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DRAGONMOUNT

A WHEEL OF TIME COMMUNITY

Prepare for Pain--Basic Swordsmanship for Dreadies


devon
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Sevrud paced the floor across the training room in which he stood. There was a window, sometimes to his left and other times to his right, but no matter what side of him it faced he refused to look out. There was something about the landscape which made him uneasy. Not just uneasy, this place is absolutely terrifying. I am deep within the blight, near Thakan'dar itself! It seems as if creation is tearing itself apart out that window. He quit his pacing and gripped the hilt of his sword. He usually never wore the thing unless he had to, preferring instead the knives he kept hidden under his clothes. Walking around the circles he currently did, it was odd to see someone like himself carrying a blade, let alone a superbly manufactured sword like his own. In times past when he had ridden up north with Osan'gar and Caladesh, the thing had saved his life more then once. But as time had passed, he had found himself less on the battlefield and more at court or at an inn. But today, he had no choice but to wear the thing, for he was to be teaching young people in the art of wielding it. Moving over to a chair, he swung the sword over the side, put his hands behind his head, closed his eyes, and remembered how he had gotten to this place.

 

He had been walking through Cairhein, looking and acting the very image of a middle class businessman. He always dressed like something different every time he went to a message drop, just one more precaution to take from being recognized and discovered for what he was, a dark friend. Moving quickly through the crowds, he tried to avoid eye contact with anyone, not that he would be remembered. He had a very plain face, and while it was a constant annoyance in the world of love, it had served him well in completing missions in the past. He had just passed the inn called The Pride of the Sun, a decent enough establishment, and turned into the alley on it's right. He walked about halfway down until he came to a small hole in the brick. Rubbing his hand against the hole as he walked by it, he felt and grabbed the thin piece of wire that just barely stuck out. As it came free, a small piece of parchment was pulled along and Sevrud put it into a pocket without looking at it. He checked this hiding spot once a week, but there hadn't been anything here for months. Being as high up in the ranks of dark friends as he was, he rarely ever received orders, but instead was usually left up to his own devices in how to complete his missions. Hurrying back towards his house, he literally sped through the crowd, both fearful and excited to see what this new communique held within. Once at his desk, he took off the wire and spread the note out in front of him. Working through the cypher, it told him he was to expect transport to the Fortress within the blight the next day at eight o'clock. A cold sweat broke out down his face. This was no ordinary mission request, but a summons of the most serious nature. He quickly grabbed the snifter of brandy that he kept at a nearby table and grabbed the top off. He poured the harsh liquor down his throat until he started coughing, and then began praying to the Creator which he no longer served. What have I done that could warrant this trip? he thought, I either am going to either be rewarded greatly or tortured and killed like a dog.

 

He spent the rest of the day planning things amongst his servants to hold the household down while he was away. Messages had to be sent to contacts, friends, and others letting them know he had been called out of town for a spell and to not expect him to be home. It would not do to have someone come by and to start asking questions. He sharpened his knives, his sword, and prepared his clothes. Sleep came fitfully that night, and he had such horrible dreams of trollocs and other creatures of the dark that he awoke no less then three times throughout the night. Morning came and went quickly, with Sevrud making a few last preparations for his journey. He tried to read at one point, but could never get past a few pages before turning to worry. Work, both of a legitimate and darker nature did nothing to calm his nerves. In the end, he took to his study with a very fine Andoran wine and tried to relax. This helped somewhat and by the time eight o'clock rolled around he at least wasn't sweating or breathing excessively hard. He looked up when he saw a slash of silver light rotate around in his study, opening up into a hole in thin air. He had seen these before when he had worked closely with Caladesh, and remembered they were called gateways. Sighing as much out of despair as an attempt to keep his breathing calm, he picked up his things and walked forward. A shorter woman stood in the gateway, wearing a black dress and a black mask that covered the top part of her face. Sunny blond hair spilled past her shoulders, something which seemed to be out of place on someone so dark. She motioned for Sevrud to come forward, and without hesitation he stepped through the portal. Once he was inside, it snapped shut behind him, transporting him from the hot sunny Cairhenian sun to this cold dark fortress. She told him to follow and explained what was to happen. He was to be involved in some new plans which were to began shortly, and in the meantime he was to instruct up and coming dread lords and ladies in the sword while he waited. Sevrud nodded and followed her to a room, where she closed the door behind him. And it was in here that he now sat.

 

Getting out of his chair, Sevrud began pacing once more. He was somewhat worried about his pupils. He was never easy around those who could wield the one power. It represented an unknown to him, something he could never hope to understand or defend against. He knew that in this room the young men and women's powers would be nullified, or so the woman in black had told, so he could teach how he wanted and not worry about repercussions. This brought a small smile to his face; he always loved when role reversals happened, but only when he was on the upper hand. He stopped his pacing when he heard a knock on the door. "Come in," he said loudly, trying to put a little intimidation into his voice. It was much better to have your pupils fear you then respect you, for respect could always be broken with just the right amount of fear and pain. Several young men and women marched into the room, all carrying swords in sheathes in their hands, just as he expected. He never let people who were not ready to wear them do so in his presence, it caused swagger in youth. Pointing to an invisible line on the floor, he watched as they lined up and faced him. Putting one hand on his hilt, he looked at his new students. Sorry looking bunch they are. It doesn't seem any have training so far, judging by the way they hold themselves. That will change soon. Walking closer, he said in a commanding voice "My name is Sevrud Randra, and I will be teaching you how to not kill yourself with those blades you hold in your hands. First order of business, I want you to all hold out your dominant hand and tell me your names." Pointing to the person on the far left end, Sevrud told them "Starting with you."

 

Sevrud Randra

 

ooc. All right, start out by talking about how your char is feeling about this class, getting to the room, and reactions. Any thing else is good as well, the more you put into an rp the more you get out of it. Good Luck!

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<i>”Trousers,”</i> Rendra hrmphed to herself as she headed towards the room she'd been directed to for the class, <i>“Why do they feel so.. indecent?!”</i>

 

She had been very happy to hear that they were going to let some of the Adepts and Acolytes train in weapons, and had jumped at the chance to learn something about it.  After all, she had hoped to become an Assassin initially before they realized she could channel and shoved her in with this lot.  Even if the young Acolyte had come to terms with being able to channel, she took it to heart that one shouldn't depend on that ability... <i>”Even if it means feeling a little indecent,</i>” she continued to grump to herself as she approached the room the class was to be taking place in.

 

A couple of other Acolytes had lined themselves up along one wall outside the room, so she wandered over and joined them.  A few were conversing quietly with each other, but as Rendra had thusfar managed to not get to know anyone that well in and amongst those training in the Fortress, she contented herself to wait.  Which wasn't terribly long; a voice shortly called out and bade them to enter.

 

As she stepped through the doorway, her eyes widened slightly; she didn't know what was really different.  There was nothing special about the room she could see; windows looking out into the strange sky of the Blight near Thanka'dar, which was always a bit disconcerting. 

 

As she lined up where the instructor had pointed, she spent a moment looking at the man who was to teach them the sword – a plain man trying to look fierce; he didn't strike her as anything in particular.  Nor had Rendra seen him around the Fortress before, but that could mean anything; the Fortress wasn't exactly a small place, so it shouldn't surprise her if there was someone she'd not met yet leading one of her classes.

 

He spoke again, pointing at someone on the other end of the line, “My name is Sevrud Randra, and I will be teaching you how to not kill yourself with those blades you hold in your hands. First order of business, I want you to all hold out your dominant hand and tell me your names.  Starting with you.”  When it was her turn, she held out her right hand and announced her name, “Rendra Harella, sir.”

 

 

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Rebecca was in an uncharacteristically good mood that day. Finally, after weeks and weeks of training on that whole One Power stuff she could barely do anything more useful than light a candle with so far, there would be training in something she understood. Blades. For all the talk about forming her to a weapon, they offered preciously little training in the way of more common weaponry, making moments like this one few and far between.

 

She strode into the hallway, wearing a somewhat boyish vest and trousers for the occasion. She had found them stuffed in the back of her closet, and had assumed they belonged to the previous occupant. Despite the clothes being more fit for a boy, and therefore tight in some places, it was still a decent fit. Besides, if she was going to be picky about training clothes, she'd might as well have become a seamstress. As a personal touch, the top button or two had been left undone, both allowing a small degree of cleavage to be shown as well as provide some additional space for her chest. But mostly for the cleavage. She was part Domani after all...

 

"Come in"

 

Giving herself a brief nod, she walked into the room, standing in line with the other students when she was told to. The voice had been intimidating, but she was used to that. Fear had been one of the first things she had learned to master, a dangerous emotion capable of overruling all others if used correctly. Even in the Fortress, fear is what kept the students from killing each other off, though she suspected there would be... exceptions.

 

- "Rebecca Célestin, sir. I'm ambidextrous."

 

When it was her turn, rather than hold out a single hand, she held out two. She had been training to use both since her childhood, another weakness her father had been all too willing to beat out of her. She still remembered how she spent several weeks with one hand tied behind her back from sunup 'till sundown, until he was content she could use either hand with equal ease. Though she was careful not to have it show, she smiled warmly at the memory.

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Terra hobbled down the corridor. Her teacher had told her to take this course. Something about being tired of her clumsiness and hoping this would improve grace and posture. Terra, of course, didn't question it, so here she was, in the middle of a dark corridor in front of an ominous door. Very ominous. She knocked and was bid to enter, so she did as told.

 

"Terra Cyrene, master," she said to the man, holding her left hand out. It came naturally. Her hunch was on her right side. She stood ackwardly in line while the others reported.

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Dainin was frustrated and angry. Go take the beginning swordsman class, he says! I don't care what your past is, here you will learn what I tell you! Now go!, he says! He knew he was weak with physical weapons, it was his size and the fact that he just didn't want to learn swords when he was getting so much better at Saidin! So he stormed down the hall in a black mood that only showed in his eyes, barely giving proper respect to his superiors and none to any of his fellow Acolytes. By now his fiery nature was a well known thing and most just let him go as long as he didn't use Saidin foolishly while in a rage. Why shouldn't they as it never goes past his smouldering eyes.

 

He was the last one to show up and barely made it in the door before it closed. He was instantly flat on his back in a stupor. He had been holding Saidin, as he always did in a mood, and had just felt it forcefully ripped from him. Lying there a moment panting and wondering what or who had done it, he missed what the teacher was saying.

 

Standing up slowly he listened to the others to figure out what he was doing. Then the man stood before him and Dainin couldn't help but wonder why this plain and pathetic man was teaching him swords. His last teacher had been a warrior of Arafel and hard as a rock, while this man looked old and falling apart. However, Dainin knew well enough about disobedience so instead of glaring he gave the man a crooked smile. Then he held out his left hand while saying in a soft and calm voice, " Dainin Raskowa sir. The room is made to prevent channeling isn't it?" Then he waited for the reaction that would say whether it was the room or this man that blocked him.

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Sevrud watched the young dreads walk in. They all appeared to be in varying moods, from excited and upbeat, to downright miserable. The one thing they had in common though was they at least seemed somewhat healthy, which was a relief. He had had the misfortune of trying to teach one armed men before, people so large they couldn't not touch their toes, and even a blind man once. The fat one was the worse, some nobleman I was commanded to instruct when I worked for him, just so he could try dueling in Ebou Dar. Pity the pig was stuck in the first few days we were there, I would have liked to kill him myself the way he treated me. Sevrud was just musing as the last student walked in, and then immediately hit the floor. He couldn't hide the smirk that came to his lips as the young man got to his feet confused and started looking around. "As you may have noticed by now, this room will prevent you from channeling, or even touching the source," Sevrud told the class in front of him. "This way, should I do something that you do not like, which I assure I will, you can't use any nasty little tricks on me to get back at me." He started pacing back and forth, looking at the youth as they seemed to be searching for the source. He couldn't tell if they did, but by the looks on their faces full of astonishment and a hint of fear he assumed that's what was occurring. This indeed was going to be fun.

 

Moving to the lad who had just fallen, Sevrud reached out and grabbed his right hand. The young man looked confused again as Sevrud felt the palm for callouses. He always liked to check this first. It put the tutored person on edge and also added to the superior quality of the teacher. It also let Sevrud see just what kind of person he was working with. Not that there were many differences between a swords mans callouses and a farmers, but you could easily feel how much physical labor a person did and guess at what kind of work they had done in the past. The first man's hands were somewhat smooth. Damn, could easily be some spoiled brat! I hope this is not some rich man's son who I have to walk through every step of the way. That would just be the best way to start an already incredible day. Who moved away from the man who called himself Dainin and onto the lady who introduced herself as Terra. Not much better, this one. The only thing this one has going for her is that she is left handed, which will trip up a dolt for a second or two. But that's about it. He moved on to the right and stopped for a second. In front of him was an attractive coppery skinned woman named Rebecca holding both her hands out. Grabbing them and he looked at her hands and felt them. Hmm, this one seems to have worked a little in her time. I wonder if she has a little potential I can work with. Before he moved on, Sevrud took a long glance down the top of her open shirt. He had always loved the stories of Domani women, especially when they appeared before him in the flesh. Smirking, Sevrud moved on to the last trainee in the line. She too appeared to have a little roughness to the palm, and an almost eager look in her eyes. This Rendra girl he would use as an example, he decided, to teach the others. Stepping back in front of them, he began his lesson.

 

"You don't appear to be the worse I've trained, but far from the best by a mile. The first thing you will do is always call me sir. I'm not going to give you my name because frankly, you don't deserve to know it yet. The first thing I want you to do is to put down those real swords and pick up some of those," pointing to a bunch of lathes in the corner of the room. "I am positive you are not ready to hold bared steel without injuring someone you don't intend or even yourself. Now pair up to the person next to you. The first thing you will do is to learn how to parry and to strike. Observe." Unsheathing his own sword, he held it upright in front of him at an angle, left foot behind his right. "When you strike, I don't want to see anyone hacking like your cutting down a tree. This wastes time and energy, and makes you look the fool. Instead, I want to see you flow and cut, being precise as possible. When parrying, don't try to block your opponent's blade head on. Instead, try your best to deflect it away from you off to the side." He demonstrated what these motions looked like several times, in real tim and in slow motion. When Sevrud noticed the students nodding to themselves, he stopped and turned. "Now I want you to try these to things with your partner. Take turns or spar if you want, I don't really care. I'll be going around and if I see mistakes, you will definitely feel it." With a laugh, he picked up his own lathe, cracked it on the floor and shouted "Begin!"

 

Sevrud Randra

 

ooc. All right, practice the two things. The partners go in order I interviewed, Dainin and Terra together, and Rebecca and Randra together. Also bear with me if I seem to post slowly. I've never really done group training before, so I'm still trying to learn how to gauge timing and stuff. Have fun!

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((OOC - my partner is currently on vacation, and not due back for a week and change; I'll do my best to improvise around this!  Also, sorry if it's sort of short and crappy; I'm having a really hard time getting my brain into writing mode this week.  Also also, hope you don't mind I wrote you in a bit, Jeh; I'm hoping to hit you on MSN when you're back to fill in the gaps! <3 ))

 

Rendra patted her pinned back braids and listened to their mysterious instructor, or <i>sir</i>, as he deigned to not share his name. <i>”A bit rude that, but then, people here are a bit odd,”</i> she thought to herself as the man started explaining that they would be using practice lathes instead of bare steel.  <i>”Probably wise that, though; some of these people look as if they've never even picked up a dagger to cut their own meat!”</i>

 

Their instructor showed them a few moves, and Rendra nodded along; she vaguely comprehended the point he was trying to make, but had a feeling it would make more sense once she got into it.  The strange man noticed the nodding, stopped, and turned to the group and instructed them to pair off with the person next to them, gesturing for those who were confused.  Nodding again, Rendra turned to her assigned partner.

 

A bit taller than her, and a bit slimmer, the other woman looked like a bit like the Domani tramps that passed for merchants she'd seen in the streets around Tanchico, <i>“A short Domani, perhaps.. kind of pale too, but she could just be ill?”</i> The young Taraboner had no real idea; she'd not really taken notice of any of the other Adepts around the Quarters – they were just other people, and as long as they kept their distance, she was generally content.

 

Rendra gestured towards the lathes, and started walking towards them.  As he other woman followed to pick one out, Rendra introduced herself, “I'm Rendra.. you are?”

 

“Rebecca,” the taller woman offered as she took a lathe, and said no more.

 

Nodding, Rendra did her best to emulate the parry stance the teacher had shown, making sure her right hand was the hand closer to the 'blade'.  Holding it before her, she experimentally moved her lathe to a block position, noting how her arms (and especially her elbows!) moved as she slanted her practice blade one way or the other.  She noted Rebecca doing the same, and spoke, “Did you want to try a spar, then?”

 

 

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Dainin watched as the man grabbed his right hand instead of his left and after the man walked away contemptously he laughed out loud. " Sir you are a fool! Sir! You may be able to teach me and be my master here but you can't tell up from down outside of here Sir!" he sneered. " I am left handed! See!?" he held out his left hand and the callouses were evident of his years trying to wield a sword. The man didn't need to know he was probably the worst swordsman ever. " I will do as you say in here but outside of here..." He let the threat hang there, what wasn't said couldn't be punished after all!

 

Then he controlled himself by calling the flame, and ached for the Power that normally came with it. After he got out of this class he would figure out a way to circumvent this rooms power. He listened and watched as the 'Sir' showed them what to do. He was irritated but needed this class no matter how much he thought it was pointless. When it was time he nodded to 'Sir' before looking at Terra. " Shall we!?"

 

Then he strode toward the lathes and faced off against her. He swung the lathe in slow swings to get a feel for the attacks and blocks he was shown and waited for Terra to be ready.

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Why is he feeling my hand? That's very odd, but who am I to question the master, I mean sir. terra cautiously went to take a lathe. On her way back to Dainin, she ended up tripping over it and falling to the ground. Her left hand started to bleed from her palm, but 'sir' had told her to train, so she must do it. She got up and tried to take her stance, but it loked incredibly strange and she felt ackward. She swung the lathes a bit, to get a feel for them. She felt them all right, seeing as she ended up hitting herself between the eyes. Coming back to her senses, she resumed the stance and waited for Dainin to start. "Ummm, you start."

 

Terra Cyrene

Going to fail this class

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Dainin almost laughed out loud at the girls bumbling attempts. If it wasn't for the Void he would have! I may not be good but this girl is going to make me look like I am at least competent! Moving in a slow, yet steady, advance he made his way towards her and struck low for her knees.

 

OOC:Ok Tigara, how do you want to do this? I feel that since you seem intent on failing you can post a few attacks and blocks as you see fit for your char and then I can fill in the blanks for Dainin inmy post. K?

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Though she took care in keeping her expression blank, she mentally grinned as she noticed the man look down her blouse. Though he was an outsider to the Fortress, he was no doubt high in rank to be summoned for the task of teaching them, and the fact he appeared to be susceptible to her charms -- or at least distracted by them -- bode well for the future.

 

Taking this into consideration for her future plans, her mind was still working out plans on how to use, how to control those that for now were still her superiors when Rendra spoke up, making her reply almost automatically. As soon as she noticed though, she stopped before giving her last name. Rendra hadn't either, and there were those in Cairhien that would still remember who her father was.

 

Looking at the shorter girl, she slipped into a stance, in the meantime mentally cursing the fact that the lathes were sword sized as opposed to her preferred dagger sized weapons. Still, no use complaining about that, as it seemed to apply to everyone. Slipping into a stance, she looked at Rendra, waiting for the woman to propose what type of training she preferred to do. There had been too many instances where she had been told that her daggers were useless, and that she needed to become a weapon herself, using the One Power. To finally be able to wield a weapon again felt... almost comfortable, and a confirmation of what she had kept believing.

 

 

Rebecca

Told ya melee was important too

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  • 2 weeks later...

Dainin bid as she said and he swung low toward her knees. She tried to block it, but she blocked too high and it went under her lathe and a loud thrack was heard as it met with her knee. Blood and ashes, that hurt! She would have to move faster if she didn't want another one of those creating a large welt. She steadied herself as Dainin swung toward her shoulder, then moved her lathe upward and blocked it. What? She actually blocked it? Sac le bleu!! Dainin looked equally surprised, so she took this opportunity to swing her lathe toward his right side.

 

Terra Cyrene

Possibly confident

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((OOC - sorry on the delay, I'm crap... hopefully this will suit))

 

She stood there, posed and waiting for a response.  The taller woman, Rebecca, appeared to be staring off at the distance.  Raising an eyebrow, Rendra opened her mouth to speak again, but fell silent, <i>"Maybe I should just pummel this hussy if she's going to be inattentive,"</i> she thought to herself, gripping the practice lathe more tightly.

 

Her mind made up, Rendra's muscles tensed as she struck.  To her surprise, Rebecca came out of her seeming stupor enough to parry the blow.  Eyes narrowing, Rendra struck again... only to be parried again.  As focused as she was on trying to strike the other woman, she didn't notice the half-Domani girl's change in stance, and yelped as Rebecca's lathes swished towards her.  Shifting backwards, Rendra managed to only just miss getting whapped as she got her lathe up in time to block.

 

 

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  • 2 weeks later...

OOC: Argh! Checked this thread for updates at work weeks ago, then forgot doing that removes the 'new post' thing. My bad >_<

 

IC:

 

Noticing movement in the corner of her eye, Rebecca instinctively brought her hands up, amanging a parry through a fair share of luck. Another attack came, but now she was ready for it, deflecting the blow like she would have done with a dagger. So she was going to go that way, was she?

 

Even though she wasn't particularly skilled in dueling -- almost all of her kills had been stealthy, after all -- she managed to get a couple of decent attacks in, and much to her own amusement Rendra was almost as bad as she was when it came to handling a weapon. She knew it to be a weakness of hers though, and felt more than a little motivated to do her best in this class. As a matter of fact, the more everyone at the Fortress kept saying she should drop the weapons and get to using saidar for every little thing, the more it encouraged her to learn more about the same weapons. If they were too shortsighted to see their own weaknesses form then so be it, but they weren't going to drag her down with these petty ideas about becoming a 'one-trick pony' if she had a say in it!

 

The sparring continued, Rebecca slowly becoming more and more irritated at how weapons were being treated here. Her movements were starting to become a bit wilder as she channeled her anger into her blows. Nothing personal to this 'Rendra', of course, but in order to change things she needed people who shared her views. Which, unfortunately for Rendra, meant trying to beat her soundly as she was now making genuine attempts to hit her.

 

 

Rebecca

Take this! And that!

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Glaring at the taller woman, Rendra's stance was probably beyond sub-par as she did her best to keep from getting hit.  <i>"What is the matter with this insane woman?!"</i> she thought, wincing as another blow landed.

 

Neither of them were that good, obviously; they were just learning, but this Rebecca character seemed like she was seriously out to kill the poor Taraboner woman.  Rendra's own swings were becoming more erratic to match the taller woman's strikes, and her arms becoming leaden from being forced to continue through motions her body was unfamiliar with.

 

Her eyes widened slightly as Rebecca continued to press her; the other woman's face was contorted in a grimace of concentration that the shorter woman was unaware of matching.  Her breath was coming in laboured gasps as she strove for reach, to actually hit the other woman.  Oh, she managed a few strikes, though not as many as the taller woman.

 

Rendra growled; a shriek escaped between her teeth as she attempted to advance on the other woman... someone needed a good braining, and it wasn't going to be <i>this</i> Taraboner that got one!

 

 

Rendra

Put yer Dukes up, Hussy!

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The woman advancing on her caused Rebecca to blink for an instance. During that instance, she recieved a rather nasty blow to the cheek, which knocked any strategic thought out of her head. Dropping the sword -- it was useless at this short range anyway -- she went on the defensive as she blocked a couple of blows. Though she was taller, her build was fairly light so the other woman was actually a bit heavier than she was, causing her to be pushed back from every blocked blow.

 

However, she wasn't without skills of her own. The strikes she aimed in response to Rendras flurry of blows were made with the tip of her digits. Though she lacked the accuracy to land her strikes in the right places, the ones that did would end up more than compensating for her lack of physical strength. She had always been more agile than strong, and a close up fight was not the kind of situation she was comfortable with.

 

Then the woman threw herself at her, this time sending the both of them on the floor as they started wrestling. Whatever semblance of weapon training this class was trying to teach, it had nothing to do with the two women currently trying to pound each other into the ground.

 

 

Rebecca

Catfight!

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The class seemed to be getting out of hand. The different pairs were beating each other to a pulp, with little finesse or skill involved in any of their wide strokes. It was like watching children hitting the tops off of flowers with a stick, except these children were supposed to be some of the most powerful beings in the world soon. If I didn't know better, I would fear for the future. I remember when dread lords like Caladesh strode these halls. Just speaking with him sent cold sweat dripping down my spine. And he was nothing compared to the Great Master Osan'gar. At least after I can leave I can work with the likes of them, and not these imbeciles. Sevrud put his fingers in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle that filled the room. He expected everyone to put their lathes down and turn and face him, but no one listened. They kept wailing on each other, especially the two young women who seemed to be in a life or death struggle. With a snort, Sevrud grabbed his lathe in his hands and moved into action.

 

Dancing up towards the pair of Terra and Dainin, he swung his reeds down first on Terra's wrist, smashing it and making her drop the lathe. She cried out in pain and grabbed the injured wrist, while at the same time Sevrud's hand grabbed Dainin's practice sword and brought his own into the side of the young man's head. He too fell to the ground, but Sevrud was still moving. One of the lathes in his hand flew careening into Rendra's back, while Rebecca's wild sword swing crashed into Sevrud's shoulder. Even though these young dread lords and ladies weren't capable with their weapons, having a hard group of reeds smash into your shoulder was painful. Grunting, Sevrud pivoted on one foot and set the other into the soft middle of the coppery skinned woman's stomach. She fell down onto the floor with the others, gasping for air. Almost as soon as it had started it was over. Massaging his bruised shoulder, Sevrud looked at the young ones lying on the floor. They were all displaying pained faces and massaging wounds. It doesn't seem fair to fight those just trying to learn the sword. But if they had been better, I would be massaging more then just a bruised shoulder. Walking over to his sword, he picked it up.

 

"I know that you are in some pain, but ignore that. There is one more thing I'm going to show you before I leave." Putting his sword around his waist, he quickly drew it and took a stance. "Every day for an hour you are going to get into different positions and draw and sheathe your sword. This is a very important lesson, for if you can't get your blade out before someone is on top of you, it doesn't matter if you are the greatest swordsman of all time, you can still die as quickly as everyone else." Sheathing the silver blade, he sat cross legged on the floor and drew his blade, then while laying on the ground, and in several other positions before he was satisfied that they knew he meant every position they could think of. Motioning towards their own blades in the corner, Jasen watched them attempt to do what he had done. They didn't do it perfectly, but they were able to get the blades out in a reasonable amount of time. After they all showed him, he held up his hand for them to stop. "That's it. This lesson is over right now. You haven't done poorly, but it is far from where you need to be to wear those blades on your hip with any hope of using it to protect yourself. Now, you are more then welcome to continue your training in here, or else you can try and get someone to look at those bruises. Either way, you are to stay in this room for another ten minutes after I leave. If any of you think of trying to follow me and get some sort of revenge, you will be able to play with the Myrrdral in the trolloc camps." Hitching his sword, Sevrud swept from the room and out the door. He moved quickly through the halls back to the room he had arrived from. Falling down onto his bed, he closed his eyes against the uncomfortable feeling which had plagued him ever since arriving in Shayol Ghul itself. I hope I can get out of her soon. This place is tearing my sanity to shreds. I don't know how much longer I can stay. Sevrud continued to lay on the bed, and slowly drifted off into a nightmare filled sleep.

 

Sevrud Randra

 

ooc. Well, thats all I have for this. If you want to keeps going with it, be my guest, but consider this class over!

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Growling, Rendra has most happy to drop her weapon and grapple with the slightly taller weapon.  For all the Taraboner wanted to learn the sword, she was already <i>most</i> familiar with pounding someone to a pulp bare-fisted!

 

So intent she was on trying to rip the other woman to shreds (and obviously, vice versa), it was an extreme shock when someone's practice blade slammed into her back, causing her to shove Rebecca into yet another trainee.  In short order, they were all on the floor; the severity of the bruising and pain started to become evident to all in the class as they stopped moving and turned their attention back to the instructor.

 

He had fetched his sword, this <i>sir</i>, and sat cross-legged in front of them.  It seemed that the pummeling wasn't enough, and now the masochist expected the lot of them to shift around practicing drawing and re-sheathing their swords!  And to demonstrate it back to him!

 

Moving stiffly along with his demonstration, Rendra could understand what this <i>sir</i> person meant; if you couldn't get your blade out in time, you might as well ask to be cut down in a sword fight.  So she followed along assiduously, and did her best to demonstrate what she'd learned... stiffly, true, but at least she was making the effort.

 

Even so, it was a <b>great</b> relief to be dismissed; she had a date with a hot bath and a nap.

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Forcing herself to start breathing again, Rebecca bit her tongue to hold back from trying to bury the man in profanities. Or grab this saidar they all seemed to be so fond of and blow up the room or something. Fortunately for all parties involved, her self control managed to take over before any of that could happen.

 

Despite wanting to repay this... favor back to Sevrud one day, she was at least smart enough to realise that that 'one day' wasn't anytime soon, much less today. She needed to get better first, and to get better she needed to shift her training to allow for more weapons training. Glancing at Rendra, she suppressed the urge to smile. With a little luck, her seeds would be planted, and the woman would be more than a little interested in returning the bruises she had given her. In addition, her teachers would be encouraged to give more weapon training classes by her appaling performance just now.

 

She did as she was told, drawing and sheathing the lathe she had picked up from the ground again. Though she was far more familiar with a dagger and -- to a lesser extent -- crossbow, she nevertheless stuck with sword training. For now, her apparent lack of skill with this particular weapon would come in useful to her needs, and there would always be the option to 'specialise' in her old branch of weapons later on.

 

As she was dismissed, she waited ten minutes before leaving as well. She had more bruises than she'd like to admit, and figured some rest would give her body some time to heal.

 

 

Rebecca

Bruised, battered... but undefeated

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