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Post by Finn Edwardsson on Jan 4, 2014 5:50:02 GMT
Finn swung his practice halberd again, his muscles straining from the effort of using the heavy weapon. The other Tiro he was sparring with dodged the blow and tried to make a counter-strike with his wooden sword. Finn spun the haft of the weapon, blocking the sword's advance. He swung again, and the blow connected, knocking the other Tiro down.
An instructor took note of this and called out to him. "Finn! Well done, lad! Keep fighting like that!"
His opponent sat up, looking angry. Whoops. Finn looked down as many of the surrounding Tiros focused their attention on him. Some had stopped mid-swing and were promptly whacked by their opponent. The instructor appeared pleased with that. "Opportunism will get you far against your enemies. Never wait for them to be ready!"
He looked up just in time to see the flat of his partner's sword flying towards his head. Oh, shi--
In an instant, he was seeing stars and was laying on his back on the deck of the Drakonborg. A few snowflakes fell down and landed on his face. He raised his right hand and gave a slow thumbs-up, and most of the Tiros and instructors returned their attention to the fights around the deck. He shook his head to clear it, and sat up. "I'm okay."
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Post by Anton Nystrom on Jan 4, 2014 23:40:11 GMT
Hjalmar sat on the deck of the airship, and he watched the two sparring Tiros with interest. The one named Finn seemed to be slightly less sure of his weapon, or perhaps it was simply the other Tiro's anger and passion that caused him to swing so surely. The fight was respectable, regardless. They both held their swords well and with both dignity and passion.
It was quite the motivation, not wanting to lose. Perhaps anyone can understand that. Being right is a core instinct of humanity, and it is an instinct that so many preyed upon. Hjalmar fell prey to it nearly daily.
He picked himself up and called out to the one named Finn, “Oi, mind if I take my chances against you? Need a bit of practice myself.” He picked up a practice halberd for himself and stood lopsidedly across from the two Tiros. “That is, if your friend here doesn't mind me sparring with you.”
He knew his way around a sword as well as any Drakonrhedi, but he didn't specialize in it like some did. His sword technique was rusty and basic, but he was quick and ruthless as well. A sword to him was one of the perfect examples of expression. It required technique and training, but also ruthlessness and little mercy. He enjoyed sparring, even if he was far from the best swordsman. He was probably one of the worst swordsmen on this ship.
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