A Warriors Instinct

There's a small clearing in the woods that Aragos leads Gramarye to. It's the sort of place where one might set up a picnic, and indeed Aragos has a picnic basket in one hand. The truth is that he hasn't told Gramarye at all what to expect, and he's half nervous that she'll walk off when he explains. He sets the basket down on the edge of the clearing and coughs once. "So. You've been going off on all sorts of missions, and that's good. Helping people I mean. Very good."

He shifts his weight in his armor uncomfortably. "But I want you to know how to handle yourself if someone gets in your face. You need to know at least some basic combat skills... and I'd like to teach you if you... are willing to learn."

Gramarye has dressed in a nice dress that is befitting of a young lady, dyed a brilliant azure-blue that fits the war golem well. It seems to also be a consistent color for her. Maybe her First Father (as she calls the man who once came before Aragos) made her wardrobe full of blue and told her that it was his favorite color on her, and she's stuck to it ever since. Or... maybe she actually likes it. It is one of Gramarye's many mysteries.

Such as how she might react to Aragos's suggestion. Which she does by pivoting her head to face him squarely. She doesn't always make eye contact at people; it's not really necessary for a war golem to do so unless they wish to participate in the social protocol that most war golems are exempt from.

"First Father advised that I should not enter melee combat situations unless necessary, such as: surprise attacks. Ambushes. Snake protocol. Anti-fae protocol." Gramarye, as ever, is utterly matter-of-fact and yet surprising in the things that she reveals. "This is consistent with the directive given to me, and I desire to upgrade my toolset so that I may respond more appropriately. Analysis of my mainframe has concluded I might be sturdier and more resistant to damage than other magical casters of organic constitution. Ergo, it may be a sensible path of study."

As is not uncommon, it takes Aragos a moment to parse Gramarye's speech before he realizes that she's consented and he smiles. "Excellent." He is glad he made the trek out here in his armor all of the sudden. It had been a pain, but obviously worth it. He nods once and motions for her to follow him into the clearing a little ways. "There are a few techniques that are important to remember in fighting, but I'll help you through them. First, hold out your arm and make a fist." He demonstrates for her by doing just that.

There's a blink in Gramarye's eyes, followed by a long pause, and then Gramarye's arm pistons upwards in a perfect copy of Aragos's. Then her fingers compact together at the ball-joints to create a fist in one fluid, unnerving and uncanny motion. "Analysis of fist complete," she states. "I estimate that this fist is a thirty-eight percent approximation of the physical structure of your fist. You have flesh and nerves that my fist does not. I am able to mimic the pose but not the fist in entirety, as I am unable to replicate the shaping of organic lifeform that you possess, Father."

She then stands... completely still. No breathing, because she is quite incapable of it. "Please proceed with your instructions."

Aragos blinks at this and then nods. "Your closest approximation of my pose, and my form is all that is required. You don't have to mimic my physiology or my material, only my shape - to the best that you can considering differences in height and weight; as well as any other factors." He looks at her hand for a moment and frowns. "For instance, your approximate thumb is inside your fist, not outside. This is unwise, since the force of an actual punch would damage your thumb. Instead put that digit outside the fist you have formed like mine is." He rotates his hand to show her the proper form.

Considering how literal she is, he's going to have to be careful how he goes about this.

Gramarye shifts her fist very quickly to match Aragos's critique, protecting her thumb appropriately. "Understood," she replies. "This is the appropriate form for delivering a punch. Would you like me to attempt a demonstration now, or do you have further instruction to give before I make the attempt?" It appears teaching Gramarye has to go by some level of rigid structure, if she expects instruction and then to make an attempt of some sort.

"Correct, but when you make a punch, you don't want to just use your arm. You want to put the weight of your whole form into it. A punch should start from your feet. Notice how my weight is on the front of my foot rather than the back. When you swing, swing from a place where you can step into it. Utilize all the weight balanced from one side of your body to the other." It doesn't help to explain muscles that she doesn't have to her, so he simply rotates his body, stepping into his punch and making an example. "Like this."

This is the other reason he wanted to wear his armor which has a closer approximation to her groupings of body parts than his muscles might.

Gramarye is a rapt student, although it's hard to tell if she's really engaged with it or not. Obsidian eyes only show so much, but her face is squarely on Aragos, following him as he moves. Then there's a 'thinking' blink in her eyes. One. Two. Three blinks.

"Understood," she says. "It is not enough to merely strike with the fist. The application of force is best done with as much mass as possible. This fits within my understanding of physics."

There's another pause before she states, "May I be allowed to demonstrate? There are plenty of targets for practice." She indicates a nearby tree with the point of a finger.

Aragos nods. "That's why we're here. These trees should hold up pretty well, but I want you to *try* and knock the tree down. You might find that striking something is painful, but that's why we're training like this. So you know what to expect." He motions toward one of the nearest trees.

GAME: Gramarye rolls melee: (10)+5: 15
GAME: Gramarye rolls 1d3+2: (1)+2: 3

Gramarye proceeds towards a tree, her movements as stiff and telegraphed as ever. She stops about a foot away, her arms by her sides in a typical pose. She seems to analyze the tree for a long, long moment.

Then, quite suddenly, she picks up her hand and rapidly transforms it into a fist, swinging it in the way that Aragos had showed her. She delivers a fairly solid strike onto the tree, a nice woody _thwack_ coming off the trunk.

... "Analysis has concluded. Minimal damage done to tree trunk." Here she turns to look at Aragos, pulling her fist away at last. "Idea: switching to training in weaponry, such as: swords. Daggers. Axes. Spears. These will be more powerful than just a fist."

Then there's a blink in her eyes. "Follow-up idea: using magic to augment strength. I use magic to bolster your strength often in combat."

Aragos can't help but laugh. "Just learning the basics and already wanting to know everything." He smiles fondly at her. "A weapon of any kind is merely an extension of your body. If you don't know how to move your body then the weapon doesn't do you any good. It's the same with a spell. It can help you be more effective; do more damage, but if you know how to use it properly, that's when it helps the most."

"Now, you've done well so far, but can you punch me?" He motions for her to come closer. "I want you to try."

GAME: Gramarye rolls melee: (2)+5: 7

Gramarye approaches Aragos in a series of clunking steps, stopping, once again, around a foot in front of him. Then she shoots out with her fist--

Only catching air. Aragos is quick. There's a blink in Gramarye's eyes that is almost like the bewildered blink of a confident novice. "Father is fast," she says. "I will require more speed in my movements to perform optimally on the battlefield."

"What you need." Aragos says. "Is practice. Hitting a target that is moving, or worse; one that anticipates your attack? Much harder than hitting a tree. I know you can do it though. Come on, I'll play a bit of tag with you. If you hit me once before I tag you five times, I'll give you a reward. How's that sound?"

GAME: Gramarye rolls melee: (14)+5: 19

This seems to please Gramarye, as she not only nods (which is a rarity for Gramarye--she's only somewhat recently begun doing it), but she replies, "Affirmative. These terms are acceptable to me. I will strive to earn Father's reward."

And before she lets Aragos get much of a head-start, she steps ahead and throws another punch. This one actually catches his armor, but it's not hard enough to do any damage. "Rapid analysis: improvement in form," she announces. It appears she's pushing herself to do real-time analysis in addition to playing catch. Gramarye is going to new heights.

GAME: Aragos rolls 1d20+11: (15)+11: 26
GAME: Aragos rolls 1d20+6: (1)+6: 7 (EPIC FAIL)

As Gramarye steps in, Aragos taps her on the shoulder, which is how she managed to scrape his armor in the first place. Surprised by her effort, he quick-steps away but his second effort at a tap goes awry and he laughs. "That's the spirit! You can do it, just keep at it!"

GAME: Gramarye rolls melee: (18)+5: 23
GAME: Gramarye rolls 1d3+2: (2)+2: 4

Aragos's praise is motivation, that much is clear. Gramarye keeps on the chase, and when she spots the right opportunity, she swings.

This time, it connects.

Her fist makes contact on Aragos's armor, but nobody could have predicted what comes next. Her eyes go from obsidian to red, just as they do when she initiates combat. Her voice drops an octave. "Combat module eNgaGED--"

She pulls her hands back into a stance that's different. This one looks like a more practiced fighter's stance. But a sentence slips out of her that does not make sense. "Pltesoenx cle addefbsred iidtelei sorwitem eayaicro maIetn ameo tseylu." <Eldritch>

The words mean nothing to Aragos, but out of an abundance of caution he reverts to a defensive stance. "Gramarye? Disengage." He's not certain that she can hear him, but if this is a response to their training... He can hope but... Maybe hand-to-hand combat is dangerous to her for reasons he didn't know before, and which might put her allies in danger when she's in the field. In which case... "Now Gramarye." His voice is stern.

There's a moment where Gramarye's staring at Aragos, and then her hands are _shaking_. "Error. Error. Error. Father, not enemy. Error. ErOrR--"

And then her eyes go dark, her hands fall to her sides, and she stands up straight. For a moment, she's just that. A rigid statue in bronze wearing a nice dress. Then a mechanical chime goes off from somewhere inside of Gramarye, and her eyes blink again.

"Grace Reason Amity Miracle August Revelry Young Earnest--designation GRAMARYE--is alive. Status: operational and fully functioning. Diagnostics concluded." Her hands and feet wiggle simultaneously for a moment before she proceeds. "Aberrant directions were detected. They appear to have been leftover from an unknown date in time, perhaps from before contemporary recorded memory. There was no timestamp associated with the memory. As an aberration, they were purged from the system. The directive to not harm Father remained primary. I am pleased to have acted according to directive."

There's another blink in her eyes before she adds, "Is Father of optimal health?"

Cautiously Aragos lowers his guard and looks at his strange, but still cared for daughter. Without thinking he reaches out and pulls her into a hug. It's what he'd do for his son... if his son were here. If so much was different. "I'm fine." He says gruffly, squeezing her. He pulls back after a long moment and looks at her. "So... you purged that right? It won't happen again?" If she has instincts like that, he's even more glad he took her somewhere remote for training. If the only person hurt is him... so much the better.

Whenever Gramarye receives hugs, she always reacts the same way. It's a pause before she moves to gently embrace the other person, giving them a tap on the back of the shoulder. "Thank you for your affection, Father," she says, which is something she _only_ ever says to him when he hugs her. "It will not happen again. However, I will take care to increase the number of safeguards I have on recognizing and dealing with aberrant behavior before it takes over my controls. First Father rebuilt me from a scrap heap that was not identified to him; he had reason to believe my mainframe is very old. It is possible that the behavior I demonstrated was hard-coded and dormant until a specific situation arose again that is well outside of ordinary life."

She releases Aragos from the hug. "However, progress will not be impeded by this. I will endeavor to support Father in all missions and in all the ways that are evident to me. Perhaps I might be able to take advantage of old programs as they arise. That one... Was not permissible."

There's a note of sadness in her voice as she states, "Father should never be identified as an enemy for extermination."

Aragos slides a finger under her chin, lifting her head though it is hardly necessary. He knows that she can perceive him just fine. "Training is always a little dangerous Gramarye. We face a safer danger to make ourselves stronger when the real danger comes. I'm willing to take this risk to make you stronger. So that you can protect yourself." His gaze softens. "I love you, so you have to take care of yourself."

He smiles suddenly, a fast grin. "Come on then, you won yourself a reward right? What do you want?" Aragos lets his hand fall away and holds them up. "If you've no ideas, I brought a little something just in case."

Constructs, including war golems, have been accused many times of not having emotions. It's sensible. War golems have no tear ducts (most of the time), so they cannot cry. Most don't express pain in a way that's like organic lifeforms. Some have even gone so far as to declare war golems simply performing a pantomime of emotion.

Not Gramarye, though. She's taller than her Father by several inches, but she leans down to put the mouth of her faceplate into Aragos's hair, in a war golem facsimile of a child putting an affectionate kiss onto their parent. "I love you too, Father," she says back. This is said in a quiet voice, with an emotion that's subtle but most certainly there. Warmth.

Then she pulls away, and her eyes blink with light as he holds up a hand. "Query: what is Father's idea?" Surely she has ideas, but it's clear she's interested in what he brought.

Aragos grins and backs up a little so he can reach into his boot and pull out a very slender blade. It's a handy-looking weapon. "Something every young lady should have when danger presses in a little too close. Here. I don't want you using this until you have the basics of hand-to-hand down, but..." He flips it over and offers it to her hilt-first. "You've know enough to be trusted with it."

The blade gets analyzed by Gramarye, three blinks in her eyes before she takes it carefully. "I will take care of it, Father," she replies, before leaning down to her own feet... Which are encased in cute little slipper-style shoes that have no room for a dagger.

"Agenda updated to include: the purchase of boots." With that, Gramarye then tucks the dagger away carefully into her satchel. "I appreciate your gift greatly, Father. Thank you." She even adds a curtsy, formal girl that she is.

Then she adds, "Is there any more instruction, or are we to proceed to the picnic portion of the agenda?"

Aragos grins and laughs. "The food is for when you've exhausted me enough that I require something to eat. I've no duties at all today so! I'm here to train with you until one of us is done for the day. Probably me." He laughs again. "Alright, we'll see if you can keep up with me now. I'll be bringing it for real this time."

His warning is fairly given. Aragos is a warrior, his training is in fighting. Gramarye for all her possible history, has much to learn.

-End