[Flashback] A Sword? But I'm a Scribe!

[Grace]

The armor smacked against her chest and forced her off balance, sending her into a backwards stagger, though to her delight she was able to keep a grip on the clumsy parcel. "Two chimes." She echoed his words as he walked out of the loft, her eyes going wide as she absorbed exactly how much time that allowed. She scrambled to separate all the pieces of armor, the time ticking away in her head. As with most things, she had taken note of how one donned armor but unfortunately, theory and practice were worlds apart for someone who never had. Compound that with the changes that her body had been going through, and it was somewhat akin to a crane trying to slip into a formal suit. She clumsily pushed herself into the leather leggings, fumbling with the closures as the first chime rang. "That most certainly was not a whole chime! Are you cheating?" She pulled on the boots, then moved on to the chest piece. She had to hand it to Russell, they fit her perfectly, once she'd managed to struggle into them. After slipping the chest piece over her head, she buckled each side, shifting it a bit until it felt like it sat correctly on her torso. The epaulettes were next, resting on her shoulders awkwardly until she'd secured them to the chest piece. In the back of her mind she waited for the second chime, dreading the idea that she would be late. As she sprinted for the opening she grabbed the helmet and tucked it under her arm, then went to work jamming her hands into each of the gloves. Smiling brightly as she slid to a stop in front of Russell, perfectly in time with the ringing of the second chime. She took the helmet she'd stuffed under her arm and plopped it over her pale blonde hair. "Ready." She blew out a long breath only then recalling the practice swords the were nowhere to be found. "Bugger."

[Harlequill]

His expression was one of amusement as he waited for her to get the armor on. Hopefully her stubborn nature would help her last through the day, because he planned to make it rather hard on her. Of course he was stacking the deck against her at every turn, but that is how he had been taught. Adversity was a fairly good motivator. "Two seconds late in putting on your armor," he said as he gave her a very pointed look toward the helmet, "And you have not brought your swords with you. You do realize that a warrior without his swords is, usually, a dead man? If you hadn't realized that, perhaps you realize that every moment you spend listening to me talk is another moment you are late. Better go get those swords." Hands on hips.

[Grace]

Her brows tugged together as she grimaced and a small gasp was forced from her mouth upon listening to his words. She bolted before he finished speaking, running back to retrieve the practice swords. She couldn't help but mouth the word cheater as she moved. As the last syllable of his speech dissolved into air she ground to a stop in front of him, a sword in each hand and a fire in her gray eyes."I am ready. Are you?" A curved eyebrow lifted and she looked up at him from beneath a crown of leather and a fringe of dark lashes.

[Harlequill]

"I am ready as well. Hand me one of your blades. Keep one for the dominant hand. For now you will be learning how to use both hands independently of each other. Once you have learned to do so, then you will learn how to use them together. Before we begin all of the fun, and all of the pain, I would like to introduce you to your weapon." "This is the Tiger Hook Sword," he said as he took her second weapon and turned it over in his hands. As he mentioned each section of the weapon he pointed to it for her. "Both sides of the blade are sharp, though obviously not on wood. The hook at the end is meant for entangling the weapons and body parts of your enemies. This is not a jabbing weapon. I never want to see you trying to poke someone like you're holding a sharpened stick." "This crescent shaped guard serves both to protect you from the swordstrokes of your enemies, and to cut and tear if they get too close. This weapon's hook and most of its blade is useless if they enter your reach. Were someone to get hold of your wrist while wielding a longsword, the fight might be over. If they do it while you're holding this, you can turn the sharpened blade of the crescent in on their body and cut off whatever has hold of you." "When wielding this weapon be wary of the handle as well. On the bottom is a sharpened blade, the length and width of most daggers. This can be used for stabbing in close combat, or bringing your weapon to bear in combat when reach is not an option. These are the basic components of your weapon. If you nick yourself with any of them, I will strike you where you have done so. You need to learn that when you hold the real thing, you must respect it greatly, for any of its edges could spill your blood." Walking five paces away from her, he dug her second practice sword into the dirt and began to walk in a circle. Though it was not perfect, when he had finished his path the circle was centered upon her with a diameter of about ten paces. "For our first lessons, you will not leave this circle. If you leave this circle I will strike your ankles as a reminder. You must learn to be aware of your surroundings in combat. This circle will be the first step in teaching you to remain aware even during heated combat. By the time we are done, you will learn to hate this line as I once did. You will also learn, someday, to make me cross it." "We will be practicing today until sundown. We will continue to practice every day that your father is busy with his work, until you get it right. During your breaks you may help catalogue his work as you always do, and during your early mornings you may work with him in person. I am sure you will complain about how unfair I am. I am sure he will agree." Stepping back into the edge of the circle he gave her a sharp salute with his right hand, shifting the sword to his left. She knew from experience that he was right handed. Perhaps she would mistake this as a sign that he would be going easy on her. "I will instruct you as we fight. Not before, and always after. Listen as best you can, little barbarian."

[Grace]

She listened carefully as he laid down the ground rules of their training and though there were several times she would have liked to offer her opinion, she thought better and held her tongue. While he introduced her to the parts of the blade, she inspected each part to add physical memory to his description, even going so far as to mimic the actions he described as their uses. When he began to draw the circle containing her she followed his every move, slowly rotating on the balls of her feet until the circle was closed. Once done, she looked up at him not knowing when the large lump had grown in her throat, or quite how to get rid of it. Against her better judgment she could not stop herself from questioning him. "Doesn't the restriction of this circle make me more vulnerable?" She thought about her question before continuing. "Of course it does. Well, that hardly seems fair." With a crooked curl to her lips, she grasped the practice sword in hand and awaited his next move, more than a little apprehensively.

[Harlequill]

"Would you rather fight in the woods? Catch the back of your head on a low-hanging limb? Or perhaps you would snap the bones in your ankle by stepping into a gopher hole. No, the line is for your education. You are not being handicapped." He smiled and rolled the sword in his left hand. "Before we begin you need to stretch. You will not have the luxury of stretching before every combat you enter, but by doing so during practice you can increase your flexibility and ability to react. I don't want you tearing any muscles during practice, no matter how hard I may be on you otherwise." As he finished speaking he showed her several stretches designed to help prepare the body for motion. Lifting the arm up behind the head and applying downward pressure on the elbow. Gripping the upper arm and pulling it across one's chest. The proper method for toe touching was demonstrated, as well as leg lunges. Together they rolled their arms at the shoulder, and their feet at the ankles. In fact the routine that he put her through was rigorous enough to feel like a workout for a young girl who was not used to such. Luckily, most children of her age were blessed with near-limitless energy. Especially when they were planning to prove someone wrong. Once Grace was securely back in the center of the circle Russell began to walk around the circumference of it, from the inside. Sword in his left hand he tested her grip on the sword with a few hooks of his own. "You want to grip the sword loosely, so that you can move with it, but that does not mean you must grip it feebly. The looseness must be in your arms, not your grip. Otherwise it can be removed from your hand on a whim." To demonstrate this he caught the hook of her sword with the hook of his own and yanked it violently out of her hand. As it moved the wooden dagger portion scraped her wrist. Allowing her weapon to fall toward the ground he reversed the movement of his sword to whack her soundly on the side of the wrist with the flat of the blade. Hard enough to leave red, but not hard enough to raise an angry welt. "Watch the edges of your weapon." Using his foot he flicked the weapon back over to her feet, and waited for her to pick it up.

[Grace]

As the wood of the practice blade slapped against her wrist a quick spike of pain flashed up the length of her arm. It stung, but more than anything it was the shock of it that claimed her breath, caught in her throat as though held by a closed fist and remaining as such for several beats of her heart. Beyond her involuntary response she offered no other reaction to his first strike but did nod once at the message of his lesson. To retrieve her sword she bent both knees and crouched, always keeping her eyes glued to Russell just in case he made a move. She flicked her eyes to the ground and back before curling her fingers around the hilt of the tiger hook. In a quick movement she straightened her legs and stood, shifting her grip to a more comfortable one and giving a quick shake of her arms to keep them loose...as instructed. With a slight pop, she tilted her head from side to side, loosening her neck, she would never had done so, had she not seen Russell do it on numerous occasions during times of high physicality. "What's next?"

[Harlequill]

"Remember that you can do the same to your enemy. That hook isn't for show. It is meant for you to disarm or entangle your foe." He continued to circle her with his eyes narrowed intently. "Remember to watch your opponent's movements. If you can judge his footwork you can judge his swordplay. Unless the fool decides to throw it at you. As if unsure whether or not he needed to remind her, he gave her a look that said clearly there was to be no throwing of swords during this practice. Moving slowly with his left hand he attempted several simple slashes at her left side, forcing her to move to the right. Though she was clumsy and inexperienced she was able to deflect his blows with her wooden sword. In this way he allowed her to get a feel for the weapon. At times he lashed out more fiercely, prompting her to dodge or risk numbing her arm from the block. Every now and then he would switch up which side his assaults originated from, also allowing her to practice her footwork. The chimes moved along swiftly and each of them acquired a thin sheen of sweat from the sunshine and the workout. As they worked their way around the circle the old man began to lag. His slashes were becoming more tired and his hooks were more easily deflected down the length of her blade without connecting. As if sensing his own exhaustion he began pressing the attack against her. He seemed to be attacking her weapon over and over, giving her little time to think and less time to process those thoughts. During one skilled but slower slash he offered her the opportunity to hook his weapon as he had done hers during the first exercise.

[Grace]

Every bit of information he shared with her was added to a mental list she's started. The mention of the hooks use drew her attention to the exaggerated curve and she gave a quick nod. Letting her gaze slip for just long enough to add a mental picture to his latest comment she re-focused on Russel's circling. Her response to his silent reiteration of the 'no throwing' rule was to tilt her head to one side and offer up a long, drawn out sigh, it was in that moment of distraction that he lashed out with his blade and in a clumsy flailing motion she moved to block. She winced both at the awkward movement as she forced her arm out straight to block as well as the impact the reverberated down her arm from the slamming of his blade against hers. Without her consent, a sharp gasp was forced from her chest and she frowned. The next swipe at her blade was met with a more preparation on her part. She was able to sidestep the jab entirely by spinning quickly to her right and then raising the crescent toward Russell to prevent him from grazing her ribs. Though her arms seemed to be catching on, her feet lacked the direction she needed and after her adequate spinning move she looked down to see her toes butted up against the bladed boundry of her circle. She stuck her feet fast while her upper body teetered and she silently vowed to crash onto her face before stepping outside that circle. Like a dying bird, she began waving her arms in circles to try and drive herself back into the safe zone, overlooking entirely the flat of Russell's blade as it landed with a sharp THWACK on her backside. "Gah!" The exclamation sounded just before she landed with an oof! flat on her stomach. To her credit, as soon as she landed she pressed up and hopped back into the circle, looking at Russell as she chewed on the inside of her cheek. His reply to her trip outside the circle was quick and sharp, like a snake bite on her stomach for which her reflexes had no timely defense. Growing frustrated she blew a out a puff of air, fanning the loose hair away from her forehead. Loose arms firm grip, pay attention, watch my opponents movements. While going over her mental list she planted her feet and raised her sword to protect her midsection. She managed a block from a sweeping swing by shifting her elbow to the side and meeting his blade with the flat of hers. The next was a glancing blow that she nearly averted by tilting the length of her blade skyward until it shadowed the line if her torso, his blade touched her but was then forced away by her block. Her breath was growing shallow and ragged as his blows began to come in quick succession. To avoid his strikes and give herself a little breathing room she tried to dance around his movements, using her size to dodge beneath and beside some of his swings and jabs. For the most part, this approach seemed successful, but as soon as she became moderately comfortable with her dodge, he began to foresee her actions and the result stung mightily. As she dipped her head beneath one of his swings it was as though he had a map of her next movement for when she rose, thinking she'd spun out of his reach, his blade met her chest nearly knocking every breath from her lungs. Hoarsely gasping for the breath that would refill her lungs, her mind was racing and her inner voice barking so loudly it threatened to drown out any words from Russell...stop using the same defense, it's no wonder he knew where you would be, you are predictable! The sweat that now covered her whole body in a damp sheen had transformed her long hair into pale blonde ribbons that clung to her forehead and neck, she ran her butt of her hand across both eyes to keep them clear. Russell's strikes were coming so quickly now she began to rely strictly on her reflexes, but as of yet, there was little experiential memory to call on so her reactions continued to be clumsy and now slowed by her fatigue. Come on Grace... When the hook of his sword dipped, something in her head chimed, just like the one that had marked the passing of their time. She took the opportunity to act by slapping the flat of her blade against his and forcing it back toward his grip, then, with a quick half-turn of her wrist she tried to disarm him. With her reclaimed breath held in her throat, she gave a quick jerk, hoping that the hook would engage and their sparring would end with his sword at her feet.

[Harlequill]

Locking blades with her teacher was exactly what he had hoped for, and the facade of weariness melted away immediately. He had played her! Twisting his wrist he locked the hooks tightly together. Moving his arm with the powerful assistance of his hips he ripped the wooden sword from her hands. Flipping his arm he sent it sailing up and over his left shoulder, outside the circle. "Lesson: When disarming someone with a hook, you must either catch them off guard or you must be stronger than they are. A fancy twirl or a well timed strike may be able to disarm an opponent without risking your entanglement, but if you hook yourself to someone you had better be sure that you can wrestle them to the ground and beat them there. Otherwise this will happen. You will lose your sword, and then you will lose your head." Reaching out with his sword he tapped her on the top of the head, more to annoy her than to cause any injury. "You may leave the circle to rest. You may visit your father, but I expect you back here once you have eaten lunch. That is all." With a salute from his right hand he dismissed her. Already he was turning to walk back to his 'loft', where he had stored his gear.