Solo The Art of Flailing About and not Stabbing Oneself

[Sh'Ky Naes]

Sh'Ky Naes

Summer 20, 514

Sh'Ky, returning from the market, set the bundle of wheat on the front steps of his house. He didn't care if it got dirty. What he had planned for that poor little stack of wheat almost made him send a prayer to Bala for forgiveness, but he thought better of it. The gods hadn't done anything for him in this piss hole. Looking around the rambling street, he strode over to a small pile of rotting wood and kicked the molding boards around. What he really needed was a nail... there, sticking out of a 2x4 was a rusty three-inch nail. Taking the board in his hands, he swung the middle of the board towards the edge of his house's wall, splintering the wood into medium-sized fragments. Brushing around the dusty street with his hand, he found the nail and put it in his pocket, saving it for later.

Walking up the steps, he unlocked the door and bent down, picking up the wheat. Walking over the threshold, he locked the door, still a bit crooked on its hinges, behind him. Reaching behind him, he pulled a sack from the waist of his pants, and began to stuff the hay inside. After a few minutes, he had gotten all of the strawlike bits of wheat in the sack, causing it to bulge a bit. Tearing a small hole with the nail and pushing it through, Sh'Ky stood up on a chair, and pulled out his sword. The pommel would make a decent enough hammer, he supposed.

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Dallen McHenderson

[Sh'Ky Naes]

Sh'Ky Naes

Lining up the nail with his ceiling, he swung the pommel of his sword upward, only to hit his left thumb. Cursing, he dropped the sackful of hay, his sword, and instead grabbed his thumb in pain. After a few seconds of writhing about in agony, he gingerly probed it with the index of his right hand, finding, to his relief, that none of it was broken. Picking his sword back up in his right hand, he grabbed the bag (and nail) in his left, and trying again, managed to get the nail to sink halfway into the wood. Smacking at the head of the nail again, he made it go all of the way in, and stepping off of the chair, poked it with his sword, causing the sack with the wheat to swing back and forth. Satisfied, he moved the chair out from under the sack, and looking once again towards the bag, held his sword like he was about to attack.

Before he attacked the sack, however, he decided to stretch a bit, first. He didn't know much about the muscles of the body and how they worked, in fact, he barely knew much about the human body's inner workings at all. But he did know that it felt good to stretch his shoulders and arms before any physical work, so that's what he did. After a few more minutes of grunting and stretching, Sh'Ky was ready to act like an idiot. But it was in the comfort of his own home, so he didn't have to worry about public humiliation or exploitation.

Shuffling his feet around, he took a slightly ridiculous bowlegged stance, with feet shoulder width apart. He didn't know it, but his feet were in the right place, a crude imitation of a swordsman's stance. Keeping the sword tightly in his grip, he made a jerky downward cut towards the sack, a comical parody of an attack, more than anything. Yelping as he missed the sackcloth bag, the blade twisted out of his fingers and clattered on the floor. Grumbling, Sh'Ky picked it up and examined it for scratches and chinks. Luckily, there were none. Getting rid of the bowleggedness from before, he pointed his foot towards the target unconsciously. Gripping the short sword looser with all his fingers, he did an overhand cut, diagonal to his right shoulder. Yet again, something was wrong with the way he did it, for it was slung out of his hands, hit the sack with the hilt, and once again reached the floor. "Petch this petching piece of shyke idea, Sh'Ky. You have better things to do."

Regardless, he tried once again, this time correctly inferring that you should hold the sword with your thumb and first two fingers tightly, but loosely with your other two, for more movement about the wrist. Swinging with a horizontal cut, about parallel with his waist line, he grinned with surprise as it embedded itself about a centimeter in the bag, causing it to sway back and forth lightly. If that were a harder blow, it would've cut into a man's gut, maybe hitting his spine. Continuing with cuts from different angles, such as ones slightly above his bicep, and ones even with his thigh, he practiced late into the night, trying out different stances and ways of holding the sword. He still dropped the sword, but at least he knew what he was doing wrong when he did it. Pushing the sword into the sheath, Sh'Ky Naes slumped into his bed, sweaty, and pulled off his shirt, falling asleep with the glow of accomplishment on his face.

What Sh'Ky didn't account for was that when he would use his sword against other fighters, these moves wouldn't always be effective or able to be used.

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Alt:
Dallen McHenderson

[Orion Michaels]

Yousa

Wantsa

GRADE?!

 

Player 1

Experience

Shortsword	+1
Observation	+2
Skill	#
Skill	#

Lores.

• Building a Makeshift Dummy
• Trial and Error: Correct Shortsword Grip
• Shortsword: Basic Square Stance
• Shortsword: Basic Diagonal Slash
• Shortsword: Basic Horizontal Slash

 

Player 2

Experience

Skill	#
Skill	#
Skill	#
Skill	#

Lores.

 

Notes

Thanks for the thread, Sh'ky. If you expand on your training, there will be more XP to be earned, but I appreciated the struggles in learning to hold a weapon properly. Keep that up. Let me know if you have any questions