And What Have We Learned? (attn: Silas)
Posted: July 31st, 2015, 11:00 pm
Ubriel was surprised but excited to get the invitation to a sparring match with Silas. He had once been her teacher, giving her a thorough thrashing with the quarterstaff and teaching her the use of the void. That had been almost two years ago now. Or was it three? Much had changed but one never lost the awe of their teacher. Ubriel remembered thinking of Silas and the fierce twirling of his staff as a nearly indomitable force. That was then.
Now, she had her own students who quaked at her approach. She had no doubt of her own ability now. She was a dedicated wielder of the staff and she spent enough time each day in practice to advance her skill and keep it sharp. She was careful to keep good form so that she never developed bad habits, or worse, taught a bad habit to a student who might be watching. Her skill was recognized by others which was evidenced by having been chosen to hold office. As Mistress of Training, she was responsible for the advancement of all of her recruits and her own skill could not be neglected for that. Still, she had not seen Silas practice or spar in years. She had no idea what level of skill he may have advanced to. She could not help but wonder, perhaps worry a little, over how her own skill would compare now.
She took the spare hickory staff from the rack behind her desk and began her walk down to the Yard. She pulled the door shut to her office and locked it behind her. She took the first turn in the hall into the stairwell and down into the lobby. Reaching that open space, she began to use the staff for a set of resistance stretches as she walked. The series was one she had developed over the last few months in an effort to save herself time in leaving her office to go to her practices. The hard wood staff did not bend or give when she pulled it up over her head and then pushed it back behind her. Her arms and shoulders were obliged to do the bending and stretching. After the initial stretches, and she had reached the Yard outside behind the Warder Hall, she began to flow into a series of arcing warm-up maneuvers.
Still she walked. Using the pace of each step to set the tempo of the swings of her staff. It was another appendage. It was a piece of herself. She felt the void envelope her, not just the same as the way she had learned it from Silas but in a way that had developed naturally for her over time. She was grateful when she thought about it, that she had the opportunity of that time and that development. Her warm-ups were not greatly changed from what she had always done. They were more fluid, they encompassed more reaches and attacks and they all happened while in motion. But the majority of what she did was the same.
She took a step forward with her right foot and swung the end of her staff out on the right to slide to its full reach in her hands before pulling it back in a fluid and graceful movement. The momentum of the first swing flowed naturally into the second as her left foot came forward and so did the staff on the left side to once again slide through her hands to its fullest reach. This time as her right foot stepped forward, she pulled the forward end of the staff up sharply and completed that arc by pulling it back again at shoulder height. Left foot forward, the now bottom end of the staff came up and back to shoulder height. Any opponent whose face happened to be in the path of that arc would receive a nasty blow to the chin.
One pair of steps coupled with a pair of arcing movements. There were three pair of sweeps, low, middle and high, then a pair of overhead arcs that would be crushing blows if ever used on an opponent. There was a flourishing twirling brandish that she performed somewhere on the back end of half-way through her series just to be sure her fingers did not hold too tightly. The close-in and tight jab and thrust moves were followed by another series of sweeps, this time, one-handed in a spiral bringing the staff through low, middle and high sweeps while carrying through behind her head. Anyone caught in that high powered frenzy would be hard pressed to survive it. She marched steadily through her forms and fell into the familiar pattern, her muscles relaxing and loosening and her breath coming in even and deep draws.
She had once tried to learn the forms of the other masters but she thought them flowery and somewhat pompous. She had developed these forms, some of which were close in nature to the established forms of the masters, and they had not failed to be a formidable match for any that she had been challenged by. She had studied those other forms, knew them and used those that suited her. She had long since made this weapon her own. She realized somewhere on the edge of her senses that there was a small group of students and Gaidin not following her exactly but somehow all moving in generally the same direction as she. She noticed a part of herself outside of that void that wondered what they were all gathering for.
Then she arrived. She was at the same dusty part of the Yard where she had last encountered Silas' staff. She was a few minutes early it seemed. She stretched again and then sat in that cross-legged way that Miendha had a habit of and straightened her back with her staff across her knees to wait.
Now, she had her own students who quaked at her approach. She had no doubt of her own ability now. She was a dedicated wielder of the staff and she spent enough time each day in practice to advance her skill and keep it sharp. She was careful to keep good form so that she never developed bad habits, or worse, taught a bad habit to a student who might be watching. Her skill was recognized by others which was evidenced by having been chosen to hold office. As Mistress of Training, she was responsible for the advancement of all of her recruits and her own skill could not be neglected for that. Still, she had not seen Silas practice or spar in years. She had no idea what level of skill he may have advanced to. She could not help but wonder, perhaps worry a little, over how her own skill would compare now.
She took the spare hickory staff from the rack behind her desk and began her walk down to the Yard. She pulled the door shut to her office and locked it behind her. She took the first turn in the hall into the stairwell and down into the lobby. Reaching that open space, she began to use the staff for a set of resistance stretches as she walked. The series was one she had developed over the last few months in an effort to save herself time in leaving her office to go to her practices. The hard wood staff did not bend or give when she pulled it up over her head and then pushed it back behind her. Her arms and shoulders were obliged to do the bending and stretching. After the initial stretches, and she had reached the Yard outside behind the Warder Hall, she began to flow into a series of arcing warm-up maneuvers.
Still she walked. Using the pace of each step to set the tempo of the swings of her staff. It was another appendage. It was a piece of herself. She felt the void envelope her, not just the same as the way she had learned it from Silas but in a way that had developed naturally for her over time. She was grateful when she thought about it, that she had the opportunity of that time and that development. Her warm-ups were not greatly changed from what she had always done. They were more fluid, they encompassed more reaches and attacks and they all happened while in motion. But the majority of what she did was the same.
She took a step forward with her right foot and swung the end of her staff out on the right to slide to its full reach in her hands before pulling it back in a fluid and graceful movement. The momentum of the first swing flowed naturally into the second as her left foot came forward and so did the staff on the left side to once again slide through her hands to its fullest reach. This time as her right foot stepped forward, she pulled the forward end of the staff up sharply and completed that arc by pulling it back again at shoulder height. Left foot forward, the now bottom end of the staff came up and back to shoulder height. Any opponent whose face happened to be in the path of that arc would receive a nasty blow to the chin.
One pair of steps coupled with a pair of arcing movements. There were three pair of sweeps, low, middle and high, then a pair of overhead arcs that would be crushing blows if ever used on an opponent. There was a flourishing twirling brandish that she performed somewhere on the back end of half-way through her series just to be sure her fingers did not hold too tightly. The close-in and tight jab and thrust moves were followed by another series of sweeps, this time, one-handed in a spiral bringing the staff through low, middle and high sweeps while carrying through behind her head. Anyone caught in that high powered frenzy would be hard pressed to survive it. She marched steadily through her forms and fell into the familiar pattern, her muscles relaxing and loosening and her breath coming in even and deep draws.
She had once tried to learn the forms of the other masters but she thought them flowery and somewhat pompous. She had developed these forms, some of which were close in nature to the established forms of the masters, and they had not failed to be a formidable match for any that she had been challenged by. She had studied those other forms, knew them and used those that suited her. She had long since made this weapon her own. She realized somewhere on the edge of her senses that there was a small group of students and Gaidin not following her exactly but somehow all moving in generally the same direction as she. She noticed a part of herself outside of that void that wondered what they were all gathering for.
Then she arrived. She was at the same dusty part of the Yard where she had last encountered Silas' staff. She was a few minutes early it seemed. She stretched again and then sat in that cross-legged way that Miendha had a habit of and straightened her back with her staff across her knees to wait.