|
|
Post by Zaffre on Jan 26, 2017 15:32:01 GMT -6
The sun shone brightly above the training field that particular day, students of all ages crowding around any fights going on and grinning ear to ear as they gleefully watched the combat. Unlike those people, Zaffre stayed in the shade of a small overhang, viewing the battles from a distance rather than up close. His rather bland attire of simply a blue turtleneck and dark gray dress pants made him blend into the background, drawing little attention from anyone. His ocean blue eyes scanned the entire training field, taking in not only the fights but the spectators as well. Among the fighters, he usually found one of three types of battles; fights to test new techniques, friendly practice bouts, or fights to settle an argument or disagreement. He found that the third of the options tended to draw the most attention as they were usually much more heated than the others, but anyone could have drawn the same conclusion. The things that really interested him were the fighting styles he saw. While sure, the people using them were okay at best, it was the style that really caught his attention. As he'd observe he would run scenarios through his head about how he would fight that person in the event that something came to blow.
Regardless of all that, he remained out of the fights. He didn't see any real challenge to most people, not because of him having superior skill but because of a fundamental arrogance about him. He was a senior student, one of the upperclassman and by his own belief a damn good fighter. Strapped to his back was his weapon, a shield with sharp wavy ridges on its face. While unconventional, the shield was a perfect match for him considering one of his more... unique traits. He was a Faunus, box jellyfish one at that, so he had a number of thin tentacles that sprouted from his back, them being tucked in his shirt at the moment. Because of this, using a sword in combat would be a bit tricky in case he accidentally hit himself, but the shield posed no such threat to his well being.
Silently, he made his way up to the battlefield, the sun shining brightly enough that he had to squint his eyes slightly to see after being in the shade for a while. He was about to head over to the exit when someone caught his eye. He was never really one to interact with people unless he had a reason, but he felt like this person would be entertaining somehow. Quickly, he changed course and stepped right up to the person, tapping them nonchalantly on the shoulder to get them to turn around.
"Greetings, I'm Zaffre. Who might you be?" He asked, adding a little intrigue to his tone to see if he could provoke a reaction instead of just being passed off.
|
|
|
|
Post by Stanislav Kovac on Jan 26, 2017 16:57:09 GMT -6
[attr="class","ohlove"] [attr="class","lacking"] [attr="class","eyes"]✎ tag: Zaffre ✎ tag: @someone2 ※ words: 561 ✉ notes: Heya, mind if i slid in? The wind is blowing Freedom soon will come
The fellow senior halted for a moment, before turning his head up to look at his new visitor, moving his hand up to steady his giant polearm from where it rested on his shoulder. In his hand he held what looked like a short leather paddle, with a cloth smattered in dry blood resting across his lap. With a shrug he let his head down, pinning the haft of his weapon between his traps and his jaw, before running the leather paddle down the length of the blade. “You looking for something friend?” He asked innocently enough, “If you’re looking for your gear worked on I’m off for the weekend, you can fill out a ticket if you want though.” He said, slipping a hand under his long chlamys to procure a thick sheath of papers, a golden glint of his chest plate visible for a scant second. The hand holding the paddle never stopped gliding across the cutting surface of the blade as he spoke, he was practiced enough to go through the motions without even looking by now.
Shifting his weight he slowly rose up to his feet, pteruges clattering against one another as he did. Finally on his own two feet, his visitor was about as tall as his nose, which to his credit was taller than most. He paused for a moment, pulling the wad of repair tickets away apprehensively as he reached up to the chlamys’ clasp and pulling it free, the heavy sack garment falling to his ankles in dramatic fashion, revealing his armour and musculature in a show of force. “Or are you looking to square off?” He asked, throwing his scarf over his shoulder and adjusting his manacles, “I’ll allow it like, but if it's alright with you I wanted to get a drink first.” He said gesturing to the collapsable table he had set up behind him, a pair of pitchers, the first filled with a deep red fluid, the second a green tinted transparent fluid. Set up next to it was a chalk board and a small tray filled with coins. “Feel free to join me.” He invited, sitting down and pointing to the second chair set out, setting a second beaker out for him.
“I wouldn’t drink the green stuff if I were you, I really don't think you could stomach it.” He said with an apologetic smile, “That’s not an affront, its pickle juice, even I can barely stomach the stuff.” As he explained, he poured himself a beaker-full of the stuff, rolling his shoulders before pinching his nose and downing the foul tasting fluids, retching the second it passed. “No,” his voice hoarse, “No, you’re better sticking to the cherry juice. Take my word for it.”
[newclass=.ohlove]width:480px;padding:15px;border:1px solid #575656;background: #656660; /* Old breakowsers */ background: -moz-linear-gradient(90deg, #656660 0%, #333136 100%); /* FF3.6-15 */background: -webkit-linear-gradient(-85 deg, #656660 0%, #333136 100%); /* Chrome10-25,Safari5.1-6 */background: linear-gradient(-275deg, #656660 0%, #333136 100%)[/newclass][googlefont=Oswald][googlefont=Roboto][newclass=.lacking]width: 420px; height: 0px; background-color: rgba(40,40,40,0.4); overflow: hidden; -moz-transition: 3s all; -webkit-transition: 3s all; -o-transition: 3s all; transition: 1s all; [/newclass][newclass=.ohlove:hover .lacking]width: 400px; height: 180px; padding: 10px;[/newclass][newclass=.ohlove:hover .eyes]transition:1s;margin-top:0px;[/newclass][newclass=.eyes]background-color:#1f1f1f;opacity:.8;font-family:calibri; font-size: 9px; text-transform: uppercase;color:#ffffff;padding:20px;margin-top:400px;width:360px; height: 140px; transition:1.5s; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify;[/newclass] |
|
|
|
Post by Zaffre on Jan 27, 2017 12:53:12 GMT -6
Getting a better look at the man now that he was standing, Zaffre quickly concluded that the man was an experienced fighter for sure, something about the way he held himself along with the bulk of his muscles. Muscle mass was one of Zaffre's lacking qualities, but not one that he cared too much for. Despite his weaponry, he was usually quite agile on the field, something more difficult if one had so much heft to them. As the student spoke to him, he didn't interject much, just listened for the tone of voice and watched how he moved about. It was clear from the short discussion that the other student did weapon repairs, and was either good at them or a bit overconfident in his abilities.
The nearby table seemed nicely stocked enough, though he had to admit he was expecting some form of alcohol to be on it due to the other student's stature, but then again the school probably wouldn't be too happy about something like that being around some of the younger students. Silently, he sat down in the second chair, pulling the shield from his back off and setting it gently on the ground next to him. He continued to listen in silence to the other student ramble about the different drinks he had, somewhat surprised that he actually downed a beaker of the pickle juice without having it come back up. Clearly, this wasn't his first go at it. Taking the student's advice, he poured himself some cherry juice, only half filling the beaker before taking a small sip.
"If I can be perfectly honest, I'm not exactly sure why I approached you, you just seemed like a very interesting individual," He admitted, taking another small sip of the liquid before sliding into a slightly more relaxed sitting position. He felt this guy was a more chill person than his intimidating figure let on, which gave him a little leeway with how he composed himself, "Though I take it you've been at this school for a while, and do some equipment repairs to boot, sounds like you've got a lot going for you there. I'm a senior here myself, though I'm sure some of the teachers wish I was out of their hair already."
Then, almost as if he was testing the other student's ability to observe, he let a few of his tentacles slip through the tiny holes of his shirt, letting them wave around to his sides. They were very thin, almost like small strands of silver as they danced about, sometimes causing a glimmer for a split second if they caught the sun's rays correctly. His Faunus herritage was certainly something he was not afraid to share, though he knew that he had a bit of a bad reputation with his classmates and the Faunus trait would be the easiest way to recognize him. Once again though, he wanted to see if this student knew anything about him, get a feel for how they would be interacting. Personally, he had heard a few conversations in passing that could possibly have been about who he spoke to know, but nothing concrete to allow him to know for sure.
|
|
|
|
Post by Stanislav Kovac on Jan 27, 2017 15:39:35 GMT -6
[attr="class","ohlove"] [attr="class","lacking"] [attr="class","eyes"]✎ tag: Zaffre✎ tag: @someone2 ※ words: 520 ✉ notes: Go on, he wants you to ask. The wind is blowing Freedom soon will come
“It stops cramps.” He explained, drumming his fingers against the beaker, “Spend all day drop kicking freshman in the hot sun, you start sweating, lose all your sodium. Then you start cramping up and, Un-Honsa, that’s just a pain in the arse. Literally at times. The cherry juice apparently helps with circulation, but really I just keep it here because I like the taste” He reached under the table and withdrew a squeeze bottle of water, rinsing his beaker out with it before pouting himself a glass of the red stuff. As he put the glass to his lips, Stan couldn’t help but notice the fellow senior’s distinctive choice of trappings, shields aside, the fact that his shirt was looking a little… hole-y certainly pricked his ears up, metaphorically speaking. Well that’s either some sort of patrician fashion trend, or the man’s a faunas. Stanis noted, keeping his mild distaste off his face. “Been running through cobwebs? What’s with the halation? No point trying to be subtle about it really, either let loose or keep it penned up, why bother pussyfooting about with it? Stand proud, or don’t stand to begin with, you get me?” With another shrug he picked up the leather paddle and resumed running it across the sword.
“I suppose you don’t have to worry about stropping your weapons do you?” With a tut he added, “Mind you, not like many hunters actually bother anyway. Ingrates don’t know the joy of properly maintain a weapon. Either way, what’s the maintenance on your gear? Just polishing and banging out the nicks and dents? Sometimes I figure it's better to just pick up a regular old sword, what with the bloody pageantry and pampering I have to put this sword through sometimes, but you know what? I’d miss it, it's like meditation. Distracting the front of the mind, so that the rest of it is free to wander and wonder. That and because I take care of it properly, I can say without any ego that this beauty could cut God if I needed to.” He punctuated the point with a slow, hard run of the paddle, the sound of leather on steel making a spine tingling ring
He snorted in amusement when he mentioned the teachers, before chiming in “It's because we’re seniors, yeah they love us, after all, we see more of them than our parents. But that doesn’t mean they’re not eager to see the birds flee the proverbial nest.” He seemed to have reached the end off his little routine with the polearm, laying the paddle down on the table before resting his weapon across his lap. “So Legion pays for military families tuition now? Or are you one of the charity case runaway’s?” The inquest came suddenly to say the least, and despite himself Stanislav couldn’t help but give a little smile, Go on you coy little sod, as me how I know. “Or did the parents get commission? Hell, a Warrant Officer in Legion could easily put their whole extended family through here and still have money to take a holiday to Setek afterwards.” He added nonchalantly
[newclass=.ohlove]width:480px;padding:15px;border:1px solid #575656;background: #656660; /* Old breakowsers */ background: -moz-linear-gradient(90deg, #656660 0%, #333136 100%); /* FF3.6-15 */background: -webkit-linear-gradient(-85 deg, #656660 0%, #333136 100%); /* Chrome10-25,Safari5.1-6 */background: linear-gradient(-275deg, #656660 0%, #333136 100%)[/newclass][googlefont=Oswald][googlefont=Roboto][newclass=.lacking]width: 420px; height: 0px; background-color: rgba(40,40,40,0.4); overflow: hidden; -moz-transition: 3s all; -webkit-transition: 3s all; -o-transition: 3s all; transition: 1s all; [/newclass][newclass=.ohlove:hover .lacking]width: 400px; height: 180px; padding: 10px;[/newclass][newclass=.ohlove:hover .eyes]transition:1s;margin-top:0px;[/newclass][newclass=.eyes]background-color:#1f1f1f;opacity:.8;font-family:calibri; font-size: 9px; text-transform: uppercase;color:#ffffff;padding:20px;margin-top:400px;width:360px; height: 140px; transition:1.5s; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify;[/newclass] |
|
|
|
Post by Zaffre on Jan 27, 2017 16:34:52 GMT -6
"While I can't claim to be as into maintenance as you are, I'd never make the mistake of neglecting my weapon. If I don't, I'd get blown sky high when I tried to make a ranged attack, and I most certainly don't exaggerate when I say that," He stated in response to Stan's mention about weapon maintenance. Without the small speech on it, he found that being blunt was probably the best way to talk to him. He was straightforward with his words, direct to the point where it might make some people uncomfortable. "Though as you say, it really is a shame that some people let their weapons fall into disrepair. Not only is it a risk to their life if the thing decides to break down in the middle of a fight, but the weapon's almost as much of them as their arm is. Our weapons are crafted either by us or with us in mind and therefore are unique to us alone." While he may not usually be so high preaching of the bond between a person and their weapon, he knew that anyone who bothered to get into repairs for other people's weapons instead of just their own must have a passion for the sort of thing.
"As for the teachers, though, I don't exactly mean it that way. I got suspended from combat courses a little while back after apparently taking a bout too far for their tastes." A clear tone of distaste emanated from his words, something he didn't bother to suppress. If he was going to bother telling the other student about the incident, he might as well open up all the way. Then again, he didn't want to dominate the conversation. In his mind, it was better to receive information from the other than hand out information about himself. "Really though, if we're going to have classes about fighting, they might as well let us experience what a real fight is like. Out in the real world, a fight won't just get called off because you're running out of aura. Besides, it wasn't like I was going to kill the guy, just give him a bit of experience." The way he acted now was more in line with his real attitude, something he usually didn't use in front of others. Pretty much every person he interacted with would give a completely different description of his personality, but it seemed that interacting with Stan this way was the best way to go about things. Bored of dropping hints about his Faunus heritage, he used a few of his tentacles to pick up the beaker. The thin strands wrapped around it, lifting it in a smooth and effortless motion and bringing it to his lips to take another sip. "You know, even though some people aren't too cheery when it comes to Faunus, it does have it's perks." It was an offhanded comment really, though one he hoped might lead to a bit of discussion, see if Stan was one of those not too cheery types.
"As for that remark about legion, I guess you could call me a runaway. My father already planned to have me shipped over here for training, wanted me to be a military man just like him. However, I wasn't too keen on being part of the military, nor did I want to be accepted into the school just because of my background." Once again, a hint of malice entered his voice, this time when he brought up his father. It was only there for a second, though, and as he continued it faded away, "Though I find it interesting that you knew I was a Legion born, perhaps my little spiel about how I had been suspended from combat classes was wasted if you already knew about it too." He couldn't help but return a grin, turns out meeting with this man was a good idea after all. "You know, I really don't follow my gut very often when it comes to talking to people, but it seems I was right this time."
|
|
|
|
Post by Stanislav Kovac on Feb 25, 2017 10:24:27 GMT -6
[attr="class","ohlove"] [attr="class","lacking"] [attr="class","eyes"]✎ tag: Zaffre✎ tag: @someone2 ※ words: 289 ✉ notes: Alright its dogshit, but I needed to get something done, y'know? The wind is blowing Freedom soon will come
“Nope. It's your shirt.” Stan said, letting a sliver of pride into his voice, pointing out a random person from the crowd. “Look at their shirt, they end in soft cuffs, that’s the Pinnacle style,” another example pointed out, “And her’s end in rounded cuffs, the Rift style. I’m not wearing a proper shirt, but the Setek style doesn’t actually have a cuff, traditionally we’ve been about robes.” Taking the fellow student’s cuff between his fingers, he finally explained, “Legion style has always been mitered cuff.” Putting on a rather inaccurate imitation of his voice, he added, “But Stanislav, how did you know about the military background? Simple, you actually look like you got fed during your childhood. Not to mince words, but Legion is a literal Military Junta. Benevolent as they may be, or claim to be, their GPD is pretty much entirely dedicated to the war machine. If you're not military, chances are you’re living off of food rations and scavenging. Not like Setek is any better… but we’re not talking about Setek at the moment are we?”
His pleasant mood was rather suddenly dispelled as he kept talking, until he finally interjected as he mentioned having real fights. “You don’t seem to understand how a person learns, it's like…” He snapped his fingers as he tried to find the right word “... Elastic, or if you want a more apt description, a muscle. You can’t just take it and stretch it beyond its capacity, otherwise it’ll just tear. You have to bring it to its capacity, then stop. That way it grows, steadily and more importantly, safely. You demonstrated a total lack of restraint that day, like it or not, you were in the wrong.”
[newclass=.ohlove]width:480px;padding:15px;border:1px solid #575656;background: #656660; /* Old breakowsers */ background: -moz-linear-gradient(90deg, #656660 0%, #333136 100%); /* FF3.6-15 */background: -webkit-linear-gradient(-85 deg, #656660 0%, #333136 100%); /* Chrome10-25,Safari5.1-6 */background: linear-gradient(-275deg, #656660 0%, #333136 100%)[/newclass][googlefont=Oswald][googlefont=Roboto][newclass=.lacking]width: 420px; height: 0px; background-color: rgba(40,40,40,0.4); overflow: hidden; -moz-transition: 3s all; -webkit-transition: 3s all; -o-transition: 3s all; transition: 1s all; [/newclass][newclass=.ohlove:hover .lacking]width: 400px; height: 180px; padding: 10px;[/newclass][newclass=.ohlove:hover .eyes]transition:1s;margin-top:0px;[/newclass][newclass=.eyes]background-color:#1f1f1f;opacity:.8;font-family:calibri; font-size: 9px; text-transform: uppercase;color:#ffffff;padding:20px;margin-top:400px;width:360px; height: 140px; transition:1.5s; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify;[/newclass] |
|
|
|
Post by Zaffre on Feb 25, 2017 12:34:06 GMT -6
 - Zaffre Duke - “The strong swim and the weak are carried away, there is no comfort in a "best effort" unless there are results”WORDS: 507 | TAGS: Stanislav Kovac | NOTES: Hooray for templates! Zaffre was rather impressed by the amount of knowledge Stan seemed to have about all the different kingdoms, not doubt he was some sort of history buff or geography junkie. The man evidently had a good eye for detail as well, so one would likely not be able to slip something past him without at least arousing suspicion. Overall Stan seemed to be a very strong example of a model hunter, having a good head on his shoulders, a keen eye, a sharp mind, and assuming from the man's body a hefty swing.
When Stan began to talk about how people learned, Zaffre grew a rather irritated expression on his face as if the notion that what he was doing was incorrect was entirely unwelcome. "Learning technique and building strength is what training is for, the battlefield is the real test of one's capabilities. It's not your opponents job to help hone your technique, it's to stop it from working," He retorted, his argument spoken with strong conviction at the very least, "If they want to learn to fight they can do it on their own time, battles are just meant to be tests, and in the real world those tests can be deadly. So what if you rough someone up a bit now, just keeps them from making the same stupid mistakes in the future. They learn quickly what things don't work because they feel the results in a very clear way."
It was clear that Zaffre was a bit more intense with his views on combat, perhaps a bit more militant despite his disdain for that sort of environment. He was a Legion born through and through, though like any person he had his own style to it. He took another sip of the cherry juice, resting the remainder of the drink down on the table. His tentacles retreated back through the tiny holes in his shirt, leaving him to look just like any normal person, almost civilian like with his blander style of dress compared to the more eccentric styles of the other hunters around him.
"Anyways, I take it you're from Setek? What's it like growing up there?" He inquired, trying to shift the conversation away from their opposing views on the previous matter. While he wasn't going to surrender his opinion to win this guy's favor, he didn't want to have to butt heads right away and risk the gain of an enemy instead of an ally. Besides, he wanted to learn more about this man, see what set him apart from the rest of the students at this academy. Pretty much everyone had a story to tell, a lot of them being sob stories at that. True, there were the few that came just because of a sense of justice or a feel for adventure, but still they were vastly outweighed by the people who came just because of a rough path they wanted to seek redemption for or to keep others from having to experience the same trauma as them. Shin of GS + Adox |
|
