The Grey Tower

Darthalien stood in the corner of the Warder Yards and balanced the knife in his hand. It was one of a set of three, identically crafted. Each was a single piece of steel, with a double-edged blade that narrowed to a wicked tip. They had no real guards, but the steel narrowed abruptly below the base of the blade to make a serviceable handle; they were built for throwing, but they could be used for cutting or stabbing, especially in the sort of close-in, sudden fighting that he'd been trained for. I could use a set of these...

Well, for this small time between the end of his lessons and the bell that signaled dinner, they were his to use. He twisted one around, raised it over his shoulder with its tip pinched in his hand, and sent it flying end-over-end into the soft wood of the target.

Not my best throw, he decided. The blade had stuck, but he'd misjudged the distance enough that it stuck at an angle; ideally, for a target with a vertical surface like this, it should be sticking out almost perfectly horizontally. ...And that was why I wanted to practice, he reminded himself. He made a slight adjustment, raised the second knife, and flung it.

It buried itself beside the first, but he'd overcompensated; this time the handle was angled up. He considered the length of the throwing knives, how fast they'd turned when he'd thrown the first two. Then he took a deep breath, settled himself, and tried again.

Better. This one was still off, but closer to straight... and he'd managed to land it just to the side of the first two, as he'd intended. Not great, but better. He went to collect his knives.

OOC: Open! A trainer stopping by to evaluate or just give pointers would be lovely. (Darthalien is no more than a single point in knife-throwing just yet -- he knows how to make the thing go forward instead of backwards and how to avoid dropping the tip onto his own foot, but he's not good for anything more complex than stiff, still targets.) But, if you have someone in the learning ranks who'd be curious and stop to chat, I'd be up to do some pointless* roleplay instead!

* You see what I did there, right?

Darthalien settled back into place, still focused on the center target. There were three in this area, clearly placed to allow a knife-thrower to practice switching from target to target, but Dar wasn't remotely ready to try that yet. He was too much out of practice as it was. No, one target at a time was the way to go. He took a small step forward, then judged the distance and tried again, this time gripping the bottom of the handle. He knew that throwing overhand wasn't the only way to do it, but it was only way he knew and since the older Daggers had started him there it was probably the easiest to learn. He took a deep breath, stilled himself, released it slowly, and threw.

The knife spun end over end, slapped flatly into the target, and fell to the ground. Darthalien shifted back; he'd clearly moved too far forward for the shift in grip. He tried again, still throwing from the handle, and this time the knife stuck briefly in the wood before falling out. Dar scowled, then reminded himself: That's why we practice. It was a mantra among the trainers of his earlier years; he and the other trainee Daggers had mocked their elders for using it so much, but now it was firmly stuck in his head. And it did sound oddly comforting, here and now.

He adjusted again, threw, and watched with no small satisfaction as the blade went in point-first and stayed. He wasn't anywhere near to being good enough to use this skill in battle, but then Daggers weren't trained to fight in battle. At least, not with knives. No, battle was when the spears came out. Throwing daggers were meant to be more of a handy trick, to be used in more... enclosed settings. There were Daggers who excelled in it, who really could use it in a fight, but that level of skill took a fair amount of time and practice.

A brief grin creased his white face, and he went to retrieve the knives again.

OOC: Seriously, feel free to jump in for anything -- including casual roleplay.

All in all, he managed about a dozen series of throws before he heard the summons to the evening meal. He tucked the knives away -- this set had a neat little single sheath to hold all three of them -- and turned to head back inside the tower. He knew it would take some time to develop any real skill with the weapons. Time, and a lot of practice. And, with the One Power ready to hand, perhaps the study of weapons was a waster of time.

Still, as Lissa Sedai had pointed out to him, there might still be times when the skill was needed: times when he couldn't or shouldn't channel. The more traditional Aes Sedai and even some of the Asha'man relied entirely on their warders in such situations, but Darthalien had spent too much time in training to become a Weaver's Dagger for that. The Green was one of the Ajahs he would consider joining, but even so... Even if he bonded a half-dozen warders, he didn't think he could stand back and let them fight for him. He didn't have the temperament for that. If it came down to it, he'd want to be part of the fight.

Which meant more time, and more training, with the One Power and weapons alike.