Strangers? Comrades? A Spar Between Marines

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Kester #1

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Jaw dropping would be an understatement. Kester's first real foray into the marines involved a trip to B-1, the Marines main base in North Blue. As the small marine ship sailed ever closer to the dock, Kester's head was looking up, staring at the two massive towers, connected by a very large bridge. The sheer amount of weaponry, and fortifications was stunning.

Kester wore his standard marine outfit, the sleeveless style with the blue handkerchief tied around his neck. Though he did choose to bring a white, standard marine jacket to keep himself warm through the North Blue temperatures. His sword was strapped to his back, the hilt sitting taller than his head. He was aware the sword made him look smaller then he was, but he didn't care. It was an heirloom he intended to use that would help him become an extremely strong marine. As they finished docking procedures the seaman recruit stepped off the ship onto solid ground. Kester felt at home on a ship, but there was always something about walking around on solid ground that made him comfortable.

Still flabbergasted at the sheer size of the marine base, Kester moved towards his superior officer for his orders. The man was smaller then Kester, his hair and beard speckled with gray, and although he was small he commanded an air of respect. "Recruit! You're to report to the training ground. Apparently they have someone they'd like to partner you with for the day." Kester saluted while answering with a prompt "Yes sir!".

After being pointed in the right direction Kester began his hike up a long set of stairs towards the higher levels of the base. The staircase never seemed to end, though with Kester's stamina it didn't seem to make a difference. The base was abuzz with excitement, marines running up and down the stairs, passing him quickly, clearly with assigned jobs to do. Kester couldn't believe how busy the base was, he'd never been to a spot quite so full of movement. He'd heard stories from his grandfather of course, but they couldn't really compare to what he was experiencing.

Finally reaching the top of the stairs Kester continued his walk down the pathway past the whitewashed buildings, taking two lefts and then a right as directed until he stood in a medium sized courtyard. The courtyard was primarily dirt, with tufts of grass clinging to survival. The area clearly got a lot of use, as evidenced by the mass of footprints, and gouges of dirt missing.

Unlatching his sword from his back Kester leaned it up against a whitewashed wall, and then sat against the wall, his head between his knees. Practicing his breathing Kester sunk into his own little world. If his supposed sparring partner showed up he'd see the odd sight of a five and a half foot broadsword leaning against a wall, while its master sat with his head between his knees as if he was asleep.

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Kester Rose #c8081b

[pepsi]

-- CHAPTER 3 // A SPAR BETWEEN MARINES

"This?" Lars said, "why me?"

The Ensign shook his head. "In the past few weeks you've proven quite the resource, Seaman Recruit van der Vennen." Ensign Ezra Behlke, the temporary instructor assigned to his little team, was a burly man that nearly doubled Lars' height. Black hair, a scar across his face; ever since Lars was stationed on B1 he always played the role of a father figure. And after the boy proved his loyalty to the Navy with a few jobs well done, Ezra knew he could count on him for the typical responsibilities that higher ranking soldiers would typically look after.
One such responsibility was to introduce recruits to the B1 base's essential facilities. "I have some paperwork to sign. I know the new recruit will be in good hands with you."

Lars sighed. Responsibilities were to be expected, but he wished he could put some more experience under his belt before starting to actually climb up the ladder of authority. Actually, come to think of it, that particular job was not going to affect his career in any sensible way. In short, it was a waste of time - time he could spend training or studying - that wasn't really going to benefit him in any way.
But because he didn't want to spoil the relationship he had built with the Ensign so far, he couldn't really refuse. Lars straightened his spine, saluted, and said: "Yes, sir. Leave it to me, sir."

When he got to the spot where he was told the recruit would wait, he initially saw nothing. Weird, he thought; he was sure the new recruit had to wait there for further instructions. He walked past the spot a couple times, scratching his head as he found nobody. Upon closer inspection, the thing that looked like a folded down mannequin left in a corner of the base turned out to be an actual breathing, living person. "Uh..."

"Ya doin' okay, mate? Should I take ya to the infirmary?..."

-- NAME // Lars Van der Vennen

-- CLASS // E

-- TECHS USED // None.

[leaf]

Kester #2

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Kester could feel the cold, salty air sliding through his hair as he continued the breathing exercises his grandfather had taught him. Continuing to improve his stamina and lung capacity was key for him to master his broadsword and the swordsmanship style he had been taught. The young marine was a bit dead to the world as he practiced his slow breathing, though he did hear the crunch of the ground as footsteps approached.

"Ya doin' okay, mate? Should I take ya to the infirmary?..."

Taking one last deep breath Kester brought his head up from between his knees, finishing his breathing exercises. His green blue eyes fell upon the man standing in front of him, and Kester went into a full analysis immediately. Average height, lean and muscular, short blonde hair, with an interesting hat and even more interesting golden eyes. A smiled graced Kester's face as he placed one hand on his knee and pushed himself to standing with a groan.

"I'm completely fine, thanks for asking", the young marine spoke in a more jovial tone, a small smile still gracing his features, "just waiting for someone." Kester began patting his legs down, dusting off his marine uniform before he realized that it could be a superior officer standing in front of him. Hastily finishing his task and quickly regaining his composure Kester began his introduction.

"Seaman Recruit Kester Rose, reporting for duty." Grabbing his broadsword, he spun it quickly and slid it back into place on the holster on his back. Smiling and extending his hand to the other young marine. "Hoping its you I'm supposed to meet sir, excited to get started."

While awaiting further instruction Kester continued to analyze the other marine, looking for signs of rank as well as analyzing his mood. He seemed stern and serious, which would be an interesting combination to Kesters jovial and humorous nature. Regardless of the situation, whether he was about to be reprimanded for his behavior or whether his tour of the marine facility was about to begin, the excitement was clear in Kester's demeanor.

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Kester Rose #c8081b

[pepsi]

Surprisingly, the mannequin man folded in on itself spoke, and came alive. The young boy, named Kester as he was about to reveal, seemed relaxed and unperturbed by the whole ordeal. Kester would meet the gaze of a rather confused, lightly surprised blond-haired boy with a funny sailor's hat.

"Ah," he said, "must be you then" he said, meeting the man's extended hand with his own. His handshake was sometimes described as "overzealous". Lars' heritage as a longarm gave his arms and hands incredible strength, and sometimes it would just briefly appear behind the veil of normality he oozed.

"Yeah. Normally you'd meet Ensign Behlke, but they sent me this time." Lars shrugged, and released the handshake. "Name's Lars. We gots the same Rank, so no need to be formal here."
He adjusted his hat, and in doing so his eyes spotted the sword the man was carrying, the way he spun it before sheathing it. In a brief moment, he was reminded of the insane upkeep cost that it must've been if he, too, had a weapon. Or - rather - if he used a weapon the same way he used his bare hands.
But it was about time he picked up the slack, and started fulfilling his duty. "A sword, eh? Guess I should show ya the armory, then..." He said, as he started pacing towards the armory.

As the two made their way to the first stop of their visit, Lars decided it would be a good time to get to know yet another addition to the Navy's arsenal. "So Kester, what brought you here? Why are ya fighting?"

-- NAME // Lars Van der Vennen

-- CLASS // E

-- TECHS USED // None.

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Kester #3

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If Kester had described Lars handshake as firm it would be an understatement. The young marine let out a sigh of relief after finishing the handshake, both from a pain management perspective as well as the fact he hadn't disrespected a superior officer. Clenching and unclenching his hand to get some feeling back Kester smiled back at the other young marine.

"Nice to meet you Lars"

Acknowledging Lars interest in his sword, Kester lightly tapped the hilt with his right hand. "The armory would be a great place to start, as you can imagine a lot goes into upkeeping this beauty." Kester began following the other young marine to their first destination, taking in every detail he could of the base. His nose was still filled with the smell of the sea both from his trip and from the open air areas in the base he had already traversed.

"So Kester, what brought you here? Why are ya fighting?"

Kester pondered the question while he followed Lars. It wasn't an easy question to answer for the young marine. He of course had his reasons for joining the military, but could he reveal his true intentions to another marine he just met? Kester's silence was long but when he finally spoke he revealed as much of his true intentions as he could. "Honestly Lars I joined the military to follow in my families footsteps. I fight to uphold the core values of the marines, and intend to become Fleet admiral one day. I'll help the weak and the ones who have been dealt misfortune to make the world a much better place."

Kester was about as truthful as he could be with the other young marine. He couldn't very well say that to achieve his goal he may have to overthrow the current hierarchy and corruption that existed in the marines. His intentions were good as he knew most of the marines were. Kester just didn't believe that the ones running the show at the top had good intentions, but were rather interested in increasing their power and influence.

"What about you Lars? Why are you here?"

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Kester Rose

#c8081b

[pepsi]

The blond nodded along as Kester explained his motives. To him, they appeared more than noble enough: defend the less fortunate, help the weak, save the world. Standard goals for someone who is genuinely interested in making the world they live in a better place.
The question was quickly turned back towards himself. Lars adjusted the blue brim of his hat, and replied: "Where I'm from, you gotta have a talent for crime or you won't make it very far. Lotsa people living their life like the law don't even exist."
He let out a long sigh, thinking back to the terrible conditions his family had to endure for most of his life: poverty, resorting to thievery, misery. "I decided I'd do something about it. Make things right and all-a that. Don't care much for ranks, as long as I get to purge crime from the face of the planet."

"Anyways, there's the armory for ya" he said, as his pacing slowed to a stop. In the open area in front of them one could see large storage rooms, presumably stocked with ordinance weapons like rifles and batons; grindstones, leather polishers, benches, lockers, and all that was needed for weapon maintenance. "As I said, I don't hang around here a lot. Dunno what half of this stuff even is." On the far side, an iron net separating the open space from a warehouse, where the most dangerous resources would be kept like gunpowder and other explosives; access was guarded by a few higher-ranking officers.

"Haha! Weird to see you here" roared a voice from behind their backs. It was Ezekiel, a two-and-a-half-meter high hulk of a man with spiky brown hair and a scar across his face.
Lars didn't like Ezekiel. He was known for stirring trouble among recruits, and at one point he decided to instigate and participate in an illegal boxing match after training hours for the sake of proving he was the strongest fighter in the base. He couldn't do it, as his match against Lars - who had been thrown into the ring against his will - never actually ended.
"Ezekiel." Lars growled. "Who's this? New cannon fodder? Haha!" The man laughed, and swung his large kanabo over the shoulder. The kanabo was Ensign Ezra Behlke's signature weapon, and to Lars, seeing as the man had decided to follow in those footsteps was nothing short of staining the good name of his superior. "You think you'll become an Ensign faster just for swinging that around?" "Hm, Lars. Watch your mouth. I just think Ensign Behlke's kanabo is really cool and matches my physical strength. Nothing personal." He leaned in to meet Lars' own height, and said: "We still need to finish that fight, you know?" "I don't want any more trouble, Ezekiel." He chuckled again, and tapping the club on his shoulder he paced away from the two Seamen towards the weapon maintenance area.

-- NAME // Lars Van der Vennen

-- CLASS // E

-- TECHS USED // None.

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Kester Rose #4

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Lars reasoning for joining the marines was an interesting one. Kester could tell he was clearly a strong willed individual, and his logic for his decision to join the marines was sound. Must've been a hard childhood. While making their way to the armory Kester tried his best to remember the route, looking for landmarks, signs or oddities that would lead him there. The armory would be one of the places he spent most of his time while he was on the base, whenever he wasn't at the training grounds.

When they reached their destination the young marines eyes were drawn to every tool and weapon imaginable. Glancing over the firearms, definitely not his weapon of choice, to swords, clubs, axes and spears. The weapon maintenance section looked well stocked, grindstones, leather polishers and the like, as well as any tool a weapon user could possibly ever need. Kester was in some ways shocked that these facilities were available to all of the marines, not just the officers, and in other ways it was obvious why they were open to everyone.

Kester moved to take a look at some of the hanging leather strappings, knowing that the hilt of his sword needed to be re-gripped. That is until a hulk of a man, holding a kanabo walked through and began conversing with Lars. His eyes were drawn to the spiky brown hair and then the scar across his face. The interaction seemed tense to say the least, and to Kester the man was rather unlikeable.

Visibly gripping the hilt of his sword over his shoulder, Kesters eyes bore into the man called Ezekiel, already not a fan of how he treated Lars. Relaxing his muscles as the man moved away, Kesters attention returned to Lars. "Who was that guy? I'm assuming he's the base bully."

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Kester Rose #c8081b

[pepsi]

As soon as the new rookie came back around and asked the question, Lars shrugged and shook his head. "That'd be Ezekiel Eisenhart" he said, following up with a sigh.
The man was trouble. He was physically gited, much more so than your average Marine, and for this very reason he liked to pick a fight with whoever he wanted. "One of many" Lars said, trying to downplay Ezekiel's importance, "just wish more people took their job more seriously."
To be truthful, it wasn't totally their fault. Throw a bunch of young people ready for some action - some less capable of holding back than others - together on a tight little island, and some dynamics are bound to form. Lars looked over at the armory before turning his attention back to Kester: "'s about time we move on. Hope you gots everything sorted over there."

"Next stop, my favourite. The gym."

The two paced towards a different corner of the base. Along the way, Lars pointed out other relevant places of interest: the dorms, the various different exits of the base, the cafeteria. In about ten minutes of walking the two arrived at the aforementioned gym.
"So here's where the dreams happen" Lars explained, a sneaky little smirk finally appearing on his face. "You gots the uh... Them weights" he said, pointing at random equipment around the room, "them sand bags, them stretching stations, and..."

His index stopped on the largest piece right in the middle of the room. It was a square mat, with padded edges and corners; at the four corners were planted four poles, and three blue ropes were attached from one pole to the next to form a three-fold barrier on all four sides. "The ring. It's where I spend most of my time. Gots any questions?"

-- NAME // Lars Van der Vennen

-- CLASS // E

-- TECHS USED // None.