[Training] I still don't want to be here

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Ever patient, ever persistent, his eyes caught the segments of a balanced stance, an effective grounding, studying Sah’s form vaguely. Then he drew his own blade from his belt, quick, efficient, and effortless, nodding towards the inquiry. They could start with a basic attack, something long since formed from centuries of techniques and abilities, a nuance he’d instilled in a variety of beginners. “Watch,” was his single command, as he resumed his own stature and positioning. “We will try a strike from above.” He stood before the target, an effigy painted, already faded from earlier assaults and sieges from other training components, that might’ve looked like Zariah in the right light. With his left foot leading, right foot in back, the monolith distributed his weight evenly, hips facing his opponent, and sword held at shoulder level. He waited for a moment or two, for Sah to copy the pose, before continuing; ordinarily a simplistic, fluid movement, he slowed it down for demonstration, bringing his weapon ahead of his frame. “We bring our swords forward as a manner of protection,” to shield from an incoming attack or defensive maneuver; and while the target wouldn’t be offering any such thing, it’d be fine to begin with the automatic nuance, to drive it into the newcomer’s mind. “Step towards your opponent,” and he did so, as if to engage the adversary. “And over to the right, out of the line of attack.” Then he brought his blade down, a slow, treading line instead of one vicious slash in the air, for Sah to witness, to catch, as he did it over and over again. Until finally he showed his true speed, and in a vicious display, scorched along the target’s would-be shoulder. Then he stepped back and away, one hand extended in support of Sah giving it a try, ever the critical eye to his piercing gaze. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace