Aye, sir! (pivate)

Phil wanted to run away. He had agreed to a death sentence, once again. There was this guy that claimed he could turn noobs into warriors. And he was desperate. He also had a really really special motivation, whose initials were S-P-E-N-C-E-R R-A-M-S-A-Y. Yeah. He wanted to erm... impress her? Nah, he couldn't. Just wanted her not to think he was a loser.

Right. He was just standing there, having come five minutes early. He should be here any minute. He was holding his gladius and tapping his probatio tablet. He hoped he wouldn't screw up horribly.

I came to the Field of Mars with half a head made for sleep and another made for training. Some random probatio had asked me to teach him a thing or two. Personally I thought it was hilarious that someone wanted to undergo a training session with me. Back when I was an officer of the Legion I used to give combat classes and even got to teach a few guys who made it to officers themselves. I felt proud of my old students, but as the word says, they were my old students, no longer kids learning around me. In fact the person I taught ended up complaining to the Praetor and got me in so much trouble that I was told I could never teach again a class.

Anyways, I brough over my armor in a big burlap sack along with several weights, bars and plates that I may have to use if the kid showed literally no talent for combat. The sack was hung over my shoulders and my outfit consisted of a simple black t-shirt with dark blue denim jeans and leather boots. Of course my necklace was still in my neck but I was so tired that I had almost forgot it and left it in my bunk.

The guy was early, which I had to admit caught me by surprise. This kid may have some semblance of skill to him. At least he was responsible enough to arrive early. Of course this just meant he would do whatever it was for his goal. I personally had nothing better to do so teaching a new guy about my extensive knowledge on the arts of war was just a way for me to lose time. Once I saw the guy I threw the burlap sack to the side and snarled. My neck was stiff as rocks! I needed to take a break or something. I wasted no time however and groggily made my way to the new guy. In my own analysis he looked like nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe a bit of muscle here and their, but aside from that nothing really above-average.

"Before we start anything kid, I have one thing I need you to do. I need you to give me your word as a man and as a roman that you will not complain, you will not doubt, you will not hesitate and you will not question any of my methods. As you are you are just plain average, but if you do everything I say, EXACTLY, like I say, I have you go from nobody to legend. Got it memorized kid? Now, here's thing numero dos, for the next three weeks you'll meet me here one hour after lunch and bring me three apples of different colors. If you don't bring me those three apples, I won't waste my time with you." I commanded as I crossed my arms and declared my terms plainly. I didn't care if the apples were painted or something but he had to bring em to me. Those were my terms.

As Phil saw the guy arrive, he felt pumped up. Well, more like he felt nervous, and he expressed his anxiety that way. The guy was one to be mistaken for Stalone's nephew or something. Buff as a bull. And as he spoke, he realised he was just as smart and logical. He chuckled at his words. Do what he says, exactly how he says? His word as a man and a Roman? He was a Roman as much as he was a man. Not at all. Well, technically he was a to-be man, but not the point. Bring him three apples a day? Different colour? The guy was hilarious.

"Haha. You've got humour big guy, l'll give you that. You see, you ain't getting no apples from me man. Nor l'll do anything you say. I'll do as much as l'm commited to do. But, to be fair, l am commited to do a lot. I have some... err, personal reasons." He paused. "Also, you ain't making me a legend. Unless you are a wizard. And l'm fairly sure you're not, steroid guy. Steroid guy? I like that. Imma be calling you that from now on."

"Excuse me...."

I couldn't believe this idiot. Making fun of me. I had to remind a coupe of people that I had a bit of an anger problem. Fact is that I had to stop teaching because I was too aggressive. Maybe now would be a good time to go back into a nice beating. I narrowed my eyebrows at the much smaller guy and grimaced at him. I felt my anger boil right up to my left foot and without thinking it twice I slammed my booted appendage against his face. I tried hard to leave the soles pressed against this bastard's face, but knew that I couldn't cause him too much damage or else he'll report me. Once the artificially red colored sole unleashed the ungrateful brat's face, I stepped back and crossed my arms over my chest. A burning, scorching stare soon followed. My nostrils blasted air outside just as quickly as they breathed in.

"He's the deal, tough guy. Disrespect me again and I'll make sure Tartarus looks like an all expense-paid ski-resort, got it pup." I told the guy with my disapproving eyes fixed on him and my demeanor unrelenting.

"Now get your sorry ass up from the ground and show me your fighting stance, maggot."

And that boot hit him right in his pride. He didn't give a rat's behind about his face. The only think that mattered was that steroid guy was being a total [CENSORED]. He slowly got off the ground. He smiled at him, trying not to seem startled or hurt. He was just really pissed at the guy. And startled at hurt, but not the point. "Alright, Captain Falcon. I will do as you command - for now." he said as he lifted his gladius in a battle stance. A stance he kept for about a second, since after that he mockingly scratched his chin, acting like he was considering something.. "On second thought, that skiing trip to Tartarus sounds like a good idea. Will you cover my travel expenses?"

By this point I began to doubt if this guy had some brain cells at all! I hadn't gotten so angry in so long. I mean the kid had a mediocre stance, a pathetic hold on combat and an even worst attitude. I guess kicking him wasn't enough. Maybe a demonstration a drill would scare him. I used the sharp side of my dagger-like necklace and opened my thumb up, letting a bit of blood flow into my hand. Afterwards I thrusted my hand downwards into the ground and a small earthquake occurred. Afterwards, at the center of the small quake, five holes appeared, each large enough to fit an entire man inside. A bad, repulsive smell came out of the holes, like the smell of rotting meat that was left on the counter for far too long, or the smell of grease trap that had not been cleaned for two entire years. The smell however didn't really bother me since I was used to it already.

Sounds of anguished pain came from the holes and suddenly a skeletal, thin hand with decide skin barely left on the bones, came out. Immediately the hand pulled a body upwards that looked like it had been the body of an old roman legionnaire, judging from the armor that it carried. Afterwards the small flap of skin that hanged from the hand began to cover up the body and the skeleton soon looked less like a hollowed costume and more like a person that had died four months ago. TO his sides came four more undead warriors who wore similar lorica segmental armor. Each of these warriors began to grow their old muscles, organs and features back. After a few seconds, the five udnead soldiers groaned together and immediately darted cold, hellish eyes to the guy. The soldiers snarled, groaned, moaned and snarled at the little, arrogant idiot. Meanwhile, I just snapped my fingers and my weapons, all five of them, appeared before me. I yelled a command in latin and immediately the undead soldiers grabbed the weapons and brandished them at the guy that had once asked me to give him hell.

"I'm more than happy to comply kid. Here's your first real challenge. You have to fight these five undead, legionnaires. Once you draw blood, no matter how small the wound is, the fight is over. Oh, and since this is combat training, obviously you can't use your powers. Just your weapons and your skill with the weapon." I told the kid as I sat down on the ground like a native american and smirked. This should be fun.

OOC: here's the thing, I'll RP the soldiers like NCPs. For info on the weapons just look at Damian's character form.

First the guy reacted by stabbing himself. 100% logical. Then a skeletal arm emerged from the ground. "What the..." He couldn't finish his sentence because a full size warrior emerged and he was busy suppressing a manly high pitched scream of fear. And of course, four other stinky armed skeletons, all obeying the psycho bodybuilding contest reject. He gasped. Because that's when he told him he had to fight them as part of this training. His skin paled as he grabbed his sword. "Oh great. Five versus one, cheater." he grumbled, intending to sound more confideng than he actually was. "I see you start with the basics." Then he lifted his sword, waiting to see if the undead would attack and evaluate their intelligence.

I smirked to myself after hearing him go on about this being the basics. Well, I guess for someone like me, Romulus or Tiberia, this was basic, but for a kid like him, this would be more than enough for him. His body screamed horrified! I was holding in a laugh as I sat down on the ground. I had no reason to get up and fight this brat. I just had to sit back and watch the magic happen.

Soldier 1

The first soldier savagely snarled at Phil with his yellow, almost black teeth and then released a terrifying roar before charging at the probatio. He was armed with Damian's pilium and was skilled in the style of hoplomachus, which meant that it would go for thrusting attacks mainly. The armored, undead roman soldier took a stance, spread his legs slightly, bent his knees ever so only and grabbed the pilum by it's midpoint and it's further side, careful to maintain a firm grip on the javelin. He thrusted his spear five times forward in an attempt to disarm the probatio as quickly as possible, quickly responding after each strike by using both arms as counterweights to the recoil. He did not aim at his actual body, but rather the gladius sword and shield that Phil held. The spearman then gawked and aimed it's spear at Phil's chest. It was obvious that this was a more offensive blow since the soldier moved both hands downward and used the weight of his body to augment the strike.

Well, at least they would come one at a time. Convenient, he thought. The first soldier was a spearman, and unfortunately, a quite good one, since he almost managed to disarm Phil with his first blow. He though held on to it. Luckily, that was the case with his next few attacks too, before the skeleton decided to give up on trying to disarm him and aimed a hit directly at his chest. Phil instictively lifted his shield and luckily he didn't end up as a kebab. That was freaking close, he thought. He decided that the undead were almost as intelligent as Damian. That is to say, not too uch, but not 0 IQ either. Next he went to attack. He hit the undead's spear on the side with his shield so as he wouldn't have to worry, and with a rapid move he hit him with his gladius in the chest.

I yawned after my soldier began his assault. It really wasn't amusing to see this guy struggle against my soldier. I wasn't even putting any effort into my soldier's attacks, though it wasn't like I could just give them orders with mind powers. Oh wait, I could!

After the spearman attacked Phil, I noticed that the guy with heh sword was able to survive an initial assault. It wasn't really something to go on with, but hey, it was something. By some stroke of reflexes, or just pure luck, he lifted his shield up and deflected my spearman's thrust, making the wooden object deflect from it's path. Phil, naturally and as any logical person would, attacked the soldier after he blocked the thrust and managed to land a solid, though unimpressive hit on the undeed soldier. Meanwhile, I decided that it was too boring to just have him fight one at a time, so I moved my hand and told my axeman, by mind communications that is, to attack the guy from behind. My secutor axeman was hardier than all my other soldiers, and used his two hands to move his great axe. Meanwhile, the armor that my spearman wore took most of the hit from he sword, thus reducing much of the damage. The spearman smirked to Phil before he pointed at the axeman rushing at Phil like a raging bull swinging an axe around.

"Don't lose your cabeza kid." I said after cleaning up my nails with the dagger necklace around my neck.

Aaaand that hit didn't kill him. Well, crap. The undead just smirked to him and pointed behind Phil. He turned and what he saw was NOT cool. A zombie soldier holding an axe charging like a maniac. At that moment Damian told him to watch his...cabeza? Wait, head. Yay, spanish. After that thought,he just sidestepped and the axeman hit his fellow zombie buddy so hard with his axe, he beheaded him. 1 down, he thought. And in what a heroic way. He gulped and stepped back, almost hiding behind his shield. "You wanna get me killed?" he shouted at Damien. "Just saying bro: Killing probatios is not a good entry for your CV."

I grew tired of seeing this guy have too much fun with my soldiers, so after letting my soldiers move about a bit. I decided to go for a more hands-on approach. In a quick second I snapped my fingers and all the soldiers disappeared into red flashes of red energy. Afterwards I stood up and smirked at the guy.

"Yeah...if you die, it's not something that reflects poorly on me, but rather shows me you don't have what it takes to survive as a legionnaire, got it tough guy?" I told the probatio with pure sincerity. TO put it bluntly I didn't care jack squat about this guy. He wasn't my subordinate or comrade. In fact he was just a sassy-mouthed idiot with a loose tongue and a attitude problem. Still, I grew quite bored just sitting down and not doing anything.

"Ok, here's the deal. Since you are too afraid of fighting the undead, how bout beating the crap out of dear, o' me, huh? What's your weapons hand scrawny?" I asked after crossing my arms and looking at him straight and coldly with my step blue eyes. If I at least knew his weapon hand I could teach him how to use a certain fighting style that may correspond to his form. Oh, I aslo needed to know a few more stuff.

"Oh, and by the way, you mind telling me your real height, your weight, primary weapon and expirience? I also need to know how you are dealing with a shield. Lastly, do you think you are a power-type fighter, technique-style fighter or speed-type fighter?" I asked removing my jacket and readying myself for a few basic combat techniques. I mean I didn't want my coat getting all ruined and ruffled up.

As Steroid guy stood, Phil started getting worried. Last thing he wanted was to add an f'n psycho into the mix and end up dead. I mean, just looking at Sterois guy made you think he was insane. He had that twisted glance and his whole attitude could be summed up as: "lmma wreck you, and l'll enjoy every tiny bit of it." Then he snapped his fingers and his little private army disappeared. Well, he'd prefer to kill'em all and have no other tasks, but he'd have to bear with round two it seemed. Then good guy Damian reassured him that no one would give a crap if he died. Talk about encouraging teacher...

Then he offered to fight him. Well, not exactly an offer since Phil couldn't leave or else he'd straight up kill him. Not that he'd survive a fight against Steroid guy under any circumstances. He gulped. "You sure you wanna fight?" he said, trying to sound at least not terrified, but his voice falterred so... unsuccessful try. Then he asked him about his weapon hand. "Uh... left. Why?" he replied, a little confused, not cause he hadn't got the question, but because Damien actually sounded a bit helpful.

Then Sterid guy hit him with yet another barrage of questions, which he replied immediately to get things over with. "5'3, 50something kilos, l use a gladius without meaning l'm good with it and l have a... 3 month experience if we count my time with Lupa. I am great at hiding behind my shield and l'd say l am a speed-type fighter, mostly cause l lack technique, power or skill in general."

I placed my hand in my 'beard' and began to stroke it, I mean if I had a beard that is. I just did like those old guys in movies did whenever they were thinking or something. Of course, I was indeed thinking, but I had to look as if I was thinking as well, lest the conviction and image would be kinda of fake. I Placed my hands in my nape and then groaned a bit. He was kind of short and three months with the gladius wasn't much I could deal with. However that bit about his shield did peak my interest a bit. If he was interested in learning a defensive style of combat I could offer up my trademark murmillo style, but due to his preference of speed, I thought that maybe it would not be best of him and maybe I should teach him dimachaerus. I crush in Spanish to the conundrum before snarling and then speaking up.

"Ok man, you have a bit of a problem. If you prefer to use a shield, I could teach you my most famous style of combat, murmillo in which you mainly use your shield to wear down your opponent until they drop their offensive and then break them with overwhelming offensive, but you told me you are a speed-type, and murmillo is a slow, heavy and tactical style where you rarely move, so I'm a bit confused on what to teach you." I said as I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to appear like a wise old man, which i wasn't. Of course, a part of me send me a red signal that maybe the guy wouldn't understand what I was saying. SO I decided to give him an example of what I meant. I snapped my fingers and my shield appeared in front of me, a big flat tower of a barrier that was nearly my whole size. Afterwards I snatched my necklace, crushed it between my hands, lit my fingers in flames that did not burn and proceeded to manifest my somewhat larger spatha sword.

"With murmillo you create an ultimate defense that is only match by your offensive. Your key strategy is not to attack, but rather defend and block until you find the weak points in your enemy's stance. Afterwards you exploit that weakness by rushing at them with monstrous yet precise offensive. If done perfectly, you can best even the strongest offensives and deal incredible damage by calculating when you are going to attack." I said as I moved around with my shield and sword as if I was fighting against an invisible enemy in order to give him an image on how a murmillo style fighter moved and fought.

"Yet...if your shield and defense is poor, you will suffer terrible damage and may even die. Hence you need to built up muscle and power in order to create that impregnable defense that is so trademark of this style, got it kid?" I said as I placed my weapons down and looked at him with my steel blue eyes.

Well, Phil thought it was really obvious what the choice should be. "Build up muscles, huh? And die if my defense ain't good enough?" He thought of it for a second, scratching his chin. "What's the other choice?" he asked. He didn't think he could pull it off. Murmillo sounded like a MOBA game tank, and he was too small and weak to fullfil that role properly. At best he could be a stealthy assasin, and not a good one. A really bad one. But hey, Damien actually tried to be a little helpful so... good enough.