Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-26130256-20170711055926/@comment-26104528-20180312040540

Azzie's next class would be Hacking 101 as Basics of CQC was an afternoon/evening class. As he and Cebeda proceeded out of the student canteen, an rather banal e-mail popped into his inbox from one of the instructors. The usual boilerplate "No Electronics" policy that Azzie should have seen countless times at Beacon from Professor Port or other teachers who were sick and tired of students checking thier fantasy football drafts during lectures.

Sup' Nerds

This ''is a reminder to leave any personal laptops in your dorms or at home for today's session. Scrolls are also advised to be either turned off or in Airship mode. See you soon!''

-Agent Panzier, TA

--

"What good's a two-step gonna do in the middle of a fight?" Cebeda asked, though reiterating his density for umpteenth time wouldn't add much more to the narrative.

"Normally in Mistral, I'm up every morning, 5 am, for some speed training before class-" and by 'speed training' we mean Cebeda does forms in the courtyard, sloppily because of how fast he tries to go, complete with shouts waking up the majority of the lighter sleepers around Haven Academy.

"For the record, he still does that, even after that one chick started slinging arrows with QUIET THE F*CK DOWN!!! written on pieces of toilet paper taped to 'em." Bazz added, taking a cup of orange juice for the road.

"I did her a favor; early morning target practice never hurt anyone." Ceb replied, swatting Bazz's hand away as the hungover one tried to sneak another shot of vodka into his juice. "But yeah, actual training's how I stay light on my feet, rather than random hobbies." A good whiff would reveal whatever concoction was in Ceb's flask to be Marshmallow Vodka and a particularly bad brand of it too.

Funnily enough, Fritz and Stella weren't half bad at Cha-cha, Salsa, or Rumba. To them, it was one of many ways to break in a fresh set of armor plus thier way of fulfilling Proverb 57 of the Eliminator Program: having a hobby with nothing to do with thier day job.

-

Given that his class wouldn't be until later that afternoon, Bolton was taking the morning for a friendly round of bare-knuckle fistfighting with Ingraham just nearby. The old huntsman, at first glance, looked to be on the ropes as Ingraham kept relentlessly pushing forwards, throwing punch after punch. By this point he was well-within Bolton's stance where either one of them could have gone for some form of suplex but Ingraham held back; Proverb 17: there's no such thing as an easy target. Targets that make it easy for you to hit them however...