09-05-2017, 03:40 PM
Ratione Intro Post
Ratione walked over the glazed wood paneling in the human school's apprent recreational center. Specifically, where the human students were practitioned in a traditional form of martial arts known commonly as "Kendo", or at least that had been what the Novan was told. Honestly, he had not been given much insight by the Ambassador before being dropped in this world, per usual. All he knew was that he was supposed to be replacing a decomissioned instructor, and he had to teach a class of children how to fight his way, instead of theirs.
Easy enough.
Resting on his shoulder, tip up and pommel cupped in his hand, was his own greatsword, and he was attired in his armor's jumpsuit as a form of "workout clothes", as the humans called it. Oddly enough, no one had commented on the fact that, in this context, he was an alien. Then again, Switch did say they would not noticed unless it was pointed out. The Furtumin figured it had something to do with the reality warping.
However, observing the style of kento lent other more localized questions for the Novan. Specifically, the inferiority of their training. It was so contained and rehearsed, he would be surprised if any one of these students could handle themselves in war. On top of that, if they were training some kind of militia, why not train them in polearms? In his own experience, it was a lot easier to train a lot of inexperienced men to walk and move in unison with pikes rather than the intricacies of sword play.
The Furtumin shrugged his shoulders to his own internal monologue. Ah, well, he was not one to question his mission here. In fact most of the time these kinds of missions required him to be as ignorant as possible to the actual agenda for things to work. The old man opted to wait for his class to shuffle in, checking his human wrist watch and taking a few minutes to interpret their time-keeping language.
Ratione walked over the glazed wood paneling in the human school's apprent recreational center. Specifically, where the human students were practitioned in a traditional form of martial arts known commonly as "Kendo", or at least that had been what the Novan was told. Honestly, he had not been given much insight by the Ambassador before being dropped in this world, per usual. All he knew was that he was supposed to be replacing a decomissioned instructor, and he had to teach a class of children how to fight his way, instead of theirs.
Easy enough.
Resting on his shoulder, tip up and pommel cupped in his hand, was his own greatsword, and he was attired in his armor's jumpsuit as a form of "workout clothes", as the humans called it. Oddly enough, no one had commented on the fact that, in this context, he was an alien. Then again, Switch did say they would not noticed unless it was pointed out. The Furtumin figured it had something to do with the reality warping.
However, observing the style of kento lent other more localized questions for the Novan. Specifically, the inferiority of their training. It was so contained and rehearsed, he would be surprised if any one of these students could handle themselves in war. On top of that, if they were training some kind of militia, why not train them in polearms? In his own experience, it was a lot easier to train a lot of inexperienced men to walk and move in unison with pikes rather than the intricacies of sword play.
The Furtumin shrugged his shoulders to his own internal monologue. Ah, well, he was not one to question his mission here. In fact most of the time these kinds of missions required him to be as ignorant as possible to the actual agenda for things to work. The old man opted to wait for his class to shuffle in, checking his human wrist watch and taking a few minutes to interpret their time-keeping language.
"Our fear is our weapon."