Against Protocol

The Colosseum, Early Afternoon.

"But that's against protocol."

A figure in blackened scale mail with an armet helmet's visor raised up is speaking with a tall half-oruch woman. In his hands is his familiar crossbow, with a training target a few paces away. Sparring and mentoring time, it seems like, in the Colosseum grounds. Certainly is spring, with the weather a dull warm in the sun, and a faint chill in the shade. The woman scoffs, wiping sweat off her brow as her bandanna is drenched. "Protocol? Who th' fuck cares? Ya can do it like a prissy bitch, or ya can chuck more steel down range. Get it down, tightass." She smacks his visor down with a >clank< and walks off.

The once guard stands there, stunned, a fistful of bolts in one gauntleted hand with his crossbow dangling from a strap, nestled into his arm. "... right. I kind of deserved that," he grumbles, slowly starting to winch the crossbow back with one hand.

The albino Goblin has settled in one of the lower rows of seating, from a vantage point where Warrick and the Half-Oruch woman are in the foreground, and the target is in the background.

Her feet sway back and forth, and she hums lightly, while her ever-present pencil scratches away at a modest sized notebook.

Simony's snort is heard as the woman cusses at Warrick, and then slams down his helmet. "Give that target what for!", she calls out loudly.

It was a very uncommon sight that Schara was at the colosseum district. They knew how to fight already! They jus weren't going to make a big production out of it. But there were other reasons to come to the colosseum, still. So there was a bronze armored person in the stands, also taking notes and sketches. "Is Warrick like a dog? What does that have to do with following the rules?" They wonder aloud. "And why would they deserve that?"

GAME: Warrick rolls weapon0-2+1: (19)+5+-2+1: 23
GAME: Warrick rolls weapon0-2+1: (20)+5+-2+1: 24 (THREAT)
GAME: Warrick rolls weapon0-2+1: (2)+5+-2+1: 6
GAME: Warrick rolls weapon0-2+1: (13)+5+-2+1: 17

Warrick gets his crossbow clicked into place, him looking up from the call out and laughing. It's impossible to see his expression, but he gives way to what he's thinking as he gestures to her, "Can it," he jabs back. Seems like training banter is one of the few forms of humor he actually has. <Handspeech>

Seeing Schara there gives him a minor pause, but he can't hear what they're saying. Giving a metallic shrug, he turns back to the target. It's an... odd setup he's got. He has a single point sling holding the large crossbow, and his right arm is curled around it to aim, finger resting on the trigger. In his left, he's got the carry handle in hand, and a fistful of bolts. Warrick adjusts his stance. Adjusts again, looking a little annoyed. Then he gives up and holds it.

In a quick motion, one bolt sails out, landing center mass with a heavy crunch. The carrying hand flies back, hitting the winding winch. A bolt from the same hand slots in a new shot, and keeps the motion going to finish the wind. And before he can steady again, the shot flies out. And crushes right into the head of the target.

Warrick pulls his visor up. Blinking. "... well shit. They don't teach you that in the Watch..."

"I would posit that she asked him to modify his weapon in such a way as to be against some protocol or regulation of the arena. Or perhaps the weapon is now more of a danger to him than it may normally be." Simony looks to Schara nearby, and shrugs her shoulders. "No, Warrick is not like a dog, however, if he is the student, then he should listen to the master. He believes he deserves the chastisement"

Her attention is returned to Warrick and the target, the Gobbo's eyebrows raising up as he scores two successive, solid hits. Her pencil practically blurs as she tries to get the scene in her head down onto paper.

"Nice shot!", she yells out, "But can ye dance and still aim?"

"Oh, that would make sense." The artificer nods back as she looks at some of the other arena participants and takes more notes. Though their attention turns back to Warrick as they fire again, and they nod again. "Ah, that would make sense. He is trying to fire his weapon more quickly than normally possible, since crossbows are designed to be fired once and reloaded over several seconds. That must have taken a lot of practice, in addition to the modifications miss Slatesteel made."

GAME: Warrick rolls weapon1-2+1: (14)+7+-2+1: 20
GAME: Warrick rolls weapon1-2+1: (9)+7+-2+1: 15

There's an echoing sound from Warrick from within his helmet that's easy to hear as 'pfft'. "I don't dance!" he calls back before getting himself situated again. Once more, two more bolts fly out, both striking not as vital spots, but still landing on the target. Far less accurate, but so much more efficient.

A low whistle leaves him, and he pulls his visor up as he ambles over to the two spectators. "That trick would get the drill sergeants yelling at me," he comments. "It's... I hate to admit it, but if I can get it down, it's certainly far more efficient and safer. Keeps my guard up and eyes on target. Aiming... is hard."

The Gobbo nods to Schara. "It seems we have discerned what his modification was. I hope it proves stable and reliable. He already is a bit of a terror on the battlefield, this should raise his performance even higher." Her smile is bright and cheery as she continues to draw Warrick and the targets, slowly filling in the arena as a backdrop.

"You're rotten at lying, I've watched you dance through combat as if it were a ballroom dance. Your partners get one-two, and then fall over, and you move on to the next unfortunate sod!", she calls out.

"Well, I don't see why being capable of dance would hinder one's ability to aim, they aren't related that much, unless someone was to practice dance at the expense of any alternative training." The artificer muses. "But it seems he doesn't dance, so that answers that. I guess I should write off going to a dance hall as a possibility, even if it was not high on a list of things to do in the first place."

"That's an odd way to dance though." They note, tilting their head once. "And people don't usually die when they're dancing."

Warrick rolls his eyes, putting the spare bolts away. "Leave the dancing to Aelwyn, I don't dance during a fight. Like I told him, I don't want to get stabbed while twirling. I appreciate the compliment though."

He looks between the two before pulling his helmet off. "Tell Aelwyn that, Schara. That makari literally dances while fighting. It baffles me. But uh, if you learn to dance, it might help a little bit with footing."

Simony glances at Schara a moment. "Do you have a brother named Ous?", she wonders. "Battle and dance both require proper positioning for best effect. Screw that up in dance, and you may drop your partner, slip and fall yourself, or knock your partner over. Poor positioning in battle could lead to your death, or a friend's. Warrick uses a dance, proper positioning, to be exactly where he has to be. I have observed him do this many times now. I tease him gently, but my point is valid. Will he be able to do his juryrigged shooting while running around in battle? With practice, I think so.

"It's a manly dance!", is her rebuttal to Warrick.

"Well, I don't know about Aelwyn. That sounds dangerous though, I'm not sure why he would do that." The elf shrugs. "Maybe I should work on my footing, I could ask him for dancing lessons, if that is the case."

"No, none of my brothers are named Ous, unless it's a nickname they never told me about, but that would be a strange nickname for either of them, really." The artificer responds with a shake of her head. "Isn't that just movement in general? I don't know enough about dancing to be certain, but that is a fair point. Firing something like that seems like it would be easy to mistime in combat. I guess that's why practicing it now is important?"

Warrick unloads the bolt that's slotted in. "Fine, I dance. But yeah, it's going to be a pain to keep this up while running. Going to have to do a lot of practice. If you ask him for dancing lessons, uh, you may want to wear your suit. Just in case he uses fire for... some reason."

The mention of Ous gets him to snort, and he's carefully unwinding the winch. "Yeah. Important to time it all. Shooting is all about timing. Breath control, even your heartbeat, all of it influences where the shot is going to land. This... method, I'm going to have to figure it out better."

"Oh, you do dance? Well, alright then. I guess going out dancing isn't off the table, but there is still the problem that I don't know how, unless you're referring to Simony's assessment that fighting is like dancing, in case, I am still unsure." The artificer sighs. "This is really complicated, but you're right, I should wear my armor. Aelwyn already asked me to set him on fire once, which is odd, but I think he knows what he is doing mostly."

"You should go out running then Warrick , it's good for improving your breathing." They suggest.

"No, I don- *sigh,*" Warrick gives up. "Yes, I am referring to Simony's assessment. Aelwyn is..." he tilts his head from one side to another before shaking his head. "... something. He is something."

He looks up at the bleachers to Schara. "I... do go running. I have to work out to keep doing what I do. Isn't that you do most mornings? Well, before you started working with the Captain?"

"Ah, alright then. Well, that is good you can reach an agreement on that, then." The elf nods. "I know you know what he is, so I will assume you are referring to them being something else."

Schara looks back down, and nods again. "Yes, well, I did before I was working with miss Slatesteel, and now I still do on other days and later at night when I am working. I don't know any other recommendations for improving your breathing though, sorry."

Warrick shakes his head. "I just disagree with him on a number of things is all."

He tilts his head to the side. "Do... you need a running partner? I don't need to improve my breathing, though, I do have to do this odd shooting method in my armor more often so I get it down."

"Oh, what is there to disagree with him on? Other than being set on fire probably being bad for dancing, but that's subjective when you're fireproof I guess?" Schara wonder aloud, only to stop, and tilt their head as well. "A running partner? Well, it would be nice, but I wouldn't want to cause trouble as a running partner,since you can probably run faster than me, or for longer periods. So, I'm not sure, but it sounds like it would make more sense not to." They sigh.

"It's mostly a disagreement of philosophy," Warrick answers. "But I won't delve too much into it."

He shifts his crossbow around to sling off his back. "Trouble? Schara, it's alright. We'll figure it out. Running partners are good for motivation. When's the next time you're going to go on a run?"

"Philosophy? I didn't know you or Aelwyn pondered such things. I'm sorry you can't come to an agreement on such things, but it's supposed to be about finding a fundamental truth in the end, so I hope that you can both reach a consensus." The artificer sighs. "Well, if you're certain that it wouldn't be an issue, then it would be nice to have you as a running partner, Warrick." They continue with another low nod to the ex-guard. "I've got to go work at miss Slatesteel's later today, I came to brainstorm some armor designs, but I'll probably go running approximately two hours before sundown? If you wanted to join me, that would be okay."

"It's mostly our outlook. But, again, I won't get too much into it without him being here," Warrick waves dismissively. The helmet is clicked onto his hip from a clasp, and he puts a hand on his hip, a light smile on his lips. "Alright. Two hours before sunset. We can meet at Slatesteel's then. I'm going to be here a while until they start the evening games. Hopefully you got some ideas down."

"Oi! Tightass!" the same half-oruch from before calls out to Warrick. "You done with that protocol bullshit? Got some other stuff ta show ya if you ain't gonna be a prissy bitch about it."

The once-guard takes that as his cue, him grimacing. "... yeah. Going to be here for a bit. Thanks for coming you two. I'll see you later, Schara."

With that, he tosses his helmet back on, and clanks off towards where the chastising half-oruch woman was to get some more improper training.

-End Scene-