[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/YDmPoVX.jpg[/img][/center] [center][img]http://i.imgur.com/QHrg7nB.png[/img][/center] 

[color=#D98719][B][SUP] M A N Y  Y E A R S  P R I O R [/sup][/B][/Color]

[Indent][color=lightgray] The end of the wooden staff slammed into the side of Corr’s head. A glob of blood fell limply splattering against stone. 

“Faster.”

Vision slowly cleared as he reaffirmed his grip upon his staff. Jerome Rhinebeck stood across from him clutching the staff in his hand. He stood much like Corr shirtless, dark skin bare to the elements  despite the winter chill that surrounded them. Despite his advanced age, he had the musculature of a man  half his age. Long beard of black peppered with splashes of grey. The centuries old Weissbern Monastery silhouetted behind him by the first early rays of morning sun having just now broke the horizon. His own staff rested easily in a defense grip years of practice and toil making the motions effortless.

With a yell, the fifteen year old boy crossed the gap between them lunging forward with the staff. This started a small rapport of wood knocking against wood. Each blow being thrown out being easily deflected, the older man never loosing eye contact with his pupil. Corr overextended and his staff was easily pushed and anchored to the ground. As he attempted to pull it free from underneath his opponents staff, a foot easily rocketed into his solar plexus sendong him tumbling back.

Jerome tossed the staff back to him.

“Why do we fight?”

“We are the sword. Like the spirits we are double-edged refined both in mind and body.” Corr answered back reciting Scripture with ease.

This time his opponent rushed forward, the boy was barely able to pull his staff upward  bracing against an overhand blow that made  his arms quiver. As concentrated as he was at keeping the staff at bay he did not notice as a heavy leg sweeped out and knocked his legs out from underneath him. The air was forced out of his lungs in a small gale as he reflexively curled up against the pain. As no other blow came he pushed himself to feet seeing Jerome once again across the way from him.

“Why do we fight?” 

“Cause beating up kids half your age makes you feel young again?” Cor answered as he circled more cautiously this time. He pushed outward with a feint, calling the bluff Jerome did not twitch as he circled counter to him. As he reached one hundred and eighty degrees on the circle, Cor swapped his footing and struck out. A similar exchange from earlier occurred as Jerome blocked blow after blow before slamming the staff into Corr’s right side buckling him before jabbing an end with just enough force to the top of the skull to send him stumbling backward flat on his ass.

“Why do we fight!”

Corr gripped at the palms of his hands hard. The veins in his arms bulging with tension. He looked from his staff still on the ground and back towards Jerome.  He wiped the sweat from his forehead smearing blood across  his face. And with a yell he charged at Jerome going low. The staff lashed out snapping like a whip across his left shoulder and back but he pushed. There was the sickening thud of impact as Corr met his waist and wrapped his hands around him. He pushed forward with enough force to send both of them crashing to the ground. Corr landing on top one on the chest, fist raised. 

“To protect people!” He answered and slammed the fist downward where it met flat earth. Jerome’s head easily snapping out of the way. A smile broke through the heavy beard as he clapped his hands around Corr's head pulling it downward  as he brought his own upward smashing hard skull against the bridge of the young man's nose sensing him reeling backwards in a splash of blood.

Getting up from his prone position he tossed his own staff away and raised his fists. The smile still on his face.

“Good. Again.”

[color=#D98719][B][SUP]S O L D I E R  E N C A M P M E N T  -  Z A L E R A  T U N D R A[/SUP][/B][/color]
[hr]

As soon as they entered the mess tent Corr vanished. Partly this was because if he spent anymore amount of time next to Carmen, the Giant would probably have its own version of a meltdown, and also because he had to prepare the food. The camp as small as it was did not have a dedicated mess staff and it was expected that they could take care of themselves. And any excuse to get away was a good one.

Cooking was a strange thing. It was something that while he wouldn't be winning any awards for his fine cuisine it was something he could [i]do[/i]. A skill honed through years toiling in the Monastery's kitchen, where the only punishment of failure was that your own dinner tasted like burnt crap. It helped him clear his head if whatever was happening. A task which he could throw everything he had against it and forget about everything else for a few blessed moments. 

Luckily for the ragtag bunch of misfits across the way whose conversation was dulled to a lowed mumble, Corr had already been prepping for the meal earlier. Though of course with the increase of bodies some minor adjustments needed to be made. As he chopped  and cooked he tried his best to ignore the grumbling of the Giant. He tried his best to ignore the fact that he was going to have to look after a kid that couldn't even handle long distance travel. He tried his best to ignore the  fact that he would have to look after a team where half of them couldn't even seem to Control their Aeons and not have them perform minor outburst. He did not think, he only cooked.

Eventually he moved out from the opposite wall of the tent holding a platter easily afloat balanced across one gargantuan  hand and a jug of simple water in the other. His ears picking up what introductions as he could as he slid over with surprising amount of silence given his  stature. His gait slow and controlled careful so that he could hear the bits and pieces of conversation that flared up around him. Taking note of names and general bearings even though the briefing had told him as watch.

Yet you see Corr was an observant fellow, an observance only further increased by the Giant's embrace upon his senses. And he could feel something building, something akin to a time bomb about to explode in a glass factory. Something whose origin’s epicenter was at the direct middle point between Nic and Carmen. Corr was partly intrigued and mostly terrified. So he moved slowly in such a path so that his face came within both of their respective lines of vision for a  fleeting moment.

The eyes first flickered to Nic and they were kind and they were beseeching a simple plea. [I]Careful. You crazy bastard.[/I] Next they flickered towards Carmen much sterner this time but knowing it probably wasn't going to do much. [I]Play nice.[/I] And after the brief half a second it took for him to pass and place the water down he pulled away. Content to let whatever was about to transgress to transgress, happy now that at least if somebody died he at least tried. 

Moving as far away from the prospective blast radius as he could he placed the platter on the table. It was venison nothing that would make any heads roll,  but surprisingly suitable to the pallette given the lack of material to work with. He made a motion gesturing for the others to dig in. With a sigh he sat down upon an unclaimed chair creaking underneath the newfound weight atop of it. He rubbed at the exhaustion in his eyes as he spoke to no one in particular.

“Corr. Mission is mysterious probably better that way. No time for second guesses. I was instructed to make sure you folks don't die. Cool? Cool.” 
 
And then he closed his eyes trying his best to ignore the constant thrumming coming from somewhere  in the back of his head.[/color][/Indent]