Jareth/Juliette | 3:17pm | Ashwyrm Hall
“Yes, sir,” she replied. “Thank you.” He looked mildly familiar, though no matter how she tried, she couldn’t quite place him. He wasn’t an instructor, or at least not one of those she had studied with, and she didn’t think she had seen him training here previously, though…
She shook the thought off. It hardly mattered – if he was going to offer much-needed assistance, she would be foolish to turn him down. She had read once that a well-rounded fighter ought to have a number of influences in his or her style, and having taken this advice to heart, she was always on the look-out for new ideas to incorporate into her repertoire, especially considering her lack of ability to invent maneuvers of her own.
Thus she faced down the dummy, attempted to correct her stance, and struck down with the dull edge of the practice dagger, popping through the sackcloth exterior to the straw beneath. “Like this?” It occurred to her only then that such a strike might be deadly even with a practice weapon, in sparring – human necks were fragile things – and the thought of using it with actual blades…
She attempted not to look as flustered as she felt. Perhaps she might have been better off with the rib strike, after all?