14th Spring 513AV,
Morning, 8th Bell
If there was anything that Fallon had successfully learned after last night's drinking, it was that too much of it and its consumption lead to an ungodly headache. Yet instead of simply curling up beneath the covers and hissing at the dull light, Fallon dragged her bleary eyed state up to the training grounds, with the dull throb ringing out. She gave a loud yawn as she stretched herself out, a feeble attempt to shake the hang over that had grasped onto her so tightly. She looked terrible to say the least, her face drawn and pale with dark lines having formed under her eyes. In the cool spring light Fallon turned her attention to the training grounds, looking at the other squires and their patrons, the mock battle grounds before her. She remembered coming her the day before, and being shown around the place along with what was available for her to use. And so, rather sheepishly she took up one of the wooden ones and felt the light weight in her hand. Although she knew that it was far from the weight of an actual long sword, it still felt heavy in her hands. Yet in time she knew she would grow use to the weight, and just as she would grow use to it the wood would no doubt be replaced with one with metal.
Of course, that would no doubt be an age away, for Fallon was still barely a novice and had yet to truly grasp anything about the way of the sword, let alone anything related to the knights. So taking herself off to a relatively quiet area Fallon attempted to bring herself to train. Which was harder than she first imagined. The first issue was getting use to where the sword needed to be held for both balance and the best effect- even if it was just made of wood. She stroked her chin and held the wooden sword before her, her eyes contemplating what was what.
This must be the cross-guard, she thought as her fingers tapped against it, meaning this must be the hilt…
She gripped her hand around the hilt of the sword and felt it in one hand, a firm frown forming on her face. It was far from the same as using a Kukri, the hilt for one was different, along with the weight.
But it did not mean she could not apply the same basic logic. She extended the blade out, watching the tip already begin to dip as she held it there. She withdrew it, moved her hand along the hilt and extended it out again. This time it was worse, even she could tell that. That and extending it pointlessly out was making her wrist ache. Though not as much as her head. Letting out a sigh she returned the wooden sword once more, her eyes narrowing at the hilt. The first issue seemed to be finding a point of balance, a place that was good to grip the blade before performing swing after swing. She slid her hand along it again, grasping it as she tried to find a comfortable point.
Definitely nothing like a Kukri, she frowned as her hand finally reached the cross guard, Bah, at the top again.
For a moment Fallon paused, then moved her hand back down again, her patience quickly growing thin. She gave it a wild swing, a flash of her more temperamental side coming out. She felt herself becoming hot headed through her hang over, annoyance commanding her actions. She gave a second wild swing as the sword slid briefly in her grip, the weight shifting with her swing. She gripped it tighter and the wooden sword back, before staring down at the new hold that she had taken and the dull ache in her swinging arm. It seemed to feel a bit better now, or if anything it was at least comfortable, although it was something still alien to her. She glanced round briefly to look at those who were watching, mainly a group of young squires who seemed to be revelling in watching her make a fool of herself.
“Oi, Petch off!” she gave them a wave, a firm hint that they should do something else other than simply laugh at her expense “Go train or something!”
She shook her head and poured her focus into the wooden sword, trying to understand what she could from it. Which still remained very little. She rubbed her forehead, before giving it a few more swings, her ears pricking to the dull swish of wood in the air. She brought the wooden sword above her head, and brought it racing down with all her might. It reverberated against the ground, the vibrations shaking through her arms and hands, but that did not stop her. Fallon brought it racing back up, both hands tightly wrapped around the hilt this time, before stepping forward into a lunge. Or as best as she could, she felt her body follow after the sword, ripping her forward into a stagger. She felt the wood flick back, it jerking to the side as she went forward. She threw her foot to her front, twisting to one side as the wood blade sliced through the air beside her. One of her hands released its hold, failing out in an attempt to steady herself, her feet locking up as her stance was solidified. The blade tip bounced off the floor once more, any form of mild control she did have on it having now been lost. Fallon released a heavy sigh before returning her hold on the hilt of the long sword.
It became clear as time went on. The more she swung the sword about, the more she felt an unease creeping in. To begin with she tried to think nothing of it, but the more she persisted with trying to learn the way to at least swing the wooden long sword, the more she felt defeated. Even when she gripped the hilt with two hands she found it unwieldy. She sighed and stopped her swinging, knowing that it was achieving next to nothing if any. She exhaled and stared at the wooden sword with disgust. It did not feel right; it felt unwieldy to her, as if it was something that was far too long for her and her smaller frame. She rubbed her forehead once more, before simply throwing it to the side with annoyance.
Better go find something better.
Of course, that would no doubt be an age away, for Fallon was still barely a novice and had yet to truly grasp anything about the way of the sword, let alone anything related to the knights. So taking herself off to a relatively quiet area Fallon attempted to bring herself to train. Which was harder than she first imagined. The first issue was getting use to where the sword needed to be held for both balance and the best effect- even if it was just made of wood. She stroked her chin and held the wooden sword before her, her eyes contemplating what was what.
This must be the cross-guard, she thought as her fingers tapped against it, meaning this must be the hilt…
She gripped her hand around the hilt of the sword and felt it in one hand, a firm frown forming on her face. It was far from the same as using a Kukri, the hilt for one was different, along with the weight.
But it did not mean she could not apply the same basic logic. She extended the blade out, watching the tip already begin to dip as she held it there. She withdrew it, moved her hand along the hilt and extended it out again. This time it was worse, even she could tell that. That and extending it pointlessly out was making her wrist ache. Though not as much as her head. Letting out a sigh she returned the wooden sword once more, her eyes narrowing at the hilt. The first issue seemed to be finding a point of balance, a place that was good to grip the blade before performing swing after swing. She slid her hand along it again, grasping it as she tried to find a comfortable point.
Definitely nothing like a Kukri, she frowned as her hand finally reached the cross guard, Bah, at the top again.
For a moment Fallon paused, then moved her hand back down again, her patience quickly growing thin. She gave it a wild swing, a flash of her more temperamental side coming out. She felt herself becoming hot headed through her hang over, annoyance commanding her actions. She gave a second wild swing as the sword slid briefly in her grip, the weight shifting with her swing. She gripped it tighter and the wooden sword back, before staring down at the new hold that she had taken and the dull ache in her swinging arm. It seemed to feel a bit better now, or if anything it was at least comfortable, although it was something still alien to her. She glanced round briefly to look at those who were watching, mainly a group of young squires who seemed to be revelling in watching her make a fool of herself.
“Oi, Petch off!” she gave them a wave, a firm hint that they should do something else other than simply laugh at her expense “Go train or something!”
She shook her head and poured her focus into the wooden sword, trying to understand what she could from it. Which still remained very little. She rubbed her forehead, before giving it a few more swings, her ears pricking to the dull swish of wood in the air. She brought the wooden sword above her head, and brought it racing down with all her might. It reverberated against the ground, the vibrations shaking through her arms and hands, but that did not stop her. Fallon brought it racing back up, both hands tightly wrapped around the hilt this time, before stepping forward into a lunge. Or as best as she could, she felt her body follow after the sword, ripping her forward into a stagger. She felt the wood flick back, it jerking to the side as she went forward. She threw her foot to her front, twisting to one side as the wood blade sliced through the air beside her. One of her hands released its hold, failing out in an attempt to steady herself, her feet locking up as her stance was solidified. The blade tip bounced off the floor once more, any form of mild control she did have on it having now been lost. Fallon released a heavy sigh before returning her hold on the hilt of the long sword.
It became clear as time went on. The more she swung the sword about, the more she felt an unease creeping in. To begin with she tried to think nothing of it, but the more she persisted with trying to learn the way to at least swing the wooden long sword, the more she felt defeated. Even when she gripped the hilt with two hands she found it unwieldy. She sighed and stopped her swinging, knowing that it was achieving next to nothing if any. She exhaled and stared at the wooden sword with disgust. It did not feel right; it felt unwieldy to her, as if it was something that was far too long for her and her smaller frame. She rubbed her forehead once more, before simply throwing it to the side with annoyance.
Better go find something better.
