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Weapons Class [ATTN: All Dedicated]


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Try as it might, the wind-driven rain could not perturb the grizzled features of the man standing, ankle-deep in mud, the sole inhabitant of the Black Tower’s training yards this miserable day. While his hidden mind resembled the storm around him, nothing passed across his ruined face as his lone eye searched the watery landscape for his class.


Standing in only his uniform black pants and a vest of the same colour, sanity was not the first thought to mind upon view. It was the foremost thought in his turbulent mind however. When his students finally straggled in, fighting the elements, Isha banished his doubts and began the class. He knew all the Dedicated already, having taught them all as Soldiers and knew that some would struggle mightily with this lesson.


“You have your weapons, gentlemen?” he called over the wind. At their affirmations, he smirked “Now the question is if you can use them. Find a partner who you won’t mind beating the living daylights out of... or the other way around in some cases. Extras are stuck with me.” Glancing around to see that all had followed orders- that had- he gave them their final instructions. “Now spar.”


Ooc: find yourself a partner and spar. I want two posts form each on the spar, you pick who wins and then we’ll move on.



Isha Talcontar




Aslan was walking to class, the weapons felt strange carying in the belt, it was not something he was used to. At home others had carried them out, at the road he had them straped in the sadle, and since he came here he had practised to much with the one power to do much with his weapons skills.


Futher more when it came down to it, they hadnt been his choise, well the bow still back in his room had, but the axe and dagger was tradtion. The Double headed axe crossed with the Quillion Dagger on a blue field made out their familys emblem.


And so every son of their household learned those two weapons, how it had come to be he was not sure, with his family beeing quite old the story behind it had been lost in time. He had always had problems not beeing of the strongest build to wield the bloody axe, and none less from the horseback where he had been thougth he was ment to use it.


However this morning picking it up had felt difrent and he had realised the daily work out in the mornings had strengthened his body, and so it wasnt that bad. To be sure of beeing prepared he had also straped the dagger to the back of his belt.


Aslan looked for an oponent, most with swords, which pretty much made the choise for him, he was not about giving up the length advantage of the axe, to be at disadvantage with the shorter dagger against those swords. And otherwise he would just have to relly on his footwork to not be to rusty, thoug it would be weird swinging the axe without the heigth gained from the horseback. As a noble most his training had happened from the back of a horse as it was unlikely he would ever if in the unlikelyhood of going to batle at all, be at foot.





Player of Semirhage

I voted! Did You?




The wind driven rain seemed to stop inches from his face as it expanded out across the surface of the invisible barrier; tinny rivers of collected droplets giving it a cracked glass appearance. Those who could use Saidin, could wield it's power would be able to see the air shield. It's appearance was no more a concern then the weather it's self. Linten needed to hone and perfect his skills with the one power if he was going to be able to complete the tasks he had assigned to himself and as such worked with Saidin as often as he could. Today was no exception until he turned the corner and spotted the little group out in the yard, His tall and scared mentor standing at the head of the group. No one held on to Saidin; held weaves of any kind.


With a sigh of reluctance he released the weave and watched it dissipate, the rain at first a spatter making it's way to his dark clothes and then the full force of the storms fury lashing down on him. Isha had requested he bring his sword with him so the bastard was strapped across his back like it had that night Isha had taken him from this place. A tendril of cold fear tried to reach up and squeeze at his heart but he ignored it's icy touch and focused intently on the man that had been his instructor and mentor since his arrival to the yards; to both arrivals to the yard.


Standing just off to the left of the main group Linten listened to Isha's dry humor and instruction while his eyes scanned those present. It seemed the weapon of choice was the traditional sword but there were variations to that. Some longer, some shorter, even some with wicked curves to their blades. There was also a few unique in their own right; making note of a man with a firm grip on the shaft of an axe. His eyes were also roving over the crowd and Linten took a moment to ensure he made eye contact with the other. He was here to learn what he could, to master whatever skills the Creator blessed him with for the hunt he had planned.


This little trifle with hand weapons was most likely some way Isha believed he could break or bring back to heel his old mentee. For posterity sake he would humor the tall man and work with this group on weapons of steel and wood. But all he really needed was Saidin and all the weaves and practice he could lay his hands on. His enemies would be dead before they even were close enough to make out his eye color. Feeling the sudden sensation of being watched Linten turned his gaze back to the front and noted Isha's stare with a nod of his head; worked to release the sneer on his face before setting out to find a partner. Blend and be one of them, no notice, drawn no eye before it is time.


Linten al'Dracain

Working for the future


OOC: Estel and Ata, I hope you don't mind me putting the thread back up. I just wanted to add my post to it and notice it got ate in the outage. If ou want to go back and post your own let me know and I will delete this one.

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Vykor stood in the driving rain, the chill water and gusting wind pushed into the background of his mind as he centered himself for the coming exercise. He could have attempted to weave a shield to keep the rain from soaking him to the bone, but what was the point. Within the Void, such discomforts were not his to worry about, but his opponent across from him was.


A steady rivalry had grown up between himself and the other black-clad man, not out of malice, but out of the desire for perfection. Today would be as good as any to see who was better with the blade. Live-steel no longer held any fear to Vykor, so as his opponent sent cut after cut his way, rain-slicked blade slicing and cutting the space between the two men as if he intended to shear through the wind and rain, Vykor ignored the weapon. Instead he focused upon the man.


Watching his opponent move was like gazing upon his own shadow, and knowing this, Vykor was able to evade the razor-sharp blade coming at him with relative ease. And with each cut foiled, and each swing blocked or avoided, he could see the frustration rising up within his black-clad shadow.


Vykor was grateful for the long hours he had spend working on his bladework and forms, both on his own at night, and with Isha. The time and sacrifice were being to pay off.


Breathing out quickly and dismissing his errant thoughts, Vykor had to jerk his head back sharply as his opponent came in with River Undercuts the Bank. The cut would have laid open his forehead and blinded him with his own blood if he had been just a hair slower. Dancing back slightly to give himself a bit more room for a second, Vykor dipped his head in salute to this now grinning opponent. The other man knew he had caught Vykor napping. It would not happen again.


Surging forward, Vykor flower through Cat Dances on the Wall and stepped back for half a heart beat before thrusting forward with Hummingbird Kisses the Honeyrose.


There were no more grins from his circling opponent again after that.


ooc: Whoever wants to, go ahead and be my sparing partner and then I will edit my post to include your name.

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  • 4 weeks later...

Occ: this is my post if I am allowed to take part



Bratr moved to stand and face Vykor. The rain was beginning to get on hos nerves. He hopped from foot to foot. His shoulder was hurting from his long months couped up in the sick bay. He spat at the ground to clear his mouth and then he looked Vykor in the eye and bent his head just enough for the courtesy required from a Soldier to a Dedicated. Bratr formed the Void like he had been taught. Burning all his emotion and thought, throwing it into that thin flame in the center of darkness.


Bratr drew his sword and attacked swinging low, aiming at Vykor's left knee. Just before he met blades with Vykor he changed the swords direction and cut at Vykor's shoulder. He was denied blood by Vykor's sword. Bratr had to concentrate on maintaining the void as uncertainty threatened to envelope him.


Attack. Defend. Attack. Defend. Sword met sword as they danced. They carried on, neither giving an inch. Bratr several times though he saw an opening, only to be denied by Vykor's fast movements. Bratr fought technically, meeting the attacks mechanically and without flourish. Even his attacks were though surprising to some, in reality very organized and predictable. Bratr didn't have the speed nor the strength of Vykor and soon felt frustrated and weary of the constant ringing of blades. Bratr started to rely on deflecting Vykor's blade rather then meeting it head on how he had been for part of the fight.


After another few thrusts and parries Vykor's eyes seemed to become distant for a moment. Bratr struck, River Undercuts the Bank. CLANG! Somehow Vykor managed to stop his blade. Still Bratr had to grin. He had finally caught Vykor of guard. As Vykor danced back Bratr watched him carefully. Bratr moved as soon as Vykor twitched. Cat Dances on the Wall met (sorry can't think of good counter form). Bratr was about to congratulate himself when he was forced to scramble as Hummingbird Kisses the Honeyrose flew towards him.


Bratr wasn't smiling anymore. Now their was a grim mask of determination on his face as he circled Vykor.

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