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Apr. 15th, 2012
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knightexemplarThe sounds of fighting could be heard from the hallway outside of the exercise room. Flesh hitting something semi-soft, the sound is a brutal ‘thwack’ followed by a soft ‘Hah!’ Peeking into the room would reveal Arturia facing off against one of the practice dummies. Her attacks were focused on the critical points on the dummy, chest, throat and face. If she hit an area that wouldn’t have been a mortal blow, she followed it up with one that would have been. Her footwork was focused on keeping her balance rather than expending energy on kicking her opponent. Her moves were subtly elegant and brutally efficient; she didn’t waste energy on flamboyance.
Her elbow made contact with the dummy’s face and had it been a real person the contact would have broken its nose. Continuing her momentum she spun around, utilizing a sweep with her leg to knock the dummy off balance then following this move up with a jab to its throat that would have crushed the windpipe. With a small huff she righted the dummy again. Hours had passed since she had first set foot in the dojo. It was probably well past time for a rest.
The woman knelt next to the bamboo practice sword she’d been using earlier, taking a more meditative position on the floor. The water she’d brought from the food replicator (and she was astonished that it gave her water and not something ridiculous like a walrus) was nearly spent. She noted this as she took a long swig from the glass bottle. The bottle clinked lightly against the floor as she placed it next to the practice sword. She took a deep breath letting her thoughts wander and her eyes flutter closed.
Her thoughts moved away from the situation she found herself in now and back to her time in Camelot. Things seemed so simple back then, there was always a goal and something to defend. She always had her people to attend to, a situation to quell and she did so fairly. That of course had been before the seeds of mistrust had been planted in her people and the fruit of doubt began to seed in her own mind. Her confidence had been shaken to her very core when her people started to turn on her. To hate her.
Her mind shifted to the many betrayals she had suffered at the end. Lady Guinevere and Sir Lancelot, had been the one betrayal she had felt the most guilt over. She had failed them both and holding Lancelot in her arms as he died in the last Holy Grail War had alleviated his guilt but intensified hers. She could never find it in her heart to be upset at the man, her friend and in the end that was what had driven him mad and cursed him to the Berserker class.
She had so many regrets about her life, so many regrets and so many doubts about how well she ruled her Briton. How could she ever atone?
Her mind briefly drifted to her final battle with Mordred, her hand unconsciously moving to the place where his mortal blow had landed. It was her final battle and her final failure to her people.
Yet with all her failures at the end of her life, she had so many successes at the beginning of her life. She and Guinevere had negotiated peace with the Saxons and a strained treaty with the Franks. Trade opened with the Romans and the Greeks, peace amongst a united Briton. She had so much to be proud of but was she really a great king? Was the sum of her life great or did the end of it taint her kingdom as it fell?
Had Alexander, Rider, been correct that she was the king of fools? Was it really worth mulling over here?
A sigh escaped her lips as her fingers lightly brushed the bamboo practice sword, she was acutely aware of her surroundings, even as her thoughts raced through various happenings in her life. It was no use to think of all of all of this here. The only thing she could do was keep in practice and prepare for whatever this space ship had in store for the group.
She would be ready. Her grip tightened on the practice sword as she listened carefully to the sounds of the room to clear her thoughts.
Her elbow made contact with the dummy’s face and had it been a real person the contact would have broken its nose. Continuing her momentum she spun around, utilizing a sweep with her leg to knock the dummy off balance then following this move up with a jab to its throat that would have crushed the windpipe. With a small huff she righted the dummy again. Hours had passed since she had first set foot in the dojo. It was probably well past time for a rest.
The woman knelt next to the bamboo practice sword she’d been using earlier, taking a more meditative position on the floor. The water she’d brought from the food replicator (and she was astonished that it gave her water and not something ridiculous like a walrus) was nearly spent. She noted this as she took a long swig from the glass bottle. The bottle clinked lightly against the floor as she placed it next to the practice sword. She took a deep breath letting her thoughts wander and her eyes flutter closed.
Her thoughts moved away from the situation she found herself in now and back to her time in Camelot. Things seemed so simple back then, there was always a goal and something to defend. She always had her people to attend to, a situation to quell and she did so fairly. That of course had been before the seeds of mistrust had been planted in her people and the fruit of doubt began to seed in her own mind. Her confidence had been shaken to her very core when her people started to turn on her. To hate her.
Her mind shifted to the many betrayals she had suffered at the end. Lady Guinevere and Sir Lancelot, had been the one betrayal she had felt the most guilt over. She had failed them both and holding Lancelot in her arms as he died in the last Holy Grail War had alleviated his guilt but intensified hers. She could never find it in her heart to be upset at the man, her friend and in the end that was what had driven him mad and cursed him to the Berserker class.
She had so many regrets about her life, so many regrets and so many doubts about how well she ruled her Briton. How could she ever atone?
Her mind briefly drifted to her final battle with Mordred, her hand unconsciously moving to the place where his mortal blow had landed. It was her final battle and her final failure to her people.
Yet with all her failures at the end of her life, she had so many successes at the beginning of her life. She and Guinevere had negotiated peace with the Saxons and a strained treaty with the Franks. Trade opened with the Romans and the Greeks, peace amongst a united Briton. She had so much to be proud of but was she really a great king? Was the sum of her life great or did the end of it taint her kingdom as it fell?
Had Alexander, Rider, been correct that she was the king of fools? Was it really worth mulling over here?
A sigh escaped her lips as her fingers lightly brushed the bamboo practice sword, she was acutely aware of her surroundings, even as her thoughts raced through various happenings in her life. It was no use to think of all of all of this here. The only thing she could do was keep in practice and prepare for whatever this space ship had in store for the group.
She would be ready. Her grip tightened on the practice sword as she listened carefully to the sounds of the room to clear her thoughts.