Visar warmed up with the sword, just like he had done every morning for years.  He took his sharp out and did a few forms solo, eying his surrounds carefully as he did so.  Satisfied, he sheathed his long sword and took up a blunt practice sword.  It did not balance quite as well, but it was durable and Visar was becoming accustomed to controlling it enough in sparring so that it did not create injuries frequently.

 

He took it against a worn pell, a simple stake in the ground, striking and thrusting as if it were a real enemy.  After about half an hour of doing that, Visar grew almost bored and decided it was time to test himself with some sparring.

 

Taking his third tool, a lathed wooden sword, he went at it with a couple trainees, practicing fighting against more than one opponent.  While he did fairly well against them, there were always openings he did not notice, and he had a fair share of bruises by the end of that.  Thanking them and complimenting their improvement, Visar moved on to spar singly with those more or less on his level.

 

It was here that he began to feel frustrated.  Sometimes his usual strategy worked just fine.  He gained the first strike, or immediately countered their first strike, and if that did not land to cause a significant wound he would follow it up with several more strikes.  But with those opponents who knew his style rather well, all they had to do was back up and hit him while he was in the middle of trying to follow up his strikes.  He usually prided himself on his sense of timing and distance, but today seemed to be another humble reminder that he was nowhere near mastering the use of his weapon.  A Master fought with a near perfect defense, and attacked while being perfectly safe.  But however Visar strove to that ideal, he frequently failed.

 

I'm just not good enough! he thought, inwardly despairing.  I have to master this in order to best protect Rasheta!

 

Trying to clear thoughts of failure and inadequacy from his mind, Visar took a short break, and watched the members of the yard at their frenzied play.  Many he didn't have much of a problem fighting, some he had difficulty fighting, and there were those few that he genuinely feared to fight.  He had seen them destroy opponents in the yard so effortlessly, and had been on the receiving end of several such blademasters.  Perhaps one of them would have advice for him, he thought, though he knew that such an effort would be painful at best, probably extremely dangerous.

 

Towards one end of the yard, Visar spied someone practicing their art solo, set aside a little from the others.  She was a blond woman, about the same height as he, and she wielded a large, two-handed sword with a speed and ease that was difficult to believe.  Even Visar had trouble moving his long sword as quickly, and he was willing to bet a few silvers that his weapon was at least a pound lighter than hers.

 

He had heard of this woman before, too, though he had never dared to ask for a friendly bout.  Those he knew that had faced her said that she fought as if possessed by a demon.  While skeptical of such superstition, Visar was still intimidated as he watched her go at it.  It was as if he could feel lethal energy come off of her in waves.

 

Slowly, he creeped closer, keeping only his blunt sword at hand, and that tip down by his side.  He didn't want to appear a threat in any sort of way, so he left his sharp by the fence.  He felt as if it would not be a good idea to say anything.  Visar respectfully did not want to interrupt her training, and she would no doubt notice him watching her.  Hopefully she would allow him to at least ask for some advice for improvement.

 

He patiently waited for an opportunity to say something.

 

That woolheaded fool wooman!

 

Beast moved fluidly around her as she worked through her forms, integrating the new into the old while adjusting her own style in the process. It was a process, one that took a great deal of effort and discipline yet she found her mind wandering more and more these past weeks as she argued herself into a frenzy about her former Aes Sedai. The meeting in front of the Trainee put in her care left her feeling rather murderous towards the woman. A very unhealthy anger that she recognized instantly. That recognition brought back memories of Aran and then she just felt guilty and started to rage at herself more which was then focused on Jaydena . . . it was a vicious cycle that no forms could seem to break her of; frustrating her even more. Pity a simple yelling match wouldn't be any better either.

 

Fool Woman.

 

Whether that was referring to herself or Jaydena, light only knew. Most likely both if she felt rational enough to sort through it all.

 

It was from the corner of her eye, moving through Humming Bird on a Leaf, that she saw the young Red Cloak watching her. It wasn't unusual for her to be watched as she worked with Beast; if anything it drew more eyes then when she dual wield. At first Cairma decided to ignore the boy but something stuck in her mind that sort of gave her a bit of a mental tug to stop. Trying to pick out why, she noticed a long handle poking from behind the boys back and it should have been a little more obvious to her. It wasn't that he was carrying weapons - all residents of the Yard carried weapons - but the type of weapon that he carried. Shifting as she moved through her forms, she analyzed the style of the hilt and concluded that the weapon wasn't too disimilar than heres - less weight to the hilt, thinner handle noted that it was actually lighter than her own Beast. How interesting.

 

Sheathing Beast, Cairma turned and started to walk to the boy who at first hesitated, seemingly intimidated that Cairma picked 'him' out of the crowd. It happened on occassion where she would pull someone from the crowd and teach them a few things, or offer them a spar. It was the duty of a Grandmaster to teach the those lower in skill so that all could continue to improve. Duals were common enough that it certainly wasn't out of the ordinary. The type of weapon he carried, however, was. Few carried such a large weapon and few met the length of Beast.

 

"Would you like to learn how to use your blade faster? Stronger?" She offered, waiting to see if the boy would respond.

 

 

Cairma Vishnu

Grandmaster of the White Tower

Visar almost flinched as she sheathed her two handed sword and approached him.  He breathed, calming himself, and stood his ground, steel practice sword in hand ready to use.  He wondered if she had a similar training blunt or if she would use her sharp sword, hitting with the flat instead.  Visar had heard awful stories about friendly spars turning sour when the business end was used.

 

"Would you like to learn how to use your blade faster? Stronger?"

 

Visar smiled at her question, trying to appear courageous enough to be worthy of this sword woman's attention. 

 

"More skillfully.  If I am better and can overwhelm my opponent without being hit myself, then I'd imagine the use of my strength or theirs and the timing of my speed or theirs will be better.  Can you help with this?"

 

"That all depends," She said with a smile. There clearly was a level of regard in the boy that Cairma recognized in all of the newer stock of Tower Guards. There were many that are more skilled than him and with a curiosity, Cairma wondered if he was already bonded. He had the look about him. "If you are willing to work for it, open your mind for the unattainable, it is possible."

 

"It is of no surprise that it takes a great deal of work, but I wonder how much creativity you have with that blade of yours. Come." She lead him back into the center area of the circle and then unsheathed her sword and passed it to him. "Try and keep me from getting my sword back. Use any form you wish, or any other thing that comes to mind. Don't be afraid to hurt me because you won't." Her tone was a little smug, but there needed to be someone that was smug in these yards. Light knows it lacked in it these days.

 

"Do you think you can do that?"

Visar blinked as Cairma handed him her sword.  He took it, slightly confused as to why she was giving him a sharp sword for a training exercise.  Was she insane or was she really that good?

 

"Try and keep me from getting my sword back. Use any form you wish, or any other thing that comes to mind. Don't be afraid to hurt me because you won't.  Do you think you can do that?"

 

Visar frowned.  He would not try to hurt her with her own sword.  He had seen too many Guardsman playing around with sharp swords get permanently maimed to risk it.  But perhaps there was some merit in the exercise, and perhaps she had some excellent techniques for unarmed against sword she wanted to show him.  Reaching a compromise in his mind, Visar took her sword and plunged it into the ground.  He took up his blunt steel long sword, stood in front of her two hander, and prepared to defend "the sword" from its owner.

 

"I'll try to keep you from getting your sword back, though I'd not risk using your sharp myself."

 

He saluted with his sword and returned in a guard, his point threatening a quick thrust, indicating that he was ready for whatever she had in mind.  Normally, as the one "with" the sword he would have every confidence in winning with one or two swift strokes, but he waited in guard, waiting for her to move within range of his weapon before he would strike out like a serpent.  Visar quickly went through her possibly options in his mind.  There were many defenses against cuts from above; horizontal strikes were difficult to defend against unless one could jump out of range and dash back in before a second strike could be made.  Thrusts were tricky when not fully committed, especially if they were thrown as feints before a cut, as Visar liked to do...

 

 

Cairma grinned. So the boy did have a sense of rational thought, decided since Cairma laid no rules to the exercise. It had not been known that she wore another as she chased him around they yard while he could barely lift the blade. That was, after all, she over heard the boy bragging that he could. Conor was never a particularly bright student of hers. This one, however, there was . . . potential. Yes, potential was an appropriate word for him, Cairma looked him over from top to bottom measuring him carefully. Yes, this was indeed going to be a very interesting match to watch. Quick, which would be the pity. Perhaps she should play with him a little first.

 

Without commenting to him over his own variation of the game lest she give away too much approval before it all started, Cairma moved in extremely close to him and his attacks. Weapons often gave the illusion that they were the superior way to win, but all they gave was distance from the opponent. If the one with the sword is fast enough, skilled enough, then it was no illusion. Cairma wanted to test this of the boy, for if he could be taught then she needed to know what to teach him. Clearly Logic was already a point for him. This was a good thing. A very good thing.

 

She allowed him the first starts of attacks, dodging appropriately without losing her foot - or even moving all that much at all. Half-hearted attempts on his part, she kept her face free of emotion, Cairma moved in, pushing one of the thrusts to the side with an arm skillfully placed on the flat of the blade. In one swift movement, that blade was paused to the side and Cairma dropped to the ground and swept the boys feet out from under him. Standing she looked down at him without bothering to walk over to her sword that still stood untouched in the ground.

 

"Not bad for an attempt, but what do you think you did wrong?" She held out a hand to help him up.

Visar thrust out, knowing that usually his attacks landed, but this one did not.  Already, his opponent controlled the point of his blade, and already, she was getting too close.  He flinched, attempting to bring his blade back and around for another strike, and that was all the time she needed to slide right under him knocking him to the ground.

 

He looked up, seeing her, and over a little, seeing her sword still there.  She was standing over him, concerned, yet he had fallen safely enough.  What, is she giving me a chance or something? he wondered.  Gotta keep her from getting the sword.

 

"Not bad for an attempt, but what do you think you did wrong?"

 

He took her hand, and without any obvious warning, yanked himself up, trying to pull her off balance and grapple with her before she reached her sword.  He tried to use his strength to his advantage; this was difficult because his prey proved quite slippery. Visar hesitated again, trying to make sure she didn't throw him back to the ground in return, and grunted in pain as she struck him hard in the ribs and escaped from his grip.  As quick as a flash, she was by her weapon and took it from the ground.  Now he was the one who was unarmed.  She seemed to be waiting for an explanation, so Visar gave her one.

 

"I counted on you closing in without wanting you to close in.  My timing was off, and I hesitated." he said as she held her sword in her hands.  He held out a hand.

 

"Shall I try to keep it from you again, or are you going to let me try to take it from you?" he said, flashing a challenging grin.  He hadn't gone against someone this skilled in some time, and he relished what he might learn from it, even if he lost every time.

 

 

Cairma nodded, "Well you have it on the last bit. You hesitated and whether friend or foe you should never hesitate. Hesitating is what will get you and your Aes Sedai killed. If you get into the habit of the slower movements, your movements will always be slow. Now, I could have pushed in all the same but pushing at the flat of your blade but It would not have been so easy for me to do so if you had a firmer swing or thrust. Your attack will always lack power if you do not commit to it one hundred and ten percent."

 

She took his hand to help him stand, the boy gave her a challenging look that nearly made her laugh; and not particularly in a good way. "Shall I try to keep it from you again, or are you going to let me try to take it from you?"

 

Regarding him, Cairma carefully picked her words so as not to insult or offend. "Would you find keeping me from my sword easier than trying to get it away from me? Having the sword separate creates two targets instead of just one. If you wish to try it your way we can. But only if you wish to."

(ooc: hope you don't mind if Visar takes the sword for like a second, after hundreds of tries, let me know if you want anything changed)

 

Visar shook his head. disagreeing slightly with her admonishment on not committing to his strikes.

"I know I haven't exactly perfected feinting.  But against a prepared opponent, committing too fully to one or more strikes is suicide.  A good swordsman will often be able to defeat a "buffalo" that charges in without considering their own defense at all.  At my level though, getting that to work on you seems to be another story."

"Would you find keeping me from my sword easier than trying to get it away from me? Having the sword separate creates two targets instead of just one. If you wish to try it your way we can. But only if you wish to."

 

"I think it will be a challenge for me either way.  How about this?  No second targets for now, let's keep it simple. You can sheath your weapon so it doesn't get sand in the hilt or anything.  Whoever has the blunt,"  Visar picked up his valued training tool.  "The other has to try to take it from their grip, and then we take turns.  That is, if I can ever manage to get it from you."

 

On the first try, Cairma took the weapon from Visar, even though he gripped it as if it were a lifeline.  Now it was his turn; of course such things were much harder to accomplish than they looked.  He tried again and again to get the sword from her, attempting every unarmed trick he knew, but each time she would move at just the right moment and strike him where he least expected it.  And even if he managed to get past a lethal blow with the sword, she would be ready for him at close range, as if the blade was merely an extension of how she naturally fought. If the training tool had been sharp, he would have been cut and punctured and thrown to the ground so many times his corpse would be barely recognizable. 

 

After only thirty minutes of such exercise, his body was covered in welts that would turn dark purple later.  Visar breathed heavily, clearly affected by the pain, but he tried again. He rushed in, and somehow managed to twist just out of the way of her strike.  He closed into grips, but just as he was about to try to take the sword away, she closed on him in turn, gaining his back and pushing him just slightly off balance.  While he tried to grip her sword, she adjusted her grip, using the blade to lever him down to the ground by the back of his neck with a sharp push.

 

Visar spat out dirt and rose unsteadily to his feet.  His body ached all over from being hit and falling again and again.  While being attacked with a sword unarmed, the chances of success were slim to none. Visar still had to try.  There has to be some point to this Light-forsaken exercise!

 

Most of his earlier attempts had been trying to rush in, and of those, the ones where he tried to close before she struck almost always ended in his "death."  The others where he voided a strike first and then jumped in range, he might get past the point and percussion point of the blade one time out of five, but the exercise was to take the sword. The pain of the blow was merely a reminder of the consequences.

 

He tried to feint a rush as well, but either he failed to draw her out sufficiently, or he was unable to defend against her follow up strike.  He decided to try something different, even if it was technically 'cheating'.  Since the weapon was a blunt sword, he could afford a few extra hits, even if trying this on a sharp weapon would certainly not work.

 

Rushing in as before, Visar took the sword blow full on, trying to acknowledge the pain, using it as motivation to keep going.  From there, he grabbed at the tip of the blade she held, where it was easier to maneuver the length of the weapon to either side.  After about a dozen tries of this, he finally managed to push the sword off line enough to pry the sword from Cairma's grip, though he would most likely have been cleaved in two had it been a sharp sword.  It was only a brief moment of triumph, however.  Cairma lashed out with either a fist or foot before Visar could do anything with his newly acquired weapon, and he crumpled straight to the ground, blacking out, the sword slipping from his grip.

 

Cold water splashed on his face.  Visar woke, finding himself sprawled on the ground.  He tried to move, and groaned.  He tried to remember if he had managed to take the sword or not...Had he?  He must not have if he felt this bad, his body almost entirely covered in stinging bruises and welts. Strong arms gently lifted him to a sitting position.  As his eyes cleared, he saw it was Cairma.

 

"Did I...?" he asked, wondering if he had succeeded, even if only for a moment, even if he would most certainly have died anyway had the "game" been a real situation.

Ooc: I totally failed on remembering to post to this. :( I'm really really sorry. But I'm back! :)

 

Cairma knew that she should feel bad. She did, in a way, feel bad but it wasn't because she sent him to the infirmary. A great many of her students have been sent to visit the Yellow Sisters that she developed enough of a reputation with both the Yellow's and the Yard about it. Playing too hard with her toys, so they joke, but that wasn't the issue in this case. Cairma played dirty and Visar worked so hard at getting her sword. It had not been particularly fair of her to land him on his back. Perhaps she should not tell him that she carried him to the Infirmary either. These things she just wasn't used to think about. She looked over to see him wake.

 

"Yes, you got the sword. The moment you did however your guard went down. Might want to work on that, but other then that you did very well. How are you feeling? Not too heavy of a headache?" She didn't wince, but the tone gave her away. She really didn't mean to hit so hard but it had been just instinct. Instinct saved her life many time, but it's going to kill someone friendly if she didn't start controlling it. Bloody temper, she didnt' want to have to deal with Jaydena and 'that' issue just yet. It was what was out of control and it made the rest of her out of control. It wasn't good.

(ooc: my bad on the wait here too)

Visar found himself in the infirmary (ooc: ? doesn't matter either way).  He hurt all over, but an exploratory check showed that nothing was broken or dislocated, thank the Light.  Cairma was there, looking somewhat concerned.

 

"Yes, you got the sword. The moment you did however your guard went down. Might want to work on that, but other then that you did very well. How are you feeling? Not too heavy of a headache?"

 

Visar nodded.  Sword taking wasn't everything, it was merely one option in a host of techniques to do.  If he did it at the wrong time there was a good chance his opponent would either throw him or escape and kill him.  He stretched his back, wincing as he could feel a few vertabrae crack.  He felt several particularly nasty, purple bruises that would be there for at least a week.

 

"I'm fine." he said bravely, trying to shrug off the residual sting of everything. "But maybe we should break for now until I feel good enough to do some more of this.  Want to do lunch? It's about that time and that should give me some time for a break." he offered.

 

"We could either go to the mess or go in town somewhere.  I don't mind the mess food at all but maybe you'd prefer something different than the usual soup and sandwich?"

(I'm seriously so very sorry on the wait. I'll try and post soon. I've been dealing with immigration papers, moving, and a wedding... *sighs* ... all so time consuming and mentally draining... If you're still interested that is..)

(ooc: if you're still around, would be great to get back into the swing of things!  I am sorry too for not replying for so long; let me know if you'd like to continue or you'd like me to post some sort of filler)