➵ testing your mettle

[broadsidewaltz]

WHO| Hubert and you?!
WHAT| Getting in some practice. Or more like, coping with newly arriving here.
WHEN| 7/31
WHERE| The Training Center
WARNINGS| none

The words were still fresh in his mind as he stared at the weapons. A battle to the death... honored to compete... other tributes. Being brought to a new land that was presumably off the charts was decidedly new- although he had been to stranger places. He was still neck-deep in thought as he absently went for the sword, first. It was only suitable he get some training in with every weapon, after all. And since his trademark dual-blade was nowhere to be found, well... it seemed they had brought him without it.

Honestly, it was probably the part where they had taken him unconsciously that actually bothered him the most. After all- he was used to testing his strength at the stadiums in Warrior's Roost back home. Hubert always aspired to new heights, especially in combat training, so this kind of thing wasn't a shock.

Perhaps it was the wording, he mused as he tested the weapon's weight, moving away with it as he peered around the gymnasium. There were some empty targets he immediately made for, brandishing the sword firmly in his hand as he got some swings in first. Tributes. It sounded... strange, especially in this context. Sacrifices? Price to be paid?

Best believe he'd be slashing at that dummy soon enough, careful at first before he started getting more serious. Even if it wouldn't fight back, he would side-step and guard accordingly, trying to keep his instincts sharp and fresh in his mind. After all, these dummies wouldn't compare to the real targets- moving, breathing living people.

He had to make sure he'd survive. After all, the others were waiting for him back home.

Comments

[revvinguptheharley]

"Not bad!" A voice called loud enough to be heard over his strikes.

A blond haired woman had appeared sporting a single sporty ponytail on her head. Manic blue eyes glinted with energy as she grinned broadly apparently having been watching him for some time.

What may have been most distracting though was that she had eschewed the provided Training jumpsuit and was wearing a pair of scandalously small and stretchy black shorts and a loose tank top with a sports bra underneath.

"You've got determination in your swing that's for sure."

[broadsidewaltz]

He would promptly stop, turning to the new arrival as he rested his free hand on his hip. An energetic woman to be sure- the glint in her eye and the grin that stretched across her face made him wonder what was so amusing.

Her get-up definitely scored a raised eyebrow from him as he cleared his throat. Scandalous indeed- after a once-over, he forced his eyes to hers, not really wanting to be indecent about it.

"But of course. I don't plan on losing, after all."

[revvinguptheharley]

That made her snort and burst out into giggles. These only subsided once she was doubled over with them.

"Well of course no one PLANS on losing. What kind of a pacifist would you have to be to do that? I mean seriously haven't they told you how bad it's gonna be? You'd be crazy to think anyone actually wants to lose." She explained why she thought him so hilarious.

[broadsidewaltz]

The giggles have him frowning in a mixture of displeasure at how she's essentially laughing at him and his own confusion about the matter. And even with the explanation, he begs to differ, it seems.

"How bad it's going to be? It's a fight to the death. What more is there to it?" His tone is slightly impatient, demanding answers. He doesn't like being in the dark.

[revvinguptheharley]

"Well..." Harley looked thoughtful "There's the starvation, that was always my least favorite part. The dehydration is pretty bad too. In one arena there was this music that played all day and all night so you could barely get any sleep! And in another arena all the plants and animals were poisoned so you couldn't eat em." She went on.

"Then there's the total lack of privacy. It gets really hard to pee behind a tree when you know somewhere miles away there's a guy in the Capitol recording everything with cameras. I mean obviously he's gonna edit bathroom breaks out of the broadcast but you get the idea."

[broadsidewaltz]

Hubert listens, wrinkling his nose mildly at how vulgar that all is. Starvation... dehydration... this was rather inhumane, wasn't it?

And the lack of privacy really ruffles his feathers, and he grimaces lightly at the thought.

"That's... quite disturbing," he'll admit carefully, not about to give away just how horrid that sounded. "Although I suppose it poses more challenges than a simple killing match."

But goodness. Just what were these Hunger Games?

[revvinguptheharley]

"Now you're getting it." Harley nodded approvingly. "There's also traps set up around some arenas, and the monsters! Oh gosh the monsters are really creative! Like these little bugs that sting you and make you hallucinate the worst stuff for hours! Those were my favorite you see, and there was this man sized duck with rows of razor sharp teeth! And sand worms that burrowed under the arena and popped up to chomp you if you made too much noise!"

She was playing her voice up to sound dramatic but the honest look in her manic eyes was somewhat difficult to deny.

[69problems]

Eventually Hubert might notice that he had an audience. The Signless by now knew he wasn't really cut out for blades, but there was still something to be learned from watching someone who was clearly so familiar with them. If a blade was his only option it would pay to have some idea of what to do with it beyond just awkwardly hacking and hoping his opponent was even worse of a fighter than he was.

"Is there a particular pattern of steps that you're following?" It might be easier to pick up if he was.

[broadsidewaltz]

He would notice a presence after a short while of slicing and practicing his side-stepping, turning his eyes to the person in question. Or were they a person? Their skin was awfully ashen.

Either way, it was a little surprising to get a question on his technique of all things. Wasn't this supposed to be a competition? Furrowing his brow, he would lower his weapon before adjusting his glasses with his other hand.

"There is, although keeping the exact same pattern makes it easier for the opponent to pick up on your style and pierce through your defenses," he replied evenly. But, hmm. Perhaps it wasn't so terrible that this person come to him. Maybe they could even spar.

"It all rides on making sure you're sharp enough to defend yourself. Simply mastering the offensive isn't enough."

[69problems]

"Good. It's defense that I'm primarily interested in learning."

Signless had learned by now that outright saying he was a pacifist and refused to attack or kill others usually didn't go over well. He'd rather learn something if he could instead of being dismissed as foolish and weak outright.

It didn't even occur to him that it might seem strange, asking for advice from a fellow tribute. In the arena they all did what they had to to survive, but outside of it he was of the opinion that if they couldn't rely on each other, who could they rely on?

[broadsidewaltz]

Honestly, being told that would perplex Hubert more than anything given the situation. He wasn't quite aware that other competitors here were less than willing to fight, after all.

But the strange sense of we're all in this together had kind of hit him the moment they had started socializing. How strange. Was everyone here like this? How would they pit against each other if they got too close?

"A wise decision. The easiest way to learn how to defend oneself is probably sparring with others, though. Picking up the instinct to dodge or parry and then counter is probably one of the most useful skills in a combat arena like this."

After all, it's completely different than having your friends with you to watch your back.

"Do you use a blade as well?"

[69problems]

Signless thought back to the months Karkat had spent trying to drill his particular style of dual-wielding sickles into him and looked appropriately sheepish.

"They're not my specialty. Outside of shorter knives for hunting purposes and some training on sickles I have no real experience with them. I've never tried a sword before. I've been trying staffs lately, as I've found them easy to improvise in arenas where actual weapons are lacking, but..."

It was probably best to have at least a little bit of an idea how to use a wide variety of weapons. He'd been in six arenas now and they'd all been highly varied both in terms of what weapons were provided and what was possible to improvise.

[broadsidewaltz]

"Everyone has their specialties. A close friend of mine back home is particularly well versed with throwing knives, and another wields something she calls a 'shotstaff'. Essentially a staff, but with the capabilities of a gun as well."

Hubert is still a bit unsure about all of this, but he doesn't see too much of a problem with it. As long as he reminds himself he must survive, that should be enough.

"Although I'm rather curious about these 'arenas'. And-- wait. You've already been in more than one of them?"

Having thrown himself directly into training, he hadn't exactly caught the drift that people tended to return from the dead yet.

[stotte]

She's pretty impressed with his movements. She had been standing off to the side, examining the other weapons in the arena, figuring she should practice with a little more variety, considering her axe movements were pretty much nailed at this point. Except she had gotten distracted by the odd blue hair and his quick movements, still keeping his guard up despite fighting against inanimate dummies.

She's said she'd try keeping to herself while she was here, but she's been fighting for so long, training endlessly since she was a child, so she knew a thing or two and couldn't help sharing.

"Careful with that guard. It's a good block, but it leaves you wide open on the sides."

[broadsidewaltz]

His head shoots up to look back at the girl who appeared to be watching him. Offering him... advice? That was a little odd. Well, it wouldn't be odd if it wasn't going to end in a brutal bloody battle to the death.

"... Oh- I see." A pause, before he'd straighten up completely, adjusting his glasses. "I appreciate the advice."

What else was there to say? He wasn't sure he should be particularly socializing with these people, mainly because he didn't want to make his life any more difficult.

"I suppose it has been awhile since I've used a sword..."

Annnnnd here he is. Doing precisely that. His brother must be rubbing off on him.

[stotte]

"Same here," she responds with a slight shrug, her attention going back to eyeing the weapons collection displayed on the walls. "Though I've never really been big on swords. Way too light and flimsy."

She much preferred the heavy strength of the axe, which always tended to provide a lot more damage. "Really, the best bet is to always try to get your hands on a shield. Weapons are good for most blocks, but the only way you'll ever really get to avoid damage is a strong defense."

[broadsidewaltz]

"I agree. My weapon back home is much sturdier, and provides a much wider range of defense."

If only the dual-blade was in the ranks of more conventional arms. Hubert mourned the loss.

"-- Yes, a strong defense is advisable, especially in a matter of survival such as this," he admits as well, turning the sword's hilt around in his fingers, rather dexterously. Twisting and swinging and moving fast were his strong points, and he found himself peering past her to the weapons once more. "If you're willing, perhaps we could spar. Training with inanimate targets dulls the senses after awhile."

He wouldn't be too hopeful, but it was always worth a shot. He'd adjust his glasses with his free hand, watching her for an answer.

[stotte]

"What kind of weapon are you used to?" More out of curiosity than trying to find out some disadvantage. She was pretty lucky they had her double-sided axe here, though she would have been surprising considering it was a pretty common weapon. Then again, with things so different here, she supposes, it could have easily disappeared with all the other things she was used to from home.

But she grins when he asks about sparring, pleased to be able to have someone to practice with. "That sounds good to me. Besides it'd be good for both of us to get used to handling a variety of equipment, huh? From what I hear, you never know what they're gonna throw into the arenas."

[broadsidewaltz]

"A dual-blade, in fact."

He can see how she can pick information out of it, but somehow, no one here seemed to have any hostile intent. There was something a little... strangely worrying about that. It was too friendly for a battle to the death.

Her agreeing to sparring allows him a little tight-lipped smile, though, something basely pleased in nature. "Definitely. These arenas sound less than forgiving."

He hums, slowly making back for the weapons rack as he examines the rest of them. What now? The sword was basic, and he wasn't going to spend his whole day on that.

[vissernone]

Eva's hungover when she appears at the Training Center to observe her new Tribute. It's a good three days after Hubert's arrival, and she saw no need to hurry her way over to evaluate the new recruit; he already has two other Mentors, after all, and she's far from particularly invested in yet another stranger from a foreign land.

She doesn't announce her presence. She shows up in dark glasses, nursing a cup of coffee along with her headache. She sits in the Gamemakers' box, legs politely folded over each other, taking notes with a pen on a notepad.

military-trained?

good defense

not particularly flashy, ideas for angle?

When Hubert takes a break, Eva looks over her notes with her cheek tucked between her teeth. She knows how to market some Tributes to Sponsors from first sight, and it would be nice to take the day off and go sleep off her malaise, but she can't abandon her post entirely and she hasn't had any such epiphanies for Hubert.

"How are you with a knife?" she calls from the box.

[broadsidewaltz]

He's a little out of breath from all of those swings, and even if the sword is lighter than his dual-blade, it's strange to accustom to completely. Thankfully, he's still got a pretty good chance, especially given his flexibility.

But either way he slows, considering for a moment if he should switch weapons and try something else. That's when suddenly, she calls to him from the box.

Peering over to the woman in question, he replies evenly. "I'm certain I would be more than adequate."

A little stubbornly determined, was he? He wasn't too well-versed, but he has seen one of his comrades specialize in the technique. Although those were throwing knives...

"Although the distance is much closer, and doesn't allow for as much time to defend. It's a bit inconvenient in that regard."

He's not sure why he's so quick to answer. Maybe it's because he hasn't spoken in awhile. By now, he has a vague grasp on who his mentors and fellow tributes are, even if he hasn't particularly socialized more than necessary.

"Although I have to ask why you want to know something like that."

[vissernone]

"I'm afraid I can't consider you being certain you'd be 'adequate' a ringing endorsement." Eva stands up, cracking her neck audibly and pushing her sunglasses up to clear her face of stray locks. She sets her drink and her notepad on the flat rail at the front of the box.

"And it's because a knife, or its equivalent, tends to be the most affordable weapon a Sponsor can send a Tribute, and I'd like to be able to tell our donors that you can do something with their gifts."

She abandons her belongings and starts down the stairs to the training floor, taking slow and careful steps in her high heels.

"I'm Eva Salazar, your Mentor."

[broadsidewaltz]

Hubert watches her as she moves, furrowing his brow. He has to admit, she has a point- although he's struck by a desire to prove her wrong and perhaps give his companion from home's technique a try. If he was anything, it was adaptable. That, coupled with his penchant to be stubborn about his aptitude, would probably serve to motivate.

But she's walking closer, now, and he'll abandon that line of thought for now. His Mentor, hmm? He has a vague idea of how they were meant to guide the Tributes (still a bit uncanny of a title, to be honest) to victory. Something akin to a coach, perhaps.

"And I'm Hubert Oswell," he returns, nodding respectfully as his free hand meets his opposite wrist behind his back, offering a short bow in her direction. "I would appreciate your time in informing me more about these Sponsors and what they can offer."

Because heaven knows that he doesn't know enough about this place.

[vissernone]

She isn't sure what to do when he bows to her. Even though she wields some meager power over the Tributes in her District, her station has always been below that of most of the people around her, even other Mentors, and as such she's used to being disrespected in any social setting at best. She raises an eyebrow and straightens up self-consciously.

"They can save your life in the Arena, although I'm sure you know that. It's fairly- it's a game of resources as much as it is of combat skill. Endurance wins the Arena as often as brawn. More often, I'd say, they just happen to be combined most of the time."

She gestures with a hand at other stations in the Training Center, made for matching plants or practicing fishing wire.

"Those practices over there are more likely to save your life than anything else, because the odds of getting and holding on to a good weapon aren't terribly high for any individual, unless you risk the Cornucopia."

[broadsidewaltz]

Perhaps a good thing that Hubert was a little less than savvy on these rankings, then. But either way, it wouldn't do to disrespect his superiors, especially if they offered advice.

This really seems to be becoming less of a standard arena battle, or at least the types he was used to. He listened thoughtfully, peering over to the other stations with a slight curiosity. Sure, he had probably read millions of books on the topic of survival, and he knew certain things due to military training, but it couldn't hurt to practice.

"I see..." he trails off. "And how often would you say someone successfully makes it if they attempt the Cornucopia?"

After all, having a weapon offers infinite advantages, but if it was certain to end in bloody death, he wasn't going to try it.

These arenas seem to be about simply survival much more than a test of skill, which is becoming more and more apparent.