| "My Speaking" | My Thoughts |
82nd Winter 515
Ball looked down at the two weapons he had brought with him. Their heavy weight pressed shapes into the snow, but neither were in any immediate dangers of rusting. Looking starkly deadly in the snow's white blanket were Ball's rapier encased in hardened leather and a rather glossy pole capped on both ends with metal. Both were formidable weapons in the right hands, but Ball's hands were not that… Currently. Both weapons had their benefits in combat, the pole would give Ball the springing apparatus to jump and swing using his might. It would further his unarmed combat reach to heights that Squirrel Pycon would be proud of. The rapier though was smaller, easier to hold and Ball could still punch and kick with it. Sure he couldn't reach the height that the pole could, but who needed that when you can just bring the enemy down to your level?
He placed a hand on the rapier, closing each of his little fingers around the leather before picking it up. The hilt poked up from the leather and he looked at it. Reaching up Ball wrapped his left hand around the hilt, there was a bit of hesitation as the Pycon knew he hadn't held this weapon in some time. Last time he used it was to train on his own or maybe it was against Lady Squire Pycon. The look of hesitation faded fasted as the grip on the hilt tightened and Ball twisted his body around, shifting both his feet as if he was bracing himself for an unarmed combatant.
As he twisted Ball pulled the blade from the leather, it hissed along the blade before the tip popped free, his right hand held the leather preparing himself to use it like a baton or club, in his other hand he held the rapier forward, tip wavered slightly as it settled still straight. The flat of the blade laid perpendicular to the ground. Dropping the sheath to the ground beside him Ball flexed his right hand, it didn't feel normal for the pyken master to hold a weapon in his hand when he was a weapon himself. Better to learn now or never. Ball frowned, he keeps telling himself that but he never really keeps committed to the blade or pole.
The blade quivered as the wind buffered his little body, snow billowed around him in a cloud of white desperation. Mocking his already short range of visibility. Ball stepped forward, his left arm twisted outward and up, shifting the blade into a somewhat graceful arch in the air, cutting through the snow and flashing between the flakes before his foot landed on, burying his leg up to the 'knee' in snow as the blade sliced downward before him. The weapon was poised before him Ball had to pause slightly as he lifted his rear leg up close to his body. Placing his free hand on the hilt clasping it hard he wobbled in his balance before stepping forward hard with his raise foot and thrusting the rapier along with it.
Ball looked down at the two weapons he had brought with him. Their heavy weight pressed shapes into the snow, but neither were in any immediate dangers of rusting. Looking starkly deadly in the snow's white blanket were Ball's rapier encased in hardened leather and a rather glossy pole capped on both ends with metal. Both were formidable weapons in the right hands, but Ball's hands were not that… Currently. Both weapons had their benefits in combat, the pole would give Ball the springing apparatus to jump and swing using his might. It would further his unarmed combat reach to heights that Squirrel Pycon would be proud of. The rapier though was smaller, easier to hold and Ball could still punch and kick with it. Sure he couldn't reach the height that the pole could, but who needed that when you can just bring the enemy down to your level?
He placed a hand on the rapier, closing each of his little fingers around the leather before picking it up. The hilt poked up from the leather and he looked at it. Reaching up Ball wrapped his left hand around the hilt, there was a bit of hesitation as the Pycon knew he hadn't held this weapon in some time. Last time he used it was to train on his own or maybe it was against Lady Squire Pycon. The look of hesitation faded fasted as the grip on the hilt tightened and Ball twisted his body around, shifting both his feet as if he was bracing himself for an unarmed combatant.
As he twisted Ball pulled the blade from the leather, it hissed along the blade before the tip popped free, his right hand held the leather preparing himself to use it like a baton or club, in his other hand he held the rapier forward, tip wavered slightly as it settled still straight. The flat of the blade laid perpendicular to the ground. Dropping the sheath to the ground beside him Ball flexed his right hand, it didn't feel normal for the pyken master to hold a weapon in his hand when he was a weapon himself. Better to learn now or never. Ball frowned, he keeps telling himself that but he never really keeps committed to the blade or pole.
The blade quivered as the wind buffered his little body, snow billowed around him in a cloud of white desperation. Mocking his already short range of visibility. Ball stepped forward, his left arm twisted outward and up, shifting the blade into a somewhat graceful arch in the air, cutting through the snow and flashing between the flakes before his foot landed on, burying his leg up to the 'knee' in snow as the blade sliced downward before him. The weapon was poised before him Ball had to pause slightly as he lifted his rear leg up close to his body. Placing his free hand on the hilt clasping it hard he wobbled in his balance before stepping forward hard with his raise foot and thrusting the rapier along with it.
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