The art of the Throwing Dagger [Attn: Bridget]

[Felix]

Artur

Artur looked out of the window in his small room, the sky was dark and cloudy. Another rainy dreary day in store for the Tower. He had a free period so he decided he would try his hand at more throwing dagger practice. With rain on the horizon he headed to the Armory and asked the Quartermaster the best place to practice with his daggers out of the rain. He was directed to a room in the main Warder building and given his throwing daggers to practice. He was given a holster for three daggers on each side of his waist.

He walked out of the room as he fumbled the daggers to his belt and proceeded in the direction the Quartermaster told him to go in.

Artur walked into the large room after a short search through multiple empty training rooms. He took a look around as he adjusted the holsters on his waist. The room was large with four evenly placed windows on the side wall. It was rectangular and long enough to practice with throwing daggers but not long enough for archery. He walked to the far corner and pulled out the three large round targets that were pushed up against the window wall. They were placed evenly on the far wall from the door.

He walked back to the entrance wall and gauged the distance. With a glance at the windows he was happy to note that it was raining and he was safe indoors behind the glass pane windows.

He pulled out two daggers, one from each holster and held them in his hands. He grasped at the void, he tried to find focus. He fed his worries and distracting thoughts into the flame. The only thing that remained was a small knot of presence in the back of his mind. He could sense something in the distance, running being free.

Once he was one with the room and his target he lifted his right arm and dropped into a throwing stance. His arm came back over his shoulder. In one swift motion he threw the dagger, it flipped end over end all the way to the target. With a slink noise it sunk near the bottom into the large target that decorated the far wall. The hilt was angled up with the blade down. He had released too late.

He took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts that permeated the void into the flame. He switched the blade from his left to right hand then drew his arm back over his shoulder. He sent the blade end over end towards the target. It landed close to the middle but hilt angled down. Once again had released wrong.

He took another deep breath and took the walk down to the target to retrieve the daggers. He pulled the bottom dagger free and sheathed it in the holster then pulled the top one out and sheathed it. He turned and saw a women standing in the doorway looking at him.

[Bridget]

Rhykana strapped the wrist holsters to her forearms, her movements irritated and efficient. She had not thrown a dagger in years. Feran Gaidin’s instruction had become less and less important as the demands on her had increased, as her studies had grown in complexity. She had abandoned the weapon as quickly as she had taken it up. And it showed; Rhykana spent her days in a chair, bent over books and journals, diagraming ter’angreal and studying mathematics. Once more, her body was heavy, for fat had grown where Feran Gaidin’s tutelage had created muscle. And just as before, she could no longer tolerate that weakness. It was time to take up the practice of exercise and weaponry once more. This time, Rhykana could not afford to set it aside.

But Light, she was so tired. Exhaustion ate at her, chipping away at her intelligence and motivation. Lydarian and Halliene Sedai, her ever-present Black mentors, worked her to exhaustion. Worked her until they could be sure that she had no energy to defy them. Feran Gaidin had been a surprising ally; he had taken one look at her, some weeks ago, and had somehow managed to clear the time for practice in her schedule. For the past week, Rhykana had come to the Yards, to run painful laps and throw daggers, again and again.

It was raining today, but Rhykana could not stomach the thought of slinking back to Halliene’s workshop in the Indigo halls, to sit and work under her watchful eye. There would be a place to practice, and Feran Gaidin could not fault her for not running in such awful weather. Rhykana was an Accepted, not a Drin.

At the direction of a young Ji, Rhykana made her way to a long room, only to see that targets were already placed, that a young man was already throwing daggers. Irritated, she leaned against the doorframe, watching. Something was clearly off with his form; the rotation of his throws was not quite right. Rhykana watched him, scornful. He had only a little skill, and this endless repetition of mistakes would only result in bad habits. But the more she watched, the more familiar he became, until Rhykana finally recognized him.

He was the wolfkin Drin.

Rhykana’s disdain faded as her interest grew. She stepped out of the doorframe, just as he turned to face her. Rhykana gazed dispassionately at him, her curiosity hidden by Aes Sedai calm. “Try modifying your form.” Rhykana spoke, her voice cool. “It is simpler to aim for a half rotation, rather than trying for so many.” She drew a dagger, flipped it to hold it by the blade. “The angle of release is the most important thing, other than the force of your throw.” The target was a middling distance away from where they stood, so Rhykana angled the handle up and away, at a 45 degree angle from her wrist. Rhykana shifted her weight, balancing on her right foot, and drew her arm back past her ear. She snapped her arm forward, stepping toward the target with her left foot as she did. The dagger flew from her fingers, and her arm continued the arch toward her left leg.

The dagger thunked into the target, the blade quivering. It was not quite near the center of the target, but it was a much more solid landing than what the Drin had managed. “Do you see?”

(OOC: check out this manual! http://user.xmission.com/~drudy/amm/ski ... /knife.htm It’s what I used for this post.)

[Felix]

Artur

The woman stood in the doorway scrutinizing him. Somewhat shorter then Artur, she stood with an air of power and experience. She looked to be a channeler. The look she gave him was cold and calculated.

“Try modifying your form. It is simpler to aim for a half rotation, rather than trying for so many.”

Artur stood off to the side when she drew a dagger then flipped it to hold the blade. She held the blade at an angle away from her wrist hilt up. She leaned back on her right foot and drew the blade back. She threw her arm forward and shifted forward to let loose. The blade flew through the air and sank into the target. Almost a perfect shot.

His mind went back to the dark day he had learned to throw his daggers. He tried to remember if that was how it was shown to him. His mind stopped him from remembering. It was only black with a distant echo of a deep throaty laugh. An image of the wolf snow appeared in his mind. The white of his fur grew to overpower the black memory. He had to steady himself against a wall when he came back to his senses. He would learn again from the woman standing before him, she seemed ready to teach him.

Artur looked at her, a deep gaze, she seemed familiar but he did not know how. He was steady so he walked towards the entrance to the room again. He reached his original throwing position and drew one blade from the sheath at his waist. The motions flowed through his mind.

He threw the blade in the air and caught it blade first. The blade went to an angle and his arm went back towards his ear. His right leg slid back a step with his weight resting on the foot. In one smooth motion his arm snapped forward while his weight shifted to his left foot. The blade flew from his hand and sank into the target. It sat equally away from the edge and the bulls-eye on the right side.

"Like so?" Artur questioned.

He drew a blade from his left sheath, the blade he threw into the air and caught blade first in his right hand. His muscle memory remembered many long nights alone in the woods with only his dagger and the birds in the trees for company.

"I will try again, to make sure I have the form." His voice was clear of any emotion.

His weight shifted back to his back foot while his arm went back with the blade at the correct angle in his hand. With a quiet whistle in the air as it flew the blade did a half rotation and sank into the target a few inches lower then the first blade. His aim was off but the form seemed adequate.

Artur spoke to the air in front of himself as he scrutinized the target. "I need work on my aim."

[Bridget]

With effort, Rhykana crushed her rising irritation. It had taken her months to master the very throw that the Drin had almost perfected in a single attempt. Who was this man, who had been so abysmal at throwing daggers just a moment ago? Competition called to her; Rhykana longed to pull her next dagger from its sheath, to meet this unspoken challenge and best him. It did not take as much effort to keep her face Aes Sedai calm as it used to, but it was effort nonetheless.

Annoyance simmered as she regarded him. “Like so.” She agreed, her voice unruffled. Rhykana drew a second dagger, grasping it by the blade, as she had before. “You must also understand distance.” Rhykana held the blade as she had before, the handle pointing at an angle. “This, as you have discovered, is for a medium range throw.” She pointed her wrist forward, so that the handle of the blade pointed directly at the target. “This is for your longest range, which of course also depends on the strength of your throw.” She shifted her grip once more, cocking her wrist back so that the handle of the dagger pointed up and towards her. “This is for a shorter range. It is important to be able to gauge your distance, to modify your grip appropriately.”

Rhykana stepped closer to the target, and threw. It was lovely to give herself up to simple muscle memory, to approach a problem and let her body solve it for her. Her weight shifted forward as she threw, and she released the dagger. With satisfaction, Rhykana watched expectantly as the dagger sank into the target, dead center. She had always been better at a shorter range.

She backed up quickly, past the Drin, drawing the next dagger easily as she did so. This time, she pointed the handle away from her, and threw. It was mindless, easy, as most things she did were not. Rhykana watched the trajectory critically, allowing herself to smile only when the blade pierced the target. It was by no means as good a throw as her first, but she had not expected it to be.

Rhykana turned to the Drin, her earlier irritation replaced by satisfaction. “It is important to practice moving from distance to distance. That way, it becomes second nature to judge which grip you need.” She walked up to the target, pulled out her three daggers, and replaced them in her wrist sheaths. “My name is Rhykana.” She said, as she pulled the Drin’s daggers as well and offered them to him, hilt first. “What is yours?”

[Felix]

It is important to practice moving from distance to distance. That way, it becomes second nature to judge which grip you need.” She walked up to the target, pulled out her three daggers, and replaced them in her wrist sheaths. “My name is Rhykana.” She said, as she pulled his daggers as well and offered them to him, hilt first. “What is yours?”

Artur grabbed the blade hilt, careful not to cut her he pulled it out of her hand and sheathed it on his waist. His eyes rested on her face for a moment in contemplation, he had seen her before, somewhere. The warder yards perhaps? She was skilled with the throwing dagger. The target was still but experience shined in her movements.

His voice shook as he responded to her question, he still struggled someways in social situations. "My name is Artur, did you learn the dagger here Rhykana?"

Artur turned to face the target, something solid and tangible to focus his attention on. They stood at the far end of the room near the door so he pulled a dagger out. Into the air the dagger flipped so he could grasp the blade. The hilt pointed at the wall target. He shifted into his throwing stance as he drew the blade back and flung the dagger at the far wall.

The blade did a rotation before it bounced off of the wall next to the target. Anger and frustration flared on the edge of the void. Artur ignored the emotions and gritted his teeth. He took a few steps closer to the target and drew again. The blade was in his hand in a flash, showiness gone. The hilt pointed towards the ceiling, he stepped into the throw. The dagger flew with a half rotation and sunk into the target near the edge. Hilt straight out.

Frustration flared once again, the distance was down but his aim was so bloody off he could not hit the side of a barn if his life depended on it. Someday his charges life would depend on it.

He bared his teeth in anger, a response unlike any before. The void was gone. Artur walked closer and drew another dagger. It flew in the short stance at the target.

It landed near the center but was slightly eschew, the angle was not quite right from the throw. He threw back his head and laughed.

"At least I can hit a target being a few feet away from it. Trollocs beware the great blade thrower!"

He walked the last few feet, grabbed the daggers and walked back to the entrance of the room and Rhykana. The past anger and fustration showed in his eyes but humor over the mistakes overshadowed the baser emotions.

"I really need to work on my aim, the tips on distance really helped though, Thank you." His voice shook some being close to another person. He needed time to adjust to being near so many people.