Declan's Training

[Declan Moss]

Today was the first of many morning's the young Declan would spend training under the tutelage of the Dark Brotherhood. He had been a thief all of his life, had survived as a renegade for the majority of it, and was damn good at what he did. To say that the man was confident in his abilities was an understatement, Declan knew that he was one of the best, simply because he could pick every lock he'd come across, and never got caught. Granted, he was no soldier, and the concept of working for a military organization while exciting, made him wonder exactly what kind of training he was going to have to endure. The Black Knight had hired a thief, and a thief was what he had found in Declan. The problem however, was if Declan's concept of a thief was the same as his employers. His soft soled boots made little sound as he hopped down the steps of a rundown building in the heart of the slums. It was one of many places in which members of the Dark Brotherhood could go to hone their skills, and be evaluated for promotions within the organization. This was Declan's first day of training, so he doubted he would get a promotion, but at least he would be able to gauge his abilities with the abilities of the other Dark Brotherhood members.

The winding stone staircase eventually terminated beneath the building, revealing a surprisingly large basement. It seemed that at one point in time this building had been a warehouse, and in the past few months been converted to suit the Brotherhoods more nefarious purposes. He sighed heavily as he heard the tell tale sounds of metal on metal ringing in the air, and when he finally got in view of the half a dozen men and women training, his heart sunk in realization. They were training with real weapons. Real, limb severing swords and bone crushing clubs, and in the center of this room, with young recruits training all around him, stood the heavily armored Black Knight. He was an imposing figure to say the least, and when his helmeted head turned in Declan's direction, the young man couldn’t help but hesitate. He couldn't see the Knights eyes, but he could picture perfectly the unimpressed expression that the man had sported when Declan was recruited. He wasn't sure what it took to impress the Black Knight, nor did he know if impressing a man like that would be a good thing.

"Howdy," said Declan with a cheerful wave, as he approached the training circle. The room was well it despite being underground, several torches blazed fiercely from where they hung on the wall making the room warm to the point of boiling. How could the Dark Knight stand to wear that armor in a place like this? Declan wondered as the Knight finally acknowledged his presence.

"I know you’re a thief by trade," began the Knight, his voice sounding strange and muffled thanks to the helmet on his head, "But today we are going to be focusing on combat. Specifically singular, hand to hand combat" The Knight's voice was commanding yet bored, almost like a clerk giving directions.

"Right, I thought the point of being a thief was to not get into fights?" replied Declan in his typical sarcastic manner. In retrospect, he would decide that that had been a bad idea.

"You volunteered to join our ranks," the Knight replied as his hand fell down to his long sword with dangerous intent, "I wouldn't advise turning your back on us, or your duties, with such levity."

"Right," agreed Declan, his head bobbing up and down nervously as his eyes glanced about the room nervously. The only way out was the staircase he had used earlier, and while he could certainly outrun the Knight, he doubted he could escape the Brotherhood. So training it was. "Where do we begin?"

"Hand to hand," the Knight replied plainly as he motioned to a sweating, young man who had just finished a sparring match with a surprisingly unattractive female. The man was younger then Declan, barely having enough facial hair to make the start of a beard. Declan wasn't impressed. The man was shorter, and scrawnier then Declan was, and as far as Declan was concerned, that meant he had the advantage.

"Fair enough," stated a cheerful Declan, his face breaking out into a grin as he removed his cotton shirt. He wasn't a massive individual, but his trim figure had enough muscle to hold his own in most any bar brawl. Of course, this mind set didn't account for skill, a fact that would soon be apparent to the confident thief. The match started off in a typical fashion, with circling and light jabs as the two judged distance and tried to get a grasp of their opponents style. Fighting like this was as natural to Declan as breathing, and it wasn't long before he landed two strong blows to the boys face. The jab to the nose, and a right hook to the jaw sent the boy staggering, allowing Declan to tackle him to the floor. This was where the fight should have ended. Once on top Declan could pound away with little fear of retribution. What he hadn't accounted for, was the boy being prepared for it. The opponents legs wrapped around Declans waist, making it hard for him to land the blows he wanted. A fact which was only made worse when the boy trapped his right arm, and brought his left leg up to Declans shoulders where the other leg locked it into place, making what resembled a figure four with Declans head trapped in the center. With a little pressure, he used Declan's own arm to choke him. It was confusing, and worse, no matter how hard Declan shook and pulled, he couldn't get free, the choke hold just got tighter and tighter until eventually, Declan fell unconscious.

He woke a few moments later and what would have normally been a sarcastic comment, instead was a sputtering rasp. If his opponent had squeezed any harder, Declan's wind pipe would have almost certainly collapsed. This time, it was his opponent who was smiling. His muscles didn't strain to lift Declan to his feet, his temper raised, he was determined to pummel this punk into the floor.

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Four hours later and Declan was beginning to show some improvement. He had managed to knockout his opponent two times already, though the were all from fist strikes. His ground game was still, lacking, but he was determined to change that. He had been given a few pointers by the Black Knight, even allowed to practice one or two moves. While Declan felt that that wasn't enough, The Knight had made it clear that mastering the basics would be more then adequate for today's training. So the thief acquiesced to his, and his swords, demands. The next bout started much the same as the others. Circling, jabbing, his opponents ruined nose wasn't pretty to look at, but Declan had no desire to get close, and consequently loose his reach advantage. Unfortunately his opponent wasn't content to draw the match out, and instead attempted to tackle him at the knees. It was a standard take down that would give him the advantage, and it was one Declan had been expecting (thanks in no small part that he had been taking down three times already by that same move. Declan kicked his left leg backwards and fell forward, his arms dropping to intercept the charging opponent as Declan fell. The moment of the fall was enough to stop the tackle, and more importantly, get into position to try a maneuver of his own. His right arm wrapped around his opponent left arm as Declan left arm wrapped around his opponents neck like a headlock from his childhood. He gripped his hands together to prevent his opponent from breaking free, and squeezed. It was dangerous by itself, but made all the worse when Declan spun, like a crocodile in a death roll. With his opponents left arm locked up in the choke hold, there was nothing to stop him from rolling to floor. By the time Declan rolled around a second time, he had given himself enough leverage and force to cut off the blood supply to the mans brain. He was unconscious in moments.

"Sloppy," was the only reply the Dark Knight uttered, but Declan was proud of his work, proud of the fact that in only four hours, he was already expanding his knowledge of unarmed combat. In a weeks time, who knew how far he would be.

[The Dark Knight]

Actually a quite good training thread. You have just increased in rank and may move on to your next training session. Remember to show improvement!

[Declan Moss]

Bloodied and bruised, he stood, fist clenched in defiance of his superior opponent. Declan hated fighting people who used shields. It wasn't because he had no talent for the sword and shield combination, so much as it was that he could never get through their defenses, and despite the fact that he would rather flee then fight, the Dark Knight would hear none of his excuses. This was the second week of near constant training, and it was showing on Declan in ways far more subtle then his battered face and body. His muscles were toned, what little excess fat he had possessed had been burned off days ago, leaving his form resembling a lean tool of subterfuge and bloodshed. The weighted chain in Declan's hand twirled steadily, long slow arcs that he could easily control and direct. The low whump, whump of it cutting through the air kept a steady beat that carried to the uncovered soles of his feet. Without indication, the chain shot out from Declans hand, racing towards his opponent at blinding speeds where it was deflected harmless by the mans shield. His opponents bearded face possessed a confident smile as he began to press forward. This was his third match, and the only one that had lasted twenty minutes. The first match Declan had his chain trapped and ripped from his hand on the second attack. The round after that ended when Declan's cheek was introduced to the metal rim of his opponents shield, now Declan was looking for payback. He had been careful so far as to avoid losing his weapon, but had only succeeded in delaying the fight, without gaining any opening to end it.

The Dark Knight watched on, and Declan was well aware of what he must have been thinking. Had this been a real situation, if Declan had run into this soldier during a heist, he would have needed to end the fight twenty minutes sooner. The thief had never cared about the opinions, or even well being of others, but for some reason he felt the need to prove himself to the statuesque leader of the Black Brotherhood. It was juvenile, but it was a strong enough force to drive the young Declan on. Five more minutes of fighting later and Declan had had enough, he changed his grip on the long chain so that each end had five feet of chain, with two feet of chain between his hands. Sure he was getting closer then he would prefer but he was tired of waiting. He lunged forward, spinning quickly to build momentum as he swung the weighted chain in his left hand in a high overhead arc, an attack which was easily blocked by his shielded opponent. Of course, he had to lift his shield high to intercept the chain, exposing his legs to Declan's second attack. The weighted chain in his right hand flew horizontally into the mans leather armored knee, cause him to collapse to one knee as he yelped in pain. He didn't have to worry about for long as Declan kicked him heavily in the chest, knocking him to the ground.

The rush of victory had yet to loose its effects on Declan. He was used to running, striking more draws then wins, but now, he was getting a taste for it, and while he didn't know it at the time, the Dark Knight was recognizing that the Brotherhoods methods of conditioning killer instincts was finally beginning to crack through the cynical Declan's mental barriers. Although, as the Dark Knight watched Declan's opponent roll back to his feet, and strike Declan in the back of the legs with a wicked slash, he realized it was likely going to take more time before Declan got a taste for killing. Yes, the Knight realized Declan's job wasn't killing people, but it was far easier to sneak out of a building, if you had already incapacitated the guards, and the only way to ensure the guards stayed incapacitated, was to end their lives. With a sigh the Dark Knight stepped into the ring, and approached the pair of combatants. Declan's opponent stood over the thief, his shield pressing heavily into the young mans throat as Declan squirmed to kick the man off of him. He needed to get that shield away now, or it could prove to be far more damaging then the boy could handle. The Knight waited.

"Enough," ordered the Knight.

Declan coughed, or more accurately choked as he tried to fill his lungs with air. He tried to talk, sputtered, then though better of it and nodded his thanks instead as he got to his feet, brushed off, and headed for the staircase to go home. Only to be stopped by a massive piece of sharp metal placed gently against his chest. Declan raised an eyebrow in a confused, somewhat angry manner as he followed the sword back to its user, and into the eyes of the Dark Knight.

"Again," said the Knight. If Declan wasn't of the opinion that his trainer wasn't an emotionless ghost of a man, he would have sworn the Dark Knight found torturing him amusing.

[The Dark Knight]

Congratulations on reaching Black Page. Can't wait to see your next training post!

[Declan Moss]

At long last the incessant training under the watchful gaze of the Black Knight was becoming little more then just another activity, no more worrisome then going to the market, or picking a lock. Granted the young man would never give voice to such an insolent state of mind, as doing such would inevitably lead to a sudden, and likely violent backlash from his instructor. Despite being promoted to a Black Page Declan had experienced little if any increase in personal responsibility on his part. He still had yet to be assigned a mission of any degree of difficulty, and as such his purse was becoming quite light. With all the training he had little time to ply his trade as a thief, and while the Brotherhood was currently providing him with lodging and free meals, Declan was beginning to feel the strong hands of the Brotherhood firmly clasped about his shoulders. Without money, there was no freedom. It was a simple truth he had come to recognize in his adolescence, and was as true today as it had been then.

Declan was in the pit, a place he had seen far too much of already. The Pit, wasn't really a pit, it was just a small circular indentation in the floor of the warehouses basement and served as the training area for hand to hand and small weapons training. Declan had been in the Brotherhood for over two month's already, and despite being a thief, had done nothing more then undergo weapons training. It was a daily exercise which monotonous nature was beginning to make Declan uncomfortable. Things with the Brotherhood had never been easy, and while these exercises were dangerous, Declan was excelling to the point of having found a comfort zone. After a brief foray into actual weapon training the black Knight had opted to go back to grappling training, and after several weeks of polishing Declan's skills, there were few in his group that could defeat him. At this stage, his opponents were actually armed, typically with short swords and shields, but even then, only two other Brotherhood members could pose a serious threat, and they had been trained soldiers before joining the Brotherhood.

Declan was facing a newer recruit, still wet behind the ears as far as Declan was concerned. Which was odd. After only a few months he had already outlasted many Brotherhood recruits. That was the reason why there were so many different training locations, more then a handful of new recruits, terrified of losing there lives during the intense training, or mentally incapable of working with an organization specializing in Black Magic and assassinations, inevitably tried to flee. It wasn't rare, though they never made it far. The Brotherhoods assassins were well trained. Many more recruits simply lacked the desire to do better then exist in the lower rungs of the organization, avoiding training, and consequently any chance of rising from their insignificant station. Declan was no coward, and while he had been called lazy several times couldn't stand the thought of being beaten into submission like so many other Brotherhood members. So he would show his defiance in the only way he knew how, by accepting their challenges, and rising above them. The greatest sign of contempt one can show for their enemy, was indifference.

The young recruit lunged forward, his shield pushed forward to obscure Declan's vision as the youngster dug the heel of his leading foot into the ground and spun. It was a classic backhand, which when accompanied by a sword could effectively end a fight against an unsuspecting opponent. Declan was well aware of this fact, mostly because he had gotten caught by it several times early in his training. The problem here, was that the recruit was trying to hard. He had pulled out his trump card in the first few moments of the fight in an attempt to show off, and Declan happened to know exactly how to counter such insolence. Instead of backing away like most opponents, Declan swiftly moved forward, putting himself to close to his opponent for the blade to be effective. The thief's lunge was quick enough to put himself alongside his opponent, facing in the opposite direction, allowing him to raise his right arm under his opponent's sword arm. The thief then leaned forward so that his right shoulder was under his opponent's armpit. By the time Declan locked his hands behind his opponents upper back, the boys weight was Declan's to control. One well placed foot and hard shove later, and the boy was landing with his shield arm down onto the hard stone floor, Declan's trim form on top. Landing on his side had been planned, placing the boy in such an unstable position that Declan, grabbing his sword arm by the wrist, and pushing the boys shoulder forward, caused him to lay face first on the stone. Declan's left hand looped under the boys arm and latched onto his other hand, giving him the proper leverage to bend the boy's arm into a ninety degree angle. It seemed harmless enough, until Declan changed his position and began to twist the boy's arm towards the middle of his back. With his arm already at a ninety degree angle, the limb didn't have the flexibility necessary to make that motion, and if Declan continued, he could literally rip the boys arm out of it's socket.

"Enough," came a booming voice from behind Declan. The Black Knight had stopped the fight, which while not unwarranted, was still unusual. Whenever Declan had been beaten so soundly the Knight had been content to wait until the last possible moment to intervene. That thought alone was enough to make Declan angry. Up until know he had always assumed that the Knight always treated all of his recruits maliciously, but now it was becoming apparent that he just really didn't like Declan. Which was infuriating, since Declan had always considered himself such a likeable guy.

"I'm not even warmed up yet," replied Declan coolly as he helped his opponent to his feet.

"Don't worry, Thief, we aren't done," came the armored man's reply. "Johnathan," he said, his gaze falling to the trembling youth. It wasn't surprising that the kid was terrified, he had just gotten his ass kicked for the fourth time this week, and the Black Knight didn't have a stomach for failure. "Declan," he added, not bothering to look at the thief as he turned away towards a side door. "Follow me,"

The Knights heavy footsteps echoed ominously in the now quiet training hall. No one present had seen something like this before. Which usually meant it wasn't good. The former opponents glanced at each other nervously before Declan began moving forward. Making the Knight wait wasn't going to make what was about to happen any easier. The door led to a staircase, which led to the topmost floor of the dilapidated three story building. It was the location for archery practice, a place Declan hadn't had the privilege of using yet. But if all he had to do was hit a few targets, then no worries, he had been hunting several times in the past, and targets didn't have the habit of moving.

"Declan, pick up that bow," Ordered the black Knight, though he failed to specify which bow it was Declan needed to select. The thief just picked the one closest to him, a long bow, of acceptable craft. "Do you plan on carrying something so large while you sneak through castle's boy?" inquired the Knight, though his voice wasn't so much questioning as it was annoyed. Declan could have replied with half a dozen sarcastic, emasculating comments, instead he bent over, and selected a much smaller weapon. It was oddly shaped, having two curves instead of the traditional single curve of most European bows, both of which curved away from the user, leading him to wonder as to its origin. It was comprised of a strange yellowish wood with horn at the ends of the curves, and Declan immediately found it's smaller size appealing.

"You'll need this," said the Knight, as he extended his hand. Upon his open palm lay a circlet of bone, an obvious ring with a less obvious purpose. "That bow is like nothing you have ever handled." The Knight paused momentarily before adding, "Try not to damage it,"

"You won't need that," said the Knight, his gaze still on Declan, which confused the hell out of the thief. It took a few moments before he realized that the Knight was referring to the other Brotherhood member who had just picked up a bow of his own, albeit more traditional then Declan's. The boy set the bow down and couldn't help but let the confusion creep across his face as to why the Knight had brought him up here. "Stand over there," instructed the Knight, his finger pointing to the other end of the archery range, the end where several wooden targets stood patiently. Declan could only imagine the purpose of this exercise, but he knew it wasn't going to be good.

"Pick up the target to your right," came the Knights typical apathetic voice. "No, the small one,"

Johnathan finally laid his hands on the appropriate target, a small piece of wood about the size of small fencing buckler. "Declan I would advise you not to miss,"

"Right, making a human pin cushion wasn't on my list of things to do today," said Declan as he looked the Knight straight in the metal slit of his helmet. The Knight wasn't going to change his mind.

"Your sarcasm is misplaced," the Knight replied.

"Well," commented Declan, "Lets hope my arrow is not,"

The thief grabbed an arrow from the quiver on the floor and notched it, immediately realizing what the bone ring was for. The bows multiple curves made drawing it far more difficult, and while that meant more power, it also meant that holding the string back to aim would be very difficult to do comfortably with just your fingers.

"Don't blink kid," shouted Declan as he drew back the string, and after a brief moment, let the arrow fly. He had only drawn it back halfway, and it still shot off with tremendous speed, slamming into the wooden target, and causing Johnathan to jump in fear. Declan exhaled in relief, surprised that he had managed to hit the target. When Johnathan held it up to be seen however it was clear that Declan had only just hit the target, catching it in the corner where it had nearly taken off the recruits finger. Still, it was a success.

"Now lets see you do that to a moving target," said the knight, as he order Johnathan to pace back and forth. Declans mood fell visibly. Tonight was going to be a long night.

[The Dark Knight]

That was quite interesting! I liked the idea of it, and it passes the required length so I accept it!