Post by Odin Reeves on Feb 1, 2007 6:54:46 GMT 1
Odin’s meeting with Kurtz aboard The Halen, which also helped him get together some funds, lead him to a different direction then he originally assumed, but his interests were still kept in tact and instead of offering money, he was offering his skills. He was now a keeper of the peace amongst the Hircine Students, though they were unaware of this fact. In order to fight in underground tournaments he was to preserve order, help with adjustment, but having to do so only when the students realize he was supported by the school. This seemed to be a tougher assignment then he originally planned, as his only public appearance at Hircine High was against one of their Pillars. Surely this wouldn’t matter, too much.
“Damn Varronites. Their stink of New York is filling up the halls.” A student, grade unknown, was venting his anger while leaning against the lockers. It was lunchtime, and so the students who were either finished eating, or didn’t feel like going to the cafeteria, were roaming the halls. Odin was one of these students; only he seemed to keep out of the public’s eye, watching from his own secluded world.
The student with anger issues, who will be known as Mr. Smith, pushed himself from the cold metal doors while uncrossing his arms and shoving a freshman student across the hall. “Varronite trash, get out.” Mr. Smith’s words were filled with malice; the freshman was simply filled with fear. Odin watched the scene unfold, aware of what Mr. Smith was going to do to the Hircine Freshman. Yes, he was aware that this student was what one could call a Hircine original, as the fear he showed wouldn’t be present in a Varronian Student.
Kneeling down Mr. Smith planted his left hand on the freshman’s chest, drawing his right fist back and ready to strike the pinned student. Yet, as he attempted to do so his arm was stopped. Odin’s right arm had hooked underneath the pulled back fist’s elbow, and with a quick tug he was able to bring Mr. Smith to his feet. By stepping back with his left foot and torqueing not only his hips, but also his shoulders over, he was able to throw Mr. Smith back against the lockers where he had just came from. Only this time he was on the opposite side of his companion.
“Don’t try it. One of your pillars has given me permission to use force in order to stabilize students anger.” Odin spoke, more then he wished but enough so to get his point out there. He had, in fact, spoken loud enough for any passers-by and lingering students to hear him. He had removed his arm from Mr. Smiths and stepped back for a reaction. By this time the freshman had scurried off, perhaps to get a pillar, perhaps to use the bathroom facilities. Mr. Smith, however, didn’t seem so willing to walk away.
“Screw you, Varronite.” Blunt, non-threatening words, spoken by an anger and pride stricken boy sent nothing but a common sigh from Odin’s mouth. A right fist was thrown, by the aggressor Mr. Smith, but missed without excuse as Odin dipped down using both knees, hunching forward as though he was in the boxing ring. Yet, Odin didn’t bother throwing a punch, as he didn’t want to play around. Instead he stepped forward with his right foot, bringing his right hand up, and slammed it – palm first – into Mr. Smiths face. Mr. Smith’s head slammed back into the locker, but didn’t bounce back. That’s because Odin’s right hand was gripped his face, forcing it against the locker as his palm pushed upward on his nose.
Drawing his right arm back, so much so that the student was forced to lean over, Odin wound up for another slam. This time when Mr. Smiths skull struck against the metal it didn’t make it’s usual internal echo, but rather a dull ‘thud’. That’s because his skull struck the pieces of frame in between two lockers, a much more solid further. Releasing his grip he watched the student slump to his knees before falling forward, blood tricking from his nose, yet not from the back of his head.
“Told you.”
“Damn Varronites. Their stink of New York is filling up the halls.” A student, grade unknown, was venting his anger while leaning against the lockers. It was lunchtime, and so the students who were either finished eating, or didn’t feel like going to the cafeteria, were roaming the halls. Odin was one of these students; only he seemed to keep out of the public’s eye, watching from his own secluded world.
The student with anger issues, who will be known as Mr. Smith, pushed himself from the cold metal doors while uncrossing his arms and shoving a freshman student across the hall. “Varronite trash, get out.” Mr. Smith’s words were filled with malice; the freshman was simply filled with fear. Odin watched the scene unfold, aware of what Mr. Smith was going to do to the Hircine Freshman. Yes, he was aware that this student was what one could call a Hircine original, as the fear he showed wouldn’t be present in a Varronian Student.
Kneeling down Mr. Smith planted his left hand on the freshman’s chest, drawing his right fist back and ready to strike the pinned student. Yet, as he attempted to do so his arm was stopped. Odin’s right arm had hooked underneath the pulled back fist’s elbow, and with a quick tug he was able to bring Mr. Smith to his feet. By stepping back with his left foot and torqueing not only his hips, but also his shoulders over, he was able to throw Mr. Smith back against the lockers where he had just came from. Only this time he was on the opposite side of his companion.
“Don’t try it. One of your pillars has given me permission to use force in order to stabilize students anger.” Odin spoke, more then he wished but enough so to get his point out there. He had, in fact, spoken loud enough for any passers-by and lingering students to hear him. He had removed his arm from Mr. Smiths and stepped back for a reaction. By this time the freshman had scurried off, perhaps to get a pillar, perhaps to use the bathroom facilities. Mr. Smith, however, didn’t seem so willing to walk away.
“Screw you, Varronite.” Blunt, non-threatening words, spoken by an anger and pride stricken boy sent nothing but a common sigh from Odin’s mouth. A right fist was thrown, by the aggressor Mr. Smith, but missed without excuse as Odin dipped down using both knees, hunching forward as though he was in the boxing ring. Yet, Odin didn’t bother throwing a punch, as he didn’t want to play around. Instead he stepped forward with his right foot, bringing his right hand up, and slammed it – palm first – into Mr. Smiths face. Mr. Smith’s head slammed back into the locker, but didn’t bounce back. That’s because Odin’s right hand was gripped his face, forcing it against the locker as his palm pushed upward on his nose.
Drawing his right arm back, so much so that the student was forced to lean over, Odin wound up for another slam. This time when Mr. Smiths skull struck against the metal it didn’t make it’s usual internal echo, but rather a dull ‘thud’. That’s because his skull struck the pieces of frame in between two lockers, a much more solid further. Releasing his grip he watched the student slump to his knees before falling forward, blood tricking from his nose, yet not from the back of his head.
“Told you.”
