thecapitol | (no subject)

Who| Maximus and YOU, OPEN for Mingling - All District 3 will be 'Asked' to attend, but everyone else is welcome
What| Come get Combat Training from the Cyborg Gladiator
Where| The Training Center
When| Two days after the Motorcycle Races
Warnings/Notes| Nothing so far! Maybe violence, but nothing with gore since it's just training weapons.

Maximus was a regular in the training center, but today was different. Today he had set up a good portion of the hall exactly as he wanted it - a large training mat (one of the better inventions in the last few millenia), a large rack of swords, shields, and spears. He couldn't find pilla, but spears would do well enough. The day before, he'd gone around to each of the rooms in district 3 and told them to report to the training center the next day, or face consequences. He also, however, asked Wyatt to attend, and mentioned it to anyone else he thought could use some training.

It didn't really matter who showed up, he would treat them all the same.

It took more than a day to make a soldier, but perhaps at least he could begin to get some of the tributes thinking like one.

Or maybe they would start seeing the benefit of working together.

His Sabertooth Tiger, Ferox, prowled around the edge of the training mat, watching the tributes as if one of them might make a good dinner, and occasionally coming up to rub its large head against Maximus' prosthetic leg.

[OOC note: Each tribute will be greeted, have a rough assessment of their skills taken, and then given a series of instructions for training. Trainees of a similar level will be grouped together, for team activities. Feel free to either tag in for the greeting/assessment, or create an open post for other people to tag you for mutual training.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I cannot imagine my fate if I had been left without mine," Maximus admits, solemnly.

"I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," she says and she means it. "It was years ago and I got lucky, there were people by me in the subway when I got pushed and they were able to get me to the hospital in time. And-- luckily my daddy had money, so I was able to get on pretty well once they sent me home. And I've got pretty good at crawlin' since then, too."

He has no idea what a subway is, or how one would lose both legs to it in a subway, but he's long since grown accustomed to it in a world where he didn't understand half of everything that had happened in the thousands of years since he'd lived. So he only nodded, able to take some meaning if not all.

"You are indeed fortunate. Such a wound in my time would be considered a death sentence, or at best, an impoverishing one."

"If they hadn't gotten to me in time, it would have been a death sentence in mine too," Susannah says solemnly. "They told me that a woman at the station improvised a pair of tourniquets--did they have those in your day? That's when you tie something real tight above the wound, so your blood circulation's constricted and it doesn't all bleed out before the medics come."

"We knew the concept," He said firmly. "But it was hardly a method to ensure survival. I am glad that in your case, it was enough." He frowned.

"I admit I... am surprised they have not already granted you legs, here in the Capitol."

"Honestly," Susannah says, "I think it's because my lack of 'em skewed the odds for some of the bettin' you know they're doing'. They'll get bigger returns on me if I look more helpless than I am."

She shrugs. "I made seven kills this arena--eight including myself when I set off the grenade--and not all of 'em were mercy kills, either."

"A fair number, even facing good odds," He allowed, honestly impressed. He had no idea what a grenade was - hadn't seen her blow herself and Sherlock up - but that didn't matter.

"But their bets should make little difference to your mobility. You should have been granted them, regardless."

"Oh, probably," Susannah says with a shrug. "But shoulds don't always happen here. And there's a better story in it if I have to face the overwhelmin' odds with nothin' but my bare stumps. They probably figure they were bein' nice this last arena by leaving me a wheelchair. And honestly, I'm a ranged weapon fighter by choice. I don't need quite as much mobility as you melee boys."

"With all ranged weapons?" Maximus asked, honestly curious.

"Most of these arenas have no firearms, and often it is hard enough to come across a bow. What do you rely on when you cannot arm yourself?"

"Rocks," she says with a shrug. "Gettin' up close with my own two hands if I need to. I can improvise. An' I can move faster than most people crawlin'. But I got lucky. There was a bow at the cornucopia my first time an' I found a set of chakrams I could throw like they do with the dish in the Callas."

Edited 2014-03-28 02:40 (UTC)

"Resourceful," Maximus mused, offering her a small but honest smile.

"I believe if you were able to be so until now, you'll find no trouble in learning to use melee weapons to your advantage also. You should focus on ones that will not give you difficulty with balance - knives, I think. A sword or a spear is more likely to do you injury than it is to aid you, if you cannot balance out its weight."

She smiles back in return.

"Knives sound good," she says. "I can carry one by the hilt in my mouth if I need to. And I can throw 'em. I haven't done much knife throwin' yet, but I'm pretty sure I'll be able to get the hang of it." She had a Gunslinger's eye and aim, after all.

He nodded. "They are versatile weapons, if you can find ones versatile enough. Though not every knife can or should be thrown."

He turned back to his table of supplies, picking out two knives and bringing them back. One was small, light weight and well balanced, and the other was longer, serrated at the edge and much heavier.

"I see what you mean," she says. She touches the second knife. "I wouldn't want to throw this one, no."

He nodded, sagely.

"Exactly. Every weapon has its use, some not as immediately apparent as we might chose to believe, at first glance. But a good heavy knife in the hand can save your life, in a battle up close."

'And up close is my weak spot," she confirms. "Thanks. I really do appreciate this help."

He smiled, and nodded. "Of course. I'll leave you to your training, but I am at your service, whenever you should have need of it."

She smiles back at him. "I'll remember that, honey." While he walks away, she starts practice with the knife.