For my students, lessons will be this evening at the barracks. I will see you individually for now.
[Which is where Sigmund will be spending his day today, should anyone want to test their skills against his. Especially you, Serious Red Haired Man Who Failed To Introduce Himself Despite Living With His Mother. He's looking forward to putting a dent or two in that lowlife's pride, if he should dare to show his face. While fantasizing about his impending moral victory, he marks off two large squares, one inside the other. The first is with chalk on the floor, and the second (nearly twice the size) with upright poles and a rope barrier. All of the training dummies are well out of the way - it seems he has no intentions of letting even beginners expect a stationary target.
There's also a good selection of wooden wasters on the floor by one of the poles. They replicate blades of several weights and lengths, from a longsword down to an arming dagger. Perhaps more impressive are the wooden shields hung next to them. One is a simple targe, but the other is a carefully carved, jointed and glued replica of his own shield, with a similarly carefully carved replica of his blade strapped behind it. Unlike the other wasters, it has been weighted to better mimic the balance of his sword.
For now, he leaves it be and takes up a position on one side of the center square with his real equipment at hand. After several moments of complete stillness and silence, he rushes forward in a sudden burst of activity. First, he lunges forward and swings his shield arm wide, smashing it into the face of an imaginary opponent. As soon as his hand has vacated the space in front of him, his sword is there, thrust forward with enough power to skewer a grown man. He draws it sharply upwards, his shield coming upwards to guard his face when his other hand joins the first on the sword grip. From above his shoulder, the sword comes down in a powerful diagonal swing. He lifts the foot to the rear of his stance while the swing follows through, and the momentum carries his whole body with it in a full circle, his armored foot kicking out as a serious threat to his pretend adversary's kneecaps. Now facing forward again, he needs no time to regain his bearings and instead lunges forward another two steps, sword pointing low and to his side. With only that short run-up, he launches himself eight or nine feet into the air, sword swinging up with him in a powerful arc. He lands in a crouch with enough force to set the plates of his armor ringing with the impact, sword held parallel to and just inches above the floor. Impressively, the toes of his foremost foot are just touching the opposite side of his chalk square.
More impressively, he has had his eyes closed the entire time.
A few students? He can handle that.]
((OOC notes I forgot the first time: *facepalms forever* this post is for the people who expressed interest in playing out a spar or a lesson. Like I said before, if you'd prefer not do that, just drop a comment here, or a pm, or whatever, with how your character's general skill level and how they'd act during the lesson so that I can get an idea of Sigmund's impression of them. It's kind of important to how he'd plan more lessons, so I'd really appreciate it.))
[Which is where Sigmund will be spending his day today, should anyone want to test their skills against his. Especially you, Serious Red Haired Man Who Failed To Introduce Himself Despite Living With His Mother. He's looking forward to putting a dent or two in that lowlife's pride, if he should dare to show his face. While fantasizing about his impending moral victory, he marks off two large squares, one inside the other. The first is with chalk on the floor, and the second (nearly twice the size) with upright poles and a rope barrier. All of the training dummies are well out of the way - it seems he has no intentions of letting even beginners expect a stationary target.
There's also a good selection of wooden wasters on the floor by one of the poles. They replicate blades of several weights and lengths, from a longsword down to an arming dagger. Perhaps more impressive are the wooden shields hung next to them. One is a simple targe, but the other is a carefully carved, jointed and glued replica of his own shield, with a similarly carefully carved replica of his blade strapped behind it. Unlike the other wasters, it has been weighted to better mimic the balance of his sword.
For now, he leaves it be and takes up a position on one side of the center square with his real equipment at hand. After several moments of complete stillness and silence, he rushes forward in a sudden burst of activity. First, he lunges forward and swings his shield arm wide, smashing it into the face of an imaginary opponent. As soon as his hand has vacated the space in front of him, his sword is there, thrust forward with enough power to skewer a grown man. He draws it sharply upwards, his shield coming upwards to guard his face when his other hand joins the first on the sword grip. From above his shoulder, the sword comes down in a powerful diagonal swing. He lifts the foot to the rear of his stance while the swing follows through, and the momentum carries his whole body with it in a full circle, his armored foot kicking out as a serious threat to his pretend adversary's kneecaps. Now facing forward again, he needs no time to regain his bearings and instead lunges forward another two steps, sword pointing low and to his side. With only that short run-up, he launches himself eight or nine feet into the air, sword swinging up with him in a powerful arc. He lands in a crouch with enough force to set the plates of his armor ringing with the impact, sword held parallel to and just inches above the floor. Impressively, the toes of his foremost foot are just touching the opposite side of his chalk square.
More impressively, he has had his eyes closed the entire time.
A few students? He can handle that.]
((OOC notes I forgot the first time: *facepalms forever* this post is for the people who expressed interest in playing out a spar or a lesson. Like I said before, if you'd prefer not do that, just drop a comment here, or a pm, or whatever, with how your character's general skill level and how they'd act during the lesson so that I can get an idea of Sigmund's impression of them. It's kind of important to how he'd plan more lessons, so I'd really appreciate it.))
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chasethestars
chasethestars
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He drops the rope and gestures to the pile of wasters.]
Select a weapon to start with. You'll spar with each other.
...Nonetheless, he heads towards the weapons, unbuttoning his coat along the way.]
He just sighs, going to pick up one of the wasters himself. No point in echoing his brother's concern, after all.]
[Sigmund isn't an idiot, though. He grabs his own waster and one of the spares and puts his (comfortably armored) self between the two to deliver a safety lecture.]
You will swing slowly and gently, with only blade contact. The focus will be on guarding. I will stop you to adjust your technique. [Or if someone decides to give the other a good thwack.]
[Albert sheds his coat and drops it to one side before picking up one of the wasters, gripping it with a gloved hand before facing Caesar. This was going to be ... something. He nods in confirmation, holding the training weapon up in a rigid stance.]
The younger Silverberg stands opposite to his brother, and very literally as well. Albert's rigid stance is met with a much more relaxed one, not quite because Caesar doesn't care but because anything else would feel far too unnatural. And, well, maybe also because he doesn't care.]
[Then he retreats to the outer square, and gestures for them to begin.]
Self-defense, Caesar.
[That's all he says before he swings.]
Shut up.
[He's so used to simply avoiding danger that he's already forgotten what he's holding in his hands.]
First, Sigmund goes to adjust Albert's grip and stance before he hurts himself. He takes the man's hands and repositions them on the waster's grip.] Use both hands, and relax. Tense fighters make poor decisions.
[As he retreats back to the outer ring, he reminds Caesar-] Block the blow, not dodge it.
He shakes his head, averting that stare back to Caesar. Slowly releasing a deep breath, he lifts the waster practically over his right shoulder before swinging down at the other reluctant student.]
[Don't dodge it. That was not as easy as it sounded. And he'd probably have to be reminded a few more times before it really stuck.
...or maybe not, because Albert's stare makes him a bit more aware of things. Fortunately for Caesar, too, since someone's raising their weapon just a bit too high for his liking! He makes a face as he reminds himself not to move out of the way and raise his weapon instead. Even though they're moving slowly, he winces a little when the wasters connect.]
Good, but- [He demonstrates the correct technique for them: two hands spaced apart on the grip, elbows bent, arms in front of his torso.] -guard your center.
[And instead of moving back to his spot by the ropes, he clanks over to stand behind Caesar. Right behind Caesar.] Don't flinch. If you miss, I will catch it.
Albert nods at Sigmund's instruction, lowering the weapon and trying to readjust his grip. This stance seemed more comfortable, more balanced than before. But there is nothing comfortable or natural about having the weapon in his hand, and every attempt to strike with it emphasized that fact. Learning to use a staff with Raine had been no better.]
Here we go.
[Once again, he lifts the waster to strike. Though he lifts it high, he doesn't bring it over his head.]
But ugh. So uncomfortable. Not as uncomfortable as Albert, of course, but this little change has made him a bit tense. Caesar takes a moment to mimic the technique that Sigmund showed them, less
lazyrelaxed than he was before, and focusing more on his brother's movements. When Albert lifts the waster, he has to remind himself again—don't dodge it, block it. He lifts his own weapon just enough to hopefully successfully block this one.]When Sigmund ordered Caesar to attack, he brought the waster up slightly, unsure of what to expect.]
And Albert keeps shifting his grip, while Caesar is acting as though it might bite him. He's going to have to try something else. Maybe a more sturdy target? That might work.
He points to a pile fabric strips, half hidden under the pile of wooden swords.]
Albert, wrap your hands, and then stand here. [A spot closer to the center of the ring is indicated with the point of the waster.] Caesar, here.
He brought the waster with him as he walked back to the pile of swords, his eyes focused on the strips. Right glove off, left glove off -- with his palms facing upward to cover the mark on his left hand until he had wound fabric around it.
Once he was finished, he returned to the center of ring, carefully testing his grip. It was interesting how such a change helped.]
Better. Much better.
Here?
We will try something else. I will be the target.
[This was not what he had expected out of one training session with Sigmund. The man was definitely treating this like a crash course in swordsmanship.
...He had no doubt that they wouldn't hurt Sigmund, but ... what were they expected to do?]
How?
Same thing, then, but with you?
[Maybe it was just all that armor, but something about Sigmund being the target didn't bother him so much.]
You may find it easier to swing at a less vulnerable target. Take turns, aim for the shoulders, torso, or thighs - not the head - at a speed you are comfortable with. When you are ready.