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Message: <blockquote data-quote="The Shaman" data-source="post: 2373512" data-attributes="member: 26473">Normand grins back at Nedjar, and shrugs. “Acknowledged and understood..  And thanks for the warning.  My experience is mostly in boxing, and while I can certainly hold my own in a regular fight, I expect a savate expert…could probably kick my derrière.”From behind Normand comes another voice. “How good are you, exactly? What’s your record?” Turning, Normand sees the speaker is Sánchez, from his own section. Whereas most of the rankers in the platoon appear to be in their early to mid-twenties, a graying, receding hairline and deep folds in the corners of his mouth suggest that Sánchez is older than many of the non-commissioned officers in the unit, yet the insignia on his sleeve is that of a simple légionnaire. He looks intently at Normand, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, a pack of Ideales peeking from his pocket.“Does anyone teach martial arts around here?” asks Vidal. Nedjar nods. “A couple of the sous-officierss are pretty good, but sergent Verdurand is the best by far. You’ll learn a lot, if you can stand the bruises.”</blockquote>