~Extracurricular Activities~ (Basic Bastard Sword||Self Moderated)

[Hsin]

~Late Optia~

Self-moderated training thread. Feel free to PM me if you see something funny! ^_^
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Over the last Era Hsin had very much become an educational tourist. Rather than spending his free weekends indulging in the flesh pots of cities like Imperia and Vortex, the Kemite enrolled himself in the local academies or perused the dusty tomes and yellowed scrolls in the library. The young journeyman knew better than most the value of each passing second. All too soon the chill fist of Jalat would tear away his soul and cut short his time on the Material Plane. Until than Hsin would continue to tear through academia like a dervish; assimilating as much information as he could. Now few thought of martial pursuits and the swinging of sharp and pointy objects as an academic pursuit. Knowledge for them conjured up images of bearded mages gazing in tepid confusion as their spells blew away small villages. Hsin had seen his fair share of clueless magi over the months, but that hardly marginalized the importance of experience in the arcanic arts. Casting a spell was not a mere extension of classroom concepts, but rather a sum total of circumstances, ability, discipline, and skill. An Era had seen Hsin’s rise from a lowly initiate to a Journeyman, and yet a guard with a cudgel would play havoc on his carefully constructed weaves. Like repels like, and for physical danger the Kemite would need to learn physical defense. Daragin was blissfully unaware of his student’s complicated motivations as the stumpy dwarf rummaged around a storage tent for the proper equipment. The sound of metal clashing against metal and low grumbling caused Hsin’s thin lips to crack into a smile. Someone would profit from a lesson in order. In a minute or two, the instructor pushed aside the canvas flap and emerged triumphant, holding a sheathed bastard sword in one hand and a small bag in the other. Hardly sparing the human a glance, the dwarf turned and headed into the forest as he called over his shoulder, ”Follow me, and we’ll find somewhere out of the sun to begin our lessons.”

They walked for a minute or two before arriving in a wide clearing. A row of targets and dummies ran the length of the far side, their canvas skins sporting dozens of slashes and broken arrow shafts. Daragin huffed and puffed as he pulled himself onto the top of a broad bolder and patted the rock beside him, clearly indicating that the Kemite should sit. ”Now, I don’t how much experience you’ve had with weapons, lad. But you’ve paid me for a lesson in swordsmanship, and I’ll be damned if I don’t give you your money’s worth. We’ll cover everything as if ye were a wee lad.” Pulling off the leather sheath, the dwarf brandished the bastard sword waved it in front of Hsin. ”This ‘ere is a bastard sword. It’s short enough to be used with one hand, like a longsword, or with both like a greatsword. A longsword with a single-handed grip gives you reach, and beggin’ your pardon you could use all the reach you kin get. Us short people need to stick together.” The dwarf winked amiably before continuing. ”A greatsword with a double handed grip sacrifices speed and mobility for power. The hand-and-a-half sword combines the best of the both of them. That’s why it’s called a bastard.” The dwarf chuckled for a moment quieting and continuing. ”Now, if you know anything about force, you’ll see that there’s a small flaw in every sword. See, the upper half of the sword is the best for cutting work. But it’s also the weakest, and liable to break. The bottom half is the strongest half by virtue of its greater size. Now, why don’t you pull out that sword of yours and we’ll get a-started on upkeep?”

Hsin unwrapped the grey cloth covering his weapon, smiling warmly as the dwarf’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the intricately crafted hilt. ”It’s a family heirloom,” lied the Kemite as he drew its crimson blade from the ironwood sheath. ”Aslan permitting, its family tradition for the eldest son to wield it in defense of their honor.”

Nodding absentmindedly and somewhat embarrassed, the dwarf began to gesture at various parts of the weapon. ”Now, grip the sword like this. It isn’t hard—just a standard one handed grip for the moment. Good. The edge here, lined up with your second knuckle, is the true edge. The edge here, lined up with the web of your thumb, is the false edge. It really means nothing, ‘cept for the fancy swordmasters who like to prattle on about their techniques. You whack them with the true edge, and save the false edge for special occasions.” The dwarf seemed less than happy to be explaining rather than showing. ”Now this here is the crossguard. Normally we like to keep it as wide as the hit’s long, for parrying, but your weapon seems a little more streamlined. Right underneath the crossguard is the handle. Normally it’s a bit shorter, but the grip of a bastard sword can accommodate both hands without too much discomfort. The pommel’s more than a pretty place to put a stone. It’s a counterweight for the blade, to balance the weapon.” Setting the sword aside, the dwarf opened the bag and pulled out a bottle of oil, a rag, and a sharpening stone. ”Now, the most important part of swordsmanship is maintaining your blade. Never sheath your sword wet, or covered with blood. If need by, clean it on the clothing of the poor git you just slaughtered. When you have time, wipe down the blade with a clean cloth and a bit of oil. No dirty rags, and don’t skimp on the oil, do you hear? You want your blade to last for years and years after all.” The grizzled instructor handed Hsin the rag and oil and watched as the Kemite applied a fresh coat. Nodding happily, he took up the sharpening stone and began to run it up and down the blade. ”When it comes to sharpening, more isn’t better. This isn’t a katana, a toy that snaps when it hits plate armor! Keeping the blade slightly dull lets it absorb the impact better, and keeps it from nicking when it hits something hard. Give it a try.” Sharpening took perhaps half a candlemark, as the dwarf pulled out a number of files and other alternative implements. Daragin was firmly rooted in basics, something that brought the old dwarf no small amount of pride.

[Hsin]

Learning about each weapon was supposedly as important as learning to use a weapon. But far more boring. Daragin sheathed his sword without fanfare and dropped it into the grass with a satisfying thud. The dwarf followed feet first, a moment after. ”We’ll start with some exercises. Now I’m not insulting your looks, laddy, but everyone needs to warm up.” Hsin shed the long black coat he had worn, revealing a rather nondescript grey wool shirt and hand sewn brown pants. Instructor and student took off in a slow, steady trot as Daragin began to explain the basis of a normal exercise regime, and pitfalls. By the fifth circle around the academy grounds, Hsin had begun to pant for air. The position of Exquecher, it seems, had extracted a price in terms of physical fitness. The dwarf continued to soldier on, plying Hsin with tales of war and combat, an ever cheerful ambassador demonstrating his race’s physical abilities for the ill informed. They returned to the starting point in a roundabout fashion, at which point the dwarf immediately dropped to the ground and began to do push ups. The young journeyman could only grit his teeth and soldier on. At least he was getting his money’s worth. Candlemarks pass as the dwarf continued to drill Hsin, putting him through and unending sequences of calisthenics and muscle exercises. While never particularly strong, the Kemite did possesses a good deal of natural agility and a dogged endurance. Finally Daragin stopped and declared day’s exercise completed. Pulling a bandanna out of a pocket, the dwarf mopped his forehead and slowly bent to pick up the bastard sword. ”That’s enough for today, but don’t get complacent! We’ll be doing this each morning now! Warms up the bones and stirs up the humors. Better than a tankard of beer.”

”Now than! We’ll get down to the bread and butter. Or the red meat,” declared the dwarf with obvious gusto, waving the sword in the Kemite’s general direction. ”Now git your weapon and we’ll go over grips.” With a great deal more dignity and less yelling, Hsin drew his own blade and watched the closely as Daragin began to demonstrate. ”Your weapon’s got a short blade for a bastard sword, a full foot shorter than some I’ve seen. So we’ll start with the one handed grips. Don’t choke your sword laddy! Not like that, leastwise. Only hold it tightly with the thumb and the first two fingers. Leave the last two loose. It’ll let you keep the hands and wrist loose. Good when you’ve got an orc trying to make you his dinner.” The dwarf chuckled, shifting his grip again and holding it with both hands in front of him. ”Now, this here is the double handed grip. I’ll assume you’re right hand’s the dominant one. So! That hand goes on top like this, and the left right below. Same sort of grip. Holding it like this gives you more power.” Hsin practiced under Daragin’s expert eye for several minutes, drawing the weapon and then checking his grip. It wasn’t a difficult concept to grasp, particularly for a Kemite who had at least some experience with a wide variety of weapons, but still a necessary labor

Daragin smiled at his new student, pleased at the rapid progress. It beat teaching the son of a prissy noble swordplay any day. At least, the Kemite knew how to listen. ”Right than. There’s one more thing we cover before you start hitting things with that pretty sword of yours. A house needs a good dwarvish foundation to last, and a good swordsman needs a proper stance. Spread your feet a shoulder length apart. Good. Keep the same distance and move your right foot forward and your left backwards. Perfect. Stand like that for a moment, and don’t bash me with that red sword of yours. I’m going to demonstrate something by giving you a little push.” The dwarf stood in front of the Kemite for a moment and pushed, slowly and gently, against the human’s chest. Hsin smiled and easily kept his balance. All three of his previous training classes had taught the same thing. ”Aye, you like that?” muttered the dwarf, suddenly giving the Kemite a sharp push on the side and laughing as his student’s feet scrambled for purchase. ”Put away the sword of your and we’ll practice the stances for a bit.” Instead of emphasizing agility, Daragin began with a number of drills to improve his student’s resilience. One was a simple contest where human and dwarf locked arms and, still in the same stance, tried to push each other. Another involved the dwarf dropping a gauntlet and challenging the Kemite to catch the glove before it hit the forest floor. As the practiced, the dwarf continued to impart words of wisdom. ”Shifting your weight to the rear foot lets you absorb blows better, and to thrust and jab. The right foot gives you a wee bit more leverage, and is better for slashes.”

[Hsin]

”And now ‘e get to start with the fun part,” stated Daragin simply as the dwarf rested the flat of the bastard sword’s blade against his shoulder. Gathering up his leather sheath and bag of maintenance supplies, the dwarf set off in a steady trot back past the camp and across the grassy meadow. Hsin sheathed his sword, quickly following behind his teacher. Underneath the eaves of another small post stood a row of posts as tall as a man and perhaps a foot in diameter. Most sported evidence of many cycles of use. Nicks and scratches covered the surface where metal blades had cut through the padding. Even the wooden blades laying in the grass could make a good sized dent, if swung with enough force. Two had been covered with several layers of heavy canvas cloth, no doubt to protect the metal blades from dulling and notching. ”These here beauties are called palls, though it’s a fancy-smansy name for practice posts. We’ll practice sparring together, of course, but for that we’ll use wooden swords. Would be bad for business if I took off an elf’s pointy little ear every once in a while, eh?” Hsin felt obligated to laugh, if only to avoid a similarly grisly accident himself. Or a swift kick in the shins. ”We’ll practice with real blades on the posts though. There’s four main attacks you’ll be learning. Three slashes, and a thrust. Now wait just a moment.” The dwarf pulled a piece of chalk from a pocket and drew the likeness of a man on a post. Over the outline he drew an asterisk, or as good of an approximation as he could make on the uneven surface. ”There’s three main slashes, horizontal, vertical, and diagonal. There’s also a thrust, but that’s a self-defining term if ever I saw one. We’ll start with the diagonal slash. ‘Tis the most obvious, anyways. Now, first with the single hand grip.”

Facing the same post, Daragin gripped his weapon in a hand and assumed the standard stance. Hsin thought he could perceive the shifting of the dwarf’s weight to the forward foot, but he couldn’t decide to attribute the observation to prowess or simply misreading of the dwarf’s considerable bulk. Raising the sword, Darawin delivered a quick cut that landed exactly on his line of chalk. ”Now, there’s how you do it!” he exclaimed happily, standing to the side to allow Hsin to practice. ”Now, remember what I said about the strong and weak parts of the blade. Try not to strike with the tip of the blade, though in a battle its hard to arrange circumstances so neatly. Cut nice and quick. It isn’t arcana.” Keeping in mind the advice of nearly every weapon master he’d met, Hsin drew his sword and dropped the sheath and cloth on the ground. He made sure that he was holding the sword with only the first two fingers and the thumb, and resisted the urge to grip the weapon in a deathgrip. Standing in front of the post, Hsin spread his feet a shoulder’s length apart and then move his right foot an equal distance forward. Crouching down slightly, Hsin brought his sword from a nearly horizontal position until it was nearly parallel with the ground. In the blink of an eye, the Kemite jerked his hand downwards and opened a rather satisfactory cut on the shoulder of the chalk man. ”Aye, not bad, but we’ve got our work cut out for us,” commented Daragin gruffly. ”Don’t use your wrist for power. Power comes from the motion of your body. Rotate the torso. And remember, shift your weight forward.” Hsin nodded, shifting his weight to his right foot and quickly raised his sword. This time, he twisted his torso with the blow, using his left arm as a counterbalance. This managed to open another satisfactory wound. They repeated the exercise for an left to right slash, drilling again and again until Hsin grasped the basic concepts.

”Good boy!” exclaimed Daragin gleefully, moving to the next post and holding the bastard sword with a double handed grip. ”The slashes and thrusts don’t change very much in between the grips, though there’s little nuances. A double handed grip gives you more power, but costs you in mobility and reach.” Assuming the standard stance, Daragin repeated the familiar motion with the grip, sinking his weapon deep into the canvas covering. Hsin placed his left hand just under his right on the sword hilt, and made sure to keep his weight on the right foot. Raising the sword high, he brought it crashing down into the post. It did dig a bit deeper, but felt more like swinging a club or his naginata than a sword. The damage it inflicted was nothing to dismiss. However, unlike the naginata, wielding the sword two handed came with some inherent risks. He could not count on the superior reach of his weapon for protection, and the chopping motion left the Kemite’s entire chest exposed to a retaliatory attack. They practiced for a few more candlemarks, slowly easing the Kemite into the concept of circling around a target and raining diagonal slashes down on the post.

[Hsin]

Daragin leaned his tired back against a bare wooden pall and chewed idly on a long stalk of grass. The sands of time fell slowly for dwarves; gifting them with a lifespan hundreds of patterns longer than a normal human. Cetheron created them from the bones of the earth and molded them to become a race of warriors. They stood shorter than all save the fae and the halflings, and yet a determined group could hold a bastion until the mountains crumbled away. His own soldiering days, the days of glory and hardship for its own sake, had passed. The old dwarf was content to train and instruct, to impart his lifetime’s of wisdom onto the next generation of soldiers and adventurers. Hsin was simply another one of his students, but Daragin held a special attachment to those he trained. As the Kemite practiced the diagonal slash again and again, his teacher told stories of war and adventure. The dwarf cautioned Hsin to never rush and assume the best. He imparted words of wisdom about equipment, and care, and even the best way to dress for the odd thunderclouds that seemed to gather out to the far west of the island. It was a pleasant afternoon, at any rate, and a beautiful day to train. Even if the Kemite rarely spoke and struck the pall with an unsettling single-mindedness. ”Aye, that’s that,” declared Daragin as he rose to his feet and returned to his masterpiece of artistic chalk work. ”We’ll finish up with the four types of attacks today. Mind you, its just an introduction. We’ll drill for days afterwards, and once your lessons end no doubt you’ll practice for cycles after that. Remember, never let yourself rest if ye know ye can do better.”

Taking up a stance in front of the pall, Daragin gripped his sword in a single hand and prodded the vertical line splitting the figure in two. ”Next we’ll do the downward slash. It’s a simple thing, but it’s more effective than you can imagine. One of my old comrades split an orc from head to groin. ‘Twas a morale breaker, let me tell you.” Raising his arm, Daragin brought his sword crashing down on the top of the pall. ”Now try it yourself.” Nodding his agreement, Hsin stood in front of the post and assumed the basic stance. Feet a shoulder’s length apart, with the right foot in front of the left. Raising the sword over his head, Hsin shifted his weight to his right foot as the crimson blade bit into the top of the pall. The shock of the impact stunned Hsin for a moment, just long enough for the flat of Daragin’s blade to knock the sword out of his student’s grasp. ”I said leave the last two fingers loose, lad, not all of them,” chastised Daragin as he bent over and picked up the bastard sword. ”Practicing against a pall’s one thing, but never mistake it for true combat. Now, again, and make sure to hold your sword this time!” Candlemarks flew by as Hsin practiced; sometimes under Daragin’s direction and sometimes while the dwarf made short trips back to the camp site. He grew somewhat more accustomed to the shock, and slowly began to discipline himself against the shock.

”Good and good! Now, put yer left hand on the sword and try again with a double handed grip,” ordered Daragin in between puffs on his pipe. Hsin obliged, gripping the sword with his left hand and carefully regarding the posts. He had yet to run into any particular problems with his accuracy, a break of luck the young journeyman suspected would end soon. Bringing the sword over his head, Hsin balanced on the balls of his feet and threw his body forward with the blow. The shock was less than he had braced for, the force of the blow shared more evenly between two hands. The blow landed nearly two inches off the widening notch Hsin used for his target. Noticing the Kemite’s peeved expression, Daragin chuckled a spit into the grass to the side. ”Don’t throw your body into the blow too much Hsin. Everything in moderation. Use enough of the body to enhance your power, but not so much that it throws off your aim.” Again, Hsin lined up the blade and chopped downwards. This time, he held back his torso and concentrated on simply striking the notch with the strength of both arms. An inch off. Not too bad, but accuracy was certainly something Hsin would need to work on.

[Hsin]

”If ye don’t mind me asking,” boomed the dwarf’s voice from halfway across the field as he returned from another trip to the campsite, ”What do ye do for a living?”

Hsin waited for the now-familiar feel of his sword biting into the canvas covering to subside before turning in the direction of the voice. Tonight, he decided, he would spend a few candlemarks floating in one of the volcanic springs that made Demios a vacation spot for many mainlanders. They did wonders for aching muscles and sore fingers. His face remained impassive, even as he mulled over his answer. ”I’m a merchant, with my main offices in Primus Gaudeo. The roads are filled with dishonorable bandits these days, and I thought it best to seek training to protect myself.” Truth made the best lie.

Daragin leaned his back against the trunk and gazed thoughtfully at the fluffy white clouds marching across the sky. ”Aye, that’s fair ‘nuff. I’ve seen many a caravan attacked and sacked, though I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting an honorable bandit. Mayhap those are the ones who run at you and get shot by the crossbowmen.” Peals of loud laughter broke the silence, and the old dwarf was still guffawing as he continued. ”Have you given any thought to buying yerself some armor? The pickings are mighty scarce on this island on the island unless you’re in the market for moth-eaten cloth armor and old heirlooms. But Primus Gaudeo is a big city, and I’m sure there’s some armor there. Shame about Zerdargia though. At any rated, buy yourself a good suit of leather armor. It’s light enough so you don’t feel too encumbered, and a lot less hassle than a suite of plate or a shirt of mail.”

”We’ll finish slashes as soon as I get myself me bastard sword,” declared the teacher. Abrupt changes in conversation seemed not to be out of the norm for this particular dwarf. ”It’s a horizontal slash, with the blade parallel to the ground. It seems simple enough, but its got some tricky pitfalls you’d best watch out for. Like the overhand slashes, the horizontal slash gives you much more reach when you wield it single handed. I find it rather useless with a two-handed grip, but you may think differently.” As he spoke, Daragin demonstrated both techniques on the wooden post. The physics certainly seemed to favor an up-to-down slash with the sword. Hsin gripped the sword with a single hand and spread his feet in the standard stance. Balancing on the balls of his feet, he flung his sword to the side and then slashed horizontally toward the post. At the same time, he twisted his torso in the same direction of the slash. The crimson blade whistled as it flew through the air, embedding itself into the pall with a satisfying thump. Daragin applauded before returning to his seat and watching Hsin practice. There was a second slash, another horizontals stroke that moved from the left side of the body to the right. This proved far more complicated, given the awkward bending of the elbow and the wrist. While he certainly tried, the Kemite could never quite extract the same sort of power.

The sun seemed to kiss the horizon as Hsin took his sword in a double-handed trip and balance don the balls of his feet. The Kemite was quickly learning why the dwarvish master preferred one handed swings. Slashing at the side of the pall gave the Kemite the satisfaction of seeing large notches cut in the canvas cloth, but it also restricted his movements. His three foot blade swept in a far shorter arc, and much more slowly. Hsin made a mental note to reserve such two handed slashes for situations and moments when he needed power, and could afford to sacrifice accuracy and reach. Candlemarks passed, slowly rolling into a dull twilight, as the young journeyman continued to hack away at the pall. Daragin continued to supervise his student, though he made one final trip to the camp site to secure himself a dinner of ale, bread and cheese.

[Hsin]

Daragin wiped the last crumbs off his leather jerkin and let out a loud sigh of contentment. By any method of accounting the day had gone well. Each new student brought the teachers of the Ivory Wings Universitas a small boon, and while the administration paid its teachers well everyone liked having a little extra money. But the love of money had no hold over the old and grizzled dwarf, who’d seen death enough time to know there was no point in throwing away years of one’s life on luxuries. The dwarf had little patience for the noble fops or the peasants who sought training and though it would provide a certain path toward fame, riches, and women. Nor did he condone conflict for the mere sake of conflict, or the many mercenary bands that had grown and flourished during the darkest times of the empire. Instead, he liked eager students who listened to his instructions and took the training in stride. Physical fitness often suffered when children grew into men and took jobs as clerks and professionals, and it was nice to teach a student who simply gritted his teeth and continued on. There were some strange things about the purported traveling merchants; enough to arouse the dwarf’s interests at any rate. Climbing to his feet, the dwarf sniffed the air and turned to address Hsin. ”It’ll be a good day on the ‘morrow. Rouse yourself at the crack of dawn and get a good meal in your bones, and we’ll get started. There’s no reason to starve yourself on my account, and you look like you could put some meat on your frame.”

Standing a few feet away from the wooden pall, the dwarf gripped the bastard sword in a single hand and regarded the tattered canvas covering with distaste. ”The black sheep of the family is the thrust. Keep your weight on the back foot this time, and keep it firmly planted in the ground. Firmly! Now there’s a big difference between a single handed and double handed thrust.” Drawing back his elbow, Daragin lunged forward with his body while he extended his arm to its full length. The tip of the blade struck true, digging deep into the wooden practice post. Hsin cocked his head to the side, reviewing the instructor’s movements before assuming a basic stance and cocking his arm with the blade parallel to the ground. Thrusting with a sword, it seems, varied very much from a spear thrust. Careful to keep his back foot on the ground, the Kemite pushed off with his right foot and lunged his body forward. At the same time, he extended his arm. A sharp thud and a quiver confirmed that the weapon had struck true, albeit several inches to the side. Aiming a thrust was considerably more difficult matter than a slash, and required the careful coordination of the thrusting arm and the body. After several candlemarks Hsin found the best method involved keeping the body’s lunge steady, while adjusting the arm’s aim. ”Good job!” exclaimed Daragin happily after several drills. ”I’ve seen sword masters dance around with thrusts like a rapier. ‘Tis a good thing to know when you’re fighting someone in heavy armor.”

Gripping the sword with both hands, Daragin lined up his bastard sword and began to explain. ”It’s a lot trickier with a double-handed grip, at least with a normal thrust. If you get more experience with a sword, you’ll learn some special thrusts for dealing with crabs and other annoyances who love their armor.” The main difference Hsin noticed was the placement of the blade. While it remained on the right side of the dwarf’s body, the right elbow jutted out. It was obvious, at least to Hsin’s relatively untrained eye, that a double handed thrust afforded few advantages in power. On the other hand, it provided a steadier grip when warding off an enemy or slowing their charge. Assuming a standard stance, the Kemite did his best to lunge in the same steady manner. However, this time he thrust forward with both hand and buried the tip into the canvas. Even for a relative neophyte, the Kemite could perceive the limited range such an attack required. On the other hand, the lessened shock was almost worth the trouble.

[Hsin]

Somewhere in the Articles of the Imperium there must exist a clause requiring would-be warriors to drill during every spare candlemark of training. Few could fault Hsin Zhou for laziness and lethargy when it came to practice. Imparting knowledge was not as stark and stale as many claimed. It was more taking than the words written on a parchment and siphoned into the mind. Mastery came from endless practice, from exhausting his vis each night until he could barely summon enough energy to crawl into bed. Physical training was the polar opposite of arcana. It exercised the mind, but in a manner utterly foreign to the structured framework of arcana. Striking the center of a target once hardly guaranteed a repeat, even if the Kemite mimicked his motions perfectly. Frustration and annoyance often cropped up during the long sessions of drilling and exercise whenever the Kemite sought training in a new weapon. He rarely paid heed to his own complaints, aside from reminding himself of how easily a mage could loose clara. There was no point in wasting precious candlemarks letting the mind drift and moving with only half a mind. Days passed as Hsin repeated the three basic slashes and the single thrust in nearly every conceivable permutation. Slashing at a post covered with canvas was only the begging. There were the marathons of exercise where Daragin and Hsin slashed an invisible target with ever greater speed. Long runs around the island slowly burned what little excess fat the Kemite had accumulated since entering Primus Gaudeo. And, as much as he hated to admit it, all the training did make him stronger. It simply wasn’t very stimulating.

The smell of bacon drifted with the wind, blanketing the approach to the small collection of tents that served as the offices of the Demios Training Ground. Daragin squatted on a well-worn wooden stool, downing the last scraps of his breakfast with a mug of some ungodly liquid. Hsin could not bear to call it coffee. Wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his jerkin, the dwarf rose to his feet and greeted Hsin with a hardy thump on the back. ”Aye, leave that beauty of a weapon here and grab yeself a practice sword. Rejoice! We’ve had enough of the attacks for now,” ordered the dwarvish teacher with a grin. He didn’t seem to relish drilling very much either. ”Today we do parries, and since we’re using a bastard sword ‘e won’t cover shields. Mayhap if you get further training. First thing first! Never, ever block with the blade of your sword. It looks pretty for the ladies, but you’ll be a’cursing yourself when the smith tells you how much he charges for fixing your sword.” The dwarf brought up the sword, holding it in one hands as he spread his feet in the standard stance. ”There’s three blocks. One covers the head, one covers the torso, and one covers your feet. Now, ye won’t be stopping an attack. Simply deflecting it away from you. Now, slash downward at the head.” Hsin gripped the wooden sword and obliged. The dwarf brought his own wooden weapon upwards, taking the brunt of the blow on the flat and then pushing Hsin’s blow to the side. ”And now, ye can try.”

Hsin mentally steeled himself for the blow, but still found himself barely blocking his instructor’s blow before it struck his head. ”Keep your eyes on the blade,” warned Daragin even as he rained blows on the Kemite’s upper body. They practiced for candlemark after candlemark, the Kemite’s hand going quite numb from the shock of repeatedly warding off blow after blow after blow. They switched to a double handed grip as the sun slowly rose toward the middle of the sky. A single flurry of blows convinced Hsin of the relative superiority of a single hand. Using a two handed grip was an inherently slower process, though one that allowed the Kemite to remain as steady as a rock even while Daragin sought to break his guard. That was not to imply the Kemite didn’t receive his fair share of blows for stupidity, or plain old carelessness. While Daragin seemed loathe to smack a student about the head, the shoulders seemed to be perfectly fair game. There would much bruising after the day was done.

[Hsin]

More than once a half drunk ‘friend’ lauded the attractive powers of a muscular physique covered by a glistening layer of sweat. Women apparently liked the smell of dirt and unwashed bodies, a concept the Kemite could never really understand. It wasn’t a mere cultural conflict; a clash between the strict Kemite emphasis on cleanliness and the Medonian looser approach. Everyone he spoke to, male and female alike, disparaged the grime and stink associated with physical exercise. So why did the friend of dubious intent cling on to his belief? Some magical meddling led Hsin to form a few of his own theories, though none were quite suitable for public consumption. After the marathon training session on the first day of class, Daragin cut their sessions back to a handful of candlemarks each day. The dwarf needed to run an entire training ground, and could ill afford to spend the entirety of his days teaching a single student. Though Hsin often hung around the training fields to practice with the canvas-covered palls, the Kemite often found himself with nearly a dozen free candlemarks each day. As such, the operators of the hot springs in the mountains near Demios became quite familiar with the sight of a small Kemite making use of their volcanic pools at odd hours of the day. It turned out beautifully for all parties involved. Hsin purged himself of the grime and sweat from training. Daragin could teach a handful of other students. The operators earned a pretty crown. And N’malise was spared the horror of contending with her master’s horrid odor.

Daragin leaned on the hilt of his practice sword, panting slowly as he caught his breath after another extended sparring session. ”You have a good grasp on the upward parry. Just don’t forget to keep your eye on the blade!” he commented as he straightened his back and assumed a standard stance. ”If you recall correctly, there’s two main attacks against the middle of your body. A side slash, and a thrust. We’ll be working on those now. The idea’s to gently nudge the weapon to the side. Now, lunge at me!” Hsin shifted his weight forward as his upper body began to accelerate toward the dwarf. His right hand shot forward, sending his weapon whistling through the air and toward the dwarf’s rib cage. Hardly blinking an eye, Daragin used the flat of his blade to push the blade to the side and away from his body. ”Blocking a slash isn’t much different. Just use the flat of your blade to intersect his blade, preferably before it hits you.” They switched roles, Hsin mentally steeling himself to once again take on the role of a defender. Daragin lunged forward, driving the sword toward Hsin’s chest. The Kemite brought up his own weapon to parry, but felt a sharp jab in his rib cage as the dwarf’s strike hit home. ”To the side, lad! More!” In comparison, it was much easier to block a slash from either side of the body. Hsin found it much easier when you could simply block the progress of the blade.

They exchanged blows for nearly a candlemark before switching over to a two-handed grip. For once this maneuver seemed superior to its single handed variation. Combined with a shuffling side step, the Kemite found it far easier to block a thrust when holding the sword with a double-handed grip. There was no danger of Daragin overwhelming Hsin’s guard and completing his thrust, thought if the dwarf used a double handed grip it became an exercise pitting one fighter’s strength against the other. Against a side slash, the Kemite found it a significant improvement over a normal parry. With a wider range of motion, Daragin could simply throw more force into a slash and causing the Kemite’s grip to waver. A two handed grip was a much different proposition, and gave Hsin some much needed security and protection. He certainly didn’t need any more bruises.

[Hsin]

Mages and commoners alike often thought of duels as slow and majestic affairs. Two brave men (or women) engaged in glorious combat to defend their honor. They gritted their teeth, strapped on their armor, and prepared to bring their case in front of the highest court of appeals. Aslan, the glorious god of honorable warfare, would hear their case and pass justice. The innocent and the wronged would strike true, their blade and their hand guided by the hand of Aslan himself. The guilty earned only death for possessing the gall and the arrogance to bring his case before the heavens. There existed as many variations of a duel as races and roles; from the aerial dance of the fae to the honorable contests of the Kemites to the formal duels of the Medonian nobles. Every once in a while mages settled their scores in legendary arcanic conflicts, their immense arcanic power laying waste to swaths of countryside with a single spell. Unfortunately for the majority of the empire’s citizens, warfare hardly conformed to the carefully regulated rules of dueling. There were no set rules or guidelines for proper conduct. Strikes and blows came from all sides and from all angles. Sweat ran down the face and dripped into the eyes, blinding a poor soldier and leaving him at his opponent’s mercy. There was no scoring or surrender. No doctors or thaumaturgies waited for the fallen on the battlefield, and only the icy grip of Jalat waited at the end of their day. Thankfully Hsin had never seen a full military encounter pitting the might of the Imperium against an external (or perhaps internal) foe. His experience, while considerable, had never included military service of any reasonable amount of time.

Hsin Zhou intended to never see battle, or the truly gargantuan destruction a cadre of mages could forge in the blink of an eye. The ruins of Zerdargia was enough to instill a healthy fear in any sane mage. But intensions rarely impacted reality, and the impossible often took precedence over the reasonable. Though he never intended to kill or slay, save in his own defense, the Journeyman had experience enough of Fate’s fickle meddling to know the wisdom of preparation. Dwarf and Kemite sparred and for the remainder of cycle, mixing endless drills with short and simple duels. To the two principle blocks the pair added a third maneuver: a lower block. ”I ‘aven’t taught you ‘ow to strike at the feat quite yet,” commented the dwarf with a wrinkled brow, ”And I shan’t teach you for a good while yet. Stick to the basics, and ye’ll be safe. But! That ‘ardly means no one’ll try a low blow on you. It’s also one of the hardest to block. Just invert your sword, and intersect the blade. It’s like protecting the torso, save turned on its head.” The very physics of the block forbade a double handed grip. Inverting the sword and shifting the grip was simply two slow, and it was impossible to twist the hands when holding the sword pointed upwards in a two-handed grip. Daragin seemed to employ a small number of simple thrusts and low slashes at the legs, weak attacks that the Kemite fended off with a reasonable confidence in spite of his lack of experience. Against an experienced warrior, it would probably do little but phase the foe. But a little chink in a man’s confidence was frequently enough to spell his ruin.

Days of endless drilling and training stretched into a cycle. Rather than waste hard-earned crowns on smacking a wooden post, Hsin took the liberty to drill himself out of the class time. He was frugal by nature from the onset of his career, and time had not changed that part of his being. Better to finish the painful exercise of drilling on his own, and spend precious candlemarks dueling with his master. One area that did not suffer Hsin’s displeasure was simply physical fitness. Far from conforming to the popular picture of an out of shape and overweight mage, the Kemite prided himself on keeping his body in shape. He ran laps around the town early in the morning and late into the night. When boredom set in, he went up into the mountains and exercised his muscles through a rigorous regime of pushups, pull-ups, and sit ups. Relaxing in the springs was simply icing on the cake. Though he practiced extensively against the canvas skins and wooden bones of a pell, Hsin sparred with the wooden swords Darragin provided. The physics of the long, heavy wooden blade were different from the well balanced blade of his own sword, but the dwarf assured his student that switching from the practice weapon to a proper weapon was a trifle. ”Look at it this way,” he explained patiently. ”Yer dueling with a clumsier and heavier blade. What you struggle to do now, you’ll do easily with your sword. And if you can fight easily now, you’ll do even better with a proper piece of steel.”

Daragin wiped the sweat from his brow as he regarded Hsin with a sense of pride. His pupil had shown steady improvement over the cycle, and moreover proved a pleasant student. In the dwarf’s expert opinion, the Kemite would never become a weaponmaster. But the quite young man certainly wouldn’t do too badly. ”I suppose you’ve gathered that our lessons are coming to an end,” grumbled the dwarf, spreading his legs in a standard stance and bringing his bastard sword up in a two handed grip. ”How about one final duel?” Hsin nodded, spreading his feet a shoulder’s length apart and advancing his right foot forward. Rather than wait and let Daragin seize the initiative, Hsin gripped his sword and shifted his weight forward. Wooden edge met wooden edge as Hsin slashed downwards at Daragin’s set. But the Kemite didn’t rest on his laurels, bringing his hand upwards and striking again. Daragin parried both blows and took a step backwards, before turning his body and slashing at his student’s side with a powerful horizontal slash. Hsin shifted his weight backwards onto his left foot, gripping his sword with a double handed grip and attempting to parry the dwarf’s blow. His body shook and his feet slipped, but his guard held. The dwarf back off, circling his students and offering a few half-hearted jabs and slashes to test Hsin’s guard. The Kemite accepted the abuse for a few moments, before gripping the sword with both hands and suddenly lunging forward. The blow caught the dwarf off guard, grazing the teacher’s side. Daragin laughed loudly, proclaiming. ”Well done Hsin! I’m proud o’ you. Good luck to ye, whichever corner of the empire you end up in.”

Hsin smiled, bowing to the dwarf. ”It’s been a pleasure studying under you, sir.” Gathering up his sword, the Kemite waved and headed back toward the town of Demios.

[Dragon]

Approved! Congrats.