Post by Jared Tempest on Dec 29, 2009 17:37:44 GMT
"Light enough for you?" Arthur asked somewhat flatly of his latest recruit. A handful of other Assassin hopefuls were going through a number of drills with their swords, whether they owned the weapons themselves or had requested them. The usual fighting style of the Assassin focused on speed and efficiency, so these blades were lighter and easier to handle than the heavy, forceful weapons of the infantry.
Jared's new sword, a double-edged basket-hilt saber, was another product of that school of thought. It was heavy enough to command some decent momentum, so it could be brought to bear against heavier weapons without leaving its wielder at any glaring disadvantage, yet was faster and easier to use than heavier counterparts so the wielder could get close and strike with greater speed.
In this knowledge, the boy had already begun formulating basic ideas and tactics as to how to properly use it.
"It's perfect," came his answer to the Prince's enquiry, swinging his new weapon a few more times to make certain he was aware of its weight. He straightened his arm, looking down the tapering blade with a smile of satisfaction.
"Well then you'd best learn how to use it," retorted Arthur, clad as always in his polished full-body armour that gleamed in the sunlight. "Join the others and we'll go through the drills." He inclined his head in the direction of the other trainees. Jared nodded, striding obediently over to join them and taking a ready stance at the end of the line, new sword at the ready.
Arthur followed from a distance, falling into a slow, confident gait as he paced along the line, scrutinising each recruit in turn. The practising trainees fell silent, lowering their weapons as if awaiting permission to resume their drills. The Prince reached the end of the line of assembled would-be soldiers and turned on his heels, pacing back to the centre of the formation. He took a few steps away from the group, eyes narrowed slightly. Time to see what they'd learned.
"Remember, I'm looking for speed and efficiency," he called out. "The aim of a real fight is to survive, not look flashy. Now - lunge!" At this command the recruits brought their weapon hands up, turning their wrists in a tight arc to bring the blades of their swords up into the path of an invisible enemy's forward stab. As one they turned at the waist, directing the imaginary swords of their opponents harmlessly away using their own blades, then swung their weapon arms around to point their blades towards their opponents and countered with quick lunges of their own which were aimed for the target's neck and upper torso. When certain they'd found their mark the trainees wrenched their swords back, stepping away from their lifeless opponents and lowering their weapon hands into a ready defensive poise, swords raised diagonally before their bodies.
"Upswing!" came Arthur's next call. The recruits took a unified step backwards, away from an upward vertical swing from their opponents. Turning their weapon hands again, they swung their own swords in a small circular arc to meet the incoming blades from beneath and bash them up and out of the way. Their swords continued as they utilised the momentum to launch into their own upswings as an immediate counter. Stepping forward to bring their targets closer, they moved their weapon arms to follow through as they swung upwards into the leg - or groin, which while perhaps less effective would be so much more damaging - of their opponents.
"Downswing!" cried Arthur. Immediately, almost instictively, the trainees reacted. This defence would take more physical strength; gripping the handles of their swords with both hands, they raised their weapons above their heads to intercept an incoming downward swing aimed for their heads. Centering their hilts to meet the opponents' blades at the centre of their own weapons' pivots, the recruits bent their arms as if to absorb the force of the blow. Their counter-attack was launched more or less simultaneously; in one fluid movement they stepped forward with their weak feet, straightening their arms to force the opponents' weapons upwards and bringing their strongest legs up to knee the imaginary adversaries in the groin. This first counter was intended to debilitate the target and leave them open to further attacks, and its follow-up dealt the killing blow. With a small upward shove to break their deadlocks, the hopefuls turned their wrists and brought their swords down with vicious diagonal slashes aimed for the head and upper torso of their enemies.
"Excellent," Arthur commented, a broad smile of satisfaction upon his features. "Heavy downswing!" The recruits, hearing this, prepared for an identical attack; but the different call demanded a different response. They'd been taught by Arthur that if their opponent's weapon seemed too heavy to block or deflect, they were to keep their distance and wait for a chance to evade an attack and get close to the opponent, striking from inside their defences. In response to a downward smash from a much heavier weapon, be it a halberd, a warhammer, or anything of similar weight, they shifted their weight onto one foot and turned their bodies to lean out of the way of the weapon as it came thundering downwards. They counted on their opponent's commitment to such an attack and subsequent inability to retrieve their weapon in time to mount an adequate defence; with this in mind, they immediately stepped forward towards their opponents, coming between them and their weapons where they were all but defenceless, and turning at the waist to put a little more momentum into a fast diagonal slash brought up across the target's torso towards the neck.
Arthur's smile only widened and he applauded the trainees - but their task was not yet over. This training session continued for a good hour, the recruits repeatedly covering a drill sequence that included ten varied counter-attacks until they could perform each one almost instinctively. Only when Arthur finally called time, debriefing and congratulating the would-be Assassins on an outstanding performance, did Jared relax in the slightest and let the rapidly mounting fatigue claim him. The talk among the recruits that night was spirited and cheerful, each man bolstered greatly by the group's success, and though they knew that the tasks in the months to come would be progressively harder, they were all confident that they had what it took.
Word count: 1076 / 200
Jared's new sword, a double-edged basket-hilt saber, was another product of that school of thought. It was heavy enough to command some decent momentum, so it could be brought to bear against heavier weapons without leaving its wielder at any glaring disadvantage, yet was faster and easier to use than heavier counterparts so the wielder could get close and strike with greater speed.
In this knowledge, the boy had already begun formulating basic ideas and tactics as to how to properly use it.
"It's perfect," came his answer to the Prince's enquiry, swinging his new weapon a few more times to make certain he was aware of its weight. He straightened his arm, looking down the tapering blade with a smile of satisfaction.
"Well then you'd best learn how to use it," retorted Arthur, clad as always in his polished full-body armour that gleamed in the sunlight. "Join the others and we'll go through the drills." He inclined his head in the direction of the other trainees. Jared nodded, striding obediently over to join them and taking a ready stance at the end of the line, new sword at the ready.
Arthur followed from a distance, falling into a slow, confident gait as he paced along the line, scrutinising each recruit in turn. The practising trainees fell silent, lowering their weapons as if awaiting permission to resume their drills. The Prince reached the end of the line of assembled would-be soldiers and turned on his heels, pacing back to the centre of the formation. He took a few steps away from the group, eyes narrowed slightly. Time to see what they'd learned.
"Remember, I'm looking for speed and efficiency," he called out. "The aim of a real fight is to survive, not look flashy. Now - lunge!" At this command the recruits brought their weapon hands up, turning their wrists in a tight arc to bring the blades of their swords up into the path of an invisible enemy's forward stab. As one they turned at the waist, directing the imaginary swords of their opponents harmlessly away using their own blades, then swung their weapon arms around to point their blades towards their opponents and countered with quick lunges of their own which were aimed for the target's neck and upper torso. When certain they'd found their mark the trainees wrenched their swords back, stepping away from their lifeless opponents and lowering their weapon hands into a ready defensive poise, swords raised diagonally before their bodies.
"Upswing!" came Arthur's next call. The recruits took a unified step backwards, away from an upward vertical swing from their opponents. Turning their weapon hands again, they swung their own swords in a small circular arc to meet the incoming blades from beneath and bash them up and out of the way. Their swords continued as they utilised the momentum to launch into their own upswings as an immediate counter. Stepping forward to bring their targets closer, they moved their weapon arms to follow through as they swung upwards into the leg - or groin, which while perhaps less effective would be so much more damaging - of their opponents.
"Downswing!" cried Arthur. Immediately, almost instictively, the trainees reacted. This defence would take more physical strength; gripping the handles of their swords with both hands, they raised their weapons above their heads to intercept an incoming downward swing aimed for their heads. Centering their hilts to meet the opponents' blades at the centre of their own weapons' pivots, the recruits bent their arms as if to absorb the force of the blow. Their counter-attack was launched more or less simultaneously; in one fluid movement they stepped forward with their weak feet, straightening their arms to force the opponents' weapons upwards and bringing their strongest legs up to knee the imaginary adversaries in the groin. This first counter was intended to debilitate the target and leave them open to further attacks, and its follow-up dealt the killing blow. With a small upward shove to break their deadlocks, the hopefuls turned their wrists and brought their swords down with vicious diagonal slashes aimed for the head and upper torso of their enemies.
"Excellent," Arthur commented, a broad smile of satisfaction upon his features. "Heavy downswing!" The recruits, hearing this, prepared for an identical attack; but the different call demanded a different response. They'd been taught by Arthur that if their opponent's weapon seemed too heavy to block or deflect, they were to keep their distance and wait for a chance to evade an attack and get close to the opponent, striking from inside their defences. In response to a downward smash from a much heavier weapon, be it a halberd, a warhammer, or anything of similar weight, they shifted their weight onto one foot and turned their bodies to lean out of the way of the weapon as it came thundering downwards. They counted on their opponent's commitment to such an attack and subsequent inability to retrieve their weapon in time to mount an adequate defence; with this in mind, they immediately stepped forward towards their opponents, coming between them and their weapons where they were all but defenceless, and turning at the waist to put a little more momentum into a fast diagonal slash brought up across the target's torso towards the neck.
Arthur's smile only widened and he applauded the trainees - but their task was not yet over. This training session continued for a good hour, the recruits repeatedly covering a drill sequence that included ten varied counter-attacks until they could perform each one almost instinctively. Only when Arthur finally called time, debriefing and congratulating the would-be Assassins on an outstanding performance, did Jared relax in the slightest and let the rapidly mounting fatigue claim him. The talk among the recruits that night was spirited and cheerful, each man bolstered greatly by the group's success, and though they knew that the tasks in the months to come would be progressively harder, they were all confident that they had what it took.
Word count: 1076 / 200
