Basic Dagger Training {Self-Mod}

[Viskyia Crow]

TS: 50th Brightening of Kelendryas, Winter, Era XIII (pf)


Viskyia stood in the seclusion of the City Garden on the fringe between the tame well-groomed portion and the wilder half. A stone bench rested to one side, overlooking a small section of glimmering stream. Viskyia had picked this area because the path was dead-end here, and she’d hardly ever seen anyone around. She glanced down, unsheathed her dagger, and stood looking at it. Memories flooded her.

Viskyia sat at her little workstation which had a small window overlooking Grintil’s training courtyard in her Grandmother Meg’s section of the House. The dwarven bodyguard was drilling new recruits which were, if found good enough slated to join Meg’s personal guard. He was instructing them on the first of many weapons Grintil would teach them to use to defend the elven noblewoman. His voice rang clear and true throughout the courtyard and rose up to echo through Viskyia’s workshop. She listened intently as she worked; curious as to why knowing how to fight with a dagger was so important. Grintil bellowed out "A dagger is often disregarded as a weapon. It’s not as impressive as a sword, and it demands that its wielder get into close range to use it effectively. Because of this, it is both dismissed easily and overlooked often in its usage. That doesn’t mean it isn’t important. It’s a very easy weapon to conceal. It’s also a very easy weapon for a woman or lighter fighter to wield without any trouble whatsoever. For this reason alone, we are teaching you dagger. You will learn how to hold, throw, defend with, and against. I suggest you pay close attention. When this training session is over, you will have all the basics you need to both recognize when a person has a dagger concealed, defend against when a dagger is drawn, thrown and you will be able to use a dagger as both a primary and support weapon alongside your regular swords." She remembered intently as he explained which part was the blade, the hilt, and the crosspiece.

Viskyia attention snapped back to the present and looked around. Would anyone bother her here? She doubted it. She looked carefully at the weapon in her hand. Viskyia was grateful she had Grintil’s bellowing voice in her memory. Although, as a skilled slave she was never allowed to formally attend his classes, she’d listened in on them by sheer accident repeatedly. Now hopefully his words would teach her well. It was long past time Viskyia got around to practicing her dagger and teaching herself how to defend her person with it. So many things were counting on it: her own personal safety, the safety of the shop when she was alone at night in it, and her self confidence. She wrapped her fingers around the dagger, reminded herself of what the parts were called, felt its weight in her hand, and remembered the first few words Grintil had said about the dagger.

“Now the key point in understanding the dagger and mastering it is to know exactly how to hold it. A dagger is held in a very specific manner. If you hold it incorrectly, you open yourself up to loosing your grip, becoming disarmed, or having your wrist broken inadvertently. The second thing you need to recognize is that the dagger you used must be balanced to your grip alone. If it’s cheaply made or balanced improperly, its worse than being unarmed completely.”

Viskyia frowned. Her dagger WAS cheap. She needed to get one she could use that was more designed for her hand and better balanced. She’d see to the task immediately. Grintil’s voice continued in her memory, and she listened intently, adjusting her fingers on the dagger as his remembered instructions to the recruits dictated.

“Hold the dagger only by the first two fingers and thumb. And I do mean only. The key to a good grip is a firm loose hold that allows the blade to act as an extension of your hand. Your last two fingers should be lose and touch the hilt only lightly. The blade should point into the air, with it's hilt just above the thumb and forefinger, but not touching. You need to have room to flex the blade with your wrist without dragging on y our fingers. When held properly, a bend of the wrist can point bladeup for slashing and thrusting, or down for stabbing.”

Viskyia practiced this a while. She decided she needed to get the grip of the dagger just right, and learn by repetition alone that the dagger should come into her grip properly each and every time. She decided it was best to do this from the sheath at her belt so that when she grabbed it, it came into her hand properly each and every time. She decided if she waited to adjust her grip while it was in her hand, she’d loose valuable time that she could be using to defend herself.

Not only did she practice with her right hand, but she also switched the sheath to her right side and practiced with her left hand. She knew Grintil pushed his guards harder into the training, not stopping until they had the basics and practiced it as a group of skills. She didn’t operate this way well. Viskyia’s strengths lay in breaking steps down and following through with them in pieces before putting the whole together. She did this with her dagger training as well.

When she was getting fairly confident with it, she started laying the dagger down on the ground, on a rock, up in a tree, and practiced grabbing it from there repeatedly, working with each hand individually until she could just brush her fingers against some odd part of the dagger and have it spun and fitted into her hand properly.

By the time she was done, her back ached, her arms were sore, and she was good and ready to quit for the evening. She frowned because she hadn’t progressed past how to hold the dagger, but at least, she thought, she felt confident with actually holding one without cutting someone or something inadvertently.

[Viskyia Crow]

She found herself back at the little clearing in the City Gardens again. Viskyia wondered again how someone like her could have developed such an acute need to improve her ability to defend herself. Would a dagger even be enough? She pulled the item in question from its sheath without looking, and practiced drawing the weapon, switching hands with it, and resheathing it once more. She’d done this routine over and over again in the last few brightening. She didn’t even have to look at the dagger anymore to do this. Viskyia looked around the little clearing. Someday she wouldn’t have to go loose herself in the city park to practice these things. Someday she’d have a house of her own, something modest, and a small little sheltered yard to practice in. The thought made her smile. She sighed, and after drawing and sheathing the dagger multiple times with both hands, she settled in to tap into her memory.

She ached all over. It was the morning after one of Master’s midnight sessions and her mind was fuzzy, her stomach twisting, and her body felt like some giant hand had stretched and snapped it like a piece of taffy. There were gruff voices outside the window, but she was having trouble focusing on them. She couldn’t remember what had happened in the middle of the darkening, but she was cold all over, and couldn’t lay there in her cot any longer without being ill. They wouldn’t expect her to work today. They never did after nights the Master did his ‘work’. She picked up her blanket, and wrapped it around her with trembling hands. Then she moved over to her work desk and slipped up on top of it so she could press her forehead against the leaded glass inlays which made up her tiny window. The cold of the glass was a relief. Grintil was down in his courtyard drilling the new recruits again. His words were muffled, but she could make them out. It was the second section of his dagger training. Viskyia closed her eyes for a moment, and then when she opened them, her vision was a bit clearer and she could actually see the men in the courtyard below. They were talking about body stance. She listened and watch them place their feet. It distracted her from her own pain, so she paid careful attention.

The garden was alive around her as Viskyia placed her feet shoulder length apart and practiced standing in a balanced collected manner. This wasn’t wholly unfamiliar to her. She had to run collected, and her body slipped into position. What was unfamiliar was
The next step. She brought her left foot forward, and leaned into it while she brought the dagger up in her right hand and stabbed forward and upwards. She looked around, blushing. This was the right way. This was what Grintil had said. Step forward, upthrust, step forward, upthrust. She brought her left hand upwards, hovering behind the pommel of the dagger, preparing to push the blade into an unseen enemy if necessary.

She was in the gardens, but in her mind, she was standing in the middle of Grintil’s guards recruits, learning dagger alongside them. It was easier for her to visualize this way. The ghostly figures her mind drew around her gave her comfort and the embarrassment disappeared. She kept repeating this movement until her ghostly tutor gave another lesson. How to step back, how to take a back stance, and how to align your feet and bend your left leg. She looked over her right shoulder, and practiced thrusting that way. It was awkward and unfamiliar. She kept switching sides, using her left hand, stepping forward with her right foot, pushing with her right hand… looking over her left shoulder, body twisted to the left, leg bent, back standing that direction. She didn’t want to be dependent upon just being right handed and using her dagger with that hand only. She wanted two hands free to use it. Possibly two hands free to use two daggers. She wanted to be as formidable as possible

She worked until she was sore, and the darkening was almost upon her. Then she slipped her dagger back into her sheath, stretched, and started a slow jog towards home. When she got home, she had a little moment of humor practicing on the stoic katta outside the shop. She thrust a make-believe dagger at him repeatedly. He never blinked, but did pause and adjust an angle of her forward step with the toe of his foot in a split second move that had her laughing in delight. She went inside and repeated it on the katta there with the corrected foot angle. It never flinched either. She grinned, and skipped back into the workroom, pleased that she'd picked up a bit more of the technique.

[Viskyia Crow]

Viskyia found herself back in the City Gardens in the little clearing she’d taken to training in. She was a bit worried. After practicing her grip on the dagger and her footwork, she knew it was time to get down to the serious business of learning how to kill things with it. It wasn’t that she really wanted to kill though. There was no sort of desire in her towards that. She just wanted to protect herself.

She scanned the clearing, and thanked the stars that no one was around to witness her clandestine practices. Pacing the clearing, she thought a moment. Drawing her dagger, she studied it, then approached a statue that stood near the bench she regularly used. It was a magnificent carving of a goat-man creature playing a set of pan flutes. “Well," she thought, “stone could tell no tales.” With a laugh, she walked up to the statue and bowed. It was life-sized and easy for her to study. She fingered her dagger, and spent a long long time gazing at the form of the goat-man. Identifying vulnerabilities shouldn’t be to hard. The face? No… thought if the opportunity arose, she would take it. The arms? Definitely. The groin? Naturally. The legs would be vulnerable too. Though this statue’s legs bent the opposite way a man’s really should, the principle was the same. If they couldn’t hold a dagger or walk, they couldn’t fight or run after you. She studied the goat-man’s furred belly and decided that would be good too. She pictured him dressed in armor and decided anywhere the armor was jointed would be a vulnerability, especially the throat. If she had to kill someone, she preferred they wouldn’t scream for help or make noise as she did so.

She took a few practice stabs at the statue. On the second stab, the dagger chinked off the stone and chipped its cheap metal. She swore under her breath and stepped back. The statue didn’t have a mark on it. She glanced back at the chipped dagger and cursed a phrase she’d recently picked up. She ranged backwards, and around the clearing, finding a man-sized bush. Definitely more accommodating, she thought. She closed her eyes. What had Grintil said about stabbing?

“Fingers up, you idiots! Always fingers up. Stab, bring the dagger to a ninty degree upthrust, and always twist to widen the wound. TWIST! Now TWIST!” the dwarf grumbled. The men were at it again. Stabbing practice, evidently, was held during high tea right outside Meg’s sitting room. Viskyia was there, attending her, and having to listen to Meg’s idle comments about the noise level Grintil’s recruits were practicing at.

Viskyia continued to visiously attack the target bush, gutting it repeatedly. In her mind, it was a real person, real flesh her dagger was parting, real bone she was sawing across. Throat, shoulders, arms, thighs, cut and disable… she worked until she was breathless and the time was growing late. Enough for today. She would soon get back to it the next.

[Viskyia Crow]

Viskyia was still annoyed that her dagger had a big chip out of it. She would have to replace it soon. It was a few brightenings later and she was back in the clearing to practice more types of stabs, slashes, and movements. She was starting to really develop a love hate relationship with her dagger. It was obvious that she’d never turn out to be a fighter in this life. She sighed and let her mind drift back to Meg’s drawing room and the lessons Meg’s bodyguard was giving his new trainees.

“Now, you need to learn how to slash with your daggers. There is a proper and improper way to do so! Properly… dagger held hilt towards you… fingers down, blade perpendicular to your body pointed at your opponent … draw dagger from the side of your head downwards. Repeat! Daggers up, slash down… daggers up… sash down….” Grintil bellowed, repeatedly in the manner only dwarves could get by with.

Viskyia struggled to mimic her memory, and finally got the blade moving in a smooth unjerking fashion as she practiced the maneuver. Her left hand, as usual, was impossible to get convinced to master the motion. She practiced a long time with it, before dredging up more of the memory of that day in Meg’s sitting room.

“Time to slash inside to outside. Daggers up, chest centered. Drag the dagger in the direction of your opponents right side, when using your left hand… head level.. yes slash up, drag inside to outside… repeat.. daggers up, slash… inside to outside.” The dwarf kept bellowing...

Viskyia kept practicing, kept flexing, kept pushing herself. She practiced the slashes over and over again until her ‘victim’ the bush was practically denuded of extra branches. Had it been spring and its leaves were full, it would be leafless as well. Slash, switch hands, slash, switch techniques, slash, switch hands, slash… her arms ached by the time she was done. It was time to call it a lesson as well. She turned and jogged for home.

[Viskyia Crow]

Viskyia found herself once more jogging towards the City Gardens. With these half-brightenings off every fifth one, she was finding the time to actually work on her dagger skills. And, above that, she was beginning to feel a bit more confident about holding the weapon and using it. Though soon, she knew, she’d need to replace her dagger which was beginning to show signs of strain with all the hacking and slashing she’d done to various statuary and shrubbery. Still grinning at the thought of being known as Nexus Prime’s bush killer, she came to her clearing and pulled up short. She took a minute to catch her breath, and thought about what she was going to learn today.

Today’s lesson would be the next one on Grintil’s agenda… the block and parry session. It would take some extra creativity for her to really make this training episode work, but she was up for the challenge.

She let her mind go backwards, to when she was a bit younger and out running in the Grintil’s training yard as the recruits paired off. Grintil was grunting “Keep your blades up and flashing between you and your opponent. Never give youropponent an opportunity to get past it. Your dagger is your first and best line of defense! Daggers up. Face off with your partner!” The dwarf continued with the lesson as a younger Viskyia jogged around the courtyard, in her daily routine of running. “Always push the enemies attack out and away from you. Never draw it in. That’s what they want. Out and away! Always out and away!” He shouted firmly. The recruits were squaring off at each other, daggers flashing, catching blade upon blade, flinging attacks outward and away. “Keep your feet moving! Never settle on your heels. Up on your toes. Dance! Be ready to move any direction you need too. Light! Light on your feet!” He shouted more instructions.

Viskyia didn’t need to know this feet thing, even though she remembered it acutely. She’d had those sorts of lessons grilled into her as Grintil barked at her to run. Up on the balls of her feet and her toes was ingrained in her mind by now, and she danced lightly back and forth across in front of the goat-man statue. In her minds eye, the pan flutes weren’t flutes but a weapon, and the goat-man kept stabbing at her. She caught his arm, thrusting the blade up and away… down and away… away. She was panting hard now, dancing in front of the statue, dagger flashing. In her mind she was glad she’d paid attention to Grintil. She didn’t know his instructions would do her such good in the future. Time for a break. Panting, she sat down on the bench and stretched.

[Viskyia Crow]

Break time over, Viskyia rose, stretched, and got on with her lesson. She needed to learn one last thing about blocking and parrying. It nagged at her. There was a way to move that included avoiding opposing blade’s swung at you. She needed to remember. So in order to jar that stubborn fragment from the past loose, she spent several long minutes dancing around the clearing, drawing her dagger, stabbing, parrying, sheathing, putting the whole routine together. Gradually the memory returned and Gruntil was barking orders at the pairs of fighters lined up in front of him.

“Attacks can come from any direction. You need to move the equal and opposite direction. This is a dance, men! Always move the opposite direction then follow through with the attack with one of your own. If your opponent comes at you from above, duck, then parry upwards. If they come from below you, spring back, then parry downwards! Opposite! React! Never flee. Don’t let them get you on the offensive. Keep them locked in a dance.” The dwarf grunted, and observed the figures attacking and retreating with each other, locked in what indeed did look like a dance. He corrected several handholds, one man’s overenthusiastic parry which landed him on the dirt of the courtyard, and nodded his approval at one man who achieved his blocking and parrying perfectly.

Viskyia gave it a try, as the alabaster goat-man attacked her in her minds eye. From above, she went below. From below she sprung back and went in high. Her dagger flashed and for a moment, she almost felt like it was an extension of herself.

“If the opponent decides to attack you on your right, dance to your left (dance I say!) and parry the blow to your right. Equal and opposite reactions! You aren’t dancing enough. Put a spring in that step. If the attack comes on your left, go the other way. Equal and opposite!” he bellowed.

Viskyia was all but breathless now, as she envisioned the goat-man statue attacking her thusly. She practiced the springing sideways, first right then left, following through with the parrying until her dagger was flashing through the air, tracking in the near-darkening light. She danced sideways, first right, then left, forwards.. then back. Keeping the dagger moving was the hardest part. Switching hands was even harder. Her left hand wasn’t as quick as her right, and she dropped the dagger several times as she pulled it and envisioned the attack. It was growing dark though. And she was definitely winded. She sheathed her dagger, and turned towards Master Titus’ shop at a jog. She’d practice the next chance she got, and also look and see about acquiring a throwing dagger or two when she replaced her cheap chipped dagger.

[Viskyia Crow]

She was going to master the basics of her dagger if it killed her. A few brightenings later, she was at it again. The little clearing was hers now. The gardens well-tended lawn was worn with the footsteps of her motions as she practiced with the blade in the little secret clearing.

Her determination drove her. It was just something she was going to do. She danced around, drawing, thrusting, slashing sideways, then upwards, then downwards. Her opponents were always ghostly. They existed only in her mind. As she wove among them, it was the figures from her past she attacked. It was the buskers and rattas that roamed the Nexus streets. It was Dzie’s unnamed necromancer. They all were worthy of her blade in the fantasy of her mind. She didn’t let up until she was breathless and panting. She wasn’t used to the upper body motion. Her lower body, her legs, thighs, calves… were all honed by her running. But her arms and back ached. She loved the feeling. There was something satisfying by a slow burn of well worn muscles.

Hearing a noise, she turned, and spotted another enemy. It was an overlarge tree, easily a giant in disguise. It wanted something she was unwilling to give, and she launched her dagger without thinking. It skittered off, awkwardly thrown and her stance badly taken. She frowned, thinking maybe she ought to learn how to throw it as well. Did Grintil ever give any lessons on dagger throwing? Her memory swarmed her as she walked over to find the missing battered little blade.

The recruits were lined up. All in a row they stood, hurling daggers one by one at straw targets shaped like men. Some were good, some were very poor. Grintil marched up and down the line calling instructions and organizing body stances. Viskyia had been in the courtyard setting up new molds for some work she would be doing for the Master later that day. She stood, taking a break from her own work, to watch the dwarf bark orders and teach.

She wondered if somewhere in the back of her mind she was trying to absorb this knowledge for the future. If back then she’d somehow known that she’d need this instruction in the here and now. Laughing a little, Viskyia shook off the feeling. Some things weren’t worth thinking about. She’d just be grateful she remembered.

His instructions were clear. "Left foot forward. The right foot should be behind the left foot. Make a line to the target with your feet. Body position is everything! Knees flexed! Be able to move. To shift! To throw! Blades in hand, chest level. The left hand is steadying the throwing hand. The elbows are in front of your body and spaced less than a shoulders width apart. " He barked his commands repeatedly, walking up and down the line correcting positions.

Viskyia assumed a place in the line of men in her memory and copied their motions. A ghostly Grintil walked up and down the line she was standing in, and corrected her position. She flexed, moved, lined her toes up with the target. She smiled, and let the dagger fly. It flew poorly, though it went the correct direction this time. She forced more of the memory forward.

Different daggers are thrown than fought with. The men had their fighting daggers sheathed and their throwing daggers out. Viskyia nodded to herself remembering. Well, it couldn’t be helped. She’d use her battered one, and replace it with a better one and perhaps a few throwing daggers as her commissions sold. She dredged up more memories of how a dagger was thrown, and could find only a bit of what she overheard.

Grintil barked. "Make a forward motion of your right arm, at the same time swing backwards your left arm and shift forward your body. It’s a lot like pitching a ball. A very deadly ball! Bring your feet off the ground, make your body fluid, follow through with the motion. No jerking, the dagger will wobble in air and be off course. FLUIDITY IS THE KEY! Remain balanced at all times. Speed and fluidity is of utmost importance! Don’t get off balance. Don’t jerk. Don’t trash. Don’t fling it. Gather your energy and send the dagger away from you!"

Viskyia nodded to herself, glanced up and down the line of the ghostly figures only she could see, and smiled. She remembered now. Leaning back, she gathered her body’s energy as if she was going to jump, stepped forward, and released the dagger all in one motion. The heavy thing flung forward and pinged off the big tree. If it had been the lighter more deadly throwing varity, the giant she painted the tree in her mind would have had only one eye left. She smiled in satisfaction and set off to retrieve the dagger and start practicing the new technique again.

[Viskyia Crow]

Another day had passed and there was just enough sunlight to escape to the garden to do a little more practicing with her dagger. She jogged lightly through the mist that was starting to rise up on the well-groomed pathways. It felt good to get away from the shop. Her back hurt from her newest circlets project and she needed to get out and just move. Her clearing was just ahead and she greeted her stone goat-man companion cheerfully as she ranged around the opening and began what she had started calling her ‘dagger dance’.

It only took her one circumference of her little practice ground to see him. She couldn’t believe it when her eyes slipped over his crouched form, then snapped back to his face. Yellow eyes met her own, and she froze in her tracks in the middle of a practice slice. A spear of fear pierced her heart as she stood silent for a moment. He was another like her. Human and Esh blood blended within him, with the Esh part of his blood far outweighing his human blood. His hair was fair also, though more blonde than white, while his yellow eyes were piercing. He stood near her tree, the old giant, and was resting on his heels, low to the ground. He said not a word, but she recognized him immediately. He was one of her Father’s scouts. He was someone she knew well. The name eluded her for only a minute, and by the time she had it in her mind, her hand had dropped her dagger and her body had whirled around and burst into full flight.

She was fast and she knew it, so when the full force of his heavier larger body slammed into her from behind, knocking her forward and flat to the ground, it took her by surprise. She closed her eyes and felt the cold of the damp grass press into her left cheek. She could feel the power in him, and it made her tremble despite his weight holding her. “Little deer, I was warned you’d take flight.” He whispered in Esh as he pinned her neatly beneath him. He lifted a hand to brush her hair away from her ear. He ran his finger across the slave brand neatly scorched into her cartilage and whispered again. “He’s very angry you left, little deer, very angry indeed. But you’re lucky, little one, because he did not send me.” She knew Skylis was speaking the truth. She’d be dead by now or at least back at the estate if her father had sent him.

“Meg sent you?” She asked, her voice shaking in a reaction she couldn’t control. Skylis nodded and slowly eased his weight off Viskyia. She stood up slowly, taking Skylis’ hand when he offered to help her rise. He was taller than she was, and considerably older. She hadn’t known him well back in Vortex. But she had seen him around a time or two. “You haven’t contacted her in two months. She wanted to know where you’d gotten to and if you were well. Shes not been herself since she sent you away and all that confusion happened that left you on your own.” He paused, as if assessing Viskyia.

Then he continued… “She sent me to find you, little deer, and make sure all was well with you. She wanted me to see if there was anything you needed, though in truth, you seem to be doing just fine. You didn’t run very far, little sister.” He added. “He will find you here if he ever untangles himself from his business long enough to get good and mad enough to track you.”

Viskyia interrupted. “Will you tell him where I am?” She demanded.

Skylis shrugged. “He has his ways. We all cow to him, little deer. You know that. I won’t have a choice if he asks. Of course, he doesn’t really have a reason to ask. I’m rarely at the estate and your Grandmother keeps me busy. That was really naughty of you to leave your Grandmother in suspense. I’m supposed to chastise you thoroughly, Kyia.” He smiled, turned and stooped to pick up her discarded dagger. Turning back to her, he presented it to her hilt first.

“Shall we?” He said, drawing his own dagger and advancing on her. She glanced down in her hand, then back up at Skylis. Was this Megs idea of her being looked after? She shook her head. “I don’t want to fight you.” She said softly. Skylis laughed. “Kyia, we never want to fight. We just have to sometimes.” Then he clicked his heels together like Grintil taught all dueling pairs to do and advanced on her, mercilessly, dagger flashing.

[Viskyia Crow]

She brought her dagger up, just in time to deflect a particularly nasty slash. It was almost habitual, because she didn’t plan on counteracting him, her body just reacted. Skylis drove her around the clearing mercilessly, switching hands often, and testing her bounds and seeing what she’d learned. One thing was painfully clear. She was slow. Her form was good, though he had no idea how that was possible learning dagger on ones own. Nevertheless, it was.

As he wove her in and out of patterns, he gradually sped up as she gained confidence blocking and parrying. Then he slowed finally enough so that she felt confident enough to attack herself. When this happened he gradually started speeding up his reactions again. She slipped up once, and he caught her wrist breaking badly. It was a perfect opportunity to disarm her, demonstrating to her how it was done. She rearmed immediately and once she knew what to look for started practicing the trick herself.

He was a lot more experienced in warfare than she was, but Viskyia matched her cousin round for round, almost getting up to normal time as they drilled. When he disarmed her, it was quite a blow but the information was invaluable. They fought on.

“How long are you planning on staying? She asked. He responded with another question. “How long are you? I think Meg wants me around in case of trouble. Especially if she knew you were this close to Vortex.” He added.

The sparred on, speaking briefly about the estate, and how much Viskyia liked the city. When she told him what she was doing and what her plans were, he stopped fighting her for a moment to look stunned. “Kyia, you aren’t freeborn. You can’t own your own shop!” He exclaimed. “Here, it doesn’t matter so much.” She answered, and while he was still standing stunned, she disarmed him neatly and retrieved the dagger herself.

Skylis smiled and nodded. He retrieved his dagger and said "Tomorrow we will start you on a more advanced teachings regarding the dagger.”

[Shorty]

~Basic Dagger approved! Congrats Vis!~