Flashback Teachet My Hands to War

[Elias Caldera]

28th Day of Spring,
508 AV

When they came for him, they came with fury and malice unbridled. Doors were kicked open with the thunderous cracks of boots on wood. The shouting, yelling, snarling and threats soon followed. The young Caldera's eyes snapped open, his blurry vision taking in his dark surroundings with a tired groan. The sun had not yet risen and he yawned into his pillow. He had known it would be tough here, but this was just evil. "Get Up! Get Up you petching worms!" Merciless hands ripped away his blanket and before his mind could frame a word of protest, hands gripped him by his legs and hauled him to the stone floor. All around him the rest of the recruits were tumbling out of their beds with equal grace, ferocious instructors barking venom over their shaky forms. Much like the one glaring down at him now in fact. The man's face was scarred and his hair cropped and littered with streaks of grey. His glare seethed with violence just waiting for an excuse. "You get off that floor right petching now, apprentice! Are you gonna lie there all petching day?!"

"N-No, sir!" A leather boot to Elias's stomach was his response to that, knocking the breath from the boy with gasping ease just as he managed to stand up.

He refused to fall.

Rage boiled within his pain, happy to accept his fury and hate. It was an anger the likes of which he hadn't felt for a long time, but it had been his constant companion for weeks now, burning and festering since he arrived. "Are you deaf, worm?! Get. Up. Now!"

"Yes, sir!" Elias bounded to his feet, stomach still stinging and churning, but by Rhysol he was up in an obedient blink. The other recruits followed suit at varying speeds, the slower ones brutally kicked or slapped about into position. There were five of them, instructors, trainers, monsters. Three men and two women, scowling and prowling and stalking up and down the line of fresh meat like hungry dire wolves. The tallest one, Volaris, glared down the line from one end to the other and roared with a voice like an erupting volcano. "Good morning maggots. Ten lapse around the grounds." The worms, the mutts, the worthless shykes and the pathetic little bastard, they all took to the training field, running with as much passion as the bloodhounds snapping at their heels. Among them was Elias Caldera.

[Elias Caldera]

One had to have faith to survive here. Ten lapse around the Vitrax was pushing five miles, especially when the trainers ushered their wards through their favored and longer routes. Most of it was decidedly uphill. "Faster! Faster, you goddamn lake scum!" There was a thwack of wood on flesh as a lagging recruit fell too far behind for the likes of instructor Terrick, the 'petching cyclops' the others called him on a count of his one eye... and the fact that he was a petcher like no other. Elias only spared the briefest glimpse over his shoulder at the sound, but quickly went back to keeping his feet from tumbling over one another. Sweat was already running down his chest and face, and he was sure it was going to get into his eyes any tick now. He gasped and grunted but kept moving. To stop was to invite the taste of the lash and even more agony, something Elias had fast learned the instructors here lived to inflict. "Sprint, maggots!" At that, the four dozen or so young apprentices bolted from their meandering jogs, punishing their screaming legs with even more torture. The instructors all kept pace as if it were nothing but a lovely sunday stroll. After a few hundred or so yards, there was another order. "Run!" And so it had been for well over an hour now he suspected. Jogging, running, sprinting, all spaced out and random, all equally torturous and unexpected. Stitches and aches had already claimed Elias's lower body, his legs by that point might as well not have even been there anymore, he couldn't feel them they were so numb.

By the next bell the sun had risen.

No one dared to stop or slow. They rounded the final corner towards the main gate, it was lined with banners of the Black Sun, gallows filled with the defiant, and the massive statue of the Ebon Lord rising above it all, looming large and supreme. Elias would sometimes notice the instructors bowing their heads a little as they approached, even as they ran alongside their poor victims. "Sprint!" Volaris bellowed. Oh for petch's sake... "And by the Voice herself, I swear the last one through the gates will eat the underside of my boot!" It was all the recruits needed to hear. As one, the group raced towards the gateway, limbs pistoning in ragged remembrance of what desperation felt like, ripping and pulling their peers out of their way as they hurtled towards some semblance of rest. The feel of a clammy hand on his shoulder had Elias retaliating with a viscous elbow. No one one was going to drag him behind.

The recruits zipped by one after another and past the two smirking soldiers at the gate. They were so used to it by now they didn't even blink, nor avert their gaze, but still they seemed to revel a little in watching past versions of themselves enduring the same training. Petch them... Elias thought as he came to a exhausted halt. He bent over and began hastily gulping down lungfuls of air, struggling pathetically to keep himself from throwing up. That was when he saw it. Someone still running.

Someone falling behind.

A boy about his size, but broader, slower, and unused to this kind of grueling punishment. He recognized the unlucky bastard. He had heard he was some bastard son from one of the five families, but Elias couldn't for the life of him remember which. He'd kept up this far, but this final sprint was the straw that had broken his back. A hundred meters and limping, he tripped and fell. Elias watched as a cloud of dust rose from his tangle of limbs, watched as he strained and struggled, but could not rise... The instructors fell on him like animals.

Many recruits did not watch. They averted their eyes and did their best to block out the wet, sick sounds of the beating, of the flesh being broken, and of the screaming that accompanied it. Elias looked away as well. Panting and sweating as he was, he didn't care, nor did he need a reminder. He had already learned the price of failure. A few chimes later, the instructors, with their bloody lashes and the crying boy in tow, marched through the gate. Elias heard a few chuckles from those around him. Talia, a mean and ugly bull of a women sneered at them. She threw up her arm and pointed out two laughing recruits. "You and you! Drag him back to the barracks. The rest of you, the training hall. Move!" What! They get a break! He didn't say it out loud. Shaken and exhausted but with fear and adrenaline spurring them onwards, the recruits obeyed, marching under the archways and black walls of the dark fortress.

[Elias Caldera]

The training hall was massive. One colossal coliseum like arena for fools and apprentices alike to come shed blood. If it wasn't theirs, they were lucky. There were dozens of other interconnected training rooms and courtyards that covered a sizable piece of this side of Virtrax, sure, but the training hall was the main place recruits had nightmares of when they were allowed to sleep. If Ravok was to one day see Syliria wiped from the face of Mizahar, then the only way to accomplish that was through war and through dominance. So first, they had to learn. Every Ebonstryfe needed to know how to kill a knight.

The instructors herded the sticky, sweating recruits into one of the arenas, this particular one flat and covered in sand. Barasa, the head instructor, sneered at the young, exhausted faces as she prowled among their tattered line. Her weapon of choice, the lash, whipped up suddenly. "These are sacred grounds recruit..." she hissed, voice carrying high and loud over the empty air and mixing roughly with the sounds of the other classes. "The dirt beneath your feet has tasted more blood than any blade" Elias remained quiet and didn't say a damn word. Only an idiot interrupted madam Barasa. "This is where legends have been forged. Where destinies have been earned. These bloody sands will be your forge. Dedication, excellence, loyalty. These things will come to define you, for you stand amongst the Ebonstryfe, and you mewling babes will either rise to your greatness-" She cracked the lashed against her side, and neither her expression nor her leather like skin seemed to register the blow. "-or you will be cast out. Branded as failures and weaklings for all the city to see."

She paused, letting the horror of what she had just said sink in. To be thought unworthy in the eyes of ones family, in the eyes of Rhysol... Elias knew that most Ravokians, if they had come this far, would rather open their own wrists than fall so far out of the shadow of the Black Sun. He kept his face impassive and did not stir. "This is your first day of advanced combat training. It will be difficult, it will be long." Barasa stopped and suddenly hefted up a recruit's face with her weapon, stick pressed under the young woman's chin and her eyes boring into her own tired orbs. "It will be bloody, and come tomorrow you will wish you were having it as good as you are having it this day."

To their right, iron doors lined with black metal skulls opened and two instructors pushed out a cart loaded down with wooden training tools. All the recruits looked on in terror, but a low, throaty chuckle snapped them out of it quick enough. "Pain will be your teacher. Pain will help you remember. When you need pain no more, when you remember pain no more, then, and only then, will you have learned the right lessons. Choose you weapons apprentices." The recruits did as they were told, stepping forward and rummaging through the mass of training weapons. Elias didn't understand why there were so many choices, and as he was discarding a dagger, he noticed most of the other kids were actually picking those obscene tools. Axes, scimitars, he even saw a damn club flash by! He threw them all aside and pushed aside those whose grubby hands got to close to his selection. He grabbed a shield as quick as he could, but when he finally found the longsword he had been looking for, he smiled. Good, he thought, now he could get to work. Eagerly, he lifted it up and out of the pile, tossing it from left to right, spinning it, feeling the weight, heft and balance just as his father had taught him to do with any new tool of war. It was old, and clearly his blistered hands were not the first to grip it, but it was still a good piece of wood, almost as balanced as the real thing. He banged it against the wooden shield slipped over his arm, enjoying the resounding thud that followed. Good.

"Pairs!" Barasa abruptly barked, and without even knowing how it happened, Elias and the other apprentices found themselves in two rows, facing each other with their weapons at the ready. The instructer smiled, revealing sharp white teeth. "Losers will receive no rations for tonight... Begin." Elias snapped his gaze to the grim faced teenager across from him whose name he did not even care to know. The boy looked about as ready to cleave into Elias as Elias was ready to cleave into his upcoming dinner. They both gripped their wooden swords and readied themselves.

Elias hadn't come here to be someone else's training dummy. He attacked first.

[Elias Caldera]

He wanted to prove himself. He wanted the honor of marching with the Stryfe. He wanted to eat tonight. Well so did Elias. The boy's first swipe against Elias's side was simple and obvious, and so his shield block for it was the same. Both had fought before, clearly. Both were fast and accurate, and used to pain. It soon became infuriatingly obvious they were too evenly matched. The slightly bigger boy snarled and swung a heavy blow at Elias's ribcage. He leapt back, the tip of the wooden sword coming within millimeters of his chest. In response, he struck out at his shoulder with his own dull blade and the boy simply danced away. Agile...

Sam! Elias suddenly remembered. Sam was his name...

The two circled each other on the sand, weapons raised, peering at each other from above the edges of their shields. Each was looking for an opening, a chink, a gap. Elias realized that he had to make one if this was ever going to go anywhere other than on forever. The instructors were watching, especially Barasa, and by the way she was fondling that lash of hers, Elias realized he had better be the one to walk away from this fight the victor. He darted forwards and swung for his opponents head. Sam ducked under it almost dismissively, giving him a jab to the ribs with the rim of his wooden shield. Elias grunted and was almost knocked to one side. The apprentice spat, outraged that the first hit had gone to his enemy. Out the corner of his eyes he could see an instructor nod and smirk in approval. It only fueled the fire even more.

He lunged again, thrusting out to Sam's chest, but yet again he was too quick, and his enemy twisted out the way, this time knocking Elias's longsword aside and pushing in close for a follow up. By the time Sam noticed his foes grin, it was too late. Elias thrust his head forward, straight into the petcher's nose. Sam let out a howl of pain and bent over, sword falling from his fingers. Elias flung a hard knee right into the boy's already broken face. Let them nod and smile at that he laughed. He knew they liked it when their apprentices were merciless, so he gave them just that. Elias didn't waste time savoring the blow anymore, he just raised his sword again and brought it down hard across the back of Sam's head. The blow sent a visible ripple through the younger boy, knocking him flat on his stomach. As he groaned and whined, his fingers had begun to crawl their way over to his discarded weapon. Elias kicked him upside the head, and any thought continuing the fight were replaced with darkness.

The whole thing had been messy, and sloppy and wild. A pair of children playing war, but Elias didn't care. He had won.

"Good!" Barasa clapped. There was a sadistic smile on her face as she stepped over the fallen foe and towards the victor. "Very good. Ruthless, brutal, chaotic..." it was like she was listing off the qualities of her favorite vintage wine. She gave Elias one final nod. "We'll make you a worthy maggot yet..."

[Elias Caldera]

Training continued without relent until Syna was highest in the sky. It had only been interrupted once by morning prayers and a pair of executions. Some recruit and what Elias assumed was his sister, or lover. He was too tired to care. Too tired to even look up from his own pool of sweat to watch them burned alive by the paladins. Their fate was not to be his fate...

After half of the recruits were either dazed, battered or unconscious, the instructors were satisfied with their first sparring session, and took their students aside for individual training. Split into smaller groups, maybe four or five to each instructor, they came forth, one by one, and were shown what true prowess was. Elias's group was led by Barasa.

"Again!" She had had them them line up and practice the blows demonstrated earlier. A combination of sweeping horizontal strikes that immediately turned into a vicious thrust, before ending with a vertical blow that would chop an armored Sylirian skull in two. Already Elias's limbs were growing used to the movement, but he had questions rattling around in his head. Questions that were beginning to stem more from boredom than anything else. How did he parry someone with two blades, what if his opponent had a shield? He knew he should have been more prone to learning and expanding than simply skating by, but...

"These movements are just that." Barasa said, looking dead at Elias when she did. Had she read his mind?... "Movements. They will not save you. Training will save you. Training your body to know these motions and utilize them when you need them. Repeating them again and again until your body knows them better than your mind does. Caldera!" She turned to him, weapon behind her back and he chin pointed out. "Attack me."

Elias didn't even hesitate. He needed no further goading. Barasa may have been the lead instructor in the Vitrax that day, but when she placed herself on the sand -on his sand- she had turned herself into just another smear of blood for his sword. He licked his lips and flung himself forwards. She was taller, but if he just-

He never even saw her hand move. It was just a blur as it snaked out with lethal accuracy and crashed down onto his wrist. In an instant his weapon was gone, but before it hit the ground, his feet and head had suddenly switched places with one another, and he realized too late he was upside down. Barasa hadn't so much as changed her expression.

Before Elias could rise and find his footing again, she lashed out, striking him on the back of the neck. His world went black and sandy, visions of the burning recruit and his sister fogging his thoughts. He could have sworn he was hearing his father laughing from somewhere... He staggered, feeling himself rise, only to fall over again. "Never underestimate your opponent. The Knights of the Wind Oak may be righteous fools, but they will still be deadly. Your enemy will try and fight you with honor... so you must fight him with none." With that, the darkness took him completely.

[Elias Caldera]

Elias faintly remembered dreaming of his mother teaching him how to swim. Such a strange thing to dream about... "Hey? Hey, wake up!" The waters of lake Ravok faded and so did the face of his mother. They were drowned out by voices, guttural and harsh, dragging him from memory and back into the waking world. Elias's eyes fluttered open and a riot of pain kicked off in his skull. Two of his fellow recruits stared down at him, disdain with a a hint of pity written over their features. The older one grunted and stood back up. That was when Elias realized he was still on his back. "He's alive."

"Got banged up pretty good."

"Better him than us."

They both looked down at him disapprovingly. "Gonna get up or would you like us to fetch you a pillow?" With some effort, he lifted himself off the sandy floor, and for a brief moment, wished they were being genuine about that pillow...

~~~

"You got off easy, you know." Elias learned over his bowl of gruel and bread, his headache still pounding away at empty, drained thoughts. He looked up hazily at the apprentice on the other side of the table, her mouth full and dripping juice, "Most just freeze when she tells them to attack, then she likes to go first; Breaking things, popping things out of place..." Elias kneaded the bruise at the back of his neck, wincing as he told himself for the last time not to petching touch it anymore. It wasn't as if he didn't have other wounds he could be licking. His wrist was no better.

The girl snorted, pointing her loaf of bread at him. "Yep, you got off easy."

~~~

That night, Elias snuck out to the training yards to practice his form. He stabbed and slashed and kicked and punched until he was sweating all over again. He let his fury build and build, and then... let it out. His father and these instructors may have taught him hate, but Elias had taught himself release. After a few bells, he walked back to his bunk, knowing full well the eyes of Barasa were hot upon his back.

[Elias Caldera]

The recruits soon learned, if they somehow hadn't already, that combat training was terribly different than the basic they had all graduated from. Nothing was repetitive unless it needed to be. Disciplined wasn't ingrained in you anymore, it was simply expected. You obeyed, or you fell, and if you could not rise again, you died. Barasa had been right. Elias was actually missing day one.

"Begin!" The word was barely out of her mouth before two dozen Ravokian hopefuls flew at each other. It was a tremendous crash of wood upon wood, flesh upon flesh. Other instructors circled the melee, arms crossed as they watched and evaluated. Occasionally, they took it upon themselves to punish as well. Elias didn't think he once saw Barasa take her gaze off him. Every time their eyes met, the bruise on his neck would flare up.

That day he was training with his longsword and shield again, or rather, his wooden toys. He appreciated the simplicity of a simple blade, and really found himself wanting little else, even among all the choices offered. He was glad he had stuck with it too, because the instructor had been right; muscle memory was certainly going to help. The boy across from him today was faster, broader, and much older... and he was coming in for another attack.

Elias blocked a horizontal slash from the older kid's wooden broadsword, and wood smashed against wood. As he did so, he made to strike the the boy's face, but his bigger opponent just swayed backwards, leaving Elias's swing with nothing but air. As his head reared back however, his boot lashed out. The Caldera cried out and and staggered back, stomach on fire. He felt like Sam right then and there as his new opponent stood over him, smirking, tossing his sword about in humorous anticipation. Elias grunted angrily and forced himself to straighten, willing the pain away. He charged. Slashed out with his right, then another horizontal sweep, but the bastard swayed backwards again, broadsword thrusting towards the young Ravokian's chest. Elias decided two could play at that game, and so borrowed the big boy's move, swaying clear of the strike and sidestepping it all together. He watched as the wooden edge sliced apart the sweat the fell free from his nose. He slashed upwards, aiming for his wrist this time. The boy, who he was just going to call Sam two, simply jerked his arm back, denying and ever impatient Elias the opening he needed.

They circled each other like dogs, the rest of the world a blank canvas to be ignored. Only the opponent in front was what mattered, only the victory he stood in the way of was worth focusing on. Sweat gleamed on their faces and slipped into their eyes. They had both proven to be stubborn fighters, that was probably why they had been paired together. He had to win! He charged again with a war cry, bracing himself for pain. Sam two jumped backwards like his feet were made of springs and slashed vertically at the same time, but Elias dipped under the weapon, forgoing the shielded warrior's natural reaction to block. His retaliation? He threw his petching sword at the punk. It caught the boy completely off guard, and as it bounced off his should, Elias moved in for the kill.

The Stryfer to-be rammed into his opponent, hard. Wrapping his hands around his waist and heaving him with all the strength he had left, he lifted the boy off of the ground and slammed him violently back down. It felt as rewarding as swinging the last strike that felled a tree. Sam two shouted in pain, but probably more in surprise than anything else. He reacted fast, but not fast enough. Emboldened by his small victory, Elias was ready for the wild swing of the broadsword for his head. He caught the arm at the elbow with his now free hand, and smashed his shield down into his nemesis's face. Once, twice, three times. That was it.

When he rose off his opponent, Barasa's hands were already there to greet him. They fell upon his heaving shoulders, congratulating him as she whispered. "Very good Caldera." At one time he might have flinched away from the woman's vile touch, but for some reason... he didn't mind today. "Now help him up. You're going to need each other when you take on the others..."

[Nemesis]

Elias Caldera

Knowledge :

Skills

Skill	XP
Endurance	+1
Observation	+4
Running	+3
Unarmed Combat	+2
Weapon: Longsword	+4
Weapon: Shield	+2

Lores

*Longsword: Attacking Techniques
*Longsword: Defending Techniques
*Muscle Memory: Helpful

Micellaneous :

Injuries

*Sprained wrist, which healed within twenty days
*bruised neck, which healed within ten days

Loot/Expenses

*None

____________________________________________

Notes

*Really good thread, loving the detail in the combat; well explained and I can picture it easily. Deserved every point given.
*Though at one point, you sort of switch to this boy Sam's perspective, which was a little confusing, as was his name, seeing as the post before,Caldera couldn't remember it, but I'm glad you added the name because writing pronouns all the time gets very confusing!

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Thank ye!