Weaponly Uniformity

[Demda]

40th of Imperos, In the Season of Autumn,
Era XII Post Fractum, Era III of the Celestine Mandate,
0900 Candlemarks

An early morning chill still clung to the air in the Northern Field. Demda stood with the rest of her squadron, waiting in line for Sergeant Zarion to come out of the pavilion. A murmur began with one of her comrades, and then spread out to other mouths, until there was an incessant chatter going. Demda hissed for them to shut up. Although it was nothing to her with her current level of fitness, she was in no mood to go for another five mile run. Her hiss went unheeded, and the murmur spread. Soon enough her squadron would learn not to displease her. She’d give them each that lesson the hard way, when it came time to spar.

Finally, the sergeant emerged from the pavilion, dragging what looked like some sort of target. A hush fell over the squadron, but Demda knew that Zarion would’ve noticed their chatter. Once Zarion was within about ten yards of the line of recruits, he stopped dragging the thing. It basically consisted of a stand, with a circular wooden board atop, near where the head of an opponent would be. Lines ran across the circular board, diagonally twice and horizontally once.

With the target placed thus, Zarion turned to the squadron. ”Alright, listen and listen good. When standing at attention, you are not to speak unless spoken to. In addition to a five mile lap for the entire squadron, the next person to speak out inappropriately, will be facing me in his spar.” The sergeant smirked, ”And trust me, you do not want that. Is that understood?”

”Yes, Sergeant!” The entire squadron spoke in unison.

”Good.” He pulled a wooden sword from his belt, and pointed toward the pavilion he’d come out of. ”Now, at ease. Everyone get yourself a wooden practice sword and shield from the pavilion.”

There was a subtle rush as most everyone went toward the pavilion at the same time. Demda was one of the last one’s there, and was left with only about four swords and shields to choose from. Shrugging, she supposed it made no matter what she practiced with, so long as it conformed to the same dimensions as her real equipment. She took the first sword and shield she laid eyes on. Then she was out with the others, jogging to catch up with them.

”You’re late, Private.” Zarion said as she joined the others. ”Drop your things and give me fifty push-ups.”

Demda resisted the urge to groan, and did as she was told. It wasn’t hard for Demda to do the push-ups, especially as she was trained to support her entire weight on her arms as she performed handsprings and other such maneuvers. She was done before she so much as broke a sweat. She picked up her practice items and joined the others, just as the training was beginning.

”Now, before we get to using these weapons, it would be good for us to go over the different parts of the sword, their function, and the proper care for your weapon and armor.” That said, Sergeant Zarion tucked his wooden sword into his belt, and took out a real short sword. He indicated the tip and the last six inches or so of the blade. ”This is the portion of the blade where most of the cutting is accomplished. Cuts delivered from lower down on the blade aren’t as powerful, as there isn’t half as much momentum and leverage utilized as at the tip.” His finger lowered to the middle and bottom portion of the blade. ”This is the portion of the blade where most of the parrying is done. As it’s closer to the hand, you can give a stronger parry with this portion of the blade. Never parry with the edge, however. You don’t want to dull or scratch the blade, even if the part your using to block or parry the attack isn’t often used for cutting. You never know when you’ll need the sword to be sharp there, so it’s best to be on the safe side.”

His hand drifted down toward the bronzed steel bar separating the blade from the grip. ”This is the crossguard. They’re most usually made of steel, just like the blade, but are sometimes bronzed or gilded for decoration. They’re meant to stop the enemy’s blade from slipping down the blade of your sword and into your hand. As well, they’re meant to keep your own hand from slipping from the handle onto the blade. The crossguard can also be utilized in disarming movements, but that’s a lesson for a later level. Next is the handle, or the grip. Usually made of wood or bone, this is where you hold the weapon. The tang of the sword, which is actually a part of the blade, runs through the handle, and then is secured by the pommel, which attaches itself to the very bottom of the tang and the handle.”

The Sergeant dropped his free hand, and sheathed his sword, turning to the recruits, ”That’s about it for significant parts of the sword. If there are any questions, speak them now.”

A brief silence ensued, in which Demda tried to think of something relevant to ask. She wanted to ask them now, while he was allowing them. Just before Sergeant Zarion was about to speak up, Demda asked her question, ”What are we going to learn today?”

Sergeant Zarion turned his head to look at her, and seemed to think for a moment. ”You’re going to learn the basic cuts, the thrust, the parries, and the guards.”

”When are we going to learn to use a shield with the short sword?” Said a private whose name Demda couldn’t quite place.

”Tomorrow you’ll be learning to use a shield, but for now, it’s important to know how to use the sword alone, if, for whatever reason, you’re ever without the shield.” The Sergeant nodded. ”And if that’s all, we’ll be moving on to other things.”

Nobody said a word, and so the training progressed.

[Demda]

”Now we’ll work on the cuts, but first a bit of explanation.” Sergeant Zarion crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at the recruits. ”Now, despite there being more ways to deliver a cut, and thus more of an emphasis on them in this training, the cut is less deadly than the thrust. The only real advantage that a cut with a shortsword has over the thrust, is that it delivers a shock to the recipient. Otherwise it’s ineffective against armor, slower to land than a thrust would be, and leaves an opening just as it begins. That’s not to say that the cut doesn’t have a definite place in swordsmanship; it does, but not as much with the shortsword as other, heavier swords. The key is to know when to use the techniques that you have.”

That said, the Sergeant turned to the target he’d dragged out a bit earlier, and fell into a stance, withdrawing the wooden sword from his belt. He went on to demonstrate the cuts, beginning with a horizontal cut from right to left, and then another horizontal from left to right. Demda noted that his hips and shoulders made a rotation with each blow. Next he moved on to the diagonal blows. First a downward strike starting from left and ending to the right, then an upward strike from right to left. Finally he ended the demonstration with a downward strike starting from the right and ending to the left, and then a reverse cut following the same line in the opposite direction. Then he turned to his trainees.

”I hope you were all paying attention, because I won’t be repeating those cuts for you. Now, try them yourself. Visualize a target much like the one I used.”

Sergeant Zarion walked up and down the line of recruits as they went through the cuts. Private Reed was hacking away at the air, flailing his arm while he was squared off against his invisible target. Zarion’s mouth twisted when he saw how the boy was performing the cuts, and stepped in, catching the blade of the Private’s sword with his own. ”Wrong, all wrong. I’m halfway tempted to show you first hand how to perform a cut, boy.” He didn’t though. Demda got the impression that this Sergeant was all bluster when it came to his threats of bodily harm. ”Put your hips and shoulders into the blow, don’t flail your arm about. You couldn’t cut parchment swinging a sword like that.”

It was then that the Sergeant noticed that Demda had been looking on. He approached her, tucking his own sword under his arm as he stepped in front of her. The Sergeant just watched her for a moment, as she performed the cuts. She started with a downward diagonal strike from left to right. She brought the sword over her left shoulder, and then reversed the motion of her arm downward and to the right, swinging her hips and shoulders into the blow as she moved. One peculiarity about the way she swung her sword, was that her left hand followed her right by a foot and a half at most. She was also employing the same stance she would while performing Gicha Hehan, with both legs akimbo as if straddling a horse, with her left foot further ahead than the other. She figured that the stance gave her good enough balance in unarmed combat, so it only followed that she’d use it for armed combat as well, whether wielding a spear or sword. Her next strike was another diagonal and downward cut, from right to left. As before, her left hand trailed in front of the right as she moved to slash the air. But this time, Zarion intercepted her left hand with a hard strike of his wooden sword.

Demda cried out in pain, flailing her left hand to try and numb the sting of her trainer’s blow. After the pain subsided a bit, she looked up to glare at the Sergeant. He was smiling. ”What do you imagine that you’re doing with that left hand, eh? Keep it in one place, and don’t let it trail behind or in front your sword arm. You’re giving your opponent an opportunity to strike.”

Demda only growled in response, and steeled herself for the next blow. This time, her left hand hovered near her right elbow, out of reach this time, but still attached by an invisible chain as before. She understood the necessity of his correction, and reacted accordingly, but she wouldn’t sacrifice her art to please him. She barely had interest in the training she was undergoing as it was. Introducing her Zinn’ka into the new style was her only way of combating boredom.

Sergeant Zarion took a step backward as she prepared to continue her exercise. ”And don’t bring your sword so far back. It leaves you open to a simple thrust. Only **** your sword as far as is absolutely necessary. Without a shield, it’s your only line of defense.”

The half-elf nodded and grunted, bending her right elbow to bring her sword out of line for just a moment, and then snapping to the left in a slash. Her left hand remained near to her right elbow all that time. Zarion didn’t attack her this time. Either he didn’t see an opening, or felt that Demda had learned her lesson well enough. Once she followed through with the swing, she twisted her hips as she performed a reverse cut on the same horizontal path as her previous strike. Once that was finished, she returned her sword to her front, in guard.

Zarion nodded and moved on to the other recruits, for which Demda breathed a grateful sigh of relief. She went through the rest of the cuts with an equal amount of vigor, imagining Zarion’s ugly face to be in the path of her sword. Demda only hoped that she’d get the chance to fight him in the training sessions to come.

[Demda]

Sergeant Zarion continued to go up and down the line of recruits, in front in back, observing their moves, and correcting them when necessary. ”Stop slouching, private.” He tapped one of the recruits between the shoulder blades. ”Straighten up. You have to control your every movement in combat. It does no good to be lazy in any aspect of your stance. Feet shoulder length apart. Which foot you put forward is a matter of personal preference. Keeping your dominant foot in back gives you better range for a pass, while putting it forward decreases the target areas on the left side by presenting your dominant profile to your opponent. Since we’ll be using shields eventually, I’d suggest that you keep your dominant foot in back. Your left side will be reasonably well protected by the shield in the meantime.”

So they all continued in such a way for a few more minutes, until he was reasonably satisfied with their progress. ”Alright, that’s enough for the cuts. Now to work on the thrust.”

Everyone halted their movements, and returned to their original guard. Sergeant Zarion grunted his approval, and faced the line of recruits in his own stance, with the sword held at waist level and the dominant foot in back. ”Now there are two types of thrusts. There’s the quick, short-range, probing thrust…” The Sergeant demonstrated, by leaning forward and extending his swordarm into a thrust forward, and then leaning back and pulling his sword back into stance. ”And then there’s the pass or lunge. A fully committed attack.” That said, he took a step forward with his dominant foot, and extended his arm fully into another thrust. All told, the attack had almost twice the range of the other one. He recovered by taking a step backward with his dominant foot, and tucking his swordarm back into stance. ”Now I want to see you recruits try it.”

Already in stance, all it took for Demda to accomplish the quick thrust was to pivot her hips and shoulders and extend her swordarm. Her offhand grasped the pommel of her sword, pushing it forward to give the strike more power. Zarion clucked his tongue. ”Leave your offhand out of it, Private. You won’t be using it when you have a shield. You’re just fostering bad technique.”

Demda sniffed harshly, and then made the pass forward and the lunge, offhand firmly placed on the pommel as she made the full extension. ”I thought we were learning to use the sword alone here.” She had the cheek to say.

If this had been Sergeant Rewdocks she’d been talking to, Demda would most likely be on her back and wailing in pain. But as it was, this was Zarion, and he was a different animal from the leather clad basic training Sergeant. He merely made a smirk that seemed to promise pain to come. ”Have it your way, Private. You’ll see the error of your ways soon enough.”

The half-elf let out a sharp, indignant breath, and continued with the exercise. Idly, she began to wonder when they’d actually get to fight each other. While Demda was perfectly capable of imagining a shadow opponent, fighting oneself got boring after a while.

A few minutes more of practicing the thrusts, and Sergeant Zarion called a stop to the exercise. ”That’s enough soldiers. Time to pair up. The parries are better learned in combat, so you can see directly what works and what doesn’t. And I’m sure you’re all itching at the chance to hit each other.” Zarion and a few of the privates laughed. Demda frowned, taking a sharp breath with her nose. She didn’t understand what they were laughing about. To her, there was nothing funny about combat. Fighting for one’s life was a very serious matter, and Demda approached the training to learn combat with just as much gravity. She hoped that her opponent didn’t think combat was funny. Then again, beating an idiot to bloody ribbons might help to ease the pent up frustration she was feeling at the moment.

It didn’t take long before she was approached. Her prospective opponent was the Jaedaxian kid. He was a bit on the thin side, with blue eyes, brown hair, and a longish face. He had a reputation for being deadly with a fencing blade, so the other privates referred to him as Needler. If his reputation as a good swordsman was well earned, she’d be pleased with him.

He greeted her with a bow, ”Bonjour, Mademoiselle. Shall we spar togezer?”

Demda couldn’t understand half of what the Jaedaxian said, but it was obvious by his coming to her that he intended to fight with her, so she nodded.

”Oui? Zen spar we shall.”

Once again Demda nodded, though the accent was killing her. It sounded so flowery and weak. Perhaps he wasn’t the best opponent she might’ve chosen. Well, at least beating that horsey face in would give her some satisfaction. She began looking for a clear spot where they could fight without coming into contact with any of the others.

Once they found a place, Demda assumed her stance, with the dominant foot in front of the other. The Jaedaxian assumed a similar stance, but unlike Demda, his arm was fully extended, with the sword pointing toward her throat. His stance revealed little but his profile, and would certainly make it difficult to hit him. She wondered idly if this was a peculiarity born from his proficiency with the fencing blades. Demda had little experience with such weapons herself, having been born and raised in Orckon, where bigger is always considered better whenever weapons are concerned.

”Go.” She said, and she began by attempting to beat the tip of his sword. Needler answered by disengaging beneath her sword, and then attacking her hand. The tip of the wooden sword grazed the outside of her hand, eliciting a shocked expression from Demda. The boy was good. And once again Demda found herself outmatched.

[Demda]

It wasn’t altogether unusual for a short and skinny half-elf to find herself outmatched. Demda was far from the strongest warrior. She knew well enough where to hit, but when it came to trading blows, she’d always find herself on the losing end. So she had to be quick, dodgy, and smart to win. And so far that had worked for her. Her crowning achievement being that she survived a fight with a large orc, and took his eye for a souvenir. All these months later, and she still couldn’t quite get over that. It was that huge for her.

But now she found herself matched against an opponent of the same sort as her, only more skilled. No longer could she use her speed to her advantage here. The Jaedaxian would be able to match her, move for move. It would come down to a match of skill, skill that Demda simply didn’t possess with the shortsword. Experience Demda had, in the unarmed arts, however, and even in such a radically different form of combat, certain rules still applied. The principles of avoidance and delivering precise strikes translated well into armed combat. Demda was prepared to use every ounce of skill and experience she’d earned to her advantage here.

She kept her distance from her opponent, trying to assess the best way to approach an attack. She thought about rushing him and landing a quick strike on his hand, but as soon as the thought came to her, she ruled it out. She couldn’t bank on the assumption that her own hit would land before his. Assumptions got you killed in real combat. She had to find the sure thing.

Her fellow private was obviously confident, and if he wasn’t he should’ve been. He was, after all, a better swordsman than she was. In Demda’s experience, confidence lent itself to a reckless offensive. Case in point: Moot Daipan. She’d have to adopt a defense that kept his sword at bay long enough for her to get in close, and possibly land a few knee or elbow strikes.

Demda had noted that the Jaedaxian liked to disengage with his sword as she attempted to beat his blade, flicking his wrist in such a way that his blade jumped from the inside to the outside or vice versa. The half-elf would have to figure a way to defeat that if she had a chance of defending against him. Considering her options, she decided that the best course would be to parry with the middle of her blade, forming as large a cross with his sword as was possible.

So she took a breath, and with that strategy firmly in place, crossed blades with Needler. He was to her outside, and slid his blade up the length of hers. She countered the motion by raising her arm, and took a few steps forward to make up for the loss in reach. Unwittingly, she let his blade slide toward the hilt of her shortsword. With a twist of his wrist and a step forward, he took the opportunity to disengage under and to the inside, attempting to cut her in the same tempo. She adjusted quickly, and lowered her sword into a sort of hanging guard, catching his blade before it made contact with her side, and then took a quick step forward, following with a elbow to the Jaedaxian’s face.

The youth stumbled backward, shocked. ”Zat was not fair, mamselle. Not fair at all.” He rubbed his jaw where Demda had hit him, and cast a frown in her direction. Demda had hit a lot of people, and in her experience, they each had a unique reaction to it. Some found a grim pleasure in being hit, and couldn’t help but grin. Others registered shock. Yet others ignored the strike, and kept fighting. It would appear that Needler fell under the category of people who registered shock. It boded well for Demda, and her next move, which was an inside horizontal cut directed toward his neck.

Needler was slow to respond, but managed to get his blade up in time to catch the blow. With a clack of wood on wood, his blade met hers, and then slid down in a forceful move as he made to attack her hand. She made to bat the sword away, but before her blade could make contact with his, he disengaged beneath her hilt, and attacked her hand. This time it met with the bone of her wrist full force. The force of the blow elicited a painful cry from Demda, and she dropped the sword.

A few laughs issued from the surrounding recruits, who had already concluded their practice. Zarion was standing in the midst of the recruits, arms crossed over his chest with a smug grin on his face. ”Congratulations, Private Needler. You whooped that girl well.” More laughs, and Demda could feel the blood rushing to her face. More than ever she wanted to club that idiot of a Sergeant.

”Alright recruits, that’s enough for today. Tomorrow we learn to use a shield, and I introduce you to the feint. Some say that feints are only for intermediates, but I tend to disagree. The only way you’ll ever land a fair hit is if you feint, unless you’re lucky.”

”Private Fairy,” Zarion said, using the style that had been granted to Demda over the past few weeks. ”It’ll be your job to replace all of the equipment in the pavilion, including the target. The rest of you are dismissed.”

And so their training session came to a halt. Demda accepted the load of wooden swords from each of the recruits, and wondered at the necessity of it all. It would’ve been so much easier for each of them to return their own equipment, but no. Zarion had to make a spectacle of her. She’d kill him someday, she decided. He was most definitely on her list. Right up there with a certain orc.

[Demda]

The passing day and ensuing night had seen to Demda’s subsiding anger. In truth, Zarion wasn’t all that bad. He was only trying to make them strong. Demda could respect that. She erased him from her list in her mind. While it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing to have an overabundance of enemies, Demda felt as if she had to prioritize her vendettas. On reflection, her distaste for him was eclipsed by her hatred for Lash and his green kindred. That would always be the score to settle. She wouldn’t be truly free until she saw him dead, and maybe not even then. There was also the matter of Orckon. The news of Narim’s burning hadn’t escaped Demda’s ears. The entire Pavilion was a buzz with news of the war. Part of her hoped that this attack would spur the Empire to act and wipe out the orcs, once and for all. But another part wanted those green bastards all for herself. Oh yes, the conflict.

But nevermind that. Demda had training to attend. And so she did, at the same time the next day. The recruits were once more made to retrieve wooden weapons from the training tent. Once again they were instructed not to take a shield. Demda was confident that Zarion would tell them the reason behind that decision. And so he did.

”You’re all probably wondering why no shields. Well, I’ll tell you why.” The Sergeant crossed his arms and he walked up and down the line of recruits, eyeballing each one as they stared ahead, into empty space. ”Your performance yesterday was pathetic. I say that in all honesty. Not one of you tried dodging blows. Had any of you been in a real war, with real weapons, your swords would have dulled by the end of your spar. Always try to dodge if you can. And if you can’t, be sure to parry with the flat of the blade, not the edge. Fervor is important, technique even more so. If today I find any of you misusing your swords, I’ll fight you and personally beat the proper method into each and every one of you. Understand?”

”Yes Sergeant.” The recruits formed a chorus, with Demda joining them haphazardly. He gave her a sharp look, but said nothing directly to the half-elf.

”Very well. Pair up.” And then Zarion walked away, to practice by his lonesome.

Demda stood where she was, looking around for a potential partner. All around her, the soldiers in her squadron were rushing to pair up. It didn’t take long before a familiar Jaedaxian approached her. ”Bonjour.” Came the odd greeting. Demda nodded toward him in acquiescence. He was a worthy opponent. If she was to get any better, she was glad she had someone who halfway knew what he was doing.

They moved toward the perimeter of where the recruits were training, and chose a spot that was relatively secluded. Demda took up her stance, and the Jaedaxian followed suit with his fencer’s pose. Demda thought she could hear Zarion clucking his tongue even from forty yards away. She ignored it.

As was her custom, she waited for the Jaedaxian to make the first move. This time, as he took a step forward to get within measure, she was cautious. She’d always been such when in a real fight, so it only followed that she apply that same principle here, hoping for similar results. He noticed what she was doing, and made a smile. He crossed one leg over the other, taking a double step forward. Demda followed suit, going backwards. She was trying to establish a pattern for the Jaedaxian’s footwork, so she could predict what he’d do in a given situation.

The Jaedaxian began laughing at her. It was a mocking, derisive laugh, not at all friendly. He took another step forward. And she, a step back. Needler sighed. ”Zees is pointless, mon ami. Fight!”

Growling, he took a double step forward. He never saw it coming.

Demda’s arm shot up, catching his blade and beating it to the side. Needler recovered from his previous boredom just after it hit, and tried to disengage to the other side, but the angle of the cross formed by their swords lengthened the time it took for him to do so. In that short space of time, Demda managed to sidle up close to him, and kneed him hard in the stomach. Needler bent over, hacking and coughing as though his lungs would fall out. The wretch pushed him around then, and gave him a firm whack in the backside with her wooden sword. Then she merely pushed him lightly to the ground with her foot.

He was still groaning when Sergeant Zarion came around. ”What is the meaning of this?” He asked.

Demda shrugged. ”He told me to fight.”

Zarion breathed through his nostrils, gave Demda a baleful stare, and then bent down to drag Needler to his feet, ”On your feet soldier.”

Needler was still gasping for breath, holding his stomach gingerly as he walked aimlessly away. Hopefully, he’d learned a valuable lesson today. This half-elf was not to be trifled with.

Zarion seemed at a loss for words, as he looked from Needler, and then back to Demda. Who was he to judge her for being rough with the Jaedaxian? They were training for war, weren’t they? Demda was about to defend herself, when the Sergeant cracked a smile. A puzzled look grew on her face. Once Needler was out of earshot, the Sergeant congratulated her, ”I don’t know where you learned to fight like that, Private Fairy, but keep it up. Just try to put more emphasis on the sword strikes than knees next time, eh?”

He chuckled, and pat her on the shoulder as he walked past.

”Alright, recruits!” He shouted out, beckoning for them to line up. Most of them lined up almost as quick as he said it. Needler was understandably slow to do so. ”I want you all to grab a shield for yourselves. Now’s the time that everything comes together.”

[Demda]

So they all grabbed shields. The Jaedaxian did as well, once he’d recovered from the blow to his stomach. Demda felt a twinge of something unfamiliar as she watched the way he carried himself. Was it guilt? The girl was unaccustomed to the feeling. The first time she’d felt anything remotely similar was when she’d killed her mentor. It seemed strange that something so insignificant as a hit would bring on that old feeling. She shrugged. Perhaps it was just that she was getting used to living and fighting and learning with the squadron. Whatever it was, she would try to dismiss the feeling. She knew it wouldn’t do her much good as far as training went.

”Alright recruits. Now that you have your shields, it’s time for you to receive an education. Now the shield is the single greatest invention toward the footman’s defensive endeavors. It stops blows from landing, and without tying up your swordarm, allowing for a simultaneous counter. The shields that you were issued are plated in steel, and as such heavier than normal shields. Even so, your arms will get used to the weight once you’ve been blooded a time or two, and throughout the training, as these shields are weighted with lead.”

Demda stared straight ahead, carrying her shield in her left and her sword in her right, listening and taking in all the information.

”One thing that you want to avoid while wielding a shield, is blinding yourself. That can happen very often, since it frequently happens that your shield finds it’s way in the path of an oncoming weapon. When that happens, your opponent can use the fact that your line of sight is blocked by your shield, to change the line of his attack with a sort of feint. Sometimes it’s unavoidable, but to make it happen as infrequently as possible, try and keep your line of sight with your opponent’s weapon open.”

”Alright, now I want to see you recruits pair up.” Zarion walked a few paces backward, and then turned to watch as the recruits scurried about looking for partners. He took a swig of his waterskin as he stood there.

This time Demda had much more difficulty finding a sparring partner. Her fellow recruits shied away from her, having witnessed the brutality she’d inflicted on the Jaedaxian. She frowned on the realization that they were avoiding her. They were training for war! What did they want from her?

So she waited patiently as the other recruits paired up and squared off, standing off to the side, watching for stragglers like some predator eyeing the herd.

Eventually, she spotted someone. He was rather tall, at six feet and two inches, and had brown hair and brown eyes. Rather plain, if truth be told. But she didn’t really care about such frivolities as appearance. By Jorel’s pits, she’d grown up in one of the most ugly cities on Telath. How she even had a sense for beauty in others was beyond her.

The young man noticed that she noticed him, and paled somewhat. It would appear that height didn’t necessarily equate to courage or strength, unlike in Orckon.

Long story short, they ended up pairing together.

They both began in stance. The boy’s was rather conventional, with his dominant side trailing, and his offhand and foot (and shield) leading. He was left-handed, which might complicate matters. Demda stood with her dominant side leading, and her shield held close to her swordhand, about a foot and a half, still standing as if she were in chains. Well it hadn’t done her much harm up until now, so she saw no need to change her methods. Practice would beat it out of her soon enough if it wasn’t a viable stance.

The boy might not have been the bravest, but he was bold enough to make the first move. He took a step forward, passing with his dominant foot, and sending a probing thrust toward Demda. The half-elf took a step back, out of range, remembering Zarion’s words about dodging, and parrying only when necessary. She supposed that the word parrying applied to blocks made with a shield as well. Plus it wouldn’t hurt to watch this new opponent and see how he moved.

And so he moved again, lunging with his right foot and thrusting with his sword simultaneously. Demda was confounded. She had to move her shield all the way to her right to block his attack, and then her shield was in the way of any potential counter attack. This would not be easy.

She took a step backward and out of measure, holding her shield in close, and toward her middle, with her sword tucked into the side of the shield. The boy made a pass with his left foot, and thrust out with his sword at the same time, aimed high, toward Demda’s right shoulder. She had to use her weapon to knock the blow aside. As she did so, she took the opportunity to step into the short measure, and viciously attacked his left arm with her shield. By then he was withdrawing his hand, so the shield only contacted with his wooden weapon. But Demda wasn’t done, she attempted a low kick directed at his left knee, aiming to bring him down. The kick hit, but his stance was good, well balanced, and he kept on his feet.

The rest of their spar went relatively smoothly, with neither one gaining much ground nor landing a hit with their sword. At the least, one could say that their defense was adequate. Although Demda never had been a great proponent of defense, she couldn’t deny the usefulness of a shield when it came to staying alive in combat.

The recruits trained thus for a few more weeks, until Sergeant Zarion was reasonably pleased with their progress. After that, they were moved on to other weapons, although they drilled regularly with a shield and shortsword, most of them had achieved a basic proficiency with the weapon, and it was time to move on to other weapons.

Personally, Demda was glad to see the end of Zarion and his lessons in short sword.

She’d many months ago come to the conclusion that swordsmanship wasn’t for her.

[Adder]

Basic short complete. Congratulations and well done.