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Did you say 'sick on my sleeve?'
Thu Sep 21, 2006 17:28 (XFF:

Afailla waited as the lesson unfolded, but when Styr started showing the different kinds of knives, she had to shove her way to the front so that she could see what was going on. Before she knew it, he was lunging at her face – she stifled a shriek from pure reflex and was proud that she managed not to flinch away from him, though she was no doubt white as a ghost – and just as quickly was gone. He paid her no further attention, but went on with the lesson. After a few more words of explanation, they were told to choose their weapons. Everyone rushed forwards to the racks, and Afailla was jostled uncomfortably. She started to use the Power to clear a space for her, but as soon as she’d registered the thought, a space cleared up and she was able to dart in and seize two knives at random.

When she came free of the melee, she managed to gain a few seconds of piece during which she examined what weapons she’d come out with. One sickle blade, and one sleeve. Perhaps it was only luck that had brought her out with the opportunity to learn both offense and defense at once, though whether it was good luck for the consolidation or ill for the extra work was debatable.

”Right, al’Kinnly, get out here.” The young man that stepped forward was huge, and seemed to be radiating a lust for violence. When he shoved past her, the Soldier had an inexplicable wave of nausea overtake her. It didn’t go away with his passing, and as the unfair spar unfolded she found herself in varying degrees of disgust throughout. Soon enough, it was over and the pupil was heading back to his place sulkily. He caught Afailla’s glance and scowled at her, making her blanch – not from fear, but from the next wave of sickness. What was wrong with her? She’d felt fine a few minutes ago . . ..

Styr began speaking again and before long she was distracted from her discomfort. After a few minutes, Afailla was able to look up and playing absently with the lathes in her hands and getting used to their weight and balance. They felt a bit awkward, one in each hand, and she experimented with trading hands a few times during the demonstration of the footwork, though she never took her eyes off of the example. Styr resumed his lecture after the bulky student had been thoroughly humiliated, and Afailla continued to listen intently, anxious to get all that she could from the lesson.

They were instructed to pair off, and Afailla found that the Black Tower initiates had all picked out their pairings long ago, as had most of the others. Obviously, they were all more familiar with this kind of lesson than she was. She managed to find one person – a Novice – that stood without an opponent, so she walked over and introduced herself. The novice was a good deal taller, but she was also slender, and Afailla found herself wondering if she’d be gaining a good deal of bruises in this lesson.

Both women practiced the four basic moves on their own first, getting used to the movements and miming the gestures in an attempt to get a better feel for what they were supposed to be doing. After a little while, the two faced off and began sparring. Afailla found herself right away bombarded by a somewhat clumsy-looking thrust; her parry was no better, but she managed to avoid a “killing” blow. She returned the attack with her right hand, the one she’d decided on for offense, and was deflected in turn. Was her attack as bad?

The two women, one from each Tower, continued to trade blows for a while, neither really gaining the advantage over the other. It didn’t take Afailla long to figure out that her smaller size gave her an advantage if she ducked in lower and struck in more unexpected places, so that her opponent would have to twist into awkward positions to defend herself. Similarly, the Novice clued in quickly to her longer reach, taking advantage of it to give Afailla no few hard whacks with the lathes.

They continued to work, waiting for the Dedicated to call a stop to their blundering, but Afailla found that although as time passed she grew more fatigued, she also began to understand the dynamics and the techniques required of her. It was interesting, and she was beginning to understand how Tsuga loved this kind of physical labor so much. It allowed no time for thinking about anything but where her feet were going, what her hands were doing, and what her opponent’s limbs were doing. It was freeing, in a way. Not in the same way as channeling, but it was still an enjoyable break from the constant mental chatter of one’s mind.

OOC: Long, rambly, and pointless, but...well. Hehe.

  • Part I: Of Sickle and SleeveStyr Tai'Sei, Dedicated, Thu Sep 21 13:14
    Styr surveyed his motley assortment of pupils, and sighed. It was bemusement more than anything else that drew the breath from his quirked lips. No place in the world harboured such a travesty of... more
    • Forced DownSoldier Shayla al'Cazor, Mon Oct 2 11:13
      Shayla watched and waited as the others introduced themselves. There were a few familiar faces, but not ones that she was friendly with. The Dedicated surveyed the assembled students, then went on to ... more
    • Natural InstinctsSoldier Kandra sur Samarand, Thu Sep 21 19:12
      Kandra stood back, examining his blades. Both were Sickles, which he had wanted to get in the first place. It was said that the best offense was a good defense, but Kandra imagined that it worked... more
    • Did you say 'sick on my sleeve?' — Soldier Afailla Dafrin, Thu Sep 21 17:28
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