Greatsword Poses Novels & Stories

Curious… No power on earth would make her ask Oscar’s friends to scoot over on the bench to make room for her, so when she moved off the dirt area and onto the grass, she took up position a meter away from them with her arms crossed over her chest, frowning. They had better not heckle her. She was stressed, unsettled, and possibly enchanted, too – she was believing that last bit more with each passing second as she found her eyes glued to Kaizat’s arms. The way he tossed the blade between his hands with expert grace and precision as if the longsword were as light as a feather – that blade was smaller than the massive one he had picked up before, but it was still a feat of its own to handle s

Kyra's POV Mark's sharp eyes met my casual and smiling ones as he stood in a confident stance, holding his twin swords in each hand. Both swords were the opposite of each other; one was slender and only as wide as two fingers. It was also long, and its tip was as pointed as a nail's. The other one was thicker and wider, almost as wide as two adults' palms placed together. It was shorter, and the tip was blunt. Both weapons might seem different, but they complement each other quite well. The blunt one only makes use of raw strength and defense, while the other focuses more on speed and agility, making it good for offense and support.

He looked at the wooden practise sword that he held in one hand. “Drills,” I told him. “As training goes, this one isn’t so bad, as long as you stick to the middle and try not to stand out. The sword master will lead us through the poses and postures,” I nodded up to the raised platform. “We just copy her.” “Why do I suspect that it’s not as easy as you make it sound?” He wondered.

Like a snake, Zen's right hand who was holding his dagger coursed through the air at an incredible speed as it made its way towards the neck of the opponent. Clank! A spark was produced when two blades crashed with one another, immediately Zen twisted his body and tried to hack the heretic with the blessed sword. "Tsk." the man clicked his tongue. "That's some nasty dagger you have their young man, better not cut yourself." as he swings his greatsword around to rub off Zen and give him space for himself. Without a choice, Zen was forced backward. With scythe on my hand, I twirled the weapon around before swinging trying to swing it. I was trying to get a good grip on it. After playing around

"You will grow accustomed to it. For now, let me instruct you on the fundamental blocks." Taking another wooden sword, I positioned myself in front of her, a few feet apart. Raising my sword, I demonstrated the first block, angling the blade diagonally to deflect an imaginary strike. "This is your high block," I elucidated. "It is utilized to thwart strikes from above." Mimicking my movement, her sword trembled slightly as she maintained the position. "Excellent. Keep your wrists steady but not rigid. Allow the sword to absorb the impact, not your arms."

Its formidable presence serves as a reminder of his role as a prince and protector. To Tritan's left, Finrir gracefully hovers, his pack adorned with a sheathed long Viking sword. If his lethality is needed, the sword becomes an extension of his skills, a weapon to be unsheathed with precision and deadly intent. Crafted with intricate engravings and a polished edge, the sword reflects the strength and resilience that Finrir embodies. It is a weapon that strikes fear into the hearts of their enemies, poised to be wielded when the situation demands it.

​With an explosive, human exertion of strength, I brought the flat of the heavy steel broadsword upward in a parry line. ​CLANG! ​

I shrugged on my shoulders lightly before swinging my sword to his face. “Depends on how you see it!” I kept a straight face on, pointing my sword towards his face while he moved steps away from the ring line. He struck a pose, certainly trying to copy my leg stance. I looked at it for a brief, rolled my eyes off and focused on his sword which was directly on my face. I struck his blade hard making it fall to the ground while he staggered backwards. He stared at me in quite an awe.

It was a night of celebration, unity, and the timeless beauty of tradition—a perfect end to an adventurous day in the heart of Manali. The men's sword skills performance was a dazzling display of precision and power. They moved with incredible speed and coordination, their swords slicing through the air with a sharp, metallic hiss. Each move was executed flawlessly, a blend of strength and grace that spoke to years of rigorous training. The performers wore traditional warrior costumes, their attire adding to the spectacle. The swords gleamed under the torchlight, creating arcs of light as they swung and clashed, their movements punctuated by the rhythmic beat of drums. Among the spectators,

Kylo grunts with a wicked smile. Sylvan deftly retrieves another sword from behind his back. Assuming a crouched position, his right leg is bent up to his hip, providing support for his entire weight. His left leg stretches out, while both of his arms pull back high in the air behind his head, with the tips of his swords pointing upwards. “I don't know if you can keep up, Kylo. You've always been a slow learner.” Sylvan mutters with amusement as his eyes turn black.