B'halian Military Base~ PT, Day I [End]
Posted: Wed Mar 27, 2024 2:02 pm
As dawn cast its golden glow over the training grounds of the B'halian Military Base, an air of anticipation enveloped the crisp morning air. The terrain, once scarred by the cataclysmic events of the previous night, was now a pristine canvas awaiting the footsteps of new recruits thanks to the works of the capable Sylva Dryad fae.
At the heart of the training area stood a commanding figure, arms crossed in solemn determination. It was General Roux, a Cyr Elf of formidable presence, adorned in regal attire befitting his rank as a high-ranking officer of the B'halian Empire. His uniform, embellished with intricate silver linings and crimson embroidery, spoke volumes of his authority, while his polished armor gleamed in the morning light, a testament to his unwavering resolve. As he stood, a silent sentinel, the very winds seemed to obey his unspoken command, paying homage to his esteemed stature.
Surrounding the General were various training stations, meticulously arranged and adorned with banners bearing the proud insignia of the empire. From obstacle courses to sparring arenas, each station ready to test and refine the skills of the eager participants who would soon fill the empty spaces.
Yet, despite the meticulously arranged circuit, not all of the recruits had arrived, leaving a palpable void in their absence.. Still, as the sun cast its golden rays upon these hallowed sands, the General felt the stage was set for a day of rigorous–
“You are early, General Roux.” hailed the first figure to grace the military's arena, clad in the traditional attire of a Joro warrior. It was Delion, his presence commanding respect as he addressed the esteemed General. “It's reassuring to see that the future of the Empire's recruits remains in such diligent hands after all these years.” Delion's words rang out from his position in the stands, where he would observe the impending display with keen interest. General Roux remained stoic, his sharp bill barely twitching in response, though he nodded in acknowledgment of a higher ranking officer.
“And do you intend to join us, Commander?” the General mused, his tone carrying a hint of curiosity. “Need I remind you, physical training holds more weight than mere exhibitions. These recruits have already proven their worth. Have a look around you.” With a faint gesture towards the empty seats surrounding the arenas, he emphasized the seriousness of the training ahead. “As you can infer, this is not a spectators' event. What transpires here from henceforth is sacred.”
“And yet, I am here... as a spectator.” Delion replied sharply, the tension between the two men scorching. “I am invested in the development of our future, General. That is all. And let this be the last we speak of my interests.” He said acutely. “..need I remind you, I am no longer one of your recruits.”
As if signaled to put an end to the ongoing dispute, the gates of the arena swung open with a resounding creak. Stepping into view, a gathering of recruits emerged, each proudly displaying the emblem of their respective tribes upon their attire.
Their numbers were modest, barely reaching ten in total. Leading the group was Turo'n, a robust Vulqin warrior whose scars and weathered features spoke of unwavering determination. Despite the wounds that adorned his jade-colored skin, he exuded a confidence that seemed unshakable as he took charge at the forefront. Accompanying his side was Naii', a graceful Khor Elf whose terrifying, imposing stature demanded attention.. and fear. With eight legs and a massive thorax, she carried herself with the poise of royalty. Rounding out the trio was Qalen, a stoic Joro elf whose silent intensity hinted at a fierce dedication to his goals. His arm, encased in a mechanical sling crafted with Bhalian technology, bore testament to his resilience.
Together, they led the group of recruits towards the training grounds, their footsteps echoing in unison with the rhythm of their hearts. Though they exchanged few words amongst themselves, the tension between them was palpable, particularly among those who had clashed during the exhibition matches. General Roux, observing from a distance, could almost taste the lingering animosity in the air.
"Is this it then?" The General's voice roared through the modest multitude. Unimpressed and unamused. "I recall the number of initial recruits to be more than two hundred?" He asked to anyone who would answer.. Delion's muffled laughter his first tender. "The exhibition also included a suicidal horde of Vulcan hunters.. none of them properly trained in combat, but showcased a valiant display of sacrifice." Delion hailed from the stands, looking through the faces of the new recruits for any familiar prospects.
At the heart of the training area stood a commanding figure, arms crossed in solemn determination. It was General Roux, a Cyr Elf of formidable presence, adorned in regal attire befitting his rank as a high-ranking officer of the B'halian Empire. His uniform, embellished with intricate silver linings and crimson embroidery, spoke volumes of his authority, while his polished armor gleamed in the morning light, a testament to his unwavering resolve. As he stood, a silent sentinel, the very winds seemed to obey his unspoken command, paying homage to his esteemed stature.
Surrounding the General were various training stations, meticulously arranged and adorned with banners bearing the proud insignia of the empire. From obstacle courses to sparring arenas, each station ready to test and refine the skills of the eager participants who would soon fill the empty spaces.
Yet, despite the meticulously arranged circuit, not all of the recruits had arrived, leaving a palpable void in their absence.. Still, as the sun cast its golden rays upon these hallowed sands, the General felt the stage was set for a day of rigorous–
“You are early, General Roux.” hailed the first figure to grace the military's arena, clad in the traditional attire of a Joro warrior. It was Delion, his presence commanding respect as he addressed the esteemed General. “It's reassuring to see that the future of the Empire's recruits remains in such diligent hands after all these years.” Delion's words rang out from his position in the stands, where he would observe the impending display with keen interest. General Roux remained stoic, his sharp bill barely twitching in response, though he nodded in acknowledgment of a higher ranking officer.
“And do you intend to join us, Commander?” the General mused, his tone carrying a hint of curiosity. “Need I remind you, physical training holds more weight than mere exhibitions. These recruits have already proven their worth. Have a look around you.” With a faint gesture towards the empty seats surrounding the arenas, he emphasized the seriousness of the training ahead. “As you can infer, this is not a spectators' event. What transpires here from henceforth is sacred.”
“And yet, I am here... as a spectator.” Delion replied sharply, the tension between the two men scorching. “I am invested in the development of our future, General. That is all. And let this be the last we speak of my interests.” He said acutely. “..need I remind you, I am no longer one of your recruits.”
As if signaled to put an end to the ongoing dispute, the gates of the arena swung open with a resounding creak. Stepping into view, a gathering of recruits emerged, each proudly displaying the emblem of their respective tribes upon their attire.
Their numbers were modest, barely reaching ten in total. Leading the group was Turo'n, a robust Vulqin warrior whose scars and weathered features spoke of unwavering determination. Despite the wounds that adorned his jade-colored skin, he exuded a confidence that seemed unshakable as he took charge at the forefront. Accompanying his side was Naii', a graceful Khor Elf whose terrifying, imposing stature demanded attention.. and fear. With eight legs and a massive thorax, she carried herself with the poise of royalty. Rounding out the trio was Qalen, a stoic Joro elf whose silent intensity hinted at a fierce dedication to his goals. His arm, encased in a mechanical sling crafted with Bhalian technology, bore testament to his resilience.
Together, they led the group of recruits towards the training grounds, their footsteps echoing in unison with the rhythm of their hearts. Though they exchanged few words amongst themselves, the tension between them was palpable, particularly among those who had clashed during the exhibition matches. General Roux, observing from a distance, could almost taste the lingering animosity in the air.
"Is this it then?" The General's voice roared through the modest multitude. Unimpressed and unamused. "I recall the number of initial recruits to be more than two hundred?" He asked to anyone who would answer.. Delion's muffled laughter his first tender. "The exhibition also included a suicidal horde of Vulcan hunters.. none of them properly trained in combat, but showcased a valiant display of sacrifice." Delion hailed from the stands, looking through the faces of the new recruits for any familiar prospects.