know it when you see it.

The command to charge was given. Adrenaline pumped, and Spots moved into action. With shield raised, the Dorin advanced. Exhausted, but motivated to fight, Spots began by trying to thrust his shield into the larger opposing force. Blades and spears met shields. Metal clanged, soldiers grunted with the exertion. When the experienced Legionnaires moved too close for him to use his spear, Spots quickly drew his longsword.

The Dorin tried thrusts. He tried slashes of all kinds: vertical, diagonal, horizontal. Everything he could throw at the advancing wall of shields seemed to have no effect. His arm was quickly growing tired from repeatedly striking nothing but opposing shields. However, Spots was encouraged by the fact that he hadn't allowed an attack to hit him either. The Dorin fought on. He was being pushed backwards by the advancing "enemy" force by now. Grunting, he pushed back as hard as he could. For all the effort he exerted, he might as well have been pushing against a wall, but that didn't stop the Dorin.

"Gods be damned, I'ma WIN THIS!" he growled to whomever might be listening, even as he was pushed backwards. Eventually, the exhausted Spots could feel his back pressed against another recruits. Then came the order to halt. Breathing heavily, the Dorin heard the shields plant into the ground. Looking around his own shield, he saw spears still leveled at him. For a very brief moment, he growled at the more experienced Legionnaires as if to dare them to press the attack. Then he remembered it was only an exercise.

The Shield Daekin's next words might have been sung by a bard rather than shouted from his mouth. Rosyun and mess hall meant food. Although he was dog tired, Spots couldn't help his tail from wagging happily as he jogged as quickly as his already sore body would allow. He looked around, trying to find the talkative elf Xavhand. Spots didn't look too hard, though. He was hungry; most of the conversation he would provide would be simple grunts, however he did want to apologize to the elf for ignoring him during formation. Once he entered the mess hall, however, all thoughts of talking ceased.

Spots was ushered through the line, received whatever sort of chow the military deemed fit for consumption and moved to a table as quickly as possible. Spots gave the military chow, which didn't look that good at all, a quick sniff. His nose didn't raise any alarm. With that, the Dorin began to shovel the food into his mouth, chew and swallow as fast as possible. To most, he was sure he looked completely uncivilized. He didn't care either. Legionnaires and recruits alike could think what they wanted of the Dorin; he certainly wasn't going to let any food go to waste and feel as if he were starving until the next meal.

Spots finished his meal well before the allotted time was up. He placed his tray and dishes in the proper place designated to return such items and walked back to the training fields while his body protested his movement. Despite his finishing his meal early, Spots arrived at the training fields around the same time the rest of the recruits did. More yelling ensued as well as more falling into lines.

Once he heard his orders, Spots crouched. As he tried to raise his shield and spear, he found that like running with his gear on, balancing in this sort of position was going to take getting used to as well. At first, the Dorin fell several times as he tried to find the right way to position his weight on his feet. He fell in nearly every direction at least twice before he managed to discover a way to balance while carrying everything. Spots moved slowly at first, tentatively taking crouched steps making sure he kept his balance. After taking about ten paces forward, he tried backwards and sideways as well. Once the Dorin was comfortable with moving in every direction he tried moving faster. Again, he fell. Frustrated, he started over from the beginning.

The process of walking and falling continued for an infuriating amount of time. Eventually, he resigned himself to walking while crouched at a slightly slower pace than he had hoped for. Once he had decided to quit trying to walk faster, Spots began trying to add an occasional thrust of his spear whilst he moved. As he expected, he fell over once again. The learning process seemed to involve a lot of the young Dorin losing his balance. Apparently, that seemed to be what the Legion wanted him to learn: balance. Balance, so it seemed to the Dorin, was one of the most crucial things in combat next to physical conditioning.