Post by Alexandros Skouriá on Mar 9, 2020 6:52:26 GMT -5
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STEP ASIDE, RELOAD, TIME TO GO[break]
I CAN'T SEEM TO CONTROL ALL THIS RAGE THAT'S INSIDE ME
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STEP ASIDE, RELOAD, TIME TO GO[break]
I CAN'T SEEM TO CONTROL ALL THIS RAGE THAT'S INSIDE ME
[attr="class","lovemad2"]
Fifteen metres seemed fair.[break]
Terrain, and alertness, and the two as one, would be the ultimate deciding factor anyway. It was safe to say that fighting in an urban environment would, hopefully, happen a lot less than an encounter out in the untamed wild, and that only made those two factors even more important. Even Mistral at its most dense and bustling and claustrophobic, built winding up and down and circling around and even across the twin peaks, was more easily navigable than the forest on its outskirts. Any sort of straight shot, whether it be an alleyway or a broad avenue, just wasn't going to be realistic. Hell, even if it did come to fighting monsters in a city, it was never going to be as clinical and ideal as one could hope it to be. It was all about terrain and alertness, at all times, never for a moment letting attention wander. Lose focus and lose your head -- simple as that.[break]
If a Grimm wanted you dead, it would try its damnedest; quick-thinking was the difference between life and death, no doubt about it. The things could come from anywhere, and from any angle imaginable, and that made it important to look everywhere at all costs. So, representative of a space closing with intense speed as evil rushed forth, fifteen metres seemed fair.[break][break]
Alexandros watched with narrowing eyes as the paper target was carried downrange. Haven's training facilities were nothing to sneeze at, but it'd be a lie to say that they were all used with the same amount of frequency. Sure, the sparring cells and holoprojector chambers -- and the gym, of course -- saw plenty of use, but the shooting range was a touch more neglected by comparison. The fact of the matter was that a considerable chunk of the student body simply had nothing to gain from it than from anywhere else; a good number of the boy's fellow peers needed more open and more specific areas in which to better themselves, or at the absolute least needed something better than a lane or two in a giant concrete block. For the young Skouriá, however, it was tremendously valuable. Fifteen metres later, his target settled with a gentle sway at the programmed end of the carrier rack overhead, and Alexandros promptly sighted and fired four shots from Thrash. With as much speed as he could manage, the boy unlatched the revolver and yanked down on the thin, half-misshapen barrel to eject the spent shells from the core of the weapon, then thumbing one-then-two-then-three-then-four back into the cylinder to slam it back shut. Alex squeezed on the trigger, and with the palm of his other hand fanned the hammer; the glorious repeating thunder of gunfire filled the range, and four bright flashes signalled the end for his respectfully still paper assailant.[break]
I can do better, he thought, unlatching and ejecting once more before bringing his mark back along its rails. With a quick scan, the boy counted up his results: five hits and three misses, but only two of those five were any decent.[break][break]
This was starting to be a problem.[break][break]
Vytal was only going to get closer, and without something to work around that four-bullet limit faster than loading by hand, Alexandros was going to be left in the dust in round one. It wasn't exactly insulting to think of Thrash as being especially old -- and, frankly, shitty -- for an officially designated weapon, but that didn't mean the boy could continue ignoring the glaring hole it unfortunately represented his ability to fight. Four shots just wasn't going to cut it when things got super stressful, and no amount of telling himself that the revolver was quick to reload was going to make it true. The young Skouriá desperately needed to get a speedloader or some moon clips designed and roughed-out for prototyping ahead of his lucrative future as a hero, and he needed either of them yesterday -- he was in no mood to let down his team due to some slow shooting.[break]
Assuming he had a team, that was. Some of the people he knew were probably going to be there, so he had time to ask them to group up. Probably.[break][break]
Preliminary expressions of interest had officially opened up for the student body a couple of days ago, and quite a few names had gone up -- there was even a full registration listed in no time at all. Alex estimated that, at most, it'd take about no more than a fortnight for Haven to have a decent handful of entrants for the tournament, and this meant he had a strict time limit for finding three others willing to cooperate with him. The young trainee moved from the shooting range out into the open common area which sat between every other building which made up the training facilities of the academy, pulling his scroll out of a pocket and opening to the list of would-be participants for the Vytal Festival. Just about the same number of names from the last time, though it must have updated at some point earlier in the day: it was a name or two longer than the last time he'd checked late yesterday afternoon, with a surprising addition.[break]
Ruqa? he wondered, almost confused. Alexandros brought the device up closer to his face as if it would help him gleam any sort of understanding from the names it bore. Unless there was a second Ruqa Reyes at Haven that he hadn't been told about, there was no mistaking that this'd be the very same Ruqa from that train mission last year which Carmim had participated in; this'd be the very same Ruqa who passed the initiation without even needing to be there for it. That can't be right, she must have a team already from the other class...[break][break]
Alexandros looked away at nothing for a moment, then back to the scroll, then off to nothing once more. A dull blink, then another.[break]
I didn't even think about that, he realized. Suddenly, all at once, his self-imposed narrow scope of 'people I know' exploded into 'people I can ask at all' ahead of the tournament, up to and including Shadecloak's class rather than Professor Van Sa- err, Morgan's class. Time wasn't going to be a problem now. Rather, it was going to be way less of a problem than sheer patience. Alex looked over the list once again and grabbed half a dozen names at random, shooting off a series of samey and vague introductory messages asking to meet and discuss potentially grouping up for the tournament. It was perhaps a touch rude to directly message a sort-of stranger without much warning, but it was also the most direct thing for him to do. With a bit of luck he'd have some replies, and then not long after some good company to talk about the near-future.[break][break]
Alexandros sauntered over to a bench set in the open area of the training block and seated himself, and waited.[break]
He had the time, after all.
[break]
it begins
Fifteen metres seemed fair.[break]
Terrain, and alertness, and the two as one, would be the ultimate deciding factor anyway. It was safe to say that fighting in an urban environment would, hopefully, happen a lot less than an encounter out in the untamed wild, and that only made those two factors even more important. Even Mistral at its most dense and bustling and claustrophobic, built winding up and down and circling around and even across the twin peaks, was more easily navigable than the forest on its outskirts. Any sort of straight shot, whether it be an alleyway or a broad avenue, just wasn't going to be realistic. Hell, even if it did come to fighting monsters in a city, it was never going to be as clinical and ideal as one could hope it to be. It was all about terrain and alertness, at all times, never for a moment letting attention wander. Lose focus and lose your head -- simple as that.[break]
If a Grimm wanted you dead, it would try its damnedest; quick-thinking was the difference between life and death, no doubt about it. The things could come from anywhere, and from any angle imaginable, and that made it important to look everywhere at all costs. So, representative of a space closing with intense speed as evil rushed forth, fifteen metres seemed fair.[break][break]
Alexandros watched with narrowing eyes as the paper target was carried downrange. Haven's training facilities were nothing to sneeze at, but it'd be a lie to say that they were all used with the same amount of frequency. Sure, the sparring cells and holoprojector chambers -- and the gym, of course -- saw plenty of use, but the shooting range was a touch more neglected by comparison. The fact of the matter was that a considerable chunk of the student body simply had nothing to gain from it than from anywhere else; a good number of the boy's fellow peers needed more open and more specific areas in which to better themselves, or at the absolute least needed something better than a lane or two in a giant concrete block. For the young Skouriá, however, it was tremendously valuable. Fifteen metres later, his target settled with a gentle sway at the programmed end of the carrier rack overhead, and Alexandros promptly sighted and fired four shots from Thrash. With as much speed as he could manage, the boy unlatched the revolver and yanked down on the thin, half-misshapen barrel to eject the spent shells from the core of the weapon, then thumbing one-then-two-then-three-then-four back into the cylinder to slam it back shut. Alex squeezed on the trigger, and with the palm of his other hand fanned the hammer; the glorious repeating thunder of gunfire filled the range, and four bright flashes signalled the end for his respectfully still paper assailant.[break]
I can do better, he thought, unlatching and ejecting once more before bringing his mark back along its rails. With a quick scan, the boy counted up his results: five hits and three misses, but only two of those five were any decent.[break][break]
This was starting to be a problem.[break][break]
Vytal was only going to get closer, and without something to work around that four-bullet limit faster than loading by hand, Alexandros was going to be left in the dust in round one. It wasn't exactly insulting to think of Thrash as being especially old -- and, frankly, shitty -- for an officially designated weapon, but that didn't mean the boy could continue ignoring the glaring hole it unfortunately represented his ability to fight. Four shots just wasn't going to cut it when things got super stressful, and no amount of telling himself that the revolver was quick to reload was going to make it true. The young Skouriá desperately needed to get a speedloader or some moon clips designed and roughed-out for prototyping ahead of his lucrative future as a hero, and he needed either of them yesterday -- he was in no mood to let down his team due to some slow shooting.[break]
Assuming he had a team, that was. Some of the people he knew were probably going to be there, so he had time to ask them to group up. Probably.[break][break]
Preliminary expressions of interest had officially opened up for the student body a couple of days ago, and quite a few names had gone up -- there was even a full registration listed in no time at all. Alex estimated that, at most, it'd take about no more than a fortnight for Haven to have a decent handful of entrants for the tournament, and this meant he had a strict time limit for finding three others willing to cooperate with him. The young trainee moved from the shooting range out into the open common area which sat between every other building which made up the training facilities of the academy, pulling his scroll out of a pocket and opening to the list of would-be participants for the Vytal Festival. Just about the same number of names from the last time, though it must have updated at some point earlier in the day: it was a name or two longer than the last time he'd checked late yesterday afternoon, with a surprising addition.[break]
Ruqa? he wondered, almost confused. Alexandros brought the device up closer to his face as if it would help him gleam any sort of understanding from the names it bore. Unless there was a second Ruqa Reyes at Haven that he hadn't been told about, there was no mistaking that this'd be the very same Ruqa from that train mission last year which Carmim had participated in; this'd be the very same Ruqa who passed the initiation without even needing to be there for it. That can't be right, she must have a team already from the other class...[break][break]
Alexandros looked away at nothing for a moment, then back to the scroll, then off to nothing once more. A dull blink, then another.[break]
I didn't even think about that, he realized. Suddenly, all at once, his self-imposed narrow scope of 'people I know' exploded into 'people I can ask at all' ahead of the tournament, up to and including Shadecloak's class rather than Professor Van Sa- err, Morgan's class. Time wasn't going to be a problem now. Rather, it was going to be way less of a problem than sheer patience. Alex looked over the list once again and grabbed half a dozen names at random, shooting off a series of samey and vague introductory messages asking to meet and discuss potentially grouping up for the tournament. It was perhaps a touch rude to directly message a sort-of stranger without much warning, but it was also the most direct thing for him to do. With a bit of luck he'd have some replies, and then not long after some good company to talk about the near-future.[break][break]
Alexandros sauntered over to a bench set in the open area of the training block and seated himself, and waited.[break]
He had the time, after all.
[attr="class","lovemad1"]
1185/1185 WORDS
1185/1185 WORDS
[attr="class","lovemad1"]@mars
it begins
PHARAOH LEAP CREATES
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[newclass=.lovemad]position:relative;z-index:1;[/newclass]
[newclass=.lovemad1]float:left;margin-right:5px;background-color:#272727;color:#999999;padding:10px;line-height:10px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.lovemad1 a]color:#d72a17!important;font:9px Calibri;line-height:10px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.lovemad2 b]color:#d72a17;[/newclass]