The Finer Points of Avoiding Self-Mutilation [Attn: Ravak Gaidin & Dedicated Phineas]

[Bella]

OOC: Craig, on the Natlya timeline, I'm setting this after the thing we talked about in PM but before the MRP.

Natlya was early.

It was the first time since her life at the Grey Tower had begun that she had been early for anything. To date, the best she had managed to achieve was "just barely on time," but today, she was early. She had been assigned a training area and told that an instructor had been assigned to her, although she had not been enlightened as to who today's teacher was.

She didn't really care. Everything had changed. This was where she was now, and it was where she was going to be. Up until now, it seemed like everything had just been a pattern of waiting until...she didn't even know what. That was done and gone. Now, she had to face up to this life, and she had finally made her decision about a weapon.

That was why she was carrying the wooden practice sword that was suited to her. It was one-handed, a single-edged blade of a size to fit her frame. Her time in training so far had helped burn away her softness, and even without the lugging rocks, she had been gaining strength. Now it was even more pronounced. She could lift and move the blade without wearing out too quickly.

Although she knew that once she started training properly, that would train for a while. Today, she just hoped to learn the basics of avoiding self-mutilation... That wasn't asking too much, was it?

[Jon]

Phineas

The time had come for Phineas to train with something other than the One Power. The logic of this training was sound. If he needed to visit Far Madding, or if he caught unaware and shielded, he would still need to be able to fight off an attack. Of course, if he was shielded, he wouldn’t have much of a chance against the other channeler. And Far Madding had laws against weapons, or so he had heard. Still, learning the sword sounded wise, so he’d signed up for a class and been told to meet his trainer at a certain field at a given time. There would also be another trainee receiving instruction with him. Arriving at the practice yards, he had to ask directions to find the right one. He must have asked a Drin’far’ji because the young man kept looking at his collar and seeing the sword pin there before answering his questions. Yes, I am a Dedicated Phin said mentally every time the Drin looked for reassurance. Certainly, a Dedicated should be able to find his way in the practice yards. Receiving the directions he sought, Phineas did not doddle, wanting to arrive early as was his custom. However, he was surprised to see a young, flame-haired woman already there. She was lean and fit, and she wielded a wooden, practice sword in one hand. He approached, noting that her uniform matched the one on the young man of whom he’d asked directions. This must be the other trainee, he thought to himself. Phin looked around for practice blades and found a group of them. He grabbed one that was similar in style to the young woman’s but better balanced for him. Sword in hand, he made his way to the practice area. “Hello,” he said jovially when he stepped into ring, “looks like we’ll be training together.” He put the practice sword between the forearm and side of his left arm and stuck out his right hand. “My name is Phineas,” he said. He left off the title he’d recently received. They would be hitting each other with sticks more often than not, and he guessed she could just call him by his name. “Are you about as clueless with how to use one of these as I am?” he said in a self-deprecating tone. To emphasize his lack of skill, he pulled the sword from his side and tried to wave it about in front of him, nearly tripping as the tip blade fell to the ground while he was still holding the hilt, thus blocking his path.

[Craig]

Ravak

Brushing white dog hair off his shirt, Ravak stepped back into the path between the training yard and the kennels, a slight frown on his hard face. He wondered whether if he had overestimated his ability, or underestimated the time it would take, to train up his trio of huskies. It was oddly fortunate that the Weaponry Hall had been ruined, demolished and well-built, so there were now a place for the dogs to go, and he wasn't the only person responsible for them.

The broad-shouldered Gaidin turned back towards his chief responsibility. Drin and Ji in the greys of the Warder Yards, fancloak-wearing shapes marking out the Gaidin and Gaidar amongst them. A bell rang in the distance, followed by more both closer and further away. Spent too much time playing with them. Still, who was going to admonish the Master of Training if he was a couple of minutes late? Rav's frown deepened. He shouldn't make excuses for himself.

Rav crossed the hard-packed ground to one of the areas set aside for basic training, making a show of watching and evaluating everything else he passed. They had to believe that he knew everything that happened between every one of them. There had been too many occurrences of rule breaking in the past couple of months, and his curt if polite conversations with Mirin and Soti were becoming a lot more frequent. Novices breaking into my offices. Runaway initiates. Light-blasted Aiel. Rav tried not to think about that last too hard.

Waiting for him were two figures, one he was well acquainted with, the other not so much. Natlya had been one of those runaway initiates, or so he thought. He had never wrestled the truth out of her, despite lumbering her with one of Sinead's gai'shain punishments. Even Elia hadn't been able to get a squeak more from her. At least the short, red-haired Drin was now working hard. Rav had forced himself to find contentment in that. The man, Dedicated Phineas, was someone Rav knew of, but had never interacted with. Newly raised, wasn't he? There wasn't quite as much pomp and circumstance surrounding the raising of channellers, making it tricky to track.

"Afternoon," Rav said, joining the two trainees in a loose circle. If there was any surprise that the Master of Training himself had been assigned to teach them, the Shienaran ignored it. Instead he glanced at the weapons each of them held, nodding slightly. "Well, you know what a sword looks like, good." He stepped out of the circle to unbuckle his sword belt, resting the scabbarded longsword and sword-breaker on the ground near a weapon rack a safe distance away. At least I'm not wearing my fancloak this time. He picked up a training sword, then rejoined the others.

"So, you're both here to learn the basics of swordsmanship. I see you've chosen a single-edged blade, Drin. I'll see what differences I can point out as we go through, compared to a regular sword. But first, before anything else, tell me. Why the sword? Natlya, you certainly know there are a multitude of weapons you can train in, so why the sword? As for you Dedicated, what's wrong with the One Power, or finding yourself a Gaidin to protect you, once you're raised?" Ravak kept his expression neutral - he was being neither inquisitive or accusatory - as he waiting for one of the rote answers he'd heard out of countless other months in the past.

[Bella]

"Natlya," the young Drin'far'ji replied as she took the hand he offered, then stepped back as he made his...demonstration with his practice sword, for lack of a better term. She smiled slightly. "Well, I am trainee of the warder yards, so I'm not quite clueless. I do not yet have much experience with it, though."

Remaining where she stood, she simply kept a hold of her wooden weapon. Anyone who had seen here just a few weeks ago might wonder who was this person, thinking her not the same woman. Maybe she wasn't, although the halo of red hair that escaped her tight braid would identify her otherwise.

Oh, burn me, she thought when she saw the Master of Training come walking up. Would he cast her away because of her running away and how she hadn't been willing to explain it to him? She hoped now, because she needed this training. However, now it was going to be three times as difficult because she'd have something to prove to him; hurdles to overcome that she wouldn't have with another trainer.

She schooled her face to not reveal her thoughts, out of self-preservation. She bowed to Ravak Gaidin, and was relieved when he didn't send her away. Never imagined you'd be relieved to work, did you? No, she most assuredly hadn't. In fact, he took note of her blade with a muted promise to aid her knowledge in her chosen weapon.

Darrow spoke to her first and so she took that as a sign for her to answer first. She inhaled thoughtfully. "I am not a very large person, like most of my fellow trainees. Many of the weapons available to use are a bit more wieldy than I think is practical for me to use on a regular basis." She spoke her thoughts sedately.

At first, she had leaned to the sword simply because she'd been told to. After the...occurrence, as she was thinking of it as, she had started thinking it through more intently and had real reasons now.

"I considered daggers, for I had rare occasion in the past to need use of a knife to protect myself. But then, it usually just was pulling it on a man who got too handsy and determining whether north or south would be more convincing to place the point." That drew a faint smile from her, and then a trace of blush like she thought she hadn't said that.

"But in the end, I chose the reach of the sword," she continued quickly to cover he previous statement. "I am...considering learning how to use the sword and dagger together, if I prove capable with the former." With that, she bowed her head slightly to indicate she was done.

[Jon]

Phineas

Phineas stumbled back into a stable position, and he chuckled wryly at his almost blunder. Reality was, he knew hardly anything about using a sword. Of course, he could tell you how to shape hot iron or steel into the right shape for a variety of blades, which barrel to use to quench the blade, etc. The forging of these weapons and thus the design of them was not new. He’d held plenty to gauge if the balance was correct, but he’d never swung one at someone. That was why he was here. The man who joined them in the circle, Phineas knew by name and sight if not personally. Ravak Darrow, brother to Phineas’s friend Elia, was a man that all initiates knew. He was the Master of Trainees, the main Gaidin over the initiates in the Warder Yards. Much like the Master of Soldiers over Phineas, this man was over Natalya, and Phineas felt sorry for the young Drin. He wasn’t sure what he would’ve done if the Master of Soldiers himself had taught his basics classes. It would’ve been too much for Phin, that’s for sure. Schooling his face to hide his thoughts, Phineas listened at the interaction between his instructor and fellow pupil. The two obviously knew each other, which made sense given their positions. He asked a question of her, and she responded in turn. The question that he directed at Phineas was one that Phineas expected. Most people wondered the same thing, and some had voiced the same question to him. Phineas bowed in acknowledgement of the man’s question. “I could bond a warder to help me,” Phineas said, “but then I wouldn’t understand what it is like to use what I make.” He paused for a second, considering how to phrase his next statement. “While I am a Dedicated of the Grey Tower first, I am secondly a blacksmith. I have made many swords, but to truly create a masterpiece one must know exactly what is needed when the creation is used.” He didn’t realize that he’d adopted a typical, airy tone—almost like a lecturer. “I want to build masterpieces of iron and steel for the glory of the Tower,” he continued, “so I figured I would learn how to use what I want to make.” That point was the main reason, but he had another. “Plus, even with a Gaidin at my side, two swordsmen are sometimes needed where other times one might suffice.” His tone changed to the grim, determination that came when Phineas was setting himself to a task. He looked Ravak Gaidin in the eye and added, “I do not intend to let others fight all my battles for me.” Perhaps, that was what the Master of Trainees had expected. Phineas did not care. He had his reasons, and he was here to learn. Natalya had bowed when she was done, so Phineas followed her lead. She would know better the rules of the Warder Yards than he. Daggers, which Natalya had mentioned, were on his list of weapons with which to become familiar, and he wanted to learn to fight with his hands as well. The spear, bow, and other weapons were ones he probably wouldn’t learn. Though, once raised, he might have the time to study them as he progressed in his abilities making ter’angreal. After bowing, he stood poised and ready, awaiting further instruction.

[Craig]

Ravak

Rav nodded with a look of approval on his face at Natlya's answer. It was plainly obvious that the Master of Training himself preferred during two weapons at a time, so he thought it only prudent to become adept in the skill. If one could be taught. Words meant nothing compared to actions. At this stage, Rav wasn't even sure if he cared to hear the reasons behind Natlya's odd attempted flight from Hama Valon. She was here, she was training, and there was nothing negative to be said about her resolve.

As for the Dedicated, he surprised the Shienaran with his answer. A blacksmith who wishes to stand by his own wares. That wasn't what Phineas had said, but Rav took away from the speech what he wanted. There had also been that all too familiar "I must be able to fight my own battles" utterance. Rav was less sure about the validity of that statement then what he had been. The mental picture of Kaia Sedai striding forwards with a sword in hand or a knocked arrow would have brought him into fits of laughter, in private. Focus on what you're good at, Rav thought, but he let no part of that come out.

When they had both bowed, Rav raised his practice sword in his left hand, the blade angled halfway between the sky and the horizon. "First things first, then. What you've got here is a training blade, just a wooden imitation of the real thing. If you have any questions about why we're not using live steel." Rav finished the statement by raising his right hand up for them both to see. The ring finger was shorn off along the first knuckle, and from the old scar tissue, it was clear that a sharp blade had been the cause. "I'd much prefer it if you still had all of your fingers and toes come the end of this." His grin was mostly friendly, with only a touch of mischievousness.

"I should probably say something about footwork first, but we've all got our swords in hand, so let's go over it. What you're holding onto is called the grip; pretty straightforward and well labelled. Now there's three different ways to hold a sword, the first being this." Rav shook the sword in his one-handed grip. "But until you get confident at using a sword, we shall stick to two-handed grips."

Rav took a spot between the two trainees, facing the same direction as them so they had a good look at his hands. He moved the sword into his right hand, so they didn't have to mirror his moves. "Now this part that sticks out between the grip and the swordblade is called the crossguard. For this first grip, you want the crossguard pointed at the ground and at the sky." Rav rotated the blade into the aforementioned position. "Of course Natlya, you want the sharp edge of your blade pointed groundwork, or towards the enemy." No point glossing over something evident, if it only took a couple of seconds to say.

"Now, your main hand should go at the top, with your palm gripping the right-hand side. Your fingers wrap underneath the grip, with your thumb over the top. Your forefinger could just touching the crossguard, and you should see a 'V' of grip above your hand." Rav held the blade in one hand, so they both had a clear look. "With your other hand, grip a hold of the grip about a thumb's width below where your other hand is."

With the sword now held correctly, the Master of Training demonstrated a couple of swings. Rav showing how he had control over the weapon, as well as how his grip on each hand adjusted as the sword moved, fore- and middle fingers tightening and loosening up. "When you hold the sword, you don't want an iron-clad grasp. Keep your small finger tight, then your ring finger a bit less so, your middle less so again, and finally your forefinger. You get a better freedom of moment that way, and maybe surprisingly, a tenser grip will make you more prone to being disarmed.

"Now, the other grip." Rav turned the blade, so that the crossguard was now directly left and right, in parallel with the ground. "Your primary hand is once again wrapped around the top of the grip, but your thumb extends up and over the crossguard, so you have the pad resting on the blade or the rain-guard. Again, your other hand goes below your first, and keep the fingers loose in the same way as before. The two stances lead into different moves with different levels of ease, so it'll be a matter of preference whether you prefer the V-grip or this other grip. As you get more familiar with different forms, you may gravitate towards one naturally. Now, as boring as this is, try the two different grips, and see if you can feel any difference between them." Rav stepped forwards and then a short distance away, more so he could examine how they moved the sword, than how they held it.

Spoiler: show

The V-Grip


The 90º Grip

[Bella]

As she listened to him speak, Natlya reflected on how everything they were taught in the Yards was interconnected. She had been told that before, but it hadn't fully gotten through to her until now. She thought about the exercises done, and then her unarmed combat classes, and now listening to him talking about movement and footwork. She could see how they worked together.

Nat looked at her own sword, finding that the crossguard of her own was smaller than the blade he used and not built as much in a straight line as his. Every sword was different, though, she knew that. She would just have to adapt.

She arranged her hands around the grip the way he demonstrated. To keep her sharp edge facing the ground, this was the grip she would have to use. Now in this position, the sword felt heavier and a little more awkward. She knew that she would get used to it with more practice. More work, always more work... A small voice that had been very common early on in her time here returned.

Trying to ignore it, she shifted her grip to the second that he demonstrated. Given her own choice of weapon, this one did not seem to work as well as the first but she managed it. But it also put the edge of her blade to the side rather than properly down, she examined that and everything else about this grip as she had the first. A small frown creased her expression, but it was of concentration.

With the weight of the metal, she instinctively wanted to hold it tightly to keep it upright. But she understood what he was talking about and knew she'd have to learn to hold it more like he described so she didn't lose it. It seemed counter-intuitive to hold it more loosely to avoid being disarmed, but she'd done enough training in the Yards so far to understand how it worked.

In a concerted effort to understand, she moved between the two a few times. Awkwardly at first, but she worked at it.

OOC: Of course, I'm using a wooden practice katana that had no hilt/crossguard at all but think I can envision is enough...

[Jon]

Phineas

Phineas thought he saw surprise in the Master of Trainee’s eyes as he talked, but he couldn’t be sure. The Tower taught its initiates to keep calm and to keep emotions off their faces, so he doubted that his trainer would be lax enough to let something like a small emotion through. There were strong emotions that even the most logical of Aes Sedai or Asha’man wouldn’t be able to hide. A reaction to a Dedicated’s words probably didn’t warrant such a response. The man’s initial explanation was pretty simple, and Phineas just stood impassionately as he went through his explanation. He watched the instructor move between him and his companion in learning. He’d already felt out the balance on his blade, a skill developed while at the forges, and he understood the basic pieces of the blade, having made steel versions of the wood in his hands. The grip he demonstrated was not difficult to imitate, at least on the surface. A level of awkwardness was present in Phin’s arms as he held the blade as demonstrated. He knew that awkwardness would dissipate with time and use, but for now it was uncomfortable. To help himself be able to think and move, Phineas assumed the Void. He didn’t grab saidin; in fact, he kept the Power distant, not even drawing close to seizing the Source. Still, in assuming the Void, he had fed all of his discomfort into the Flame. So now, he was ready to do as the instructor suggested. Adjusting his grip as Ravak suggested, Phineas found that this grip felt more natural to him. He had to constantly remind himself not to grip the handle as if it was going to fall out of his hands. He had always held a sword tightly, not wanting to drop it on the forge ground whenever working on a particular part of the blade-making process. He moved between the two grips and even tried swinging the sword with the different grips. He did feel more control when he had his hands looser. While he favored the second grip, the stiffness of either grip melted away with the movement. It was there, flittering around the edges of the Void, but it was not as prevalent as it had been in the beginning.

[Craig]

Ravak

Ravak nodded, not that there was much of approve of yet. "Familiarity and ease of use will come with time. Now, onto footwork." Rav faced the two trainees, practice blade held at ease in his left hand. "Straighten up, feet slightly apart, toes pointed at me." He waited until each of them at their feet directed at him before stepped forwards.

Using the tip of his sword, he pressed against each of them in the centre of their chests, until they began to fall backwards. "Now, that's a demonstration of something called the weak line. It's the angle of attack that will best unbalance you. If you end up off your feet during a fight, you've already lost, so it's of paramount importance to keep yourself standing. Thus, it's of paramount importance that you angle your weak line as far from your opponent as possible."

Rav adopted quite a wide stance, one foot pointed towards his trainees, whilst the other was set out sixty degrees to the right. With his sword, he drew a furrow in the dirt between the middle of each foot. "This line is my strong line. If an attack comes at me from this direction, I can weather it without losing my footing." Rav then marked out a groove perpendicular to the first. "And this is my weak line. Come at me like this, and I'm as good as dead, even if I do block your attacks."

Pulling his right foot in, so that his strong line was almost facing his trainees, Rav stepped forward. This involved moving his front foot forwards, then following with his back foot. He stepped backwards in the reverse, rear foot stepped back before the front foot followed. "This is the basic step. It's possible that you've received similar training with other weapons or from Dax Gaidin's class, but I'll repeat him regardless. This is a basic step. You always move the foot closest to the direction you wish to move first, and follow with the other foot. This keeps your strong line pointed as much towards your opponent. Always be aware of your weak and strong lines, and your opponents'."

"Now," Rav said, straightening up, "let's see what you've learned."

Spoiler: show

[Bella]

Natlya found her eyes trying to open themselves wide, just to take in all the movement and assimilate everything. When she realized it, she blinked a couple of times to clear it. She didn't need to look like a fool, especially not in front of the Master of Training. She didn't want to look like an idiot in front of her fellow student either, but the Dedicated had no say in her future in the Yards...

Although the talk about "strong" and "weak" lines was different, she did indeed recognize the footwork from her unarmed combat class. She had practiced it often enough for those lessons that she felt a little less intimidated here. She knew this, and could replicate it...at least her feet could. Having to do it while wielding a sword that still felt unnatural in her hands. Well, that was another matter.

And, to be honest, knowing strengths and weaknesses was something she was good at. It somewhat startled her how often her "former life" actually aided her present. Odd, that.

"Now, let's see what you've learned."

Oh, there it was. Her nerves about this training lesson hadn't gone too far, because they just returned when he actually turned on them to demonstrate. She swallowed it down and didn't let it show. (She hoped. She was a pretty good actress, so she felt she did.) She, being the warder trainee, went first again.

Her feet adapted the stance she had learned. One foot forward and toward him. The other back and angled. Not so far as to put her off balance, and not so close as to do that either. Although the sword still felt heavy and strange, she lifted it in the grip he had shown her just a short time ago--the grip that kept the katana's blade towards the ground.

Presenting a "strong" line and not a "weak" one, she held the stance and then stepped forward. Leading foot, trailing foot. Then back. Trailing foot, leading foot.