Ragnarok Raiders – Lieutenant’s Log
Ironic that I remember my days as a Psyker Hunter more vividly than I do the day of my incorporation in this Regiment. May Commander Satoshi forgive this transgression, but I am starting to believe not all things spring from coincidence. And yet “believe” is such an unrefined word. Why else would I find myself amongst such men and women, why else would I end up in the same platoon with not only one, but two living reminders of those days?
The medic, Brezi Hosvic is one of them. He’s just as uncouth and destructive as I remember him. I wonder how the Commander deals with the thought of having him in the Regiment. Ragnarockers should keep to their own. Despite the lack of discipline and rigor, I am seeing their use. It takes graphite to make diamonds, as they say. It’s our duty to apply the pressure and to forge them in the heat of battle. With no shame I confess having my skills honed training with Hosvic in the past. One cannot measure the efficiency of his blade unless it deals with brute force. Now is my turn to shape his understanding of discipline.
I vividly recall one of our fights. I always kept to his right, always ready to charge that part of him which was still human. There are few who have seen a power fist from up close and fewer still who survived. Hosvic is only half man, as I see it. There is nothing more rewarding than to spar against the perfect calibrations of a machine completely linked to the human brain. Every fluid move has a chance to not be anticipated, every charge can be an unexpected one.
“Dash, parry, dash, strike!“ I remembered the yonkoma my first training partner drew for me years ago with this exact title. It worked like a charm every time and against the medic it was no exception. Yet I wonder. Had I moved a split second later out of the way, would I still have my original shoulder now? I knew then that I made the right choice. As much as I loathed the idea that there was something I could learn from sparring with Hosvic, I made sure no second was wasted whenever we met in the training grounds. It never came so easy for me to find a reason to attack. The moment he opens his mouth it makes me want to sew it shut. And now we meet again.