[Academy] Practice Time (Open)

[Ardo]

OOCI made some assumptions about the training area of the academy. I hope it is all right.

7th day of Winter, 511 AV.

The leather-bound dummy flailed endlessly from left to right as the sharp blows of Ardo's wooden practice sword were launched against its whole body. The air roughly whished before every blow, within every movement of his arms, and the sound emitted by the impact of the tool against its target only complemented it into forming a strong melody of combat. But the sound Ardo truly wished to presence was the one of weapons drumming on shields and men singing war chants, a music which he likely would never live to hear, for the times of battles and conquests were long buried under Mizahar's history, and long gone is all of the glory as well.

A thrust in the direction of the dummy's head was struck more strongly as the thought went through this head, and it was followed by a swift movement of his left palm into sliding towards the cross-guard of the weapon, while his right hand grasped the bottom of the wooden hilt and the bottom of his palm rested against the sword's round-shaped pommel. It was the solid grip for a swing, or perhaps for parrying, but not for thrusting, as he would soon realize, because the blows arrived more strongly with every movement of his arms when holding the hilt in such a manner, and his members now maneuvered the sword as an extension of his body into wide horizontal arcs from left to right, and then from right to left, making his arm muscles struggle to adapt to halting and redirecting the weapon into opposite directions several times.

His left arm was projected forward, his right arms pulled the sword's pommel in his own direction, the resulting torque creating powerful movements with the blade, making the dummy spin and wobble violently around itself. And such maneuvers he beheld with pride. What if it were a real enemy there instead, screaming in agony after every heroic blow? But real enemies would actually fight back, and the dummy which stood in front of him did not. Dummies merely accepted all of the strikes thrown at them. Would that be a true test of arms? A drop of sweat ran through Ardo's forehead as his movements slowed down and his eyes analyzed the training tool in front of him. He could definitely attack, but would he be able to defend himself from hostile attacks of an enemy's blade?

He rested his gaze on his shield, which lied diagonally placed by a crate nearby. His right hand was used to the raspy clasp of the umbo grip, but there surely was something to the shield beyond holding it against a foe and hoping for the incoming attacks to be blocked. He needed to practice more with the shield as well, but how? It was then that he heard a noise of footsteps approaching the training grounds, and the entrance to the area was soon covered with a silhouette. Someone had come. Who could it be?