[Training] Drills and more drills...but no carpentry

[John Griffin]

Late evening, 10th of Summer, AV 510
Retired Syliran Knight Robert Griffin's Room, Third Tier


Sweat was already running steadily down John's face, and the drills had hardly begun. He had arrived at his father's room in the cooler hours of the evening, sword on his belt, training sword in hand. His father, Robert, had taken one look at him from his bed and then told him to run back to his own dwelling. The young knight had asked why, and been told, "You have armor now, John. How will you fare against an opponent if you have never trained in it? Run back and put it on, then walk briskly back here."

Not wanting to try his luck at being able to walk back, but curious as to why, he asked the reason for walking.

"Well," came the response from the elderly knight. "If another knight saw you running through the castle in full kit, what do you suppose he would think?"

"Uh," came John's ineloquent response. "I don't know."

Shaking his head, Robert asked, "What would you think if you saw another knight running down a corridor, fully armed and armored?"

Finally hit by the obviousness of the answer, John felt a bit dull. "I would think he was responding to something, probably a crime." In retrospect, John was surprised he hadn't thought of that the first time around.

As soon as he had gotten back to his father's room, head to toe in armor, shield on his left arm, he had been told to start drilling. The first drill was one that he had done hundreds of times as a squire. William Erindale had made him do it every morning.

The drill itself was fairly basic, designed less to develop technique, and more to develop the endurance required for a knight. It consisted of John stepping forward with his right foot and thrusting his sword, then stepping forward with his left foot and thrusting his shield. He did this all the way across the room, then would repeat the drill with a slash instead of a thrust, back across the room.

John had never done the drill in full armor before, and he tired more quickly than usual. After twenty repetitions of the drill he was told to stop and take a quick drink of water. He flipped up his visor and took a sip from his waterskin. Then, grabbing a small cloth, he reached in to wipe the sweat from his face.

"STOP!" Robert shouted with an immediacy that caused John the freeze in place. "Do not wipe your face off." No longer frozen, John looked incredulously at the older Griffin. The elder knight explained, "In battle you will not have a chance to leisurely wipe sweat away. You must train as you fight, and you will fight with sweat in your eyes. Leave it."

John set the cloth down and dropped his visor back into place.

"What's next?" he asked.

"Standard attack drills."

"Attack drills?" John lifted his visor back up to look at his father. "I did attack drills for five years during my squirehood. I thought maybe becoming a knight would graduate me to more complex things!"

"You have learned much in the art of swordplay, but the basics must never be forgotten. Even a master of the sword must still do basic drills, a novice even more so. You have gotten much better, but there is still a long way to go, my son. Standard attack drills."

For the next hour John ran through attack drills. Repeating set combinations that had been imprinted in his mind and on his muscles, he thrust, slashed, sliced, and hacked at imaginary foes. Quite often Robert would stop him, explain what he was doing wrong, then walk him back through the drill slowly, critiquing his technique. After the hour was up he stopped for another water break.

"This would be much easier if I had a sparring partner," commented John in between sips.

The veteran knight shook his head. "A partner is a good training tool, yes. But you must learn the basics of the sword through repeated drills." He started coughing, his whole body shaking as his lungs spasmed. After a few moments it died down. "Response drills."

[John Griffin]

John gave a small sigh. Response drills were one of his least favorite, unless he had a partner. With a partner there was the realism of reacting to an actual attack. By himself, he simply reacted to whatever his father would say.

"High left!" yelled his father, and John lifted his shield into the proper block for an overhand strike coming from his left side.

"Low right!" John's sword swung down in a sloppy parry, and Robert chastised him quickly before moving on.

"High center! Middle left! High right! Low center! Middle center! Middle Right! Middle center!" The elder knight randomly yelled one of the nine basic attack zones, and John did his best to perform the proper block or parry. As the drill continued Robert sped up, yelling several attacks in each breath. John tried to keep up, but it was hard, his armor was weighing him down, and the drill had been going nearly non-stop for ten minutes.

"Stop!"

Eager for a break, John let his arm hang, the tip of his sword touching the stones of the floor.

"Drop your shield," instructed his father, and John obliged, setting it against the wall. Not sure what was next, he eyed his father curiously.

"Middle left!" yelled his father, and John sprang into action, using his longsword with both hands. The veteran knight continued yelling attacks for another ten minutes before telling his son to stop again.

"You are doing well. But you must remember that all swordsmanship spawns from the basics. Forget those, and you will surely lose. Strength in your arms, your legs and your stomach are paramount, as is endurance. If you tire after a few strokes, your enemy will surely cut you down. Remember these things, my son, so that I may watch you grow older. You should bury me, not the other way around."

John reflected on this for a moment, lifting his visor up to give his face some air. He had always thought that he would outlive his father. But then, he had never really pondered the fact that he could be killed in the service of the Order. That gave more meaning to the training than advancement within the knights, or the honor of being 'the best.'

With renewed vigor he slapped his visor back into place and lifted his sword. "What now?"

"Now we focus on your feet."

"My feet? Why?"

"Footwork is as much a part of swordplay as the sword." Robert leaned up so he could better see John's feet, and began to instruct him in a foot drill that required him to constantly change stances, as well as move his sword into the proper guard position for each stance. Slow at first, as John learned the moves, the drill sped up until it was almost like a dance. For forty minutes he sprung from stance to stance, his sword humming through the air as he swung it into a different guard. Several times he had to resist the urge to lift his visor and wipe away the sweat that stung his eyes. Finally his father urged him to stop and take another water break. He gladly obliged.

[John Griffin]

The break turned less into a break and more into a lecture on tactics. Robert started just with a few tips at first, such as not holding a sword too tight, and the more obvious don't let your enemy flank you, but it quickly surged into an in depth explanation of standard tactics to use.

"Honor is the cornerstone of the Order," said Robert, as John listened intently, his helmet removed and sitting on the table. "But there is such as thing as being TOO honorable," continued his father.

"Too honorable?" John asked. "That doesn't seem possible."

"Oh yes. It's all well and good to meet your opponent face to face, but at what cost? For instance, if you're mounted with a lance, and your opponent is a foot soldier with a sword, it would be foolish and reckless to dismount and have at it with your sword. Ride the man down, that's why we fight on horses most of them time outside the city."

"That seems a bit cold, don't you think?"

Robert scoffed. "Not as cold as your body if the man's an expert swordsman. Using tactical advantages is not cold, and it's not dishonorable. It's smart. I know you've got a good head on your shoulders. Use it. Don't throw your life away because of some notion that honor requires you keep to fight even, or even that you fight. Don't think that retreat is always cowardice. Yes, sometimes it is. But sometimes retreat is necessary."

There was a few moments of silence as Robert stopped his instruction and John thought about what his father had just said.

"Alright," said the elder. "That's it for tonight."

John nodded, picking up his helmet and tucking it under his arm. He moved towards the bed and knelt before his father, who kissed his forehead.

"You're a find knight, my son, and shall make a finer one still. Now let an old man rest."

"Thank you father." He stood and retrieved his shield, blowing out the candles as he made his way out the door and through the corridors of Stormhold, back to his own room.

[Leviathan]

Thread Award! John Griffin Exp +3 Weapon (Longsword), +2 Weapon (Shield) Lore Fighting with Sweat in the Eyes, A Lesson in Honor, Fighting in Armor Additional Comments I loved this thread. I wish it was a little longer simply because I loved it so much. The last post was emotional, a little father son time. Anyway, if you have any comments or questions about this awarding, please PM me and we can get it settled out. If you think I cheated you out, feel free to say so and explain yourself, I am new to this so mistakes are to be expected. Keep up the good writing!