Phoe
Lurking Krog"If you're facing a phalanx, you have already failed."
Alexa does not ask the obvious question. Molech is speaking. If he wishes to explain himself, then he will do so in his own time. If he does not, then any attempt to provoke him into doing so is simply the act of somebody too simple to understand what he means. Questions are for people.
Instead, she stands at rest, and studies the men lining the opposite end of the parade ground. Given the ease with which they carry themselves, they're obviously friends. No, upgrade that to comrades-in-arms. Even here, even in an unthreatening environment, they move almost as one to shield and block each other. It's an intimidating wall of spears and shields, and the glints at the points say that she can expect no blunted tips or padded armor today.
Molech waits a second more, and gives an almost imperceptible nod at her silence before continuing. "In battle, your position is by my side. If you are facing a phalanx, it is because you have already failed to prevent them from reaching my side."
Alexa opens her mouth, and then shuts it quickly again. Molech frowns, and she winces internally.
"Nevertheless," he grudgingly continues, "you may someday have need of fighting them. As such, The 601st has volunteered to train you."
Er. Somehow, that worries her more than the unblunted spears. "Volunteer" is a dangerous word in this army. It can mean either "was volunteered" by a commander, and that's the good option. The other option is that a bunch of violent bastards decided that it would be fun to pit themselves against the spitting image of Athena herself. There's no winning for her here--either she spits a bunch of hapless wanna-bes, or spares their lives and has to deal with word spreading that Molech's Pet Statue was defeated in a training bout.
At a command, the bristling spears and shields turn, and now it's like facing an armored, impenetrable shield wall.
Molech is unreadable as a page hands her a spear and shield.
"Begin."
---
She hits the ground, a deep gouge carved into her chest, and looks up into a forest of spears aimed at her throat.
"No. Wrong. Flank, disrupt, tear apart. Again."
---
Aegis shatters under a blow poorly blocked, and three spears physically lift her off her feet.
"Too slow. If this were real, I'd be dead now. Again."
---
Granite, marble and blood litter the courtyard. She's given well, but too much. Please, Molech, allow her to rest.
"Again."
***
Not again.
Phalanxes suck, do you know that? They're grindy, and achy, and full of points, and once they get set up it's always, 100% of the time, a painful affair to remove them.
And here she is between two of them.
One phalanx she can handle, she tells herself. They outnumber her, sure, but she's eight feet of marble with weapons and armor crafted by the gods themselves. Line up with one, bowl them over, and lay waste to the rest. Do it quickly, and she's out and down the corridor before the second phalanx can move in and properly pin her. She's fast, they're slow, and if the second phalanx wants to catch up to her, they'll need to break formation, which is basically an open invitation to be torn apart.
And it works! It's standard strategy to go for the end of the phalanx, as, in theory, that means fewer spears brought to bear. That means that, in accordance to equally standard strategy, the redhead at the end of the line is roughly as thick as a brick wall, and twice as dense. They expect the bull rush. What they don't expect are the arms that snake out, grab the walls, and throw her into the next man over.
Something crunches under her heel, and the man sags against the line. Good. Paralysis can be sorted out later. Line break achieved. Now for the rest.
She lets momentum carry her to the opposite wall, where a quick thrust with the shortspear jams itself through an unfortunate second-rank servitor's armor and down through the lung underneath. Two down, which means that the man in front of them is left alone. Stab him in the kidneys, let the rest of them see a front-line combatant, one of their best, get taken down.
Break their morale. That's how this works. Make them see the folly of facing Athena's champion, the creation of the Warsage. Make them turn, flee, run, break upon the spears of the ranks behind them. Make it confusing, chaotic, but be seen. Be seen as the force of destruction you are. Make them know what they've done. Make it so that next time, the next phalanx cuts and runs at the sight of her.
But it's grindy, and slow, because of course it is because phalanxes suck. And as she cuts down spearman after spearman, she's all too aware that there's more to fill the line, and that clomping from the other phalanx is getting really loud, and then it's a press of two walls meeting and spearmen getting their last licks in first, and kicking and wow they're heavy.
And now it's confusion. Because shit, she just killed Faron, and Zelok is still paralyzed and will be for the next five minutes or so, and... and, well, she looks like Athena, and nobody wants the kind of shitstorm you get by killing someone like that. The redhead linebacker suggests that maybe they capture her? It'd be a commendation for them for sure, that kind of thing. Bring her back to the ship, like, present her to the King? Make them look real good, might even get the king to bow out of his alliance with that prick the Admiral?
Hmm. Not the princess, sure, but still an obviously important person. Bring her back, and let the higher-ups sort it out.
[6 on Overcome.]
Alexa does not ask the obvious question. Molech is speaking. If he wishes to explain himself, then he will do so in his own time. If he does not, then any attempt to provoke him into doing so is simply the act of somebody too simple to understand what he means. Questions are for people.
Instead, she stands at rest, and studies the men lining the opposite end of the parade ground. Given the ease with which they carry themselves, they're obviously friends. No, upgrade that to comrades-in-arms. Even here, even in an unthreatening environment, they move almost as one to shield and block each other. It's an intimidating wall of spears and shields, and the glints at the points say that she can expect no blunted tips or padded armor today.
Molech waits a second more, and gives an almost imperceptible nod at her silence before continuing. "In battle, your position is by my side. If you are facing a phalanx, it is because you have already failed to prevent them from reaching my side."
Alexa opens her mouth, and then shuts it quickly again. Molech frowns, and she winces internally.
"Nevertheless," he grudgingly continues, "you may someday have need of fighting them. As such, The 601st has volunteered to train you."
Er. Somehow, that worries her more than the unblunted spears. "Volunteer" is a dangerous word in this army. It can mean either "was volunteered" by a commander, and that's the good option. The other option is that a bunch of violent bastards decided that it would be fun to pit themselves against the spitting image of Athena herself. There's no winning for her here--either she spits a bunch of hapless wanna-bes, or spares their lives and has to deal with word spreading that Molech's Pet Statue was defeated in a training bout.
At a command, the bristling spears and shields turn, and now it's like facing an armored, impenetrable shield wall.
Molech is unreadable as a page hands her a spear and shield.
"Begin."
---
She hits the ground, a deep gouge carved into her chest, and looks up into a forest of spears aimed at her throat.
"No. Wrong. Flank, disrupt, tear apart. Again."
---
Aegis shatters under a blow poorly blocked, and three spears physically lift her off her feet.
"Too slow. If this were real, I'd be dead now. Again."
---
Granite, marble and blood litter the courtyard. She's given well, but too much. Please, Molech, allow her to rest.
"Again."
***
Not again.
Phalanxes suck, do you know that? They're grindy, and achy, and full of points, and once they get set up it's always, 100% of the time, a painful affair to remove them.
And here she is between two of them.
One phalanx she can handle, she tells herself. They outnumber her, sure, but she's eight feet of marble with weapons and armor crafted by the gods themselves. Line up with one, bowl them over, and lay waste to the rest. Do it quickly, and she's out and down the corridor before the second phalanx can move in and properly pin her. She's fast, they're slow, and if the second phalanx wants to catch up to her, they'll need to break formation, which is basically an open invitation to be torn apart.
And it works! It's standard strategy to go for the end of the phalanx, as, in theory, that means fewer spears brought to bear. That means that, in accordance to equally standard strategy, the redhead at the end of the line is roughly as thick as a brick wall, and twice as dense. They expect the bull rush. What they don't expect are the arms that snake out, grab the walls, and throw her into the next man over.
Something crunches under her heel, and the man sags against the line. Good. Paralysis can be sorted out later. Line break achieved. Now for the rest.
She lets momentum carry her to the opposite wall, where a quick thrust with the shortspear jams itself through an unfortunate second-rank servitor's armor and down through the lung underneath. Two down, which means that the man in front of them is left alone. Stab him in the kidneys, let the rest of them see a front-line combatant, one of their best, get taken down.
Break their morale. That's how this works. Make them see the folly of facing Athena's champion, the creation of the Warsage. Make them turn, flee, run, break upon the spears of the ranks behind them. Make it confusing, chaotic, but be seen. Be seen as the force of destruction you are. Make them know what they've done. Make it so that next time, the next phalanx cuts and runs at the sight of her.
But it's grindy, and slow, because of course it is because phalanxes suck. And as she cuts down spearman after spearman, she's all too aware that there's more to fill the line, and that clomping from the other phalanx is getting really loud, and then it's a press of two walls meeting and spearmen getting their last licks in first, and kicking and wow they're heavy.
And now it's confusion. Because shit, she just killed Faron, and Zelok is still paralyzed and will be for the next five minutes or so, and... and, well, she looks like Athena, and nobody wants the kind of shitstorm you get by killing someone like that. The redhead linebacker suggests that maybe they capture her? It'd be a commendation for them for sure, that kind of thing. Bring her back to the ship, like, present her to the King? Make them look real good, might even get the king to bow out of his alliance with that prick the Admiral?
Hmm. Not the princess, sure, but still an obviously important person. Bring her back, and let the higher-ups sort it out.
[6 on Overcome.]