ʀᴏʏᴀʟs ♛ ᵃᵈᵛᵃᶰᶜᵉᵈ ʳᵒᶫᵉ ᵖᶫᵃʸ ♛ discussion

Guards Only

Sef stared at the dummy in grot of him, concerned. He was supposed to stab it. It seemed like a waste of fabric, and cloth to him, but if he had to stab it, he had to stab it. And he needed the practice, unfortunately. He wasn't the biggest guard, or the strongest guard. No, he was apparently the guard who was concerned about wasting fabric when told to practice on a dummy. He looked down at the sword in his hand with resignation, and plunged the sword into the depths of... Nothing. He missed. And with the force of his blow, fell, nearly impaling himself on his sword but managing to not do so.

He looked up quickly. "Erm. Yes, sir. Definitely. Nothing wrong, sir. Just practicing." He really did have the worst of luck, didn't he? The one time he manages to miss the two feet wide dummy and nearly stab himself, the head guard was watching. Great. Just great.

He nodded quickly, keeping his eyes down at his shoes. "Yes sir," he said quietly, just loud enough to be heard. He kind of just wanted the head guard to walk away and leave him be. That way he could fail at his job in peace. He might be good at some things, but waving a sword around wasn't one of them.

He nodded, containing a sigh. Wonderful. He'd be able to make a fool of himself for a second time in front of the head guard. It wasn't as if this time would go any better. It wasn't a lack of training, or technique. No, he'd been trained by his father, Head Guard in his own time, probably one of the best there'd ever been. He'd held a sword since he was eight. He wasn't awful at it, in fact he was probably better than most of the population at it. But compared to these other guards, these elite soldiers at the palace? As if. Since coming, he'd nearly given up. Everyone laughed whether he practiced or not, so why practice? He was the worst of the bunch at his best, so he might as well drop lower. He worked on other weapons, avoided swordplay. He could spar, the adrenaline sometimes helped, knowing that his opponent could and would injure him, but just hacking away at a practice dummy wasn't his style.

He looked at the sword in his hand, then at the dummy. He slowly raised it (the sword was too heavy for him, he knew that much at least. The armoured hadn't wanted to waste one of the good swords on a kid who was going to die in his first battle.) He took a deep breath, and made a stab. It hit the dummy in the stomach. It hadn't been where he was aiming, but it looked rather impressive, he supposed.

He nodded again, not letting the Head guard see his struggle to get the sword out of the dummy. That was another problem. Whenever he managed to get it in, he couldn't get it out. He thrust forward, trying to move through the dummy, as both his father and the Head guard had told him. He struck the dummy where the heart might be. It went through, spilling stuffing at the back where the point had gone through.

Really, it was a lucky hit. But maybe it would convince the head guard that he was somewhat adequate, and leave him alone. That was what the rest of the guards did, expect when they wanted to torment him for some reason.

"Thank you, sir. You give me too much credit." He bowed his head, continuing to keep his eyes on the floor. Ah. Sparring. With the head guard. Wouldn't that be fun. He could be battered and bruised by a whole new skill level. "It would be an honour, sir," was all he replied.

He nodded, setting his teeth. His eyes scanned the older guard, looking for weak points. His left. But he would expect that... He lunged at the right, the more protective side, aiming a swipe at the left as he retreated. Or at least that was the idea.

He swallowed, his sword out. It was Ethan's turn to attack. He was on guard now, and to attack Ethan would be next to suicidal. He had to wait for the older guard to attack, take whatever he doled out to him, and take him out while he was distracted.

The same move Sefton had just tried, but much more successful. He hadn't been expecting that. He swung his sword wildly at the other guard, hardly managing to block the sword, and hardly keeping it away.

Well, that had been luck. A second later, and he would've been looking at a long while in the infirmary. He looked at the guard, scanning him. His legs. He was guarding his upper body, but not his legs. He grunted up at the hip, but brought his sword down in a slash toward the leg.

He pressed on the blade as hard as he could, sweat beginning to pour from his forehead. The thinking was easy enough. It was following through that was less easy. He wasn't as good at that.

Sef felt the shove coming at the last second, and let go of his sword. A stupid move, as his sword clattered to the floor across the room, and he was weaponless. It did put the other guard off balance, though, as he only struck a sword instead of a person holding a sword. He kicked out at Ethan's legs, hoping it would work. Undoubtedly it wouldn't, but it was really his only chance.

He smiled nervously, swallowing. He hadn't missed the lethal glare. Not one second of it. He might be laughing now, but the look he'd directed at Sef had been murderous, for a moment there. He hadn't really followed the rules of combat, there. But then, he'd been weaponless, and in a real fight would have been dead had he not done that. He swallowed again, his throat dry. "Ern, thank you. Sir."

((It's cool :)))

He nodded. "Um, yes, sir. I was just about to." He quickly walked off to fetch the sword, hoping it wasn't too banged up. That would be bad. It wasn't like he could afford a replacement, and the armourer already didn't like him.

He nodded, picking of his sword. "Of course sir." He noticed a slight pain in his step, but he assumed it must just be an aftermath from him kicking him. He must have kicked harder than he thought. It would go away after a few hours, though. It might leave a bruise.

He nodded, looking down at the sword in his hand. That was enough practicing for the day, he decided. He had guard duty soon, anyway. He packed up his stuff and left the training room.