Wall returned to his position near one of the armory's walls and resumed his doctrine of reserved silence. The rings returned him to the state he was in before his match, so he was not fatigued, and his shield no longer had a hole in it. This, he felt, was an impressive phenomenon, Wall would be able to fight forever so long as he kept winning!
At least that was his first impression.
Very soon after he returned, he found he was not quite as fresh as he would have liked. He was uninjured, sure, and his armor was practically in pristine condition, but the mental strain he had put himself under during the events of today was showing its effect.
Wall, as clever as he might be in devising a strategy in combat, was not good at using his head. He wasn't smart, he wasn't dumb, he just found it incredibly difficult to use his brain for an extended period of time. He was the type of person who liked to resolve his problems with his axe, if possible, if only so that he didn't have to think of something that would resolve them. Obviously he wouldn't do that if the resolution was clear to see, but he really couldn't be bothered to think through a series of causes and effects to find the most correct method.
In a way, that meant that those who slandered him were right. Wall was very brutish. He acknowledged he had what some might consider barbaric tendencies. That didn't mean he was a barbarian though, especially not in comparison to some of the other nobles out there. Abuse of force, it could be said, was actually much more common than the attitudes of the nobles in this armory would lead you to believe. If someone didn't get what they wanted, there was every chance they would challenge someone to a duel over it. There was also no doubt in anyone's mind that they would use the difference in power between themselves and their peasantry to extort what they needed, it was more the case that nobody talked about it.
See, Wall might not like to use his head, but he wasn't stupid. In fact he could use his head like he did during the fight, thinking up strategies to defeat opponents that held a traditional advantage. He was just quicker to come to the realization, whether correct or not, that words weren't going to cut it and he needed to punch somebody to get what he wanted. He didn't abide by the pomp and process his peers had laid out, it didn't jive with him, so he just ignored it and did what he pleased.
He might receive glares and ridicule from others, but he didn't care. They didn't have power over him. His people were a proud race, much the same as every other, and they would not bend the knee to some hypocrites.
Unfortunately, it couldn't be said that they would never submit to authority, a lesson Wall had learned oh so well in his time here.
He had come here to fight, and in his search for an army made it clear. He believed himself equal, if not that then superior, to the vast majority of attendees. Even a great many of the superior officers, he felt, were below him, both in terms of 'honor' and in martial skill. Yet none of them seemed to want him in their squads, he simply wasn't an appealing enough candidate. Even some of the less powerful and more desperate groups were unwilling to take him in, the few who even considered it ordering him to submit in some sort of way.
That was something he was simply unwilling to do.
It shouldn't be surprising that he was left without an army at that point, but he stayed, just in case. If he had to pin down a specific reason for his decision after all this time, he would have to say it was without a doubt 'arrogance'. He, in all his finite and restricted wisdom, believed himself superior to his peers, something which very quickly changed once he was introduced to his squad.
His first hint should have been how Donovan took his appearance in stride. He might have been a bit surprised, but there wasn't any malice in his eyes. What Wall didn't notice at the time was that Don was not particularly impressed about anything but his size. Even when he got into his armor, Don's reactions could be categorized as fairly neutral as far as Wall's previous experiences with people went. He might have been a bit confused, but for the most part none of his expressions changed.
The other hint that Wall should have picked up on was Don's post-battle analysis, not just for him but for the other three. He didn't judge Wall based on his choice of combat style, but instead based on what his results were. He didn't suggest completely altering his combat style, but instead making adjustments to his equipment that would improve his performance. His shield didn't need to be that tall, his opponents couldn't get a good attack off at that angle anyway.
It was the next morning that everything came together, when Wall was awoken before first light to the sound of clattering kitchenware and grown men screaming at the top of their lungs. It was a shock for him, a noble who had never been treated that way, but it very quickly set the tone for that day. This was his first day of hell, and it was no surprise that he regarded it as the worst.
Donovan, for the most part at least, did not see him as a human being that day. This was something he had made very clear, even going so far as to make sure they knew he was calling them animals. Initially, Wall wanted to react to this the same way he would have done to anyone else, but he held his tongue. At that moment his future was at Don's mercy, and he wanted to keep that future if at all possible. He simply bit his tongue and did as he was told.
However it was as they jogged that Wall learned something very important about how Donovan saw them. He did not see Wall as an animal because of his personality or race or habits or fighting style. Don saw Wall as less than human because in that moment Wall was insufficient. Wall, a man who was prideful beyond belief, had to come to terms that he simply wasn't enough. It hurt, perhaps more than it had any right to, but he did not yet meet Don's requirements for what a human should be.
Wall found himself to be weaker than a man who was smaller than him. Wall found himself less civilized than a man more violent than him. Wall found himself being oppressed by a man who couldn't use split yet. Wall found himself losing a battle of will against someone who wasn't even fighting.
Wall was forced to admit that despite there being more man to him, he was less of a 'man' than Donovan. That hurt, but he wasn't to be deterred because of such a thing. Instead he would have to learn, taking lessons from the way Donovan did things, in order to become the sort of person he wanted to be. If that meant Wall had to learn manners and how to be polite, that was something he would do. If that meant Wall had to use his head, that was something he would do. If that meant Wall had to submit to authority, that was something he would do.
"I can't believe he lost to you of all things." The person who had just walked through the door was the other person who had insulted him and his mother. Evidently he had just finished a match of his own, but he obviously wasn't pleased to find that his acquaintance had lost to him.
"It was a good match." Wall reminded himself to remain polite. He had already taken one of them down, something he was inexorably pleased about, but if he could remain courteous as Donovan had warned then he could further enrage them. "I feel I gained much from the experience. I take it your match yielded the same results?"
The man's face contorted into something angry, clearly not happy with the fact that Wall was not playing his part the way he was supposed to. "Hmph! How could I possibly learn anything useful from beating down a weakling like that!" He was receiving some glares from people to the side, this was not behavior that was fitting for his station. "I pray I fight you next! I swear I shall pound you into the dirt like the peasant you are!"
"Peasant, you say?" Wall had to choose his words carefully, but he was more than happy to use his tired brain a bit more here if it meant he could further taunt this idiot. "While I must say I object to being referred to as one of the lower class, I must thank you for complimenting my effort and the work that I have put in to reach this position. Yes, I, much like the peasants you so seem to despise, have trained with my life practically on the line just to see another day, just to fight another battle. I do say that analogy is quite beautiful, no?"
Wall's smug grin threatened to leave his face it was becoming so wide. The man before him was huffing and puffing with anger, one of his legs shaking as if he was preparing to stomp his way out. He had just been embarrassed, he had referred to his subjects as dirty and been called out on it, making it look like he hated those which supported his way of life. It wasn't a good look.
However the best part in Wall's eyes was that he hadn't lied. He had been fighting for his life these past two weeks.
"Why you-"
"Attention all participants! The second round is starting now. I would like to ask all participants who have lost their first match to exit the armory at this time. With that out of the way, first up is Wall of Gilded Earth!"
"Here sir!"
- - - - -
Wall was practically singing the praises of luck almighty once he saw who was walking up into the ring, someone who displayed an equal amount of enthusiasm to be facing him.
"It must be the will of the Great Csillacra that you are my opponent, brute."
"I do say that today has been filled with happy coincidences, has it not?"
"Shut it!" Oh he was so angry right now, and Wall was just eating it up. "I swear that if I do not run through you and that shield with this sword of mine I will have no right to call myself a noble!"
Wall's opponent, 'Grumpy' for now, drew his blade and pointed it at Wall.
"Settle down kid, wait for the match to start." The enforcer drew his own blade, a warning but also a form of preparedness should Grumpy explode. "Ready?"
"Ready good sir." Wall placed his shield directly in front of him, he had a feeling his opponent had already taken the bait.
"Oh I'm ready."
"Okay gentlemen, keep your extremities inside the ring . . . good. Now, prepare to fight on my mark. Three, two, one, GO!"
"RAAAAAAAA!!!" Grumpy shot from his starting position just as Wall expected, but once again Wall did not move. This man might have been fast, but he was also angry, and angry people made stupid mistakes. All Wall had to do was wait for him to hit his shield.
CRESHK
The sword ripped through his shield and the arm that supported it, but Wall didn't flinch. He knew it was coming, he wanted it to come. Was his arm destroyed? For the moment maybe. Was his opponent's sword now stuck? Absolutely, and there wasn't a chance in hell he was going to pull it out.
Wall, quick to respond through the pain, swung his axe towards his opponent.
Unfortunately due to how slow he was, he only nicked Grumpy's arm as he jumped away, but Grumpy's sword stayed with Wall. However Grumpy, now shocked, disoriented, and disarmed, stumbled. Wall didn't give him the opportunity to run.
Stepping over as fast as he could, Wall stomped on the man's foot as he dragged it away, crushing it with the force of an armored behemoth. Now standing over a crippled and unarmed opponent, Wall took once last moment to rub it in.
"It was a good match."
He sounded calm and composed, which he was, but the tone didn't match the image of a man with a sword stuck in his arm who was currently bleeding profusely. The image didn't last long though, as Wall lifted up his shield before slamming it down on Grumpy's chest, breaking his ribcage, destroying some of his internal organs, and very quickly sending both of them back outside the ring.
Grumpy's sword clattered to the ground beside him, he himself spasming from the residual feeling of having his body practically dissected by a giant metal slab.
Wall returned to his position near one of the armory's walls and resumed his doctrine of reserved silence. The rings returned him to the state he was in before his match, so he was not fatigued, and his shield no longer had a hole in it. This, he felt, was an impressive phenomenon, Wall would be able to fight forever so long as he kept winning!
At least that was his first impression.
Very soon after he returned, he found he was not quite as fresh as he would have liked. He was uninjured, sure, and his armor was practically in pristine condition, but the mental strain he had put himself under during the events of today was showing its effect.
Wall, as clever as he might be in devising a strategy in combat, was not good at using his head. He wasn't smart, he wasn't dumb, he just found it incredibly difficult to use his brain for an extended period of time. He was the type of person who liked to resolve his problems with his axe, if possible, if only so that he didn't have to think of something that would resolve them. Obviously he wouldn't do that if the resolution was clear to see, but he really couldn't be bothered to think through a series of causes and effects to find the most correct method.
In a way, that meant that those who slandered him were right. Wall was very brutish. He acknowledged he had what some might consider barbaric tendencies. That didn't mean he was a barbarian though, especially not in comparison to some of the other nobles out there. Abuse of force, it could be said, was actually much more common than the attitudes of the nobles in this armory would lead you to believe. If someone didn't get what they wanted, there was every chance they would challenge someone to a duel over it. There was also no doubt in anyone's mind that they would use the difference in power between themselves and their peasantry to extort what they needed, it was more the case that nobody talked about it.
See, Wall might not like to use his head, but he wasn't stupid. In fact he could use his head like he did during the fight, thinking up strategies to defeat opponents that held a traditional advantage. He was just quicker to come to the realization, whether correct or not, that words weren't going to cut it and he needed to punch somebody to get what he wanted. He didn't abide by the pomp and process his peers had laid out, it didn't jive with him, so he just ignored it and did what he pleased.
He might receive glares and ridicule from others, but he didn't care. They didn't have power over him. His people were a proud race, much the same as every other, and they would not bend the knee to some hypocrites.
Unfortunately, it couldn't be said that they would never submit to authority, a lesson Wall had learned oh so well in his time here.
He had come here to fight, and in his search for an army made it clear. He believed himself equal, if not that then superior, to the vast majority of attendees. Even a great many of the superior officers, he felt, were below him, both in terms of 'honor' and in martial skill. Yet none of them seemed to want him in their squads, he simply wasn't an appealing enough candidate. Even some of the less powerful and more desperate groups were unwilling to take him in, the few who even considered it ordering him to submit in some sort of way.
That was something he was simply unwilling to do.
It shouldn't be surprising that he was left without an army at that point, but he stayed, just in case. If he had to pin down a specific reason for his decision after all this time, he would have to say it was without a doubt 'arrogance'. He, in all his finite and restricted wisdom, believed himself superior to his peers, something which very quickly changed once he was introduced to his squad.
His first hint should have been how Donovan took his appearance in stride. He might have been a bit surprised, but there wasn't any malice in his eyes. What Wall didn't notice at the time was that Don was not particularly impressed about anything but his size. Even when he got into his armor, Don's reactions could be categorized as fairly neutral as far as Wall's previous experiences with people went. He might have been a bit confused, but for the most part none of his expressions changed.
The other hint that Wall should have picked up on was Don's post-battle analysis, not just for him but for the other three. He didn't judge Wall based on his choice of combat style, but instead based on what his results were. He didn't suggest completely altering his combat style, but instead making adjustments to his equipment that would improve his performance. His shield didn't need to be that tall, his opponents couldn't get a good attack off at that angle anyway.
It was the next morning that everything came together, when Wall was awoken before first light to the sound of clattering kitchenware and grown men screaming at the top of their lungs. It was a shock for him, a noble who had never been treated that way, but it very quickly set the tone for that day. This was his first day of hell, and it was no surprise that he regarded it as the worst.
Donovan, for the most part at least, did not see him as a human being that day. This was something he had made very clear, even going so far as to make sure they knew he was calling them animals. Initially, Wall wanted to react to this the same way he would have done to anyone else, but he held his tongue. At that moment his future was at Don's mercy, and he wanted to keep that future if at all possible. He simply bit his tongue and did as he was told.
However it was as they jogged that Wall learned something very important about how Donovan saw them. He did not see Wall as an animal because of his personality or race or habits or fighting style. Don saw Wall as less than human because in that moment Wall was insufficient. Wall, a man who was prideful beyond belief, had to come to terms that he simply wasn't enough. It hurt, perhaps more than it had any right to, but he did not yet meet Don's requirements for what a human should be.
Wall found himself to be weaker than a man who was smaller than him. Wall found himself less civilized than a man more violent than him. Wall found himself being oppressed by a man who couldn't use split yet. Wall found himself losing a battle of will against someone who wasn't even fighting.
Wall was forced to admit that despite there being more man to him, he was less of a 'man' than Donovan. That hurt, but he wasn't to be deterred because of such a thing. Instead he would have to learn, taking lessons from the way Donovan did things, in order to become the sort of person he wanted to be. If that meant Wall had to learn manners and how to be polite, that was something he would do. If that meant Wall had to use his head, that was something he would do. If that meant Wall had to submit to authority, that was something he would do.
"I can't believe he lost to you of all things." The person who had just walked through the door was the other person who had insulted him and his mother. Evidently he had just finished a match of his own, but he obviously wasn't pleased to find that his acquaintance had lost to him.
"It was a good match." Wall reminded himself to remain polite. He had already taken one of them down, something he was inexorably pleased about, but if he could remain courteous as Donovan had warned then he could further enrage them. "I feel I gained much from the experience. I take it your match yielded the same results?"
The man's face contorted into something angry, clearly not happy with the fact that Wall was not playing his part the way he was supposed to. "Hmph! How could I possibly learn anything useful from beating down a weakling like that!" He was receiving some glares from people to the side, this was not behavior that was fitting for his station. "I pray I fight you next! I swear I shall pound you into the dirt like the peasant you are!"
"Peasant, you say?" Wall had to choose his words carefully, but he was more than happy to use his tired brain a bit more here if it meant he could further taunt this idiot. "While I must say I object to being referred to as one of the lower class, I must thank you for complimenting my effort and the work that I have put in to reach this position. Yes, I, much like the peasants you so seem to despise, have trained with my life practically on the line just to see another day, just to fight another battle. I do say that analogy is quite beautiful, no?"
Wall's smug grin threatened to leave his face it was becoming so wide. The man before him was huffing and puffing with anger, one of his legs shaking as if he was preparing to stomp his way out. He had just been embarrassed, he had referred to his subjects as dirty and been called out on it, making it look like he hated those which supported his way of life. It wasn't a good look.
However the best part in Wall's eyes was that he hadn't lied. He had been fighting for his life these past two weeks.
"Why you-"
"Attention all participants! The second round is starting now. I would like to ask all participants who have lost their first match to exit the armory at this time. With that out of the way, first up is Wall of Gilded Earth!"
"Here sir!"
- - - - -
Wall was practically singing the praises of luck almighty once he saw who was walking up into the ring, someone who displayed an equal amount of enthusiasm to be facing him.
"It must be the will of the Great Csillacra that you are my opponent, brute."
"I do say that today has been filled with happy coincidences, has it not?"
"Shut it!" Oh he was so angry right now, and Wall was just eating it up. "I swear that if I do not run through you and that shield with this sword of mine I will have no right to call myself a noble!"
Wall's opponent, 'Grumpy' for now, drew his blade and pointed it at Wall.
"Settle down kid, wait for the match to start." The enforcer drew his own blade, a warning but also a form of preparedness should Grumpy explode. "Ready?"
"Ready good sir." Wall placed his shield directly in front of him, he had a feeling his opponent had already taken the bait.
"Oh I'm ready."
"Okay gentlemen, keep your extremities inside the ring . . . good. Now, prepare to fight on my mark. Three, two, one, GO!"
"RAAAAAAAA!!!" Grumpy shot from his starting position just as Wall expected, but once again Wall did not move. This man might have been fast, but he was also angry, and angry people made stupid mistakes. All Wall had to do was wait for him to hit his shield.
CRESHK
The sword ripped through his shield and the arm that supported it, but Wall didn't flinch. He knew it was coming, he wanted it to come. Was his arm destroyed? For the moment maybe. Was his opponent's sword now stuck? Absolutely, and there wasn't a chance in hell he was going to pull it out.
Wall, quick to respond through the pain, swung his axe towards his opponent.
Unfortunately due to how slow he was, he only nicked Grumpy's arm as he jumped away, but Grumpy's sword stayed with Wall. However Grumpy, now shocked, disoriented, and disarmed, stumbled. Wall didn't give him the opportunity to run.
Stepping over as fast as he could, Wall stomped on the man's foot as he dragged it away, crushing it with the force of an armored behemoth. Now standing over a crippled and unarmed opponent, Wall took once last moment to rub it in.
"It was a good match."
He sounded calm and composed, which he was, but the tone didn't match the image of a man with a sword stuck in his arm who was currently bleeding profusely. The image didn't last long though, as Wall lifted up his shield before slamming it down on Grumpy's chest, breaking his ribcage, destroying some of his internal organs, and very quickly sending both of them back outside the ring.
Grumpy's sword clattered to the ground beside him, he himself spasming from the residual feeling of having his body practically dissected by a giant metal slab.
