Post by Lancelot Du Lac on Jun 9, 2010 18:49:44 GMT
Fortunately, Sir Lancelot knew, he always traveled light, so there was not much to store in the soldiers quarters while he was in training, and his black Arabian stallion was well-housed in the stables. His chance meetings on arrival in Camelot had insured him of finding a place or his horse in the stables had been fortunate indeed. He had thought that his stay would be short, though. He had made up his mind to present himself to Prince Arthur, fully expecting himself to be denied in his application. He thought that Arthur might want him, but not be able to accept him. He had been wrong about that, but still as he approached the training fields, fields that he had experienced once before, he was not sure that this would work at all. He had issues with the king, or more accurately King Uther had issues with him. And although he had proved himself to Arthur before, and had even had friendly relations with the arrogant prince, there were personal issues that he was unsure whether they could be bridged.
As Lancelot walked on to the field he was a bit surprised at the goodly number of trainees, and wondered how many would be left in a week or two. He thought he had more practical experience than most, having learned his craft under the tutelage of the Earl of Huntingdon, and returning there to earn his knighthood in Wessex after he had voluntarily left Camelot. He didn’t believe in shields much, but did believe that the use of a good offense with two swords was best, usually wearing his shield over his back. He was good with a lance as well, and was fair with a bow. He hoped that training might be good with giving him pointers with one-sword fighting, as well as the bow. He thought his horsemanship skills were good. He set up at the back of the formation, hoping that Arthur would not try and make an example of him on the first day. He realized, though, that was probably too much to hope for.
Although that view was the correct one, he had mis-judged that the challenge would come from the Prince, and not from one of his more arrogant noble trainees. Several, even in the back were breaking off in sparring pairs. Unfortunately, the one next to him had already chosen him, and was not terribly impressed with him either. “I guess that you will do. You’re not from around here are you …. peasant. You can’t be a noble or I would know of you. You should be cleaning my armor and not wearing it. Draw your sword or both of them, for all the good it will do you.”
“Gladly, but I’m sure one sword without a shield will be enough to deal with the likes of you.”
Lancelot quickly drew one sword with his left hand, and saw from the reaction in his opponent’s eyes, that this was quite unexpected and unwelcome. In a quite simple maneuver Lancelot feinted to his right, moved left, hooked his opponent’s sword near the hilt. He then rotated his sword twice in tight counter-clockwise circles until the pain from the twisting cause his opponent to drop his sword. Lancelot quickly swept his sword out in an arc, aimed at his adversary’s neck, but slow enough for him to avoid it by falling backward on the ground.
Lancelot leaned over, noting his opponent’s vulnerable position on the ground, picking up the sword, “Nice sword ….. is it mine now …. you did make it all too easy.” Suddenly, though, he felt someone’s presence behind him ….
As Lancelot walked on to the field he was a bit surprised at the goodly number of trainees, and wondered how many would be left in a week or two. He thought he had more practical experience than most, having learned his craft under the tutelage of the Earl of Huntingdon, and returning there to earn his knighthood in Wessex after he had voluntarily left Camelot. He didn’t believe in shields much, but did believe that the use of a good offense with two swords was best, usually wearing his shield over his back. He was good with a lance as well, and was fair with a bow. He hoped that training might be good with giving him pointers with one-sword fighting, as well as the bow. He thought his horsemanship skills were good. He set up at the back of the formation, hoping that Arthur would not try and make an example of him on the first day. He realized, though, that was probably too much to hope for.
Although that view was the correct one, he had mis-judged that the challenge would come from the Prince, and not from one of his more arrogant noble trainees. Several, even in the back were breaking off in sparring pairs. Unfortunately, the one next to him had already chosen him, and was not terribly impressed with him either. “I guess that you will do. You’re not from around here are you …. peasant. You can’t be a noble or I would know of you. You should be cleaning my armor and not wearing it. Draw your sword or both of them, for all the good it will do you.”
“Gladly, but I’m sure one sword without a shield will be enough to deal with the likes of you.”
Lancelot quickly drew one sword with his left hand, and saw from the reaction in his opponent’s eyes, that this was quite unexpected and unwelcome. In a quite simple maneuver Lancelot feinted to his right, moved left, hooked his opponent’s sword near the hilt. He then rotated his sword twice in tight counter-clockwise circles until the pain from the twisting cause his opponent to drop his sword. Lancelot quickly swept his sword out in an arc, aimed at his adversary’s neck, but slow enough for him to avoid it by falling backward on the ground.
Lancelot leaned over, noting his opponent’s vulnerable position on the ground, picking up the sword, “Nice sword ….. is it mine now …. you did make it all too easy.” Suddenly, though, he felt someone’s presence behind him ….