Reaver

Marcus stared at his ‘mentor’ with exasperation as the zoalith catfolk demonstrated a series of strikes against a reinforced training dummy. Captain Kreman was undeniably skilled and had raw power behind his strikes to boot. However…

“UuuuooohRAH!” the catfolk exclaimed, bringing his greatsword down in a heavy, two handed strike with a crash. Dirt and dust exploded around him, obscuring everything from view. A stiff breeze rushed through the training area revealing Captain Kreman in a dramatic pose and Marcus could see him looking out of the corner of his eye to make sure he was seen.

With a self satisfied smile, Captain Kreman stood up and stabbed his sword down into the dirt. Marcus could practically feel Vice-Captain Aislyn’s glare at the Captain’s actions from somewhere in the growing camp and the amount of extra maintenance his sword would need.

“See? That’s how it’s done! You do it.”

Macrus had not, in fact, seen how it was done. Captain Kreman had attacked the training dummy at full speed and had only shouted at the top of his lungs in various strange ways instead of explaining the technique Marcus was learning. Still, trying to point that out to the Captain would only get him confused so Marcus just resigned himself into being chastised mid technique and finally being taught properly. He stepped up and settled into a stance that was meant to build and maintain momentum in his blade so he could strike with little warning on anyone approaching him.

“You’re standing wrong,” Captain Kreman said.

Marcus waited for some sort of correction for a long moment before he adjusted his footing and lifted his sword again.

“Wrong!” A light kick hit him in the side of the foot and he nearly staggered. “Like that!”

He checked his footing and tried to memorize how it felt and then began to spin his sword around him, the tip whistling as he built up speed.

“Huh…not bad.” And with no further warning, Captain Kreman stepped into the sweeping area of his sword. He couldn’t have stopped his blade if he wanted to and he was very grateful when the Captain deflected his unintentional blow with apparent ease. The catfolk man nodded with a frown. “Good power but…”

“But?” Marcus asked, ready for any sort of criticism that would help him improve.

“Where is your warcry?!”

Marcus stared at the Captain. “What?”

“How can you expect to put full power into your strikes if you’re not putting full power through yourself?!” Captain Kreman brushed him aside with the flat of his sword and took up a stance.

“Like this!” He swung down. “URAH!” 

He cut to the side in a leg level strike. “OOUUAH!” 

He leapt into the air with a flip, his sword leading the way down “SHUWAH!”

The air became heavy with magic and then Captain Kreman began to spin. “UUOOH-RAH-RAH-RAH-RAH-RAH-RAH!” Every strike of his spin on the dummy was punctuated by an increasingly louder ‘warcry’.

Marcus stared, taking it all in, watching his mentor’s feet, his stance, the angle of his sword, and even the rush of magic as it spun through the air. This, at least, was something he could learn from.

He’d leave out the warcry, though.