Romans & histoires Greatsword Poses

The laughter sounded polite enough, but the greatsword in his hand was already out, and he swung it down in a single brutal strike. The man's action was anything but polite.

James positioned himself the same way. “Okay, good. Your legs, positioned as they are, will give you a strong trunk from which to fight. They will help keep you balanced. Now, take a firm grip on your sword, but don’t squeeze it so tightly that your hand will begin to go numb. That’s good, that’s good.” Blakeney nodded encouragingly. “Cock your arm slightly, like this, and raise up to where the sword will sit perpendicular to your hips. Only slightly higher.” He held his arm away from his body, elbow bent some, and the blade pointing straightforward a few inches above his hips. He looked menacing, but in control. “That’s right, good. Now bend your knees slightly.”

Boro and Mika stood in the sand circle as the two finalists. The animosity between the two was so thick in the air it was almost palpable. Boro stood in the ready form, Crane In The Water, standing perfectly balanced on one leg, his sword held out before him. Mika stood in a form that Boro didn't recognize. Boro prided himself on knowing all the forms of classical, and modern, sword art, the fact he didn't recognize this one was puzzling.

By the twelfth strike, the sound just sort of gave up, running out of breath entirely. Kai Feng didn't move. He stood on the landing above me, his boots planted on the frost-rimmed stone. The broadsword in his hand looked less like a legendary weapon and more like a massive, exhausting anchor he couldn't figure out how to drop. The dark metal of the blade was dull, coated in a pale gray powder from the burnt logs in the courtyard below.

She closed her eyes and counted her blessings, giving thanks for all the things in her life that she loved. She needed strength and unwavering determination today, so she decided to focus on standing positions that demanded perfect balance: The Triangle, The Half-Moon, The Tree, The Eagle, The Prayer. And of course, Warrior I and Warrior II, those beautiful, elegant positions that are like poetry written with the body.

"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."

“You have to control the weapon. Make it an extension of your own body. And when you see an opening, you don't wait. You commit.” I raise the sword, my eyes locking on his. “You need a deep thrust to make a real impact!” I demonstrate, pivoting, my body coiling, and lunge. It’s a perfect, powerful, brutal move. All my weight, all my muscle, all my intent, focused into a single, deep, driving motion. The sword sinks into the practice dummy with a satisfying thud, burying it to the hilt. I hold the pose for a split second, my chest heaving, my entire body thrumming with excitement. I’m staring right at him.

Rei used the momentum of his kick to do a backflip and free himself from his grasp. Minos rushed in as the foreigner was landing behind, and used the short window of opportunity to land a thrust with his longsword. But Nymgos seemed to have anticipated what he's going to do as he has already raised up his armored bracer to aid in his guard. Minos's blade bounced off Nymgos's arm and the young noble shifted his weight to swing his shield arm up, in an attempt to hit the big drow's head.

I seat my sword to his sheath and posed for an attack in a battle stance. I mildly step my right leg forward as I adjust my left leg backward bending my body reaching close to my knees. I held my sword with my left hand firmly. I placed my right hand on the handle of my sword. This I learned from watching the ice knight. Form one!

“He’s flashy, I’ll give him that. But flash only gets you so far.” With that, he returned his sword to its sheath and assumed a stance. The crowd leaned forward in anticipation. His posture was unmistakable—it was the Sword Drawing Technique. But something about the way he held himself was different. As Danial gripped the hilt, his sword began to tremble faintly, as if resonating with his intent. Then, in a flash, he drew the blade with a powerful upward slash. The sheer force of the swing generated a visible arc of energy that hurtled toward Tristan.