Questions on the sand (Attn:Zarayne)
Posted: May 17th, 2017, 4:36 am
Olin
Olin stood in the sands of the Warder Yard, feeling the heat of the afternoon sun as it beat down upon his shoulders. He leaned his weapon against the wooden railing and took the chance to draw a cool drink of water from the pail.
The Yellows in charge of the infirmary had suggested that he keep pushing his body, getting used to the lack of sight in his one eye and he had found a certain satisfaction in the rigor demanded on the Warder Yard. He knew he was no Gaidin, he had passed the basics of unarmed and little else, but still he had grown in strength since arriving.
Grabbing his weapon, he ran his hands along the shaft, feeling the smooth finish to the wood and the strength in the spear. It had a broad, flat head made of good Grey Tower steel and he knew that it would normally carry an edge sharp enough to shave. The one he bore now had been blunted, the better for training.
Still as Olin moved his hands along the spear and began to settle into the beginning guard, he saw the bruises and scrapes that came from even a blunted head. As he practiced, he did his best to ignore the whispers of passing Soldiers and Drin. The older ranks knew that with one blinded eye, the extra reach of a staff would allow Olin to buy himself time and space against a swordsman’s blade. He had grabbed a spear instead of a stave, having recalled the spar he had once witnessed between an Aiel and a swordsman.
After he fumbled a stance change and the spear slipped from his hand, Olin grabbed it with a curse. Knowing it was time to stop before fatigue undid the day’s lessons; Olin replaced his jacket and headed through the Warders Yard for the Armoury. With his mind distracted in recalling the forms, he didn’t notice when his feet followed the sound of other practicing until he was standing against the fence of yet another circle.
The Yellows in charge of the infirmary had suggested that he keep pushing his body, getting used to the lack of sight in his one eye and he had found a certain satisfaction in the rigor demanded on the Warder Yard. He knew he was no Gaidin, he had passed the basics of unarmed and little else, but still he had grown in strength since arriving.
Grabbing his weapon, he ran his hands along the shaft, feeling the smooth finish to the wood and the strength in the spear. It had a broad, flat head made of good Grey Tower steel and he knew that it would normally carry an edge sharp enough to shave. The one he bore now had been blunted, the better for training.
Still as Olin moved his hands along the spear and began to settle into the beginning guard, he saw the bruises and scrapes that came from even a blunted head. As he practiced, he did his best to ignore the whispers of passing Soldiers and Drin. The older ranks knew that with one blinded eye, the extra reach of a staff would allow Olin to buy himself time and space against a swordsman’s blade. He had grabbed a spear instead of a stave, having recalled the spar he had once witnessed between an Aiel and a swordsman.
After he fumbled a stance change and the spear slipped from his hand, Olin grabbed it with a curse. Knowing it was time to stop before fatigue undid the day’s lessons; Olin replaced his jacket and headed through the Warders Yard for the Armoury. With his mind distracted in recalling the forms, he didn’t notice when his feet followed the sound of other practicing until he was standing against the fence of yet another circle.