Beginning with the Basics, Open

[Oversoul]

After several months of acting as an instructor at Skygate Institute, the directors had finally managed to fit a basic weapons training class into his schedule although, as he understood it, it was not his schedule which had proved to be the most troublesome, but rather the full schedules of the students they wished to have take the course. For his part, Domerin had been perfectly content to wait. He wasn't all that thrilled about the idea of teaching a beginner's course in the first place. Thus far he had been doing mostly one-on-one sessions with the students who were ready for more advanced techniques. In his opinion, it was just easier to teach this kind of thing while you could demonstrate on the person trying to learn and hope that eventually they would pick it up for themselves. He'd had a great deal of success thus far.

But it was different with beginners. If he was going to be teaching people who had no clue what they were doing, he was going to have to try to instill some sort of clue into them before he could start sparring with them. It wasn't that he didn't have a good enough grasp of the basics to impart them to others. It was just the opposite - it was second nature to him and he had never tried to build someone's skill in this particular area from the ground up. The night before the first lesson he had pushed his mind back across the years of his life and recalled his teachers, the ones who had instilled the very groundwork on which his entire repertoire had been built. He'd had some very good teachers. He only hoped he could display the proper mix of understanding patience and stern rigidity that his teachers had used with him.

Domerin specifically allowed all of his students to arrive before he entered the room. He had hidden himself in an out of the way place in a room across the hall and watched each and every one of them as they entered the room, silently sizing them up, trying to determine what he thought they might need in order to learn best from him. Not all students responded to the same methods for teaching this sort of thing and if he was going to be responsible for this particular aspect of their education he felt he had to get through to each and every one of them. Otherwise he would be failing someone and sending them onto the battlefield unprepared for what they would meet there... that wasn't something he was willing to accept.

When everyone had arrived, Domerin kept them waiting a few minutes. Just long enough for them to get nervous. Then he tromped across the hallway, allowed the door to fall shut in his wake and strode to the front of the room with a distinctly emotionless look on his face. Standing before them he gave each and every one of them a once over with his eyes before he finally stood back and said, "For those of you who don't know me, my name is Domerin Lorcasf. I have five black belts in various forms of martial arts, and I am an expert in Eskrima, which is what I'm going to be attempting to teach you over the next few weeks and months."

Having finished with the introductions, and feeling he need not say anymore on the subject of himself, Domerin turned to a rack of weapons which lined one side of the room and picked one up after considering the rack for only about three seconds. It was a long sword which appeared to have a slight curve. The sheath and hilt were plain black, barely decorated at all. He slid the blade free of the sheath and considered it for a moment before his eyes fell squarely on one of his students.

"Kuro, you're from Japan," he announced, "why don't you tell the rest of your students what this is." He nodded at the blade he now held.

[Shiv]

For Sean Brody, "basic weapons training" would be a decidedly new thing. Sort of. He'd never physically done it, sure, but he'd seen it done, and that gave him more of an edge than most other people. Of course, the fact that he'd seen it done in movies probably didn't help overly much, but still... it was a start. Fitting this into his schedule was fairly easy, considering he was quite possibly one of the least busy people at the Institute. He wasn't about to complain, but being handed a bunch of text books and then taking oral exams in a room where he couldn't see anything was getting a little on the repetitive side. But, whatever. It wasn't like there were all kinds of other universities just awaiting the arrival of someone who remembered everything, nor were there other universities out there with access to the kinds of facilities offered here, much as he could have done without a number of them.

He was garbed in what he considered to be "training gear"; a pair of shorts and an old, faded Dropkick Murphys t-shirt that he'd found at a garage sale. He wandered into the room that he had been told the training was at and, seeing that not only was he among the first to be there, but the instructor wasn't even there, he immediately started to worry. He didn't start freaking out about it, of course. He didn't do that... he was more internal, after all. In his mind, though, he was panicking. Had he missed it? If he missed it, would there be a chance to catch up? He checked his watch, which told him that he hadn't missed it. Unless it was like daylight savings or something. Was it daylight savings or something? This was going to end poorly. He was sure of that now.

[Raiden]

Theoretically, Kuro shouldn't have been there for Major Lorcasf's weapon training class. He had been trained in the use and care of several weapons by his family, and although he hardly excelled in those lessons, he at least had some knowledge and practical skill. Not to mention the fact that he never felt the need to use weapons, with his hand-to-hand combat skills more than enough to do the trick in most situations where he was forced to fight. Punches and kicks weren't enough to prevent Doctor de Castillo from being abducted by an ascendant who was physically stronger than any human could or should be while under his protection, however. Likewise, when it came to taking on the huge spider-mech in Moldavia, all he could do was run.

After those two incidents, it had become increasingly apparent to the teenager that he was outclassed against the people and weapons he was expected to fight as a member of Gamma Strike. It was that realisation that brought him here today. He needed a change in strategy, or at the very least, in outlook; and he felt that Domerin Lorcasf could help him find that. After all, he was neither abominably strong nor incredibly durable, and yet he'd dealt with foes that dwarfed him in terms of physical capability for almost as long as Kuro had been alive.

Kuro had been lost in thought when Domerin addressed him, and hesitated to answer for a moment as he tried to recall what the man had just asked him. "Uh... that's contraband."

[Oversoul]

Though their instructor claimed to be an accomplished martial artist, he was not dressed like one. He was wearing a pair of very old, very worn jeans, which hugged close to his legs but were broken in enough that they did not impede his movement. It was quite amazing that they were not riddled with holes, though the base of both legs were quite frayed. He was wearing a faded black tank top shirt and over top of it a loose, button down shirt which was unbuttoned, but not so long or loose that it would get in the way of his movements either. He was wearing an odd pair of shoes that looked more like slippers but had a solid enough sole to protect the bottoms of his feet. His long midnight hair had been bound at the base of his neck to keep it out of his face, but that hadn't seemed to stop his unruly black bangs from flowing in front of his eyes.

If he had yet noticed Sean Brody's impending sense of doom, he didn't give any indication of it. That could have been because his eyes were mostly focused on Kuro during those first few minutes. There was a genuine look of exasperation on his face at Kuro's response. Did that boy even possess an attention span of more than two seconds? When the young man had finished speaking, their instructor actually lifted one hand free of the weapon he held and used it to slap his own forehead.

"Neither the answer I was looking for nor correct." Domerin declared as he removed his hand from his forehead and drew the sword free of it's sheath. The blade glinted in the bright light of the small training room. It was obvious both that the blade was extremely well made and very well kept. He swung it once through the air, the movement obviously easy for him as though the blade was an extension of his arm. The blade made a whistling sound as it cut through the air.

"This is a Katana, one of the best weapons ever made - yes even more finely crafted than a gun - and by far the most superior sword ever invented. The Japanese have spent so many years perfecting the art of forging Katana that authentic blades, forged in Japan, are considered national treasures and aren't permitted to leave the country. Yes - this is a genuine blade. No - it is not contraband." He gave Kuro a significant look. "You're looking at the first genuine Katana to be allowed to leave the country since the law was made. It was a gift." If Kuro hadn't lived under a rock for most of his life, he probably would have read about the katana which had been a gift to Oversoul from the country of Japan a few years before. It had been very big news at the time.

He brought the sword around one more time and then fell into a ready stance, indicating with his free hand that the students should move to one side. On the other side of the room a tatami mat had been placed upright. It only took one glance to see that the mat was fairly thick. "Watch carefully." Domerin ordered and he swept forward as soon as the way was clear. He swung the sword with three swift, sure strokes. Three pieces of the mat fell, each cut at a different angle, leaving only a stubby piece of the mat standing upright. When he was finished, Domerin put the katana back into it's sheath and turned back to his students. "When I'm finished with you, that is what you will be able to do to a human body."

There was something for them to contemplate anyway. "But you aren't ready for real weapons yet." He pointed to a second weapons rack along one wall. This one held only wooden sticks. "Each of you help yourselves to one of those and we'll get started with the basic positions."

[Quentin T. Wright, III]

Enter the Speedester. He, like all other Skygate students with a class in combat, made his way to the room. Only, he took an 1/8 of minute to reach it. And still was late?? Wait, no....seems rather something was going on. He shuffle in, wearing a blue short sleeve, and loose fit denims, shades clipped to his collar, sneakers on feet. Entering the room, he would first notice the commotion as students created a murmur. Hmph. Time to choose a seat....

As fate had it, he sat by the male who eventually ended up being called on. This made Quentin squirm, as he hated pop quizzes....though, he had a secret desire, and would do anything to see it come true! Even endure this...class! Those in the room would miss the glimpse of his power; yet, the spying male would get an eyeful as Quentin seem to materialize near the door, amid a small gust of wind. Inside, during the clamor, the hyperactive Q eventually turns to Raiden.

".....Think he's sick?" He interjects matter-of-factly. "Do we get credit for if he's absent...?" The answer would never come, if one existed, as the instructor barged in, and somehow Q's mouth got dry. "....Aw, man....that guy look's like Shredder..." Meaning his face, and not his garb. Tag was sure to sure to keep that below hearing levels. And, then class begun.

He sat up, taking note of what was said. Combat training. Like...kung fu....and stuff? Or...Eskimo, or whatever the Prof called it... Which made him wonder. Speeders had a habit of acting before thinking. When the demo ended-which was wicked by the way!-and he saw the wooden swords for them, he complained a bit too loud while holding his. "....Aww.... This is like learning to fence with a Spork..." The instructor wasn't exactly out of earshot, yet he wasn't intended to be insubbordinate.

He glanced around, and catches his gaze for a moment, as [Shiv] was not so far from him in the mass of sudents.. "....Yea, really become an expert with these..." Pokes the air.

[Shiv]

"The Shredder's scars are parallel," Sean said quietly in response to the new guy's observation. "But only in the movies." Truly, he was a wealth of information. And most of it was useless. After all, most of the information presented in the world was pretty useless, so that was most of the stuff he got in his brain. One of the things that he though might be useful that he had gotten into his brain, however, stuff about katanas. Because, when he was a teenager, like every other teenage boy, he thought samurai were cool. So he got a big book on them and read it. And, like every other thing he'd read since he was fourteen, he remembered every word of it exactly. So, as Domerin went on about the katana and its history and stuff, Sean just sat there and nodded, looking for all the world as though he knew exactly what the man was talking about. Mostly because he did.

When Domerin indicated that they should move, Sean was more than happy to oblige. After all, a man wandering around with a real (and probably sharp) sword wasn't really all that safe to be standing near. And when the Major went through his demonstration, the young man was happy he had moved. Because he most certainly didn't want to get all chopped up. That wouldn't be fun at all. He continued to not really say anything, though, until they were sent to get their 'weapons'. When he picked one up, he looked over at Quentin once again. "Actually, athletic fencing is done with blunted weapons, so this isn't all that different from that. And Samurai trained with wooden swords." That said, he looked over at Domerin again. "Uh, Major," he'd heard someone call him that at some point, and he figured it would be the proper from of address, "If you're as good as you are with swords and stuff, why do you use guns? I'm not trying to tell you to do your job or anything... just wondering..." He had to make sure he wasn't going to get in crap for saying that stuff, after all.

[Quentin T. Wright, III]

/.....Oh./ No way he could argue with that. Especially since he totally forgot how the Shredder's face looked PERIOD. However, this guy next to him seemed to have a thing for the Turtles, or something. Q didn't judge the poor bastard; at one time, he was crazy for the lil' green Turtle pies with the creme filling. Heck, he may even enjoy one now if one passed his way. For now, he was left with the company of this Sean fellow. And his amazing memory. To which Q was unaware of.

When Sean regaled Q with another stream of trivia, he began to wonder. Samurais, and fencing.... He was gonna take this guy on Jeopardy. "....Uh... Yea..." Bested once more by the human answer box, Quentin was left to ponder his mistake as Sean quizzed the Prof. Q awaited his reply along with everyone else. He leans in to Sean, but not obviously so, after his speech, and before the Prof had time to reply. "....Nice one, dude..." Did you really ask personal questions to the man with the sword?

How would this affect to following \lesson\

[Raiden]

One silver-hued eyebrow twitched over Kuro's left eye at Domerin's response to his answer. What else was he supposed to say? Even being the 01 fanboy he was, he'd never heard of such an event as the government gifting a genuine katana to Oversoul, so as far as he knew the old adage applied: ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer. All the same, though, the idea of Oversoul running around, kicking ass with a real samurai sword was freaking awesome. The teenager paid close attention to Domerin's lesson, although, like Sean, he already knew most of what was being said. His ultra-traditional parents had mercilessly drilled Japanese history into him since the time he could speak, and his country's most recognizable national treasure featured heavily in more than one of these lessons.

Kuro issued a low whistle at Domerin's demonstration. That wasn't exactly new to him either, but the point wasn't to show off something they had never seen before - it was to show precision, technique, and the right application of strength, which Domerin demonstrated in spades. Eager to get started, Kuro moved over to the weapon rack and picked out a practice sword from the ones displayed there. "Who's Shredder?" he asked the other two students when he returned to the mats, cradling his weapon casually in the crook of his right shoulder. "...and what's a spork?"

[Oversoul]

Domerin rolled his eyes as his order that they arm themselves with the practice weapons seemed to have been a cue to his students to cut loose with endless, useless chatter. He didn't mind if they wanted to hold some form of conversation when he wasn't trying to beat instruction into their heads, but if they didn't cut it out once he called things to order he was going to start cracking skulls... literally. It was hard to pick out of the chatter what was actually pertinent, since he didn't really care about 'the Shredder' and didn't really see what he had to do with this whole situation. One thing was abundantly clear, however; at least one of his students had failed to see the point in his demonstration.

Crossing the room, Domerin carefully laid the katana away on the rack from which he had retrieved it and made a mental note to take it with him when he left. It was a valuable enough piece of equipment that he didn't want to leave it laying around where it could be damaged or stolen... not that he thought anyone would be stupid enough to try to steal something like that from him. He was waiting back at the head of the class when his students had retrieved their weapons and it appeared as though he had taken up one of the wooden sticks himself. He cleared his throat, the gesture meant to call the class back to order.

"The reason why we train with wooden weapons is so that that," and he pointed back over their shoulder in the direction of the mat he had neatly sliced into four pieces, "doesn't happen to yourself or your practice partner. The only way to learn how to use a weapon is to use it. You can't learn it from reading books. You can lean about the process, you can learn about the techniques, positions, and 'moves', if you must, but you can never gain the expertise until you hold the weapon in your hands, learn how it feels, learn what it can do until the movements become second nature to you - like breathing."

He twirled the practice stick in his hands and brought it around into a ready position. The action seemed almost idle. It obviously didn't take a great deal of thought or concentration on his part to move the weighted stick that way. His eyes fell on Sean and it was hard to read what was in his expression in that moment. He didn't seem upset by the question, in fact he was rather impressed. It was actually a very good question. But before he offered an answer he announced, "Domerin will suffice. Unless you're in the military, there's no need for you all to start throwing around my rank." Not to mention he still wasn't all that comfortable with being called 'Major'. It would take some time before he adjusted to new rank himself. He still thought people were talking to Greg whenever they started calling for a Major.

"There are alot of reasons why I still use guns despite my expertise with swords. One reason is that swords just aren't as practical any more as they used to be. You try to take on a gunman with nothing but a sword and your success may be somewhat limited. There's a time and a place for every weapon. Knowing the time and place to use any given weapon is just as important as knowing how to use the weapon. You would base this decision on any number of things - your proximity to the enemy, the terrain, and of course the abilities of your opponent. Take Legion, for example. If you were to ever have to face him in a one on one battle, you would not want to be using a gun, since they can't get through his 'shell'. You wouldn't necessarily want to use your fists either, since he's damn good at hand-to-hand combat. But if you can slice deep enough, a blade will still do him some damage. So you can see why it's important to be versatile.

"Now," the change in his tone and demeanor was enough to indicate that the time for talking was over and the time for learning had begun. "the first thing you need is a strong defensive stance." And he demonstrated by falling into one himself, nodding to his students to indicate they should imitate. "We will begin by learning stances and positions. When you've memorized them all, we will start to put things together." Apparently the fact that the first part of their education was bound to be quite boring wasn't going to earn them any mercy from their instructor.

[Quentin T. Wright, III]

/That wasn't so far from the truth/ Quentin had missed the point, but wouldn't miss the show, rest assured. The spirited speedster joined Skygate amid a formidable sense that something awesome awaits him here. What, he knows not, but he'd would endure and ascend over anything. Including weapons training. When the Prof spoke, addressing Sean's query, Quentin was among those who listened.

...This dude's for real...! That was good, at least. This wasn't the sort of place that allowed slacking or slackers. So....that meant it was the real deal, right? And this guy? With the scars? Was a true warrior...? Suddenly, Quentin felt dwarfed, but at the same time eager...to see what this dude knew, and was gonna teach them. Right then, the dialog of their instructor shifted subject matter, and they were getting down to the nitty-gritty. Q looks around at his peers, namely Sean, but he glances to Kuro, unable to answer him fast enough; they all shift postures to match the instructors. Quentin does likewise.

Mostly used to the advantages of being faster than his opponents, the slow, methodical nature of the impending lessons would challenge mind, body, and will as he was not, by nature nor Ascendancy, a patient fellow. Yet one more thing the Speeder had to learn. The stance taken wasn't exact, naturally. It rather mirrored his state of mind; he assumed it quickly, and just as quickly, assumed he assumed it correctly. He hadn't, and thus his left was two inches off, and his right was in a potentially imbalanced position. \All in all, a novice's swordsmanship\

[Shiv]

"The Shredder was the villain from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles," Sean said in response to Kuro's question. "He had armor with all kinds of blades on it, which is why he was called The Shredder. In the movies, he had scars on his face, from where a rat had scratched him." He considered going into detail on the rat, as well as the entire backstory of the Ninja Turtles... as far as he knew it, at least... but decided against it. They WERE hear to learn, after all, and he wasn't the instructor. He did, however, answer Kuro's other question. "A spork is like a spoon and a fork at the same time."

Even with his memory as it was, Sean still had some trouble believing some of the things that came out of his mouth. Such was the state of things when he asked Domerin about the gun thing. It was such a terrible thing to ask someone like him. Especially when he was holding a sword. He looked a little more than mildly upset with himself when Domerin acknowledged the fact that Sean had, indeed, opened his mouth and let things come out of it. The fact that he was being reprimanded (in his mind at least) for calling him "Major" didn't help any. He relaxed visibly, however, when he realised that Domerin wasn't going to sword him. He was still recovering from the shock of this fact, though, so all he could do was nod mutely in response. As Domerin demonstrated the stance, Sean assumed it himself, looking down at his feet to make sure that he was assuming it correctly. He looked at his instructor after assuming the stance only once, and then only for a few seconds, but he seemed to be able to take the position rather well, for a beginner. Maybe having a memory like his could help in the whole fighting thing, after all.

[Raiden]

If the first stages of Domerin's weapon usage lessons were going to be boring for Sean and Quentin, they were bound to be doubly so for Kuro. This wasn't the first time someone had trained him - tried to train him - in weapon-based close-quarters combat, after all. His inability to complete that training wasn't due to some kind of fundamental incompetence on his part, just an inability to meet his last instructor's lofty standards. Stances, tactics, and basic moves were all something he was comfortable with from both an academic and a practical standpoint. He just never got to the stage where he would learn something actually useful in a real combat situation, because his training was cut short when he failed to win the prefecture kendo championship.

All the same, though, he recognized why it was necessary for their instructor to start their lessons at the beginning. Nevermind that the others, he assumed at least, didn't have the same experience, the basics laid the foundation for everything about weapon combat that he would learn and use in the future. Besides, what could a refresher course hurt? Therefore, without a word of complaint or an outward hint of impatience, Kuro deftly fell into the same stance as Domerin, if not with the same practiced ease as someone who had done this a thousand times, certainly with that of someone who had done it at least hundreds.

[Oversoul]

Tag was unaware of just how much of 'the real deal' his teacher was. He was probably unaware of the fact that his instructor was, in fact, the famous Oversoul, one of the original full time members of the elite ascendant response team 01, about whom every child was well lectured in high school these days. It would have been impossible to match his face, of course, because the lower half of Oversoul's face had always been covered by a mask - largely to hide the cross shaped scar which made Domerin Lorcasf very easy to identify. In fact Domerin had long ago lost track of which of the students knew that particular secret, and which ones didn't, but he had never been in the habit of letting that particular secret slip into every day conversation, so it was likely to go unmentioned unless one of the students who did know happened to slip. The other thing that any of his students were unlikely to realize, was that Domerin had far more scars than just the ones on his face. But today, like always, they were well concealed beneath his clothing.

Major Domerin Lorcasf was not an unreasonable man... nor did he intend to be an unreasonable instructor. He knew that no one picked up a wooden practice sword and did everything right the first time. He knew the amount of patience, hard work and frustration that went into mastering these kinds of skills. He might demand hard work and dedication from his students, but he didn't expect them to master the skills he was teaching over night. That wasn't going to make him go easy on them - he was trying to prepare them for real life combat situations here - but they weren't going to find themselves running laps if their stances were a little off.

When Domerin was satisfied that he had demonstrated the stance well enough, he took a look at each of his students while they held the stance, weaving his way carefully around them and gently pointing out to each what was wrong with their stance and why it was important to correct it. Sometimes he allowed them to correct themselves, and sometimes he would gently adjust the position of their arm, or gently nudge their foot with his until he was satisfied that they were in the best position.

He stopped short when he came to Kuro, however, and could find no flaw in the stance he had taken. Certainly it was odd to encounter someone who could fall so easily into this kind of stance in a class for those who were supposed to be learning them, but he said nothing just yet, a small inkling beginning to form in his mind. He nodded and said, "Good, Kuro. That's perfect." And made his way back to the front of the class. By that point, arms and legs were bound to be aching from maintaining unfamiliar positions. Domerin wasn't going to give his students a chance to rest, however.

"Alright everyone, I want you to try to remember what this position feels like as well as what it looks like. Get comfortable in it. If anyone's unsure, take a look at Kuro," he nodded in the white haired youth's direction. "He seems to have it down pretty well."

Before Kuro had a chance to get too embarrassed, however, Domerin moved on. He fell back into the stance at the front of the class with practiced ease. "Alright pay attention. We're going to start with basic strikes. Pay attention to where the stick starts it's journey and where it ends. I'm going to give each one a number. Try to remember. When we start drilling, I expect you to be able to perform each strike when I call out it's number. This is one." And he demonstrated a simple strike which began with the sword above his head and which traveled down in a swift arc with the sword ending up at his left hand side. He demonstrated the strike several times, both facing the class and facing in the same direction they were so that they could see the strike from both angles.

Then, much as he had done with their stances, he traveled among his students while they performed the strike, artfully dodging those sticks which were swung in the wrong direction and gently correcting much as he had the first time. Again he cautioned them to remember the feeling of the movement of the blade when the strike was done correctly and then moved on to the next position. The lesson continued much like that until the number of strikes they had learned reached ten. By that time Domerin had a strong suspicion that this wasn't Kuro's first time learning this particular lesson, and he couldn't help but wonder how the young man had ended up in this class if he already knew all of this. But that was a question he would save for later.

By the time he had corrected their tenth strike, Domerin was well aware that most of his students were likely tired. Some of them may have had ascendancies that allowed them the energy and endurance to continue far beyond normal people, but Domerin was well aware that that was not the case for all of them, and finally he motioned for them to give their aching muscles a rest. Crossing his arms over his chest he regarded each of his students in turn, a wicked sort of grin tugging at his lips. "Alright kids. Now that we've gone through all of that... who remembers number one?"

[Quentin T. Wright, III]

/Oh, yea/ This guy TRULY had the Shredder'ness down pact. But Quentin would NOT utter that aloud! But, with the mask and scars...and Kung Fu [lol], Yo dude was set to dine on turtle soup! Aaaah, the 80's! But, that was then, and now was now.

Q was not chastised for his novice status [though would running laps really have hurt him? lol], yet it did garnish him Oversoul's attention when the man made his rounds, and would note Q's shaky stance, and the incorrect position he used to branish the wooden sword. No, he was not like the other two who were fortunate enough to possess a super memory [while Q could speed-read and 'learn' all this, he would forget it in hours, lacking a superhuman intellect] or, simply learned all this from previous training. Nope, Q was Green. And, was confined to learning this all the old fashioned way. By learning it! [not that his classmates would acquire his envy!]

Q, being right beside Kuro, heard the compliment, and when Oversoul walked back towards the front of the class, Q leans in unnoticably, and whispers. "...You know this stuff...?" Though before he could be caught [unless Oversoul was just that damn good], he was back to his prior stance. Then came a speech from the teach, and a series of demonstrations. Q followed suit, like the rest presumably, making swipes and slashes, which perhaps gained him a bit more of Oversoul's attention; there were indeed a few corrections to be made in Q's 'swordstyle'.

Oh, yes, his muscles were getting tired, and taut, having had to use many he hadn't before, and was now painfully aware of their existance. Thankfully, after the tenth set of these movements, he and the class were allowed to stop, and he huffed and puffed; Oversoul would maybe want to rub his eyes. He would swear he saw three Quentin's as the youth bent at the waist with each labored breathe... Which would raise a eye brow or so as to his Ascendency. Sometime later, the instructor would ask the class for a review, and guess whose hand was up before everyone elses? The person who could raise it the fastest, of course. Should he have raised it? He never stopped to ask that, being a rather eager beaver.

"Yo! I do, Prof!" 'Prof'? Yea, calling your instructor 'Prof' probably wasn't the best thing to do. "It's like this!" So happy to demonstrate, he raises the wooden sword in much the same fashion as Oversoul had instructed them to do, noting that Q used the correct positioning and such, before bringing it down quickly in a slash....but perhaps a bit too quickly. The whole thing was a blur; he being ever so used to his own speed, yet a novice swordman, he loses his grip on the hilt, and the darn thing takes flight, heading towards but not directly AT Oversoul, smacking into the wall behind him, thudding to the ground.

As for poor old Quentin...well.....what DID get you laps around here? Please, oh, PLEASE, not flinging your weapon across the room like a goober! "Ah...! It, uh... slipped?" Sheepish gaze falls on Oversoul, more than expected a reprisal. ".....My bad?" \Nice move, Q...\

[Shiv]

Domerin's correction of Sean would be greeted with him repositioning himself as directed and mumbling "Yes, sir" a few times. He knew that the guy didn't like to be called Major, but he hadn't said anything about being called sir, and Sean wasn't completely certain as to the man's rules regarding forms of address. And so, he adopted position was adopted... not quite perfectly, but as good as could be expected at that point. He couldn't help but smirk slgihtly to himself when Domerin told them to remember that position. That wouldn't be too difficult for him, after all.

The strikes, however, proved to be somewhat more taxing. He was one off those people that did not possess any sort of Ascendancy that allowed him to go on forever. In fact, he really couldn't go on for very long at all. He wasn't a particularly physical young man, after all. When their instructor has finished going through all ten, Sean looked as though he was ready to pass out. Breathing heavily and sweating profusely, he leaned forward with his hands on his knees. When Domerin asked who remembered the first one, he groaned quietly, being fairly certain that he'd be called out pretty quickly for lying around here if he said he didn't remember something. Resigned, he stood, but was apparently beaten to the punch by Quentin. He wasn't bothered by this, of course, though his mouth did hang agape when the wooden sword flew across the room. "Nice move," he murmured, as if echoing the other guy's thoughts, when he regained his composure.