• Memory • A Boy and His Blade [Venora]

András gets a sword fighting lesson as a child.

The seven Duchies of Central Rynmere and their respective baronies, cities, towns, villages, and landmarks each overseen by a Duke of one of the seven noble families and ultimately controlled by the King of Rynmere.
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Andráska Venora
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A Boy and His Blade [Venora]

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100th of Vhalar, 702 Arc


“This your first lesson?”

“Yessir”

“How old are you?”

“Eight arcs, sir.”

“Very good, then. Pick up the sword an let me see how you hold it.” The man speaking pointed towards a wooden replica, of course, crouching to get a better look at the noble boy with the cherubic face. Andras was nervous, practically skipping to where the faux weapon lay, pulling it free from the barrel with strange difficulty. It was heavier than he had expected. His face squinted and he weighed it in his hands, the tip spilling forward and hitting against the ground. It fell from his grip and Andras scrambled with embarrassed grin.

The instructor waited patiently, nodding, “Heavy, isn't it?”

“Yessir.”

“Do you know why?”

“To hit harder?”

The instructor smiled at this, “Not quite, although a sound observation. A proper sword should be an extension of your arm,” he crouched in front of the small boy, taking Andraska's elbow and shifting its position. Then he placed Andras' hands in the right placement on the handle, “This training sword is to be heavy until you grow strong enough to wield it. As you grow, we will continue changing the weapon weight to until you are ready for real steel.”

Andras seemed interested by this revelation, suddenly looking at the weapon in eager awe, “Really?” He grinned and experimentally swung, no longer scared of the weight. He wanted to be strong! The wooden blade sliced through the air once, twice, and then he stopped, “What... what makes you stronger?”

The instructor lifted an eyebrow, “Well,” how was he supposed to explain this to a child? “When you exercise, your muscle get tiny rips in them,” Andras stopped what he was doing and had a look of surprise and horror as he turned to the older man, “Have you ever ran a lot one day, and then your legs hurt the next day?”

“...Yeah.”

“That's because they're healing, and when they do, they are tougher. And the muscle grows. That's why fat men who don't work out are weak and warriors are strong, with big arms.”

Huh... Andras made a strange face, and the instructor shifted his hand again on the pommel, emphasizing the importance of good form, and that included how he held his weapon. It was difficult for Andras not to shift his fingers, and he had to keep continually adjust his small grip. The teacher, a man called Solomon, showed him how the right way to hold a two handed weapon, as well as one handed. Truthfully, Andras preferred the second, because it felt less clunky to him. His arms tired faster when he had to use both.

Sensing his impending laziness, Solomon pointed to his left hand, “Switch to your less dominant.”

Andras furrowed his brow, “But... I can't.”

“You can. Now, switch,”

The young boy frowned, putting the sword in his left hand. Immediately, he felt out of place and alien. He tried to swing a few times in practice, and the weapon rebelled, its balance shifting and falling forward. It slipped from his grip and thudded onto the hard soil, “See!”

“Lesson one in sword fighting: Laziness is not an option. If you want to be the best in either war or love, you must put your whole efforts into it. The best swordsmen, do you know why they're the best?”

“Because they beat everyone else?”

“Yes, but they beat everyone else because they can fight with both hands. If you lose an arm in battle, how will you survive? Your opponent will think you are done, but if you pick up your sword and keep fighting? They're think you're an immortal. Watch.” Solomon drew the sword at his side – not a wooden training one, but a real steel weapon the hissed as it was released. He strode confidently to the training dummies set up in the yard and with a twirl of the weapon, lunged and parried imaginary attacks, his movements like a dancers that billowed small tendrils of dust from his feet.

It was like watching a beautiful, deadly ballet, and Andras' mouth dropped, the scene coming to life for him, and he even clapped when Solomon sent his final blow flying towards the neck of the dummy in a clean beheading.

“Wow!” Andras praised, running over to his instructor, “Now your other hand!” 'He's amazing,' he thought in wonder, convinced Solomon to be the best swordsman he had ever seen.

Solomon smirked, “That was my other hand.”
The lesson continued on, with Solomon telling Andras to swing the weapon with his left hand and get a feel for it, allowing the boy to tire out before motioning him over, “Pay attention. If you want to fight with a sword, you need to know the parts of one – this, is the tip, good for stabbing and piercing, the actual blade,” he ran a finger along the wooden replica, “will cut and slice, and this part right here, is the central ridge... The cross guard will protect your hands. If someone tries to sell you a sword without one, you tell him it's not a sword at all. It's an over sized dagger. Can't tell you how many times I've kept fingers because of 'em".

"When are we gonna finally fight?" Andras asked, even though his muscles were feeling rubbery and tired, "I want to hit stuff."

Solomon had just finished his explanation of sword anatomy when Andras grew restless. The boy's energy had to be admired, "Defense first," Solomon went to retrieve a second wooden sword and watched Andras scrambling to take the position. Andras lifted on the balls of his feet, taking on a stance similar to fencing, with one of his feet forward. "There are a number of different parries, depending on which angle your opponent is striking from," Solomon instructed, "We will do parry left. You have your sword, and you pull your foot inward, bring your sword down, about... waist height," He demonstrated this, twisting his blade outward, "Tip should be pointed at your opponent."

Andráska did as he was told, or at least the best way he could. He started with the basic stance they had reviewed, holding his wooden sword in front of him and turned his wrist, looking up with each movement at his instructor and then pulling his leg back and turning his blade out towards Solomon. The older man nodded, commenting on the fluidity of his movement and made him repeat the sequence over and over, "Sword fighting must be natural," he instructed, "Practice with your blade everyday until it becomes a piece of you. When you increase in skill, we will talk to your father about having a something custom for you. Every man's sword should be made for them. My father's sword, for instance, is not like mine."

The young noble was interested, having assumed every sword was made the same. He allowed his sword to falter, a fact that did not go unnoticed by the instructor, who used it as an example, smacking Andras' weapon away with his own. The practice weapon skittered across the dirt, leaving Andras shocked, "Don't let your guard down, no matter what your opponent says or does. If you're in a combat of blades, its likely your enemy is going for one thing: Death. Do not risk it."

"Yessir," Andras ran to grab retrieve his weapon, but when he bent down, he felt the dull side of a sword pressed against his neck. He froze, the weapon cool against his skin and looked over his shoulder at Solomon.

"Never turn your back on an opponent," Seeming to sense the overwhelming amount of information he was providing the boy, he grinned, and stepped back, feeling the eyes of unseen guards staring him down. Andraska, as young and as forgiving as he was, was still a noble born. Even though it was sword training, there was only so much he could do until his parents permitted it. Perhaps in a few lessons, he would lay soft blows on the boy, as pain could be quite the teacher. It would toughen him too.

Solomon eyed Andraska, analyzing his frame and imagining what kind of warrior he could grow into. Lithe, but strong. Broad, but not stocky. Perhaps fast, if they continued to stress footwork. The dark eyed male stabbed his weapon into the dirt, and held out a hand to assist the boy to his feet, patting him good naturedly on the back. Truth be told, Andraska was already a better student than many of the other noble born snots he taught in the past. He'd like to stick around, if the young lord would have him, but he knew not to push his luck.

Nobles were a fickle lot.

"Alright," Solomon said, "Practice your parry. First with your right hand, then with your left. I will correct you, then," he smiled, "Lunch."

The boy beamed, grabbed his sword and did as he was told.
Last edited by Andráska Venora on Thu Jun 15, 2017 7:23 am, edited 1 time in total. word count: 1528
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Whisper
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A Boy and His Blade [Venora]

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Andráska Venora


Awarded Points

Story: 5/5
Collaboration: 0/5
Structure: 5/5
These points can/cannot be spent in magic


Awarded Knowledge

Blades: Anatomy of a Sword
Melee: Ambidextrous Fighters Are The Best
Melee: Build Up Strength with Weighted Weapons
Melee: Laziness is Not an Option
Melee: Holding A One Handed Weapon
Melee: Holding A Two Handed Weapon
Melee: Sword is an Extension of your Arm
Strength: Muscles Form through Exercise
Tactics: Never Let Your Guard Down
Tactics: Don't Turn Your Back on An Opponent


Awarded Extras

Loot & Losses Injuries
None None
Fame Devotion
None None
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Comments

Haha so it turns out many of my Knowledges I gave you were the same as the ones I suggested! I changed some to match yours, or added others I thought were fair to award :) Some “Blades” I have made as “Melee”, because I believe they are transferable and not limited to just Swords. IF you have issue with this drop me a PM and we can discuss it.


If you have any questions, comments or criticism about your review, feel free to send me a PM and we can discuss it.
Thank ye.
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