Danny Rand (
theimmortalweapon) wrote in
sixthiterationlogs2019-01-21 02:56 pm
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006 ⻰ DOJO MINGLE
WHO: DANNY RAND
WHERE: HOUSE 54
WHEN: JANUARY 19TH
OPEN TO: EVERYONE. MINGLE
WARNINGS: FIGHTING & POSSIBLE INJURY
House 54 looked like any other house except for the rough wooden sign hanging outside on the front porch. It read 'CRANE DOJO' carved in crude letters with Chinese characters carved beneath it reading in tinier font 'Order of the Crane Mother'. Next to that sign was another. This one read 'OPEN' in large carved lettering and if you were to turn it over, you'd find that the other side read 'CLOSED'. If the sun was hanging in the sky, cloudy or clear, the Dojo was open.
The house had been mostly cleared over the months that Danny had lived there. He had installed a door heading upstairs to the living quarters. The kitchen hadn't changed much but the Dining room had been turned into a small medical area while the rest of the house had been emptied. The medical area had the couch that was once in the family room as well as a table and a bookshelf that was filled with what few medical supplies Danny had procured from the inn or the hospital. There was a folding door that looked like it closed off the space but it was currently opened and crumbled against the wall like a fan.
The large areas were separated into two sections with the stairway keeping them divided. The space off to the right of the front door was covered by grass matts that had been stuffed with the material from his mattress. It was firm and Danny would instruct anyone using this space to take off their shoes before stepping on the matts. The second space had the original wooden floors and looked as if it was cleaned regularly. There were three wooden practiced dummies lined along the far wall and a punching bag that was poorly made, filled with dirt and will break if it was punched too hard.
Random equipment could be found on a row of shelves near the stairs or in the closest beneath the stairs. There were several bo staffs, crudely made swords, a pillow meant to be used as a target and a few other odds and ends. Danny was collecting equipment but he didn't have a lot just yet.
Outside was a new addition to the Dojo. The two targets that were used for archery had been moved out of the way and in their place was an obstacle course. It was simple and nothing fancy. If you weren't careful it might be dismantled but it wasn't that bad. Luckily, no one had super human strength to tear his posts out of the ground.
Around the left side of the house had an area that was clearly used to chop wood with a small collection to keep the Dojo warm through winter. The archery targets were also stored there, covered by a sheet similar to the way the wood pile was covered. They could be set up but the only safe place would be a decent distance away from the Dojo. Danny didn't want those training on the obstacle course to become targets to anyone not yet proficient in bows, crossbows or throwing weapons.
The class schedule was still being ironed out but the first two hours after sunrise had the large empty spaces reserved for meditation. Danny wouldn't instruct unless asked but it was assumed that these two hours were the only designated 'quite time' for the Dojo. After the daily lunches at the inn was sparring and by far the most hectic time at the Dojo. Danny laid out the weapons and expected people to use what they wanted and share the space appropriately. He was slowly forming a schedule for classes but this was really the first time that Danny had tried to organize something like this and he had no idea what he was doing. He mostly trusted people to work it out and let him know if he needed to put out formal announcements.
CLASS SCHEDULE
DANNY RAND – Meditation, Martial Arts (Kunlunquan, Shaolinquan, Fujian White Crane, Judo, Aikido, Wing Chun, Ninjutsu, Muay Thai, Karate, Boxing), Martial Arts Weapons (Katanas, Nunchucks, Kama, Throwing Knifes and Stars, Tonfa, Staffs) & General Acrobatics/Stamina Training
NIDA NOMURA – Bo, Polearms & Pole Weapons, Tanbo & General Acrobatics
NATASHA ROMANOFF – Dance Lessons (Hand-to-hand & Actual Ballroom or Ballet Dancing)
BRIGITTE LINDSTORM – Clubs, Hammers, Mace, Baton, Flails, Shields & Boxing
OOC NOTES
[How do you sign up to teach a class?! Please comment here. Times will be loose so that no one gets caught up in silly semantics and we can just have fun! I would prefer for anyone who would like to teach a class to talk to me if they haven't spoken to Danny in game yet. He will need to meet those teaching at the Dojo just because he's a spaz who takes this very seriously.
Anyone is welcome to assume that Danny is teaching them hand-to-hand combat, just give me a heads up so that I know for future reference.
I will be updating the Dojo information on Danny's Sixth Iteration Information page though I might be a little behind. Please send me a PM if there is something there that it looks like I am missing and then it will be free for everyone to use. This post has been organizing a lot of this and getting it together so don't worry about telling me if I missed something.
There is also a notification at the inn on the bulletin board pointing anyone interested in training towards the Dojo.]
WHERE: HOUSE 54
WHEN: JANUARY 19TH
OPEN TO: EVERYONE. MINGLE
WARNINGS: FIGHTING & POSSIBLE INJURY
House 54 looked like any other house except for the rough wooden sign hanging outside on the front porch. It read 'CRANE DOJO' carved in crude letters with Chinese characters carved beneath it reading in tinier font 'Order of the Crane Mother'. Next to that sign was another. This one read 'OPEN' in large carved lettering and if you were to turn it over, you'd find that the other side read 'CLOSED'. If the sun was hanging in the sky, cloudy or clear, the Dojo was open.
The house had been mostly cleared over the months that Danny had lived there. He had installed a door heading upstairs to the living quarters. The kitchen hadn't changed much but the Dining room had been turned into a small medical area while the rest of the house had been emptied. The medical area had the couch that was once in the family room as well as a table and a bookshelf that was filled with what few medical supplies Danny had procured from the inn or the hospital. There was a folding door that looked like it closed off the space but it was currently opened and crumbled against the wall like a fan.
The large areas were separated into two sections with the stairway keeping them divided. The space off to the right of the front door was covered by grass matts that had been stuffed with the material from his mattress. It was firm and Danny would instruct anyone using this space to take off their shoes before stepping on the matts. The second space had the original wooden floors and looked as if it was cleaned regularly. There were three wooden practiced dummies lined along the far wall and a punching bag that was poorly made, filled with dirt and will break if it was punched too hard.
Random equipment could be found on a row of shelves near the stairs or in the closest beneath the stairs. There were several bo staffs, crudely made swords, a pillow meant to be used as a target and a few other odds and ends. Danny was collecting equipment but he didn't have a lot just yet.
Outside was a new addition to the Dojo. The two targets that were used for archery had been moved out of the way and in their place was an obstacle course. It was simple and nothing fancy. If you weren't careful it might be dismantled but it wasn't that bad. Luckily, no one had super human strength to tear his posts out of the ground.
Around the left side of the house had an area that was clearly used to chop wood with a small collection to keep the Dojo warm through winter. The archery targets were also stored there, covered by a sheet similar to the way the wood pile was covered. They could be set up but the only safe place would be a decent distance away from the Dojo. Danny didn't want those training on the obstacle course to become targets to anyone not yet proficient in bows, crossbows or throwing weapons.
The class schedule was still being ironed out but the first two hours after sunrise had the large empty spaces reserved for meditation. Danny wouldn't instruct unless asked but it was assumed that these two hours were the only designated 'quite time' for the Dojo. After the daily lunches at the inn was sparring and by far the most hectic time at the Dojo. Danny laid out the weapons and expected people to use what they wanted and share the space appropriately. He was slowly forming a schedule for classes but this was really the first time that Danny had tried to organize something like this and he had no idea what he was doing. He mostly trusted people to work it out and let him know if he needed to put out formal announcements.
NIDA NOMURA – Bo, Polearms & Pole Weapons, Tanbo & General Acrobatics
NATASHA ROMANOFF – Dance Lessons (Hand-to-hand & Actual Ballroom or Ballet Dancing)
BRIGITTE LINDSTORM – Clubs, Hammers, Mace, Baton, Flails, Shields & Boxing
Anyone is welcome to assume that Danny is teaching them hand-to-hand combat, just give me a heads up so that I know for future reference.
I will be updating the Dojo information on Danny's Sixth Iteration Information page though I might be a little behind. Please send me a PM if there is something there that it looks like I am missing and then it will be free for everyone to use. This post has been organizing a lot of this and getting it together so don't worry about telling me if I missed something.
There is also a notification at the inn on the bulletin board pointing anyone interested in training towards the Dojo.]
no subject
Because she's not afraid of him -- never has been -- but she knows that Maine knows his own capabilities better than she does, and she's painfully aware she's at risk of blurring the lines here. She knows war -- not as long-fought as the one he's come from, but she's familiar enough with the particular kind of numbness that sinks in, the hardwired fight-or-flight instincts which fall on fight more often than not. Don't wake up a soldier unexpectedly. Don't sneak up on them. She's not going to try twisting him into something that he's not, just because she's fucking homesick and searching for something that reminds her of where she came from.
"You've been pretty gentle with me so far," she points out, not arguing, just expressing an edge of gratitude in her voice for it. "But I understand."
A fleeting thought: not long before coming here, her father had sent her a letter about a Bastion unit programmed to kill, which he'd protected and taken in. Can something ever be more than its programming?
Because it is programming, of a sort. Lashing out not even because you want to attack, but because muscle memory is automatic and instinctive, and because your body's already reacted before your synapses have fired and before conscious thought has had time to process. She's similar, except instead of killing the threat, Brigitte been honing her reflexes to jump in front of bullets with her shield, shove her allies out of the way. It's like breathing, by this point.
"You said you'd been at war for... how many years was it again? Twenty-something?"
no subject
Gentle doesn't win wars. Gentle is something Maine's only been called as a joke, and only when tied to the word "Giant." Gentle is something reserved for times of peace — or, in the past, for rare moments stolen on shore leave.
Has he started growing soft or something? Could the lack of conflict here have done that to him already?
Mentally shaking aside his confusion, Maine focuses on Brigitte's question. But, still distracted, he gives her a more complete answer than he otherwise might.
"Twenty-two," he answers. Then, pointing to himself, "Ten."
That's how long he, personally, has been fighting.
no subject
"So you must've joined when you were, what, eighteen?" She's been having trouble trying to pinpoint Maine's age. Older than her, she's pretty sure, but he looks younger when one of those rare smiles creeps onto his face.
She's not even actively prying now, but that curiosity surfaces anyway, this head-tilting interest in the man's world and life, similar to her own world by slight degrees. The Second Crisis had started up when she was eighteen, though it had taken her a couple more years before she picked up a wrench and went out into the field in a battered van rumbling across the European countryside, mopping up messes where they went, wherever they could.
just in case: cw for child soldier
When it comes to answering Brigitte's question about his age, however, Maine visibly hesitates. Not because he's ashamed of it, or because he's bothered by Brigitte guessing several years over the mark. (Maine knows what he looks like, and it's not young.) He hesitates because it's the one thing he lied about for years, and he's still not accustomed to being able to tell the truth.
"... Fourteen," he answers, ignoring the weird surge of something like trepidation that crawls up his spine. His paperwork is fine, he reminds himself; he can say it. Then he adds, "Two years early."
That the minimum age of enlistment is sixteen certainly says something about the state of his universe. Then again, Maine did say that humanity is losing a war against genocidal aliens.
no subject
What little parallels Brigitte has to offer: "Sweden has gender-neutral conscription. It's random, though, so it does not apply to everyone. I was selected, but it's just one year." Overall, her country had been distressingly content to look away from the turmoil brewing in Russia, though it was like a tumour growing and growing and on the verge of swallowing Europe. To really make a difference, you had to volunteer elsewhere. To join something like Overwatch.
But it took a certain kind of person to do it at fourteen. To skirt the rules and jump in even earlier than you were allowed. It means she's sizing him up again with fresh eyes, constantly tweaking and readjusting her impression of the man. It's respect, mostly. And a little sorrow (a twist at the corner of her mouth) over what that world must have been like.
"Situation must've been really bad. To do it that early."
no subject
He wonders what her year of service was like. Did she enjoy it? Was she forced out, or did she choose to leave?
They're questions for another time. Brigitte's lips turn down as she remarks on the situation when he joined, and Maine knows it's time to move on.
(He likes Brigitte. Likes her far more than he expected. Feels more comfortable with her than he does anyone else in this place, save for Wash. But Maine's not willing to talk about his family.)
With a low affirmative grunt, Maine gives a brief nod. Then he jerks his chin towards an open area next to a wall, indicating that she should move over beside it.
Break's done. Back to work.