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Post by Deleted on Jul 29, 2013 6:15:57 GMT -5
Hoplite, surprisingly, was faring much better than his sister was in the early stages of the drilling. Having already had plenty of experience with his shield, nevermind the training with Kuruka and the dull spike at the bottom of his tower shield, he was managing to avoid being smacked by a rock rather early. Those around him, on the other hand, weren't faring as well. Most could barely move the shields without awkwardly dragging it on the ground or catching it on their nearby friend.
Knowing his companions were probably going to be thoroughly bruised from both rocks and unintended shield bashes, he had to direct them. You *are* a lieutenant after all, Hoplite, he thought to himself, Best to start acting like one. He turned to the rest of the earth ponies, calling out over the din of yelps and pangs of rocks on shields, "Front line, shields forward! Rest of the lines, shields up!" he plunged his shield into the ground, looking to his sides and smiling as the rest of the front line hesitantly followed suit. Moments later, the shields from the rest of the lines had covered their heads, but the rocks were still making it in from the sides. "Everypony at the sides, shields forward! Don't let them in!" he called again, hoping the rest of them would comply. Sure enough, they had an effective testudo formation, only a few rocks managing to break through the gaps. Sure, a few couldn't keep their shields up forever, and there was only so much force some could take, but they *were* in formation and as well protected as they could get.
Course that couldn't last long, Slate-Head had them remove their shields and attempt the same thing. Without shields, they were far more vulnerable, and Hoplite knew that most of the weaker or less tolerant sorts were going to be absolutely, thoroughly pelted with rocks. He couldn't protect from vertical attacks, but he had a much better idea to at least try to make things easier on them from the sides. He called to the group, "Close up the formation!" after what felt like an eternity under fire, the formation had turned much denser than before, basically just the group of earth ponies huddling up together. "Middle lines stay down, outer lines stand tall!" he called again. Sadly, despite his calls, most of the outer lines didn't budge, opting instead to crouch down with the rest of the lines. Only Hoplite and a few of the stronger-looking ponies stood, and it seemed they were catching the most rocks with their bodies than the rest of them were. Good, at the very least they're better off back the- "AGH!" Hoplite almost stumbled back into the rest of the line, bringing a hoof just below his right ear. Was that blood?
His stance remained much of the same as the rock assault continued, he felt gashes starting to form on his legs, thick bruises and welts forming on much of his torso, a few cuts and scraps forming on his face, and a black eye beginning to take shape over his left eye. Yet, much to the joy of the now beaten and bruised earth ponies, the assault had ended.
Not that they much liked the next part either. The charging exercises was just too much for the battered militia, and during the early stages he noticed much of the slower or more battered ones falling behind. After one of the charges, Hoplite quickly started to rearrange the ranks despite protests from the drill instructors. Now the weaker or more battered ones were up front, setting the pace for the rest and being pushed onward by those behind them. It wouldn't have been the smartest thing in actual combat, but if they wanted to act as a unit they had to start taking the needs of the group into account. Or, at least *he* had to.
Sadly this formation didn't last long, ponies began to drop out and the drill instructor began to crank up the required pace. Not even Hoplite could continue near the end and dropped out two charges before it finally ended. "Hey," he heard a familiar voice comment before being poked in the side, his attacker narrowly avoiding a wide bruise. It was River Bank, a blue-coated mare he had seen from time to time in the militia, "Great work out there, never thought you'd be the one to try to organize the rest of us."
Hoplite rubbed the back of his head, "Well, thanks I suppose...how much do you think that's gonna bite me in the flank in the near future?"
River chuckled softly, "A *lot*."
* * *
What felt like hours later, Hoplite and Phalanx rejoined each other in the snow. Phalanx was clearly worked to, if not beyond, her limits in whatever exercise the pegasi were up to, but at the very least she didn't seem battered or cut up. The two didn't actually say anything to each other, opting silently to just take this moment to rest before things got any worse.
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Post by Red Charge on Jul 29, 2013 6:32:07 GMT -5
Razorwing had come down to consult with his peers, both of which shook their heads, much to his dismay. "You do realize this is basic boot-camp drilling do you? And who's the wise guy who thinks he's in charge here?" He asked, Slate-Head pointed at Hoplite, "Oh you? Nice initiative Mr.Wise-guy but you're just a maggot like the rest. You're gonna move like maggots and you're gonna stay like maggots until I, or any of the others tell you otherwise. Am I making myself clear, or do I need to take out my dumbflank dictionary and read it out loud! Dense formations under projectile fire? You just killed everyone in the squad. You maybe a rank above this sorry pile of hooves, but you obviously don't know better. From now on, for the sake of this drilling you are forbidden to speak unless spoken to by one of us." To the rest of them he said, "Take your rest little fillies, drink your water, we're starting again in exactly seven minutes! You do not want to be late for this timing! You know what? Scratch that, five minutes! We'll 'allocate' the last two for some push ups, toughen you up."
He wasn't joking, he did make those two minutes push up minutes. The militia was already wrecked from the previous training, but the next one really got them in. The Razorwing called it 'absorption training'. Much like before when they were pelted with rocks, this time, Slate-Head passed every pony, male and female alike one by one and socked them hard in the chest. "No bending over!" Razorwing called, "If you can't take a punch from an old pony, how are you going to take an axe from a Diamond Dog?" After seeing most if not all of the militia bend over from being socked, he stepped forwards and called Slate Head to demonstrate how it's done.
"Gimme your best shot, Slate, let's show these maggots how you eat the pain and make it into breakfast." He said, exposing his underbelly for Slate. Slate cracked his neck, turned to a rock the Silver Scholar conjured up and struck it with a hoof, smashing it into rubble, demonstrating the force he was going to use. Flamberge, standing upright waited patiently for the hit to come and it did. With a rock shattering punch, Slate-Head dived right into Flamberge's stomach, the latter had not even flinched, even though some blood was dripping from the side of his mouth, which he spat.
"Discipline." He said, "You don't fear pain in a battlefield, you fear only defeat. When you've gotten this tough, you can call yourself war ponies." After the absorption training, which was as long as terrible as any other, even though all they had to do was stand still, he finally released the broken militia home. All spirit from the morning seemed to have gone, replaced with dread. This was only the first day. Yet even so, the harsh training planted hope within the militia, they were being toughened up, prepared for something much bigger and that was something.
Phalanx was personally invited to a session of 'quality time' with the drill instructor at midnight, she saw him approach the other quitters as well. This was not going to be too fun but at least she had the evening to rest.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 29, 2013 7:10:04 GMT -5
Hoplite essentially crumbled under the barrage of insults sent his way. He figured since they were light projectiles, closing up the group and letting the stronger ones take the brunt of the attack was a wise choice. Apparently the rocks were simulating spells instead of arrows, then, since doing so was reportedly a death sentence to the entire squad. Now, he wasn't even permitted to help guide his allies or keep morale up. Clearly 'war' was all these ponies did and cared about, since clearly the state of their allies only mattered in the sense of who was left standing.
Even as he thought this over, he couldn't help but grimace at the thought that this pony was now just freely moving up and down the ranks, jabbing each pony in the gut with such force as to make some of the weaker ones vomit. And of course, the pony didn't care, he would just punish them worse if they showed signs of weakness. If the militia wasn't going to shrink by this drilling, it was at least going to get a whole lot less chipper by morning.
Hoplite fared better than most when he took the punch to the gut by Slate. No matter what had hit him in the torso, including River Bank's mace during sparring, it simply didn't add up to how much pure blunt force that pony packed. Hoplite, despite his considerable size and practice in absorbing force, still buckled over from the punch. The punch didn't shift his weight or cause him to stumble backwards, but it was enough for him to fall forward clutching the area Slate had punched. He absently wondered if Slate put more force behind the punch knowing that Hoplite had taken up a leadership role during the drills...
He looked over down the line, Phalanx was faring no better. In fact, she was crumpled up in a heap, curled up into a defensive ball on the ground and clutching her chest. Phalanx had always been the weaker one in taking hits, and that pony punched with enough force to make even Hoplite crumble. For all he knew, the pegasus might've broken a rib...
All things considered, he was surprised Phalanx had actually *wanted* to return to active duty with all these things set in place. There wasn't going to be a reprieve from this battering the military ponies were giving them, there wasn't a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow here. Just a pot of pinecones and gravel, which they were going to have to eat at this rate. Maybe Phalanx had just grown numb to this stuff.
Later on he was finally free to go home, but was rather disappointed when he found out his sister was scheduled for even more drilling later on at night. Phalanx had apparently quit out too early and was probably in for much worse drilling then, so she would probably be back home on a stretcher at sunrise. He wished her luck, what little that meant, and headed home, letting her follow him on her own time.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 29, 2013 7:28:07 GMT -5
Phalanx and Hoplite hardly exchanged any words that evening. After arriving, Phalanx had made a beeline for her room, locked the door behind her, and refused to speak to her brother no matter how much he seemed interested in idle conversation. Her brother seemed stupidly interested in what she had been thinking over the course of the day, if only he knew. She didn't have as much of a solid handle on her own thought patters lately as Hoplite seemed to think she had. The only constants were continued disgust over Watermark, hatred towards her companions for each "Horn Hater" comment, shame with each "Horn Hater" comment targeted towards her, loathing of the Razorwing family in part from Flamberge and in part from Firefly, and just general fatigue and borderline sorrow over the whole drilling experience. Short of that, her mind was as much of a mess as she was.
* * *
After a brief shower and a quick bit of dinner, Phalanx ruefully began trotting towards the militia headquarters. She wasn't looking forward to this whatsoever, no doubt Flamberge was likely to mercilessly beat her to a pulp in the excuse of 'toughening her up and making her a war pony' or some other drivel like that, then expect peak performance the next day without a hint of weakness showing through. Some 'war pony', he's more of a torturer or a jailer than he is a soldier. He gets to beat ponies he's supposed to be *training* and gets away with it, saying it's 'for their own good'. Pfft, he's no better than that wanna-be Firefly, I'm *glad* I don't have to deal with that family of so-called-legends beyond this drilling stuff.
Finally, she had arrived. She took one last look at the moonlit town around her, fairly certain she'd probably not be able to see it like this out of one eye after this. Finally, after much hesitation, she stepped inside. After a brief bit of navigating the halls, she made her way towards the back of the headquarters.
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Post by Red Charge on Jul 29, 2013 7:54:20 GMT -5
Flamberge was already waiting for her there. "Alright maggot. What's your name?" The pegasus asked, cracking his neck loudly. Oddly enough there was no one else there. Apparently he had scheduled different times for every wash-out as he called them. So now she was alone with him, in the militia quarters while everypony else was asleep, likely giving him the exact opportunity to find out what was worst for her and make her do it repeatedly.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 29, 2013 7:57:40 GMT -5
Phalanx mentally cringed at the empty scene, apparently she was going to be the sole focus of this event. Visualizations and images of him just mercilessly beating her while she screamed out in agony to an empty clearing with no reprieve until sunrise raced across her mind.
"Alright maggot. What's your name?" Still going with the 'maggot' thing, huh? she thought to herself. Well, no doubt he was going to insult every waking part of her, so best to start with the name. With a bit of hesitation, she responded, "Phalanx, sir..."
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Post by Red Charge on Jul 29, 2013 8:04:44 GMT -5
"Alright, Phalanx. What's your problem?" The Pegasus asked, "I've been seeing the kind of looks you've been getting, saw that one trip you earlier too. Stuffed his saddlebags with stones when he came around here earlier." He said, "Something like that needs to be taken care of. It ain't my job, I'm not your captain, but I saw the looks you gave him today. What's going on with you soldier?" His demeanor was completely different than before, no longer a ruthless, sharp-edged drill instructor but just another pony, trying to figure out what was going on with her.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 29, 2013 8:13:52 GMT -5
Phalanx blinked in confusion. Where was that kick to the face she was expecting? Wait, who was Flamberge talking about? Wait, Bodkin? She almost let herself grin as she thought of that annoying crossbowpony weighed down by stones and being forced to trudge about for Flamberge's enjoyment.
Wait, judging by Flamberge's tone and stance, he was *completely* unaware of the whole "Horn Hater" thing. That actually rather surprised Phalanx, she had figured everyone in Equestria had found out by now about her reputation here. It sure spread through the militia awful fast, and she knew for a fact that at least one Razorwing was in the loop on this. "Hang on a second," Phalanx held up a hoof, still a bit confused, "Nopony's told you? Not Watermark, not Firefly, not even Bodkin?" she asked. Judging from Flamberge's expression, either her suspicions were correct, or he just wanted to hear it straight from her muzzle. If it's the latter, may as well get it over with. We have all night to pick out my faults and attack them...
She sighed, adjusting her stance, "Well, if you hadn't guessed: I've got a rather negative reputation here. I had figured the endless whispers of "Horn Hater" whenever someone looked at me was enough of a clue, but to elaborate..." she adjusted her position, figuring she should get it all out just so that he could start pelting her and she could pass out before she broke a rib. "I'm not fond of spellcasters, sir. Recently Watermark found out about this, told his lieutenant, who told my brother and Firefly Razorwing, which somehow spread to the rest of the militia, including Bodkin."
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Post by Red Charge on Jul 29, 2013 9:07:42 GMT -5
"Not too fond of spellcasters myself. Hard to fly fast when one of them nabs you with a spell. But that's not to mean that the ones on our own side aren't helpful." The old pegasus replied. "But you know, you're in the armed forces, it's what we gotta deal with. Fighting yourself is harder than fighting just an enemy. You get fixed in your ways, I know I am. I guess at some point I stopped trying to think outside the box." He lamented, "But don't let that get you down. Unicorns are always going to be a part of our people, but if there's something being a Razorwing taught me, there's no pony you need more than another." He said and proceeded to elaborate.
"Both of our Field Marshals are earth ponies, I wouldn't know if we had survived the Prism Wars without Destrier, but then again I can't say we would have without the Sky Titan either, or Iron Shoes. We're all necessary, I guess we're part of a whole? Bah, that's too philosophical for this old pony. Just keep your chin up, huh? You screwed up by letting Watermark know about this, I wouldn't have acted any different than he did, even if I'm a pegasus." He took a short breath, "It'll go away after a while, tough it out, you take a punch like some Canterlot filly, but you've got guts. Now up and twenty laps around the dome."
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Post by Deleted on Jul 29, 2013 9:19:58 GMT -5
Phalanx had always been aware that no matter how hard she tried to avoid it, Flamburge was obviously correct. In-fighting wasn't exactly a positive thing, and the more ponies were aware of that fault the worse that would get. She *tried* not to let the rise of spellcasters get her down, but admittedly with recent events being how they were, that much was easier said than done.
She figured now it wasn't so much a distaste for spellcasters or magic in general, moreso it was how magic was being favoured far more than martial skill, something she took particular pride in. Let's face it, she thought, Between a pony who's perfected the art of the warhammer and a pony who can level a city with a thought, most are going to favour the latter. A disheartening thought to say the least.
Much to her surprise, her inevitable beating simply didn't arrive that night. All it just so happened to be was a few laps around the ice shield. Considering the sun had set a while back, at least she didn't have to worry about having her armour melt. All the same, Flamburge wasn't specific on *how* she did it, so she figured she could fly as many as she could then run the rest. Certainly more manageable terms than the formations he had the group running earlier that day. While he certainly hadn't gone soft on her, she wondered if maybe he was just tired of torturing pegasi - considering the hour - and just assigned her a few laps. Figuring she shouldn't tempt fate any further, she gave the pegasus a curt nod before making her way towards the ice shield.
* * *
A few hours and a brief shower later, Phalanx shambled into her room, locking the door behind her. No doubt she would have to be up in only a few hours to attend the next day of drilling, but at the very least she didn't come home with more bruises than she had that evening.
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