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Early... well, it depends on who it was calling the time early. On a regular day, Nike was required to be up before daybreak, get the barracks cleaned, get the tacks and equipment polished, or report to the cook, depending on what role she was assigned to for the day. To ensure her gender remained a secret, Nike had always been sure to wake an hour before dawn so she could get ready before anyone was even awake, so everyone always thought of Nike as a naturally early waker. So in a way, you can say she was well accustomed to early hours to be awake.
But she was not a morning person. She had only become one out of necessity.
Plus, because Nike had been anxious as hell about being late for the alotted time Vangelis had specified for her to meet him outside his tent. Two hours before dawn meant that by the time Nike jolted awake from her restless, shallow sleep, the day was still dark and chilly.
Careful not to wake the rest of her barrack mates, Nike slipped out of the tent after pulling on her usual outfit. Her chest was bound tightly with the bandages, before a linen shirt was overlaid with her metal armor plates over her shoulders and the bronze breastplate covered her chest and stomach. She wore a shin guards from her feet up, and grabbed her shield. Slinging the large plate over her shoulders, it hung behind her, leaving her hands free to reach for her long sword, before Nike eventually made her way out, picking her way through the dimly lit path towards her general's tent.
With a little run, it didn't take long for Nike to reached Vangelis's tent, and in the distance, the woman had to stop and remind herself that he was doing this for her own good. Cliche, but true... right? Never mind the fact that when she was finally in sight of the tent, she barely caught sight of his head coming out of... a bucket?
Pausing in her steps in surprise, her hazel eyes blinked when she saw his (again) naked upper torso damp from the dunk into an obviously filled bucket, and Nike had to swallow a lump that seemed to have formed in her throat. General. General Vangelis. Don't be an idiot, Nike. You're in the infantry. her internal voice fiercely reminded her, even as her traitorous eyes followed the trail of Vangelis as he entered his tent again, probably to get dressed considering he was definitely not in proper kit yet.
With a swift mental kick to herself, she shook her head violent, her loose black locks messily falling over her eyes as she further reminded herself of her position and her aim. Eyes on the prize. Captaincy. Nothing else. She got her captaincy and her life would be a lot easier at keeping her secret.
Taking a deep breathe, she ran her hand through her black tresses, before continuing her way the last, short distance. Stopping just outside of the tent's entrance, she pushed away the memory of what had happened just inside the tent from yesterday, her body shaking it off as much as it could with a quiver, before announcing her arrival.
"Good morning sir. Nike of Acaris, reporting for duty." her voice was loud and clear as she stood at attention a few feets away from the entrance, a voice definitely audible despite the shuffles of movements within the tent.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Early... well, it depends on who it was calling the time early. On a regular day, Nike was required to be up before daybreak, get the barracks cleaned, get the tacks and equipment polished, or report to the cook, depending on what role she was assigned to for the day. To ensure her gender remained a secret, Nike had always been sure to wake an hour before dawn so she could get ready before anyone was even awake, so everyone always thought of Nike as a naturally early waker. So in a way, you can say she was well accustomed to early hours to be awake.
But she was not a morning person. She had only become one out of necessity.
Plus, because Nike had been anxious as hell about being late for the alotted time Vangelis had specified for her to meet him outside his tent. Two hours before dawn meant that by the time Nike jolted awake from her restless, shallow sleep, the day was still dark and chilly.
Careful not to wake the rest of her barrack mates, Nike slipped out of the tent after pulling on her usual outfit. Her chest was bound tightly with the bandages, before a linen shirt was overlaid with her metal armor plates over her shoulders and the bronze breastplate covered her chest and stomach. She wore a shin guards from her feet up, and grabbed her shield. Slinging the large plate over her shoulders, it hung behind her, leaving her hands free to reach for her long sword, before Nike eventually made her way out, picking her way through the dimly lit path towards her general's tent.
With a little run, it didn't take long for Nike to reached Vangelis's tent, and in the distance, the woman had to stop and remind herself that he was doing this for her own good. Cliche, but true... right? Never mind the fact that when she was finally in sight of the tent, she barely caught sight of his head coming out of... a bucket?
Pausing in her steps in surprise, her hazel eyes blinked when she saw his (again) naked upper torso damp from the dunk into an obviously filled bucket, and Nike had to swallow a lump that seemed to have formed in her throat. General. General Vangelis. Don't be an idiot, Nike. You're in the infantry. her internal voice fiercely reminded her, even as her traitorous eyes followed the trail of Vangelis as he entered his tent again, probably to get dressed considering he was definitely not in proper kit yet.
With a swift mental kick to herself, she shook her head violent, her loose black locks messily falling over her eyes as she further reminded herself of her position and her aim. Eyes on the prize. Captaincy. Nothing else. She got her captaincy and her life would be a lot easier at keeping her secret.
Taking a deep breathe, she ran her hand through her black tresses, before continuing her way the last, short distance. Stopping just outside of the tent's entrance, she pushed away the memory of what had happened just inside the tent from yesterday, her body shaking it off as much as it could with a quiver, before announcing her arrival.
"Good morning sir. Nike of Acaris, reporting for duty." her voice was loud and clear as she stood at attention a few feets away from the entrance, a voice definitely audible despite the shuffles of movements within the tent.
Early... well, it depends on who it was calling the time early. On a regular day, Nike was required to be up before daybreak, get the barracks cleaned, get the tacks and equipment polished, or report to the cook, depending on what role she was assigned to for the day. To ensure her gender remained a secret, Nike had always been sure to wake an hour before dawn so she could get ready before anyone was even awake, so everyone always thought of Nike as a naturally early waker. So in a way, you can say she was well accustomed to early hours to be awake.
But she was not a morning person. She had only become one out of necessity.
Plus, because Nike had been anxious as hell about being late for the alotted time Vangelis had specified for her to meet him outside his tent. Two hours before dawn meant that by the time Nike jolted awake from her restless, shallow sleep, the day was still dark and chilly.
Careful not to wake the rest of her barrack mates, Nike slipped out of the tent after pulling on her usual outfit. Her chest was bound tightly with the bandages, before a linen shirt was overlaid with her metal armor plates over her shoulders and the bronze breastplate covered her chest and stomach. She wore a shin guards from her feet up, and grabbed her shield. Slinging the large plate over her shoulders, it hung behind her, leaving her hands free to reach for her long sword, before Nike eventually made her way out, picking her way through the dimly lit path towards her general's tent.
With a little run, it didn't take long for Nike to reached Vangelis's tent, and in the distance, the woman had to stop and remind herself that he was doing this for her own good. Cliche, but true... right? Never mind the fact that when she was finally in sight of the tent, she barely caught sight of his head coming out of... a bucket?
Pausing in her steps in surprise, her hazel eyes blinked when she saw his (again) naked upper torso damp from the dunk into an obviously filled bucket, and Nike had to swallow a lump that seemed to have formed in her throat. General. General Vangelis. Don't be an idiot, Nike. You're in the infantry. her internal voice fiercely reminded her, even as her traitorous eyes followed the trail of Vangelis as he entered his tent again, probably to get dressed considering he was definitely not in proper kit yet.
With a swift mental kick to herself, she shook her head violent, her loose black locks messily falling over her eyes as she further reminded herself of her position and her aim. Eyes on the prize. Captaincy. Nothing else. She got her captaincy and her life would be a lot easier at keeping her secret.
Taking a deep breathe, she ran her hand through her black tresses, before continuing her way the last, short distance. Stopping just outside of the tent's entrance, she pushed away the memory of what had happened just inside the tent from yesterday, her body shaking it off as much as it could with a quiver, before announcing her arrival.
"Good morning sir. Nike of Acaris, reporting for duty." her voice was loud and clear as she stood at attention a few feets away from the entrance, a voice definitely audible despite the shuffles of movements within the tent.
Vangelis had never been a morning person as a child but had gradually become one as an adult. When first away from home, on his initial military campaign, he had struggled to sleep. Which meant that he had had trouble waking in the morning and been tired during the day. Tired, could get you killed. Which meant that his father - who had led that premier campaign, had dragged Vangelis from his bed in the week hours of the morning - long before the sun was up, and dunked the still sleeping crown prince's head into one of the supply barrels of water, used for washing. Waking up mid-drowning had gotten Vangelis fully lucid damn quick and after the third day of the same treatment, his body was already waking up at the first sounds of his father entering his tent. Waking up so early, ensuring that he couldn't keep his eyes open at night and hey-presto, his sleeping pattern had been fully established.
Nowadays, Vangelis awoke three hours before dawn. He would personally inspect the barracks and the men on guard duty, check that his advisors and commanders were waking up, and then headed back to his tent. Upon relieving himself of his sleep shirt, he would then - as had become tradition after his years away from home - shove his head into a barrel of water, jolting himself and ensuring that all of his senses and cognitive functions were ready for the day and then, sopping wet, would return to his tent to dry off, dress and get himself ready for the rest of the long hours that awaited him. At, at least, they had a tendency to feel long when he had a never ending stream of requests and often insignificant details that everyone seemed to feel required his attention as General.
Once back in his tent, Vangelis shook his head, droplets hitting the floor as the water sprayed in every direction, dripping from his hair. Pushing the damp locks back from his face and grabbing a fresh shirt, Vangelis pulled the garment over his head, heedless of his skin still being damp, and left the shirt loose and hanging. Later, he would tuck the shirt in, don a leather tunic, and fasten on his belts and weapons. But for now, he was expecting the arrival of his newest Captain...
Her voice came through the tent wall right on time and Vangelis immediately strode out of his tent, past the captain (murmuring "Follow me." as he did so) and let his heavy boots carry him around the back of his tent and into the limited forestry their site had. With no need to be quiet this early in the morning, Vangelis prefaced speed over silence and with the snapping of twigs and scrunching of undergrowth, Vangelis led the two of them to a small clearing - only slightly larger than the space they need for the two of them, and far enough away from the campsite that no-one would be able to hear them talking.
"Right." Vangelis began, turning to face Nike, his limbs loose, his shirt untucked and his entire appearance non-threatening. "You fight well, Nike of Acaris." He told her. Vangelis never bothered with deceit unless it was the most efficient path (last night had been a rare time when it was) so his voice range with truth. "But you fight with several markers that identify your gender." Another truth. "I only recognise them because I taught my sister to fight - most men in the army will have never seen a female fighter so can't compare. I can... And others will be able to at some point in the future. So, I'm going to teach you to rid yourself of those markers and insure your secrecy." Vangelis lifted his hands as if in a boxing stance. "And we shall continue with these morning sessions until I believe you have mastered them. Now... Attack me."
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Vangelis had never been a morning person as a child but had gradually become one as an adult. When first away from home, on his initial military campaign, he had struggled to sleep. Which meant that he had had trouble waking in the morning and been tired during the day. Tired, could get you killed. Which meant that his father - who had led that premier campaign, had dragged Vangelis from his bed in the week hours of the morning - long before the sun was up, and dunked the still sleeping crown prince's head into one of the supply barrels of water, used for washing. Waking up mid-drowning had gotten Vangelis fully lucid damn quick and after the third day of the same treatment, his body was already waking up at the first sounds of his father entering his tent. Waking up so early, ensuring that he couldn't keep his eyes open at night and hey-presto, his sleeping pattern had been fully established.
Nowadays, Vangelis awoke three hours before dawn. He would personally inspect the barracks and the men on guard duty, check that his advisors and commanders were waking up, and then headed back to his tent. Upon relieving himself of his sleep shirt, he would then - as had become tradition after his years away from home - shove his head into a barrel of water, jolting himself and ensuring that all of his senses and cognitive functions were ready for the day and then, sopping wet, would return to his tent to dry off, dress and get himself ready for the rest of the long hours that awaited him. At, at least, they had a tendency to feel long when he had a never ending stream of requests and often insignificant details that everyone seemed to feel required his attention as General.
Once back in his tent, Vangelis shook his head, droplets hitting the floor as the water sprayed in every direction, dripping from his hair. Pushing the damp locks back from his face and grabbing a fresh shirt, Vangelis pulled the garment over his head, heedless of his skin still being damp, and left the shirt loose and hanging. Later, he would tuck the shirt in, don a leather tunic, and fasten on his belts and weapons. But for now, he was expecting the arrival of his newest Captain...
Her voice came through the tent wall right on time and Vangelis immediately strode out of his tent, past the captain (murmuring "Follow me." as he did so) and let his heavy boots carry him around the back of his tent and into the limited forestry their site had. With no need to be quiet this early in the morning, Vangelis prefaced speed over silence and with the snapping of twigs and scrunching of undergrowth, Vangelis led the two of them to a small clearing - only slightly larger than the space they need for the two of them, and far enough away from the campsite that no-one would be able to hear them talking.
"Right." Vangelis began, turning to face Nike, his limbs loose, his shirt untucked and his entire appearance non-threatening. "You fight well, Nike of Acaris." He told her. Vangelis never bothered with deceit unless it was the most efficient path (last night had been a rare time when it was) so his voice range with truth. "But you fight with several markers that identify your gender." Another truth. "I only recognise them because I taught my sister to fight - most men in the army will have never seen a female fighter so can't compare. I can... And others will be able to at some point in the future. So, I'm going to teach you to rid yourself of those markers and insure your secrecy." Vangelis lifted his hands as if in a boxing stance. "And we shall continue with these morning sessions until I believe you have mastered them. Now... Attack me."
Vangelis had never been a morning person as a child but had gradually become one as an adult. When first away from home, on his initial military campaign, he had struggled to sleep. Which meant that he had had trouble waking in the morning and been tired during the day. Tired, could get you killed. Which meant that his father - who had led that premier campaign, had dragged Vangelis from his bed in the week hours of the morning - long before the sun was up, and dunked the still sleeping crown prince's head into one of the supply barrels of water, used for washing. Waking up mid-drowning had gotten Vangelis fully lucid damn quick and after the third day of the same treatment, his body was already waking up at the first sounds of his father entering his tent. Waking up so early, ensuring that he couldn't keep his eyes open at night and hey-presto, his sleeping pattern had been fully established.
Nowadays, Vangelis awoke three hours before dawn. He would personally inspect the barracks and the men on guard duty, check that his advisors and commanders were waking up, and then headed back to his tent. Upon relieving himself of his sleep shirt, he would then - as had become tradition after his years away from home - shove his head into a barrel of water, jolting himself and ensuring that all of his senses and cognitive functions were ready for the day and then, sopping wet, would return to his tent to dry off, dress and get himself ready for the rest of the long hours that awaited him. At, at least, they had a tendency to feel long when he had a never ending stream of requests and often insignificant details that everyone seemed to feel required his attention as General.
Once back in his tent, Vangelis shook his head, droplets hitting the floor as the water sprayed in every direction, dripping from his hair. Pushing the damp locks back from his face and grabbing a fresh shirt, Vangelis pulled the garment over his head, heedless of his skin still being damp, and left the shirt loose and hanging. Later, he would tuck the shirt in, don a leather tunic, and fasten on his belts and weapons. But for now, he was expecting the arrival of his newest Captain...
Her voice came through the tent wall right on time and Vangelis immediately strode out of his tent, past the captain (murmuring "Follow me." as he did so) and let his heavy boots carry him around the back of his tent and into the limited forestry their site had. With no need to be quiet this early in the morning, Vangelis prefaced speed over silence and with the snapping of twigs and scrunching of undergrowth, Vangelis led the two of them to a small clearing - only slightly larger than the space they need for the two of them, and far enough away from the campsite that no-one would be able to hear them talking.
"Right." Vangelis began, turning to face Nike, his limbs loose, his shirt untucked and his entire appearance non-threatening. "You fight well, Nike of Acaris." He told her. Vangelis never bothered with deceit unless it was the most efficient path (last night had been a rare time when it was) so his voice range with truth. "But you fight with several markers that identify your gender." Another truth. "I only recognise them because I taught my sister to fight - most men in the army will have never seen a female fighter so can't compare. I can... And others will be able to at some point in the future. So, I'm going to teach you to rid yourself of those markers and insure your secrecy." Vangelis lifted his hands as if in a boxing stance. "And we shall continue with these morning sessions until I believe you have mastered them. Now... Attack me."
Her spine straightened up the moment Vangelis walked out of the tent, her booted feet jumping into action the moment she heard the murmur from his lips. Programmed to follow instructions, Nike stayed about five feet behind Vangelis as they entered the forestry that they had on site, keeping up with his pace easily. Not because she was as tall as Vangelis, for that Nike was most certainly not. No,instead she took quick steps to match his stride, until they reached whatever space he had picked out.
Letting her gaze wander to take in the new place the general had brought her two, the captain took note of the distance they were from the campsite - an instinctive thing she did ever since living life in the infantry where one always had to be on guard for an attack. Noting the space was just about large enough, she turned to attention once he spoke.
In contrast to his previous night's ridiculous threatening demeanour (which honestly had Nike quivering in her boots, and she doubted she had hid it well), today's stance made her mildly surprised, although not in an unpleasant manner. She found herself no longer sweating in the palms as he spoke, and instead eager to learn from him, anything at all if it would help her improve even further. If she can get captaincy, she could get... anything she wanted, maybe?
His praise brought a smile to her lips, a small one which she tried to hide, and instead focused on his next words, hazel eyes widening in obvious surprise. Markers? Well, she should've guessed, since technically she's definitely had to amend the way she fought, markedly different from the way her other cohorts fought. But was it that obvious?
Small furrows appeared in her brows as he explained, before he moved into a boxing stance. Nike took a deep breathe, before she unbuckled the belt that held her sword strapped to her waist, which loosened her linen shirt under her breastplates and shield. Tossing it to the side with a clatter, she unhooked the shield, tossing it to the same corner, before she widened her stance.
Hazel eyes flickered to her general, and for the first time, instead of looking at him as her leader, as part of a regiment and someone she did not want to hurt, Nike shifted her viewpoint to attack instead. Men naturally have more uper body strength, relying on punches. Females? Well, when one does not have as much strength as males to rely on, they rely on one thing - killer instinct.
Instead of squaring her shoulders as most men did to brace themselves for impact, Nike feinted high, yet at the last second ducked low, swung her whole body weight and aimed her elbow at Vangelis's stomach, widening her stance to maintain her balance as she did so.
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Her spine straightened up the moment Vangelis walked out of the tent, her booted feet jumping into action the moment she heard the murmur from his lips. Programmed to follow instructions, Nike stayed about five feet behind Vangelis as they entered the forestry that they had on site, keeping up with his pace easily. Not because she was as tall as Vangelis, for that Nike was most certainly not. No,instead she took quick steps to match his stride, until they reached whatever space he had picked out.
Letting her gaze wander to take in the new place the general had brought her two, the captain took note of the distance they were from the campsite - an instinctive thing she did ever since living life in the infantry where one always had to be on guard for an attack. Noting the space was just about large enough, she turned to attention once he spoke.
In contrast to his previous night's ridiculous threatening demeanour (which honestly had Nike quivering in her boots, and she doubted she had hid it well), today's stance made her mildly surprised, although not in an unpleasant manner. She found herself no longer sweating in the palms as he spoke, and instead eager to learn from him, anything at all if it would help her improve even further. If she can get captaincy, she could get... anything she wanted, maybe?
His praise brought a smile to her lips, a small one which she tried to hide, and instead focused on his next words, hazel eyes widening in obvious surprise. Markers? Well, she should've guessed, since technically she's definitely had to amend the way she fought, markedly different from the way her other cohorts fought. But was it that obvious?
Small furrows appeared in her brows as he explained, before he moved into a boxing stance. Nike took a deep breathe, before she unbuckled the belt that held her sword strapped to her waist, which loosened her linen shirt under her breastplates and shield. Tossing it to the side with a clatter, she unhooked the shield, tossing it to the same corner, before she widened her stance.
Hazel eyes flickered to her general, and for the first time, instead of looking at him as her leader, as part of a regiment and someone she did not want to hurt, Nike shifted her viewpoint to attack instead. Men naturally have more uper body strength, relying on punches. Females? Well, when one does not have as much strength as males to rely on, they rely on one thing - killer instinct.
Instead of squaring her shoulders as most men did to brace themselves for impact, Nike feinted high, yet at the last second ducked low, swung her whole body weight and aimed her elbow at Vangelis's stomach, widening her stance to maintain her balance as she did so.
Her spine straightened up the moment Vangelis walked out of the tent, her booted feet jumping into action the moment she heard the murmur from his lips. Programmed to follow instructions, Nike stayed about five feet behind Vangelis as they entered the forestry that they had on site, keeping up with his pace easily. Not because she was as tall as Vangelis, for that Nike was most certainly not. No,instead she took quick steps to match his stride, until they reached whatever space he had picked out.
Letting her gaze wander to take in the new place the general had brought her two, the captain took note of the distance they were from the campsite - an instinctive thing she did ever since living life in the infantry where one always had to be on guard for an attack. Noting the space was just about large enough, she turned to attention once he spoke.
In contrast to his previous night's ridiculous threatening demeanour (which honestly had Nike quivering in her boots, and she doubted she had hid it well), today's stance made her mildly surprised, although not in an unpleasant manner. She found herself no longer sweating in the palms as he spoke, and instead eager to learn from him, anything at all if it would help her improve even further. If she can get captaincy, she could get... anything she wanted, maybe?
His praise brought a smile to her lips, a small one which she tried to hide, and instead focused on his next words, hazel eyes widening in obvious surprise. Markers? Well, she should've guessed, since technically she's definitely had to amend the way she fought, markedly different from the way her other cohorts fought. But was it that obvious?
Small furrows appeared in her brows as he explained, before he moved into a boxing stance. Nike took a deep breathe, before she unbuckled the belt that held her sword strapped to her waist, which loosened her linen shirt under her breastplates and shield. Tossing it to the side with a clatter, she unhooked the shield, tossing it to the same corner, before she widened her stance.
Hazel eyes flickered to her general, and for the first time, instead of looking at him as her leader, as part of a regiment and someone she did not want to hurt, Nike shifted her viewpoint to attack instead. Men naturally have more uper body strength, relying on punches. Females? Well, when one does not have as much strength as males to rely on, they rely on one thing - killer instinct.
Instead of squaring her shoulders as most men did to brace themselves for impact, Nike feinted high, yet at the last second ducked low, swung her whole body weight and aimed her elbow at Vangelis's stomach, widening her stance to maintain her balance as she did so.
Vangelis disappeared. One moment he was on his feet, standing tall. And the next, he had dropped, entirely. Crumpling his legs, throwing out a hand for support and leaning back so low he could feel the ends of the tall grass against the back of his shirt, Vangelis dodged so fast that Nike's attack went soaring over him. Using the hand he had braced against the floor as a pivot, the prince swung a leg out and spun in a circle that then pushed him back up to standing, his swinging leg striking Nike's feet out from under her as he went. Vangelis straightened to his full height as Nike's back hit the floor with a thump.
The whole thing had taken less than a split second.
"That's your first marker." Vangelis told her, holding out a hand to grab her forearm and bring Nike back up to standing. "I told you to attack me and you feinted."
Releasing her arm as she came up to standing, Vangelis made a fist with his hand.
"A man would strike." He told her. "We use force against our enemies. Now..." He took a hold of Nike's wrist and forced her into an attacking stance, as if she were attempting to hit him in the face from an over-head angle. "The way you fight is clever, and it works... but we can make it better." He told her. Leaning to one side and tilting his head at an angle, he offered up his cheekbones and brow. "This is the area you want to hit." He told her, using the tip of his finger to indicate the exact point on his temple. "You'll have to leap as you do it to get the right angle but... you hit here with enough force - a force even a woman can manage, it's not a lot - and you'll knock a man out, no matter how big he is." He moved his hand to lay the palm against his ear. "If you can't reach the temple or can't see it clearly - or he's wearing a helmet - you hit a man flat in the ear, and his balance is shot. You need to hit it hard enough to send disorienting sound through his head, so you can do this even if he's wearing that helmet. Just use the pommel of your knife instead."
With a tug on the wrist he still held, Vangelis pulled Nike forward and to his side, sending her around his frame and spinning her as he did so. He moved his other hand to her hip so he could direct her turn better.
"You hit me in the ear, I stagger. Your momentum, will send you around to your left. Don't fight it, but follow it... You spin until you are facing forwards again..." He let her go so that she was standing freely just a few inches behind him, and facing in the opposite direction. He patted at the small of his own back. "And then you strike out with your other hand - with a knife - either for the kidneys - he'll crumple like wet parchment - or, if you've stumbled or are low, across the backs of the knees."
Straightening and spreading his hands as if to say - "it's that simple" - Vangelis concluded his first technique.
"You're utilising your brains to fight, by taking on his weak points but, to all those watching, you'll have just punched a man in the head and stabbed him through a back..." He gave the smallest quirk of his lips. "Not very ladylike..."
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Vangelis disappeared. One moment he was on his feet, standing tall. And the next, he had dropped, entirely. Crumpling his legs, throwing out a hand for support and leaning back so low he could feel the ends of the tall grass against the back of his shirt, Vangelis dodged so fast that Nike's attack went soaring over him. Using the hand he had braced against the floor as a pivot, the prince swung a leg out and spun in a circle that then pushed him back up to standing, his swinging leg striking Nike's feet out from under her as he went. Vangelis straightened to his full height as Nike's back hit the floor with a thump.
The whole thing had taken less than a split second.
"That's your first marker." Vangelis told her, holding out a hand to grab her forearm and bring Nike back up to standing. "I told you to attack me and you feinted."
Releasing her arm as she came up to standing, Vangelis made a fist with his hand.
"A man would strike." He told her. "We use force against our enemies. Now..." He took a hold of Nike's wrist and forced her into an attacking stance, as if she were attempting to hit him in the face from an over-head angle. "The way you fight is clever, and it works... but we can make it better." He told her. Leaning to one side and tilting his head at an angle, he offered up his cheekbones and brow. "This is the area you want to hit." He told her, using the tip of his finger to indicate the exact point on his temple. "You'll have to leap as you do it to get the right angle but... you hit here with enough force - a force even a woman can manage, it's not a lot - and you'll knock a man out, no matter how big he is." He moved his hand to lay the palm against his ear. "If you can't reach the temple or can't see it clearly - or he's wearing a helmet - you hit a man flat in the ear, and his balance is shot. You need to hit it hard enough to send disorienting sound through his head, so you can do this even if he's wearing that helmet. Just use the pommel of your knife instead."
With a tug on the wrist he still held, Vangelis pulled Nike forward and to his side, sending her around his frame and spinning her as he did so. He moved his other hand to her hip so he could direct her turn better.
"You hit me in the ear, I stagger. Your momentum, will send you around to your left. Don't fight it, but follow it... You spin until you are facing forwards again..." He let her go so that she was standing freely just a few inches behind him, and facing in the opposite direction. He patted at the small of his own back. "And then you strike out with your other hand - with a knife - either for the kidneys - he'll crumple like wet parchment - or, if you've stumbled or are low, across the backs of the knees."
Straightening and spreading his hands as if to say - "it's that simple" - Vangelis concluded his first technique.
"You're utilising your brains to fight, by taking on his weak points but, to all those watching, you'll have just punched a man in the head and stabbed him through a back..." He gave the smallest quirk of his lips. "Not very ladylike..."
Vangelis disappeared. One moment he was on his feet, standing tall. And the next, he had dropped, entirely. Crumpling his legs, throwing out a hand for support and leaning back so low he could feel the ends of the tall grass against the back of his shirt, Vangelis dodged so fast that Nike's attack went soaring over him. Using the hand he had braced against the floor as a pivot, the prince swung a leg out and spun in a circle that then pushed him back up to standing, his swinging leg striking Nike's feet out from under her as he went. Vangelis straightened to his full height as Nike's back hit the floor with a thump.
The whole thing had taken less than a split second.
"That's your first marker." Vangelis told her, holding out a hand to grab her forearm and bring Nike back up to standing. "I told you to attack me and you feinted."
Releasing her arm as she came up to standing, Vangelis made a fist with his hand.
"A man would strike." He told her. "We use force against our enemies. Now..." He took a hold of Nike's wrist and forced her into an attacking stance, as if she were attempting to hit him in the face from an over-head angle. "The way you fight is clever, and it works... but we can make it better." He told her. Leaning to one side and tilting his head at an angle, he offered up his cheekbones and brow. "This is the area you want to hit." He told her, using the tip of his finger to indicate the exact point on his temple. "You'll have to leap as you do it to get the right angle but... you hit here with enough force - a force even a woman can manage, it's not a lot - and you'll knock a man out, no matter how big he is." He moved his hand to lay the palm against his ear. "If you can't reach the temple or can't see it clearly - or he's wearing a helmet - you hit a man flat in the ear, and his balance is shot. You need to hit it hard enough to send disorienting sound through his head, so you can do this even if he's wearing that helmet. Just use the pommel of your knife instead."
With a tug on the wrist he still held, Vangelis pulled Nike forward and to his side, sending her around his frame and spinning her as he did so. He moved his other hand to her hip so he could direct her turn better.
"You hit me in the ear, I stagger. Your momentum, will send you around to your left. Don't fight it, but follow it... You spin until you are facing forwards again..." He let her go so that she was standing freely just a few inches behind him, and facing in the opposite direction. He patted at the small of his own back. "And then you strike out with your other hand - with a knife - either for the kidneys - he'll crumple like wet parchment - or, if you've stumbled or are low, across the backs of the knees."
Straightening and spreading his hands as if to say - "it's that simple" - Vangelis concluded his first technique.
"You're utilising your brains to fight, by taking on his weak points but, to all those watching, you'll have just punched a man in the head and stabbed him through a back..." He gave the smallest quirk of his lips. "Not very ladylike..."
Not many people could dodge Nike's attacks. She was fast, faster then most on her feet. Of course, not many people were generals of their own military army.
She had been sure of her attack. And then the next thing she knew, Nike's aim was flying well across the air aiming at nothing at all, before she felt a hard hit on her feet that knocked her clear off balance, and the dust stirred from beneath her as her bottom fell to meet the ground, and a loud "Oof!" was unceremoniously extracted from her lips. The pain reverberated through her thin tunic, jarring her out of breathe for the briefest of seconds, just before Vangelis started speaking.
Wincing as he held out a hand, she grabbed it, fingers curling around his wrist as she accepted the help to get to a standing position again, listening as he spoke.
Her eyes followed his movements, her mind now like a sponge absorbing as much she could from him. Strike? She had no energy to strike. Nike's trained longer then any man in the infantry, spending dawns and nights working on her strength, yet till today, while she had wile's and intellect, Nike could never beat someone in an all out brawl.
Feeling like a sock puppet as he grabbed her wrist, she allowed him to guide his movements, a small smile adorning her lips when he praised her. Nike took great pride in the way she had managed to work around being in the army, tough as it may be. If one could see her mind now, it would look like a notebook furiously being written on, all while Vangelis spoke.
The turn caught her off guard, the brief touch on her hip helping her retain her balance towards where he directed her.
When he finally concluded with - what appeared to Nike - as a dramatic ending pose, the young woman couldn't help but quirk an amused, wry brow upwards, looking impressed and amused all at the same time. "Very logical. You teach the princess all of this? She must be a formidable enemy." Nike murmured, straightening up while flexing her wrists and her fists, as if trying to simulate how it would be like to hit a man in a battlefield at directly that angle. It would be tough, but nothing is easy without some practice.
Unable to help herself, Nike looked up with a mildly wary, but slightly curious look. "Excuse the insolence, my Lord, but do you spend your time thinking of how to teach ladies to fight all the time? You sound... very experienced." her tone hid the hint of a laugh, the kind that teased in one's eyes but never bubbled past one's lips.
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Not many people could dodge Nike's attacks. She was fast, faster then most on her feet. Of course, not many people were generals of their own military army.
She had been sure of her attack. And then the next thing she knew, Nike's aim was flying well across the air aiming at nothing at all, before she felt a hard hit on her feet that knocked her clear off balance, and the dust stirred from beneath her as her bottom fell to meet the ground, and a loud "Oof!" was unceremoniously extracted from her lips. The pain reverberated through her thin tunic, jarring her out of breathe for the briefest of seconds, just before Vangelis started speaking.
Wincing as he held out a hand, she grabbed it, fingers curling around his wrist as she accepted the help to get to a standing position again, listening as he spoke.
Her eyes followed his movements, her mind now like a sponge absorbing as much she could from him. Strike? She had no energy to strike. Nike's trained longer then any man in the infantry, spending dawns and nights working on her strength, yet till today, while she had wile's and intellect, Nike could never beat someone in an all out brawl.
Feeling like a sock puppet as he grabbed her wrist, she allowed him to guide his movements, a small smile adorning her lips when he praised her. Nike took great pride in the way she had managed to work around being in the army, tough as it may be. If one could see her mind now, it would look like a notebook furiously being written on, all while Vangelis spoke.
The turn caught her off guard, the brief touch on her hip helping her retain her balance towards where he directed her.
When he finally concluded with - what appeared to Nike - as a dramatic ending pose, the young woman couldn't help but quirk an amused, wry brow upwards, looking impressed and amused all at the same time. "Very logical. You teach the princess all of this? She must be a formidable enemy." Nike murmured, straightening up while flexing her wrists and her fists, as if trying to simulate how it would be like to hit a man in a battlefield at directly that angle. It would be tough, but nothing is easy without some practice.
Unable to help herself, Nike looked up with a mildly wary, but slightly curious look. "Excuse the insolence, my Lord, but do you spend your time thinking of how to teach ladies to fight all the time? You sound... very experienced." her tone hid the hint of a laugh, the kind that teased in one's eyes but never bubbled past one's lips.
Not many people could dodge Nike's attacks. She was fast, faster then most on her feet. Of course, not many people were generals of their own military army.
She had been sure of her attack. And then the next thing she knew, Nike's aim was flying well across the air aiming at nothing at all, before she felt a hard hit on her feet that knocked her clear off balance, and the dust stirred from beneath her as her bottom fell to meet the ground, and a loud "Oof!" was unceremoniously extracted from her lips. The pain reverberated through her thin tunic, jarring her out of breathe for the briefest of seconds, just before Vangelis started speaking.
Wincing as he held out a hand, she grabbed it, fingers curling around his wrist as she accepted the help to get to a standing position again, listening as he spoke.
Her eyes followed his movements, her mind now like a sponge absorbing as much she could from him. Strike? She had no energy to strike. Nike's trained longer then any man in the infantry, spending dawns and nights working on her strength, yet till today, while she had wile's and intellect, Nike could never beat someone in an all out brawl.
Feeling like a sock puppet as he grabbed her wrist, she allowed him to guide his movements, a small smile adorning her lips when he praised her. Nike took great pride in the way she had managed to work around being in the army, tough as it may be. If one could see her mind now, it would look like a notebook furiously being written on, all while Vangelis spoke.
The turn caught her off guard, the brief touch on her hip helping her retain her balance towards where he directed her.
When he finally concluded with - what appeared to Nike - as a dramatic ending pose, the young woman couldn't help but quirk an amused, wry brow upwards, looking impressed and amused all at the same time. "Very logical. You teach the princess all of this? She must be a formidable enemy." Nike murmured, straightening up while flexing her wrists and her fists, as if trying to simulate how it would be like to hit a man in a battlefield at directly that angle. It would be tough, but nothing is easy without some practice.
Unable to help herself, Nike looked up with a mildly wary, but slightly curious look. "Excuse the insolence, my Lord, but do you spend your time thinking of how to teach ladies to fight all the time? You sound... very experienced." her tone hid the hint of a laugh, the kind that teased in one's eyes but never bubbled past one's lips.
Vangelis shook his head at her question about Athanasia.
"No, I didn't." He told her. "I've taught her to fight to defend herself, not to attack. She is, after all, still a princess. And my family are your royals, Commander. Take heed with your words." It was not a chastisement but it was an end to the conversation. His family were not a topic up for debate or discussion, no matter how innocently intended.
When Nike had reasserted her balance, she spoke again, this time it was in jest but he didn't mind so long as it wasn't addressed to his personal life.
"No." He simply answered. "I worked these out last night."
His answer was short and simple and did nothing to allude to the several hours he had spent running techniques through his mind and visualising their outward appearance as being masculine or not. It had been an interesting training exercise and one he intended to repeat as he worked with Nike. Fooling an enemy into how something looked could be just as effective as the attack itself. Nike and her skills in feinting the direction of her attacks was proof of that.
"Now..." He said, moving the conversation on and gesturing both of his hands towards himself as he stood up to his full height. "I won't bend - you're going to have to jump - but I also won't block... Hit me." He told her. "Let's see if you can get that temple shot right."
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Vangelis shook his head at her question about Athanasia.
"No, I didn't." He told her. "I've taught her to fight to defend herself, not to attack. She is, after all, still a princess. And my family are your royals, Commander. Take heed with your words." It was not a chastisement but it was an end to the conversation. His family were not a topic up for debate or discussion, no matter how innocently intended.
When Nike had reasserted her balance, she spoke again, this time it was in jest but he didn't mind so long as it wasn't addressed to his personal life.
"No." He simply answered. "I worked these out last night."
His answer was short and simple and did nothing to allude to the several hours he had spent running techniques through his mind and visualising their outward appearance as being masculine or not. It had been an interesting training exercise and one he intended to repeat as he worked with Nike. Fooling an enemy into how something looked could be just as effective as the attack itself. Nike and her skills in feinting the direction of her attacks was proof of that.
"Now..." He said, moving the conversation on and gesturing both of his hands towards himself as he stood up to his full height. "I won't bend - you're going to have to jump - but I also won't block... Hit me." He told her. "Let's see if you can get that temple shot right."
Vangelis shook his head at her question about Athanasia.
"No, I didn't." He told her. "I've taught her to fight to defend herself, not to attack. She is, after all, still a princess. And my family are your royals, Commander. Take heed with your words." It was not a chastisement but it was an end to the conversation. His family were not a topic up for debate or discussion, no matter how innocently intended.
When Nike had reasserted her balance, she spoke again, this time it was in jest but he didn't mind so long as it wasn't addressed to his personal life.
"No." He simply answered. "I worked these out last night."
His answer was short and simple and did nothing to allude to the several hours he had spent running techniques through his mind and visualising their outward appearance as being masculine or not. It had been an interesting training exercise and one he intended to repeat as he worked with Nike. Fooling an enemy into how something looked could be just as effective as the attack itself. Nike and her skills in feinting the direction of her attacks was proof of that.
"Now..." He said, moving the conversation on and gesturing both of his hands towards himself as he stood up to his full height. "I won't bend - you're going to have to jump - but I also won't block... Hit me." He told her. "Let's see if you can get that temple shot right."
Much to Nike's surprise, unlike the previous day when he had been an unpredictable predator on the prowl, surprise glimmered in her eyes when he answered her without a command in his tone, just an explanation. The rumors of the Blood General was something Nike was privy to, of course her comrades would speak of the rumors considering it was their general. He was merciless, he struck fear in hearts, that he was heartless to a certain extent.
Yet Nike found it hard to believe that someone who is rumored to be heartless would spend his night figuring out how to train her to fight.
She's heard that the great Stone Prince barely needed sleep, from the many nights soldiers on duty, or even his own captains and commanders had had to stay late to go over tactical meetings. Nike couldn't help but wonder how he still managed to perform with such military precision despite the apparent lack of sleep he gets, whilst wondering how long exactly did he spend, when he mentioned 'last night'.
Before she could even let her thoughts run though, her general was already up and running, straightening to his full height, which was a little more then half a head taller then her. His instructions had her go bug-eyed. Hit her commanding officer? That was the first thing they were all trained to not do upon induction into the military! It went against her very grain, and Nike froze for the briefest of seconds.
You have to do it. He did ask, right? Training... right? One could see the shift in her face, the uncertainty quickly warping into determination as she widened her stance. He wouldn't bend, as he said. She'd have to jump with enough height to not only give her the momentum, but to somehow at the same time hit at the right angle for the impact to be useful to her.
Nike nodded, shifting slightly backwards so she had some extra space. Without warning, she took two sprints towards Vangelis's form, and with her dominant (right) leg, lifted herself a little less then two feet off the ground, her palm aiming for the cheekbones area that her general had indicated earlier and hitting it with as much force as she could.
The impact made her spiral as she fell, resulting in her falling off balance on her left leg. 'Follow it. Spin until you are facing forwards again.' His words resounded in her head, and following his instructions, she did as was old, remembering the way his hand on her hip had guided her. Her feet stumbled just a little, but the girl managed to recover enough to spin as she did earlier, landing a few inches behind facing the opposite direction.
Breathless by then, her ears rang with the silence that only dawn could bring. Did she do it?
Nike turned, and then couldn't help the satisfied grin that curled her lips upwards, obvious joy from the accomplishment of a simple, yet effective move. "That was right... right?" she eagerly asked, palms and legs suddenly itching to go for it again. Nike was nothing if not hardworking, and she would stop at nothing to achieve as much as she could.
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Much to Nike's surprise, unlike the previous day when he had been an unpredictable predator on the prowl, surprise glimmered in her eyes when he answered her without a command in his tone, just an explanation. The rumors of the Blood General was something Nike was privy to, of course her comrades would speak of the rumors considering it was their general. He was merciless, he struck fear in hearts, that he was heartless to a certain extent.
Yet Nike found it hard to believe that someone who is rumored to be heartless would spend his night figuring out how to train her to fight.
She's heard that the great Stone Prince barely needed sleep, from the many nights soldiers on duty, or even his own captains and commanders had had to stay late to go over tactical meetings. Nike couldn't help but wonder how he still managed to perform with such military precision despite the apparent lack of sleep he gets, whilst wondering how long exactly did he spend, when he mentioned 'last night'.
Before she could even let her thoughts run though, her general was already up and running, straightening to his full height, which was a little more then half a head taller then her. His instructions had her go bug-eyed. Hit her commanding officer? That was the first thing they were all trained to not do upon induction into the military! It went against her very grain, and Nike froze for the briefest of seconds.
You have to do it. He did ask, right? Training... right? One could see the shift in her face, the uncertainty quickly warping into determination as she widened her stance. He wouldn't bend, as he said. She'd have to jump with enough height to not only give her the momentum, but to somehow at the same time hit at the right angle for the impact to be useful to her.
Nike nodded, shifting slightly backwards so she had some extra space. Without warning, she took two sprints towards Vangelis's form, and with her dominant (right) leg, lifted herself a little less then two feet off the ground, her palm aiming for the cheekbones area that her general had indicated earlier and hitting it with as much force as she could.
The impact made her spiral as she fell, resulting in her falling off balance on her left leg. 'Follow it. Spin until you are facing forwards again.' His words resounded in her head, and following his instructions, she did as was old, remembering the way his hand on her hip had guided her. Her feet stumbled just a little, but the girl managed to recover enough to spin as she did earlier, landing a few inches behind facing the opposite direction.
Breathless by then, her ears rang with the silence that only dawn could bring. Did she do it?
Nike turned, and then couldn't help the satisfied grin that curled her lips upwards, obvious joy from the accomplishment of a simple, yet effective move. "That was right... right?" she eagerly asked, palms and legs suddenly itching to go for it again. Nike was nothing if not hardworking, and she would stop at nothing to achieve as much as she could.
Much to Nike's surprise, unlike the previous day when he had been an unpredictable predator on the prowl, surprise glimmered in her eyes when he answered her without a command in his tone, just an explanation. The rumors of the Blood General was something Nike was privy to, of course her comrades would speak of the rumors considering it was their general. He was merciless, he struck fear in hearts, that he was heartless to a certain extent.
Yet Nike found it hard to believe that someone who is rumored to be heartless would spend his night figuring out how to train her to fight.
She's heard that the great Stone Prince barely needed sleep, from the many nights soldiers on duty, or even his own captains and commanders had had to stay late to go over tactical meetings. Nike couldn't help but wonder how he still managed to perform with such military precision despite the apparent lack of sleep he gets, whilst wondering how long exactly did he spend, when he mentioned 'last night'.
Before she could even let her thoughts run though, her general was already up and running, straightening to his full height, which was a little more then half a head taller then her. His instructions had her go bug-eyed. Hit her commanding officer? That was the first thing they were all trained to not do upon induction into the military! It went against her very grain, and Nike froze for the briefest of seconds.
You have to do it. He did ask, right? Training... right? One could see the shift in her face, the uncertainty quickly warping into determination as she widened her stance. He wouldn't bend, as he said. She'd have to jump with enough height to not only give her the momentum, but to somehow at the same time hit at the right angle for the impact to be useful to her.
Nike nodded, shifting slightly backwards so she had some extra space. Without warning, she took two sprints towards Vangelis's form, and with her dominant (right) leg, lifted herself a little less then two feet off the ground, her palm aiming for the cheekbones area that her general had indicated earlier and hitting it with as much force as she could.
The impact made her spiral as she fell, resulting in her falling off balance on her left leg. 'Follow it. Spin until you are facing forwards again.' His words resounded in her head, and following his instructions, she did as was old, remembering the way his hand on her hip had guided her. Her feet stumbled just a little, but the girl managed to recover enough to spin as she did earlier, landing a few inches behind facing the opposite direction.
Breathless by then, her ears rang with the silence that only dawn could bring. Did she do it?
Nike turned, and then couldn't help the satisfied grin that curled her lips upwards, obvious joy from the accomplishment of a simple, yet effective move. "That was right... right?" she eagerly asked, palms and legs suddenly itching to go for it again. Nike was nothing if not hardworking, and she would stop at nothing to achieve as much as she could.
Vangelis braced himself as was his natural stance when attacked, but kept his promise not to bend. It went against every instinct not to duck when an offensive fighter was coming at you head on, but he met her strike with all the sturdiness he had promised.
As her palm smacked hard against he side of his head and he felt the brush of her shoulder against his own - that would throw off her balance slightly as she landed - he felt the warmth of new pain spread over his cheekbone and around his eye.
His head was thrown to the side by her strike and she hit hard enough to have him take a step to the side to regard his balance but he wasn't startled or stupefied. If need be, he could have swung with her, spinning on his heels and ended up at her back with a knife.
As she grinned and checked with him that she had performed the technique right, Vangelis worked his jaw and nodded.
"Good." He confirmed. He took several steps away from her, back towards the other side of the clearing. He egged her on again with his hands. "Now, do it again." He told her. "You need a closed fist and to aim just an inch higher - you got more cheekbone than temple. You were at greater risk of breaking my jaw than knocking me out. You want the latter." He tapped at the exact spot on his temple she wanted to aim for. "Let's go, Commander. I don't have all day... And try not to stumble this time."
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Vangelis braced himself as was his natural stance when attacked, but kept his promise not to bend. It went against every instinct not to duck when an offensive fighter was coming at you head on, but he met her strike with all the sturdiness he had promised.
As her palm smacked hard against he side of his head and he felt the brush of her shoulder against his own - that would throw off her balance slightly as she landed - he felt the warmth of new pain spread over his cheekbone and around his eye.
His head was thrown to the side by her strike and she hit hard enough to have him take a step to the side to regard his balance but he wasn't startled or stupefied. If need be, he could have swung with her, spinning on his heels and ended up at her back with a knife.
As she grinned and checked with him that she had performed the technique right, Vangelis worked his jaw and nodded.
"Good." He confirmed. He took several steps away from her, back towards the other side of the clearing. He egged her on again with his hands. "Now, do it again." He told her. "You need a closed fist and to aim just an inch higher - you got more cheekbone than temple. You were at greater risk of breaking my jaw than knocking me out. You want the latter." He tapped at the exact spot on his temple she wanted to aim for. "Let's go, Commander. I don't have all day... And try not to stumble this time."
Vangelis braced himself as was his natural stance when attacked, but kept his promise not to bend. It went against every instinct not to duck when an offensive fighter was coming at you head on, but he met her strike with all the sturdiness he had promised.
As her palm smacked hard against he side of his head and he felt the brush of her shoulder against his own - that would throw off her balance slightly as she landed - he felt the warmth of new pain spread over his cheekbone and around his eye.
His head was thrown to the side by her strike and she hit hard enough to have him take a step to the side to regard his balance but he wasn't startled or stupefied. If need be, he could have swung with her, spinning on his heels and ended up at her back with a knife.
As she grinned and checked with him that she had performed the technique right, Vangelis worked his jaw and nodded.
"Good." He confirmed. He took several steps away from her, back towards the other side of the clearing. He egged her on again with his hands. "Now, do it again." He told her. "You need a closed fist and to aim just an inch higher - you got more cheekbone than temple. You were at greater risk of breaking my jaw than knocking me out. You want the latter." He tapped at the exact spot on his temple she wanted to aim for. "Let's go, Commander. I don't have all day... And try not to stumble this time."
The praise from Vangelis - to Nike anyway - can be considered high praise indeed. For someone who was usually not very generous with praise, she'll take any drop she can get in their sessions.
Her palm throbbed from the impact, obviously from her lack of practice using that area. Nike's natural instinct to not hit a commanding officer had led her to hold off using a fist as one would normally do in combat. However, as he spoke, his words were a reminder that they were in training, that she technically was supposed to regard him as an assailant or an enemy she's trying to protect herself from, and not resist from hurting.
Nodding when he instructed her to repeat herself, the girl's hazel eyes flickered to her fingers, curling them tightly in to her palms. Her blunt nails dug into the meat of her hands, and her mind internally chanted to herself to shift her view, stop thinking of Vangelis as her General for now, if she wanted to get through this training session without looking like a fool.
Looking up, her eyes zeroed in on the spot he tapped, and focus gathered in her irises, with a little cheeky smirk. "Its not everyday my commanding officer tells me to knock him out, but I'll do my best, General." her voice held the lilt of mild amusement, just before Nike started again.
She did the same sprint as she did before, two large strides and then engaging her core and thigh muscles to spring in the air. Ensuring to keep her fists tightly curled, her shoulders once again brushed his, felt her balance get thrown just as she landed her curled fists against the exact spot where he had tapped, feeling the contact of temple against her knuckles, before she landed on the balls of her feet. Repeating the spin as she had earlier the way he had done with her, barely keeping her balance to end up facing the opposite way.
Her knuckles were red from the force of the impact Nike had given, both using whatever strength she had and also the momentum of her jump plus gravity pulling her back down, but when the dull thud of her knuckles registered, she spun on the balls of her feet to look at Vangelis with wide eyes.
"I would ask if that was a good shot - but a good shot from me would be..." she trailed, wincing as she studied Vangelis's features and hoping she didn't cause too much damage. Any obvious injury would mean he's going to have to cook up an explanation on why was he letting a Commander launch punches at him, right? "At least I kept my balance this time?" she tried with a small, sheepish and wary attempt at a smile.
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The praise from Vangelis - to Nike anyway - can be considered high praise indeed. For someone who was usually not very generous with praise, she'll take any drop she can get in their sessions.
Her palm throbbed from the impact, obviously from her lack of practice using that area. Nike's natural instinct to not hit a commanding officer had led her to hold off using a fist as one would normally do in combat. However, as he spoke, his words were a reminder that they were in training, that she technically was supposed to regard him as an assailant or an enemy she's trying to protect herself from, and not resist from hurting.
Nodding when he instructed her to repeat herself, the girl's hazel eyes flickered to her fingers, curling them tightly in to her palms. Her blunt nails dug into the meat of her hands, and her mind internally chanted to herself to shift her view, stop thinking of Vangelis as her General for now, if she wanted to get through this training session without looking like a fool.
Looking up, her eyes zeroed in on the spot he tapped, and focus gathered in her irises, with a little cheeky smirk. "Its not everyday my commanding officer tells me to knock him out, but I'll do my best, General." her voice held the lilt of mild amusement, just before Nike started again.
She did the same sprint as she did before, two large strides and then engaging her core and thigh muscles to spring in the air. Ensuring to keep her fists tightly curled, her shoulders once again brushed his, felt her balance get thrown just as she landed her curled fists against the exact spot where he had tapped, feeling the contact of temple against her knuckles, before she landed on the balls of her feet. Repeating the spin as she had earlier the way he had done with her, barely keeping her balance to end up facing the opposite way.
Her knuckles were red from the force of the impact Nike had given, both using whatever strength she had and also the momentum of her jump plus gravity pulling her back down, but when the dull thud of her knuckles registered, she spun on the balls of her feet to look at Vangelis with wide eyes.
"I would ask if that was a good shot - but a good shot from me would be..." she trailed, wincing as she studied Vangelis's features and hoping she didn't cause too much damage. Any obvious injury would mean he's going to have to cook up an explanation on why was he letting a Commander launch punches at him, right? "At least I kept my balance this time?" she tried with a small, sheepish and wary attempt at a smile.
The praise from Vangelis - to Nike anyway - can be considered high praise indeed. For someone who was usually not very generous with praise, she'll take any drop she can get in their sessions.
Her palm throbbed from the impact, obviously from her lack of practice using that area. Nike's natural instinct to not hit a commanding officer had led her to hold off using a fist as one would normally do in combat. However, as he spoke, his words were a reminder that they were in training, that she technically was supposed to regard him as an assailant or an enemy she's trying to protect herself from, and not resist from hurting.
Nodding when he instructed her to repeat herself, the girl's hazel eyes flickered to her fingers, curling them tightly in to her palms. Her blunt nails dug into the meat of her hands, and her mind internally chanted to herself to shift her view, stop thinking of Vangelis as her General for now, if she wanted to get through this training session without looking like a fool.
Looking up, her eyes zeroed in on the spot he tapped, and focus gathered in her irises, with a little cheeky smirk. "Its not everyday my commanding officer tells me to knock him out, but I'll do my best, General." her voice held the lilt of mild amusement, just before Nike started again.
She did the same sprint as she did before, two large strides and then engaging her core and thigh muscles to spring in the air. Ensuring to keep her fists tightly curled, her shoulders once again brushed his, felt her balance get thrown just as she landed her curled fists against the exact spot where he had tapped, feeling the contact of temple against her knuckles, before she landed on the balls of her feet. Repeating the spin as she had earlier the way he had done with her, barely keeping her balance to end up facing the opposite way.
Her knuckles were red from the force of the impact Nike had given, both using whatever strength she had and also the momentum of her jump plus gravity pulling her back down, but when the dull thud of her knuckles registered, she spun on the balls of her feet to look at Vangelis with wide eyes.
"I would ask if that was a good shot - but a good shot from me would be..." she trailed, wincing as she studied Vangelis's features and hoping she didn't cause too much damage. Any obvious injury would mean he's going to have to cook up an explanation on why was he letting a Commander launch punches at him, right? "At least I kept my balance this time?" she tried with a small, sheepish and wary attempt at a smile.
Vangelis shook out his head to get rid of the spots before his eyes and the ringing in his ear. The punch Nike had launched at him wasn't as hard as a man's and hadn't knocked him to the ground, but he knew that some of that limited power was simply because he was instructing her to do something that was against her training and nature - to strike higher ranking officer. It was a shame that he couldn't instruct another man to stand in his place as assault dummy but then there would be questions regarding the training and he wouldn't be able to speak to Nike openly about the reasons for such tactics. So, he took the punches as they came.
Working his jaw and blinking a few more times from his slightly hunched position, he was nodding by the time he stood back up to his full height.
"That was better." He told her. "You didn't make me stumble but you clouded my vision for a moment." He told her. "And experienced soldier would continue to fight through that but a newcomer or simple foot soldier would likely be disorientated."
Moving back to the other side of the clearing, Vangelis put twice as much space between them this time, his back to the trees on the furthest side of their little space among the trees.
"Do it again." He told her once more. "Only this time I won't be a static target. I'm going to charge at you - as I would if I were infantry in an opposing force." He raised his arm and ducked his head in illustration of his next point. "Now, if an attacker sees your strike coming and ducks to avoid it, don't try to follow him and still hit your mark. Throw your arm around across your own chest and exaggerate your spin. You need to move faster to get your belly out of the way of any potential strike he's making of his own. When you land, you'll likely land harder and lower because of the additional speed and you strike out at the backs of his knees..." He waved a hand towards the bushes behind her. "Use a stick or something if you need to, to work out the position of a blade."
Being punched was one thing. Having the backs of his knees sliced to ribbons accidentally was another.
"Now... you run first and I'll meet you in the middle..." He told her, bending his knees and lowering his frame, ready to propel himself forward into motion.
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Vangelis shook out his head to get rid of the spots before his eyes and the ringing in his ear. The punch Nike had launched at him wasn't as hard as a man's and hadn't knocked him to the ground, but he knew that some of that limited power was simply because he was instructing her to do something that was against her training and nature - to strike higher ranking officer. It was a shame that he couldn't instruct another man to stand in his place as assault dummy but then there would be questions regarding the training and he wouldn't be able to speak to Nike openly about the reasons for such tactics. So, he took the punches as they came.
Working his jaw and blinking a few more times from his slightly hunched position, he was nodding by the time he stood back up to his full height.
"That was better." He told her. "You didn't make me stumble but you clouded my vision for a moment." He told her. "And experienced soldier would continue to fight through that but a newcomer or simple foot soldier would likely be disorientated."
Moving back to the other side of the clearing, Vangelis put twice as much space between them this time, his back to the trees on the furthest side of their little space among the trees.
"Do it again." He told her once more. "Only this time I won't be a static target. I'm going to charge at you - as I would if I were infantry in an opposing force." He raised his arm and ducked his head in illustration of his next point. "Now, if an attacker sees your strike coming and ducks to avoid it, don't try to follow him and still hit your mark. Throw your arm around across your own chest and exaggerate your spin. You need to move faster to get your belly out of the way of any potential strike he's making of his own. When you land, you'll likely land harder and lower because of the additional speed and you strike out at the backs of his knees..." He waved a hand towards the bushes behind her. "Use a stick or something if you need to, to work out the position of a blade."
Being punched was one thing. Having the backs of his knees sliced to ribbons accidentally was another.
"Now... you run first and I'll meet you in the middle..." He told her, bending his knees and lowering his frame, ready to propel himself forward into motion.
Vangelis shook out his head to get rid of the spots before his eyes and the ringing in his ear. The punch Nike had launched at him wasn't as hard as a man's and hadn't knocked him to the ground, but he knew that some of that limited power was simply because he was instructing her to do something that was against her training and nature - to strike higher ranking officer. It was a shame that he couldn't instruct another man to stand in his place as assault dummy but then there would be questions regarding the training and he wouldn't be able to speak to Nike openly about the reasons for such tactics. So, he took the punches as they came.
Working his jaw and blinking a few more times from his slightly hunched position, he was nodding by the time he stood back up to his full height.
"That was better." He told her. "You didn't make me stumble but you clouded my vision for a moment." He told her. "And experienced soldier would continue to fight through that but a newcomer or simple foot soldier would likely be disorientated."
Moving back to the other side of the clearing, Vangelis put twice as much space between them this time, his back to the trees on the furthest side of their little space among the trees.
"Do it again." He told her once more. "Only this time I won't be a static target. I'm going to charge at you - as I would if I were infantry in an opposing force." He raised his arm and ducked his head in illustration of his next point. "Now, if an attacker sees your strike coming and ducks to avoid it, don't try to follow him and still hit your mark. Throw your arm around across your own chest and exaggerate your spin. You need to move faster to get your belly out of the way of any potential strike he's making of his own. When you land, you'll likely land harder and lower because of the additional speed and you strike out at the backs of his knees..." He waved a hand towards the bushes behind her. "Use a stick or something if you need to, to work out the position of a blade."
Being punched was one thing. Having the backs of his knees sliced to ribbons accidentally was another.
"Now... you run first and I'll meet you in the middle..." He told her, bending his knees and lowering his frame, ready to propel himself forward into motion.
The fact that he actually said her hit had clouded his vision made a part of her sing, that she actually had enough strength - or pseudo strength, with momentum and angle - to cause some damage, was a great win for her. The other part of her however, was greatly mortified that she had actually caused some harm to her commanding officer, and as much as she tried to tamp it down, she couldn't help the gulp she had to do to push down the knob of horror that had bunched up in her throat.
Shaking her head slightly to remind herself to keep on focus, Nike cocked her head to the side as he backed up, and then her eyes widened again when he changed up the rules of the 'game, per say. Charging, she could deal with. Her usual strategy was dodge-dodge-dodge, get to the back of someone and strike, low blow as it may be. One would do anything to survive on the battlefield. But a direct hit? That made her breathe short.
But she can't say no to a commanding officer, now can she?
And so Nike consceded. Looking around, she jogged quickly to a nearby bush. Using the limited sunlight that was just beginning to shine through as the sun began to fight its way for posession of the sky for the day, she sought out a long branch, straight as she could get it. Estimating the length of her regular longsword she used for practice, she reached in, wincing as the rough branches scratched up her arm slightly, breaking the identified piece off and holding it in her palm to test for similarity, before jogging back to where Vangelis had left her.
Keeping in mind everything that her general had just mentioned, she crouched lower, her brows scrunched up in that familiar look of concentration Nike always wore to ensure she did what was required of her. Her body was tense, and it didn't take long before she started sprinting her way across the field, keeping track of when and where Vangelis was running.
At (hopefully) the right time, she did the same jump as she did before, using her non-sword arm curled into a fist to aim at the same spot of his temples she had previously hit, but when he ducked (as Nike guessed he was going to), she quickly added momentum to the spin, landing just as Vangelis dashed past her on the ground. The momentum of her landing lost her balance, and Nike wobbled, but she threw her body in the direction that Vangelis had dashed, rolling and then throwing out her sword/stick-holding arm to aim best as she could at the back of his knees, even as she squeezed her eyes shut, watering as the kicked up dust and sand made it burn.
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The fact that he actually said her hit had clouded his vision made a part of her sing, that she actually had enough strength - or pseudo strength, with momentum and angle - to cause some damage, was a great win for her. The other part of her however, was greatly mortified that she had actually caused some harm to her commanding officer, and as much as she tried to tamp it down, she couldn't help the gulp she had to do to push down the knob of horror that had bunched up in her throat.
Shaking her head slightly to remind herself to keep on focus, Nike cocked her head to the side as he backed up, and then her eyes widened again when he changed up the rules of the 'game, per say. Charging, she could deal with. Her usual strategy was dodge-dodge-dodge, get to the back of someone and strike, low blow as it may be. One would do anything to survive on the battlefield. But a direct hit? That made her breathe short.
But she can't say no to a commanding officer, now can she?
And so Nike consceded. Looking around, she jogged quickly to a nearby bush. Using the limited sunlight that was just beginning to shine through as the sun began to fight its way for posession of the sky for the day, she sought out a long branch, straight as she could get it. Estimating the length of her regular longsword she used for practice, she reached in, wincing as the rough branches scratched up her arm slightly, breaking the identified piece off and holding it in her palm to test for similarity, before jogging back to where Vangelis had left her.
Keeping in mind everything that her general had just mentioned, she crouched lower, her brows scrunched up in that familiar look of concentration Nike always wore to ensure she did what was required of her. Her body was tense, and it didn't take long before she started sprinting her way across the field, keeping track of when and where Vangelis was running.
At (hopefully) the right time, she did the same jump as she did before, using her non-sword arm curled into a fist to aim at the same spot of his temples she had previously hit, but when he ducked (as Nike guessed he was going to), she quickly added momentum to the spin, landing just as Vangelis dashed past her on the ground. The momentum of her landing lost her balance, and Nike wobbled, but she threw her body in the direction that Vangelis had dashed, rolling and then throwing out her sword/stick-holding arm to aim best as she could at the back of his knees, even as she squeezed her eyes shut, watering as the kicked up dust and sand made it burn.
The fact that he actually said her hit had clouded his vision made a part of her sing, that she actually had enough strength - or pseudo strength, with momentum and angle - to cause some damage, was a great win for her. The other part of her however, was greatly mortified that she had actually caused some harm to her commanding officer, and as much as she tried to tamp it down, she couldn't help the gulp she had to do to push down the knob of horror that had bunched up in her throat.
Shaking her head slightly to remind herself to keep on focus, Nike cocked her head to the side as he backed up, and then her eyes widened again when he changed up the rules of the 'game, per say. Charging, she could deal with. Her usual strategy was dodge-dodge-dodge, get to the back of someone and strike, low blow as it may be. One would do anything to survive on the battlefield. But a direct hit? That made her breathe short.
But she can't say no to a commanding officer, now can she?
And so Nike consceded. Looking around, she jogged quickly to a nearby bush. Using the limited sunlight that was just beginning to shine through as the sun began to fight its way for posession of the sky for the day, she sought out a long branch, straight as she could get it. Estimating the length of her regular longsword she used for practice, she reached in, wincing as the rough branches scratched up her arm slightly, breaking the identified piece off and holding it in her palm to test for similarity, before jogging back to where Vangelis had left her.
Keeping in mind everything that her general had just mentioned, she crouched lower, her brows scrunched up in that familiar look of concentration Nike always wore to ensure she did what was required of her. Her body was tense, and it didn't take long before she started sprinting her way across the field, keeping track of when and where Vangelis was running.
At (hopefully) the right time, she did the same jump as she did before, using her non-sword arm curled into a fist to aim at the same spot of his temples she had previously hit, but when he ducked (as Nike guessed he was going to), she quickly added momentum to the spin, landing just as Vangelis dashed past her on the ground. The momentum of her landing lost her balance, and Nike wobbled, but she threw her body in the direction that Vangelis had dashed, rolling and then throwing out her sword/stick-holding arm to aim best as she could at the back of his knees, even as she squeezed her eyes shut, watering as the kicked up dust and sand made it burn.
On her first attempt, Nike's balance was off and she stumbled her landing. This lost her precious moments in which Vangelis was still running forwards, meaning that the swing of her pseudo-sword went wide and missed his legs. The attack was a failure but her avoidance of a possible strike that he didn't administer was good and would have probably kept her out of harm’s way.
When he reached the opposite side of the clearing he turned on his heel and, without giving her time to pause or catch her breath simply stated - "Again." - and charged back towards her again.
For the next two hours the pair ran back and forth, leaping and diving. Sometimes Vangelis would allow Nike to strike, sometimes he would duck. He tried to keep it random so that she always had to think on her feet as she moved and, while she never managed to openly strike him hard enough to knock him out, or managed to hit his legs with her stick, he watched as she gradually improved in other areas. Her leaps became higher, and with the practice in her legs muscles, she was faster at pushing herself airborne and reaching the height needed to strike. Her landings were becoming steadier and she was losing less time gathering her balance or dealing with any dust in her eyes. Her centre of gravity would also be naturally shifting as she practised the technique over and over and this would help her strikes. The lower her centre of gravity, the more of her body she placed behind her over-head punch and the more force she would eventually be lending to her attack.
By the time they paused in their exercises, the sun had fully risen and they could hear the rest of the troops rising with the dawn. Nike looked out of breath but Vangelis simply breathed deeply and shook out his shoulders from the morning exercise.
"You're getting better." He told her honestly, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. "You're to practice. A hundred running leaps - as high and as far as you can get them. It'll strengthen your legs. And a hundred overhead punches. You need to train your upper arm to strike faster in that direction, it's a new motion for the muscles." He didn't care how she did this last one, striking a pillow or the trunk of a tree, whatever allowed her to make the same arch with her arm that they had been practising would do the job. "I want them done before dusk tonight." He told her, giving her no leniency or allowance out of her normal daily responsibilities. "We'll train again tomorrow morning."
And when she had mastered this technique, they would move onto another, and another. Because Vangelis had been impressed with Nike of Acaris before he had known her gender. He had known that she was a good soldier - had known that others in his military knew it too. And this morning, she had taken on the training without complaint and without whining. She had proven her desire to be a part of the military and her loyalty to both him and the Colchian crown. And while there were many who could claim the same within his armies - especially within his personal unit - there were always twice as many who couldn't. And those were the men who normally ended up very dead, very quickly. And Vangelis couldn't afford an ever-revolving turnover of soldiers. He needed strong ones, survivors, men who were going to live long enough to become truly skilled and powerful. And Nike had already proven herself to be one of them. One of those he needed in his fighting force. Keeping her would just take a few concessions and the overcoming of a few obstacles. And Vangelis had never been one to shirk a little extra work if it meant making his army, and by extension his kingdom, strong.
Turning her back on the female soldier and heading back through the trees, Vangelis took only a moment to be assured of his decision to keep her around. He was decisive man by nature and once Vangelis had made a choice, he owned it, breathed it, was in no way likely to break it. So, in the confidence he always had with regards to his decisions, he pushed the matter of his female Captain to the back of his mind and focused on the tasks for the day ahead...
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On her first attempt, Nike's balance was off and she stumbled her landing. This lost her precious moments in which Vangelis was still running forwards, meaning that the swing of her pseudo-sword went wide and missed his legs. The attack was a failure but her avoidance of a possible strike that he didn't administer was good and would have probably kept her out of harm’s way.
When he reached the opposite side of the clearing he turned on his heel and, without giving her time to pause or catch her breath simply stated - "Again." - and charged back towards her again.
For the next two hours the pair ran back and forth, leaping and diving. Sometimes Vangelis would allow Nike to strike, sometimes he would duck. He tried to keep it random so that she always had to think on her feet as she moved and, while she never managed to openly strike him hard enough to knock him out, or managed to hit his legs with her stick, he watched as she gradually improved in other areas. Her leaps became higher, and with the practice in her legs muscles, she was faster at pushing herself airborne and reaching the height needed to strike. Her landings were becoming steadier and she was losing less time gathering her balance or dealing with any dust in her eyes. Her centre of gravity would also be naturally shifting as she practised the technique over and over and this would help her strikes. The lower her centre of gravity, the more of her body she placed behind her over-head punch and the more force she would eventually be lending to her attack.
By the time they paused in their exercises, the sun had fully risen and they could hear the rest of the troops rising with the dawn. Nike looked out of breath but Vangelis simply breathed deeply and shook out his shoulders from the morning exercise.
"You're getting better." He told her honestly, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. "You're to practice. A hundred running leaps - as high and as far as you can get them. It'll strengthen your legs. And a hundred overhead punches. You need to train your upper arm to strike faster in that direction, it's a new motion for the muscles." He didn't care how she did this last one, striking a pillow or the trunk of a tree, whatever allowed her to make the same arch with her arm that they had been practising would do the job. "I want them done before dusk tonight." He told her, giving her no leniency or allowance out of her normal daily responsibilities. "We'll train again tomorrow morning."
And when she had mastered this technique, they would move onto another, and another. Because Vangelis had been impressed with Nike of Acaris before he had known her gender. He had known that she was a good soldier - had known that others in his military knew it too. And this morning, she had taken on the training without complaint and without whining. She had proven her desire to be a part of the military and her loyalty to both him and the Colchian crown. And while there were many who could claim the same within his armies - especially within his personal unit - there were always twice as many who couldn't. And those were the men who normally ended up very dead, very quickly. And Vangelis couldn't afford an ever-revolving turnover of soldiers. He needed strong ones, survivors, men who were going to live long enough to become truly skilled and powerful. And Nike had already proven herself to be one of them. One of those he needed in his fighting force. Keeping her would just take a few concessions and the overcoming of a few obstacles. And Vangelis had never been one to shirk a little extra work if it meant making his army, and by extension his kingdom, strong.
Turning her back on the female soldier and heading back through the trees, Vangelis took only a moment to be assured of his decision to keep her around. He was decisive man by nature and once Vangelis had made a choice, he owned it, breathed it, was in no way likely to break it. So, in the confidence he always had with regards to his decisions, he pushed the matter of his female Captain to the back of his mind and focused on the tasks for the day ahead...
On her first attempt, Nike's balance was off and she stumbled her landing. This lost her precious moments in which Vangelis was still running forwards, meaning that the swing of her pseudo-sword went wide and missed his legs. The attack was a failure but her avoidance of a possible strike that he didn't administer was good and would have probably kept her out of harm’s way.
When he reached the opposite side of the clearing he turned on his heel and, without giving her time to pause or catch her breath simply stated - "Again." - and charged back towards her again.
For the next two hours the pair ran back and forth, leaping and diving. Sometimes Vangelis would allow Nike to strike, sometimes he would duck. He tried to keep it random so that she always had to think on her feet as she moved and, while she never managed to openly strike him hard enough to knock him out, or managed to hit his legs with her stick, he watched as she gradually improved in other areas. Her leaps became higher, and with the practice in her legs muscles, she was faster at pushing herself airborne and reaching the height needed to strike. Her landings were becoming steadier and she was losing less time gathering her balance or dealing with any dust in her eyes. Her centre of gravity would also be naturally shifting as she practised the technique over and over and this would help her strikes. The lower her centre of gravity, the more of her body she placed behind her over-head punch and the more force she would eventually be lending to her attack.
By the time they paused in their exercises, the sun had fully risen and they could hear the rest of the troops rising with the dawn. Nike looked out of breath but Vangelis simply breathed deeply and shook out his shoulders from the morning exercise.
"You're getting better." He told her honestly, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. "You're to practice. A hundred running leaps - as high and as far as you can get them. It'll strengthen your legs. And a hundred overhead punches. You need to train your upper arm to strike faster in that direction, it's a new motion for the muscles." He didn't care how she did this last one, striking a pillow or the trunk of a tree, whatever allowed her to make the same arch with her arm that they had been practising would do the job. "I want them done before dusk tonight." He told her, giving her no leniency or allowance out of her normal daily responsibilities. "We'll train again tomorrow morning."
And when she had mastered this technique, they would move onto another, and another. Because Vangelis had been impressed with Nike of Acaris before he had known her gender. He had known that she was a good soldier - had known that others in his military knew it too. And this morning, she had taken on the training without complaint and without whining. She had proven her desire to be a part of the military and her loyalty to both him and the Colchian crown. And while there were many who could claim the same within his armies - especially within his personal unit - there were always twice as many who couldn't. And those were the men who normally ended up very dead, very quickly. And Vangelis couldn't afford an ever-revolving turnover of soldiers. He needed strong ones, survivors, men who were going to live long enough to become truly skilled and powerful. And Nike had already proven herself to be one of them. One of those he needed in his fighting force. Keeping her would just take a few concessions and the overcoming of a few obstacles. And Vangelis had never been one to shirk a little extra work if it meant making his army, and by extension his kingdom, strong.
Turning her back on the female soldier and heading back through the trees, Vangelis took only a moment to be assured of his decision to keep her around. He was decisive man by nature and once Vangelis had made a choice, he owned it, breathed it, was in no way likely to break it. So, in the confidence he always had with regards to his decisions, he pushed the matter of his female Captain to the back of his mind and focused on the tasks for the day ahead...
General Vangelis was no easy taskmaster - but it wasn't as if Nike entered this training session thinking things were going to be a bed of roses. He was known to be strict, yet his words held a wealth of experience and innate knowledge, the kind of which Nike yearned to learn. Now that she was given a chance, the girl was not backing down easily, not even if you paid her handsome coin to do so.
She did it as many times as Vangelis asked her to do - over and over again for two hours, and by the end of it, the young captain was so out of breathe, she could only pant, her calf muscles sore. It wasn't as if Nike was a star student, in all honesty. She knew she had plenty to improve on - the first being the plain fact that she had loads of muscles to build, all in different areas. The few times Nike had managed to actually to hit her target, the general immediately made it a notch more intense for her, and she struggled to keep up.
Yet the female never once complained. She had never been one to whine. Raised on hard work ever since she ran away from Taengea, Nike knew better. Barely noticing that the sun had rose, it wasn't till Vangelis spoke as he gave her instructions, that she noticed the glint of sunlight, and the sounds of the camp getting up and ready for the day began seeping through her consciousness, reminding her that her comrade's day had barely begun.
Taking mental note, she nodded, her mind quickly working out to do the overtime practices just before lunch and dinner break. Never mind that her calf muscles were already sore, and she had to do her chores and go through the daily training before taking her guard duty that evening - she'll find a way.
Hard work was no deterrent for Nike of Acaris, she was no stranger to it. If there was anything she'd pride herself on, it was her ability to continuously do well, and her capability to push herself to achieve things others would jeer at her for even dreaming of. The only thing that stopped her had been her gender - and now that she's stripped that away, Nike was unafraid to take on the world, as long as she had the chance.
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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General Vangelis was no easy taskmaster - but it wasn't as if Nike entered this training session thinking things were going to be a bed of roses. He was known to be strict, yet his words held a wealth of experience and innate knowledge, the kind of which Nike yearned to learn. Now that she was given a chance, the girl was not backing down easily, not even if you paid her handsome coin to do so.
She did it as many times as Vangelis asked her to do - over and over again for two hours, and by the end of it, the young captain was so out of breathe, she could only pant, her calf muscles sore. It wasn't as if Nike was a star student, in all honesty. She knew she had plenty to improve on - the first being the plain fact that she had loads of muscles to build, all in different areas. The few times Nike had managed to actually to hit her target, the general immediately made it a notch more intense for her, and she struggled to keep up.
Yet the female never once complained. She had never been one to whine. Raised on hard work ever since she ran away from Taengea, Nike knew better. Barely noticing that the sun had rose, it wasn't till Vangelis spoke as he gave her instructions, that she noticed the glint of sunlight, and the sounds of the camp getting up and ready for the day began seeping through her consciousness, reminding her that her comrade's day had barely begun.
Taking mental note, she nodded, her mind quickly working out to do the overtime practices just before lunch and dinner break. Never mind that her calf muscles were already sore, and she had to do her chores and go through the daily training before taking her guard duty that evening - she'll find a way.
Hard work was no deterrent for Nike of Acaris, she was no stranger to it. If there was anything she'd pride herself on, it was her ability to continuously do well, and her capability to push herself to achieve things others would jeer at her for even dreaming of. The only thing that stopped her had been her gender - and now that she's stripped that away, Nike was unafraid to take on the world, as long as she had the chance.
General Vangelis was no easy taskmaster - but it wasn't as if Nike entered this training session thinking things were going to be a bed of roses. He was known to be strict, yet his words held a wealth of experience and innate knowledge, the kind of which Nike yearned to learn. Now that she was given a chance, the girl was not backing down easily, not even if you paid her handsome coin to do so.
She did it as many times as Vangelis asked her to do - over and over again for two hours, and by the end of it, the young captain was so out of breathe, she could only pant, her calf muscles sore. It wasn't as if Nike was a star student, in all honesty. She knew she had plenty to improve on - the first being the plain fact that she had loads of muscles to build, all in different areas. The few times Nike had managed to actually to hit her target, the general immediately made it a notch more intense for her, and she struggled to keep up.
Yet the female never once complained. She had never been one to whine. Raised on hard work ever since she ran away from Taengea, Nike knew better. Barely noticing that the sun had rose, it wasn't till Vangelis spoke as he gave her instructions, that she noticed the glint of sunlight, and the sounds of the camp getting up and ready for the day began seeping through her consciousness, reminding her that her comrade's day had barely begun.
Taking mental note, she nodded, her mind quickly working out to do the overtime practices just before lunch and dinner break. Never mind that her calf muscles were already sore, and she had to do her chores and go through the daily training before taking her guard duty that evening - she'll find a way.
Hard work was no deterrent for Nike of Acaris, she was no stranger to it. If there was anything she'd pride herself on, it was her ability to continuously do well, and her capability to push herself to achieve things others would jeer at her for even dreaming of. The only thing that stopped her had been her gender - and now that she's stripped that away, Nike was unafraid to take on the world, as long as she had the chance.
