A. It was an easy thing, guiding horses around to get them to the makeshift stables being used by the French. A gentle hand on the reins, a firm and soft voice, and when Chiron moved with the things, a set of reins in each hand, he seemed to have a similar gait. His eyes were always to either side, looking out for what might spook his charges.
"Hm," he said, when he turned the corner only to find that all of the available horse housing was in use. "There must be more around here somewhere. I doubt that these are the only horses that are a part of this army."
B. Chiron rolled on the ground, taking a hit from one of the younger, inexperienced soldiers that he was working with. The boy couldn't have been much older than eighteen. Nineteen maybe. He had a sturdy build though, likely from a lifetime of lifting and moving the heaviest of loads. Chiron hadn't inquired too much about his background, only what his experience was.
Which brought Chiron back to the present. Before even moving onto firearms (something he'd pass on to someone with more experience), there was something more basic to be taken into account: general movement. Being able to elbow and hard shoulder and take a physical blow if it came to it. The hard shoulder was what sent him flying, and why he stood up with a smile.
"I think that's plenty of the basics," Chiron said. His eyes searched for the best person to hand the young man off to. "Now as for aiming and firing..."
C. It felt...inappropriate, in a way, to participate in the recruitment of food, supplies, and bodies. Being thrown into someone else's war was one thing, but to try and drag others into a conflict with only a surface view of it was another. But that very lack of understanding was why Chiron had wandered off with those trying to gain more for the upcoming battle.
In his lifetime, Chiron had trained plenty of warriors, but he had never participated in the wars themselves. He had lived in the wilderness for the most part, removed from the propaganda of those who launched wars, and so the things he heard were nothing short of fascinating.
He hung towards the back, those with clever tongues having achieved their goal of some extra food and a few more bags of grain.
no subject
It was an easy thing, guiding horses around to get them to the makeshift stables being used by the French. A gentle hand on the reins, a firm and soft voice, and when Chiron moved with the things, a set of reins in each hand, he seemed to have a similar gait. His eyes were always to either side, looking out for what might spook his charges.
"Hm," he said, when he turned the corner only to find that all of the available horse housing was in use. "There must be more around here somewhere. I doubt that these are the only horses that are a part of this army."
B.
Chiron rolled on the ground, taking a hit from one of the younger, inexperienced soldiers that he was working with. The boy couldn't have been much older than eighteen. Nineteen maybe. He had a sturdy build though, likely from a lifetime of lifting and moving the heaviest of loads. Chiron hadn't inquired too much about his background, only what his experience was.
Which brought Chiron back to the present. Before even moving onto firearms (something he'd pass on to someone with more experience), there was something more basic to be taken into account: general movement. Being able to elbow and hard shoulder and take a physical blow if it came to it. The hard shoulder was what sent him flying, and why he stood up with a smile.
"I think that's plenty of the basics," Chiron said. His eyes searched for the best person to hand the young man off to. "Now as for aiming and firing..."
C.
It felt...inappropriate, in a way, to participate in the recruitment of food, supplies, and bodies. Being thrown into someone else's war was one thing, but to try and drag others into a conflict with only a surface view of it was another. But that very lack of understanding was why Chiron had wandered off with those trying to gain more for the upcoming battle.
In his lifetime, Chiron had trained plenty of warriors, but he had never participated in the wars themselves. He had lived in the wilderness for the most part, removed from the propaganda of those who launched wars, and so the things he heard were nothing short of fascinating.
He hung towards the back, those with clever tongues having achieved their goal of some extra food and a few more bags of grain.
"Interesting," he murmured to himself.