Sapling on the sand (Fanfic)

Welcome to the Warder Yards. This is the place for Warder and Trainee roleplays. Informal non-training interactions take place here, as well as some extended role plays.
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Welcome to the Warder Yards. This is the place for Warder and Trainee roleplays. Informal non-training interactions take place here, as well as some extended role plays. Yet these events may take place at any area of the Tower, and sometimes outside of it, since the images to the left merely serves as inspiration towards the sceneries of your stories. Channelers are always welcome, and might even find his or her bondmate through the threads that are displayed below.
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Damon
"The Shadow Rising"
Posts: 195
Joined: January 25th, 2017, 5:14 pm

Sapling on the sand (Fanfic)

Post by Damon » July 13th, 2017, 6:49 pm

Olin
Olin thanked the Armoury clerk, a rather tired looking Drin who had borne a sizeable bruise. He was sure the young woman was not enjoying the task of polishing and scraping the endless array of weapons the Grey Tower stored, but she had grabbed him the weapon he had requested with haste and diligence.

As he chose an empty ring in the fence, Olin took his jacket off and hung it on the wooden rails. He had not been to the Warder Yard since before he left for the Three Fold land, and he knew he was physically in far better shape than any other point in his life. Long hours of moving rocks, running through the sand and even wrestling with Aiel had given Olin a lean strong build.

Looking at the weapon he had chosen, Olin ran his hands along the stave feeling for signs if wear or damage. As he tested the balance he was glad he had chosen Thorn, the thick wood being strong and slightly springy. The staff was thick, well made and as far as he could tell one solid piece. Iron caps protected the striking ends, and the Tower smiths had made them well for they affected the balance hardly at all. As Olin worked through a series of stretches he had seen the Maidens perform many times, he allowed his mind to fall into the rhythm of the movements, relaxing his mind and helping to clear some of the day’s agitation.

He allowed his hand to move along the staff as he worked his body through the guard stances, flowing from one to the other with a strike or sweep in between. The weight of the staff was different than the shorter spears he had been practicing with, but after the attack in the pass he had seen just how close spear work truly required you to be. Especially with a Trolloc, where they had the advantage of reach and bulk. And so he had opted for the staff instead, hoping its longer length would aid him should he need to wield one in anger.

Olin knew a lot of Dedicated and Accepted chose not to learn weapons, trusting in the One Power to provide them the edge they needed, and he knew that with more time and practice he would hopefully hone his battleweaves. However he also recalled how fatigued he had been facing the Trollocs and ravens and he knew that had they been pressed further he would have been close to his limit. And so he trained, the thorn staff swinging through the air as he moved along the sands.

Olin briefly wondered if there were staff forms, and made a note to ask one of the Gaidin instructors about that at his next opportunity. But for now he worked on getting his hands used to the extra weight and length of the staff. Most of the strikes and guard he knew kept his hands at similar spacing to the spear, so it was easy enough to adapt the strikes and spins to the forms he had learned with the Maidens or Stone Dogs. His muscles warmed to the staff, and he found himself ingraining new patterns with old, even if he was still slow when compared to some of the Drin and Ji'val he had seen practicing earlier.

Switching to low guard, he angle his staff from shoulder to ground, and practiced the sweeps and strikes that would help keep a swordsman from approaching, as well as helping to protect his control and distance from an attacker. Suddenly he shifted his grasp on the staff, drawing his hands to the middle of the staff, and worked through a series of feints and moved that he had learned to help protect the body when an enemy did manage to close in. These forms were slow and a little more ragged than when he had practiced under the watchful eye of Aiel, for the extra length of the staff given his height kept it sticking behind him more than he was sued to. Still as he finished his practice for the day, he noted that the extra length would help hold off an additional opponent, and Olin had to give a little more weight to the tales of staff wielding farm boys taking on experienced swordsmen.

He knew to truly train he would need to find an opponent to spar with, for the forms and movements seemed well enough ingrained in his mind. Now it would require the speed and reactions to another man’s movements to bring out more polish and skill, Olin thought to himself as he towelled off before heading for the dining hall.
"Every man is the hero of his own song," Tad Williams.

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