- Character Biography
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Darragh stretched, seeming to elongate himself as he reached, windmilled his arms, touched his toes, and cracked his joints with relish. He moved out into the centre of the room, and bounced a little from one footpaw to the other. His tail flicked with an impatient energy.
“So! First rule o’ fightin’,” Darragh began. Then, he hesitated. “Well... actually, the first rule o’ fightin’ is ‘Don’t Get Into Fights,’ but a jack’s gotta make do, so let’s skip that one.”
Darragh cleared his throat a little self-consciously. As much as he was Swifttail’s friend, it felt odd to be teaching a beast older than himself. “Ahem… well, seein’ as you will be in a fight…”
The stoat bit his lip, and paused again. The next advice he wanted to give was that Swifttail had to accept that he was going to get hurt. In boxing and brawling, you were bound to take hits, no matter how good you thought you were. If there was a knife or dagger involved, you would be rushed to a surgeon afterwards if you survived, no ifs or buts about it. Fighting in real life was a messy business, not the daredevil heroics of serials printed on pulp.
It wasn’t a fight-fight though, or at least not the kind Darragh was used to. It was a duel to first blood, with swords. That meant Darragh’s expertise would have to be limited to where Swift was putting his head, his body, and his footpaws. Bobbing and weaving, dodging and pivoting, perhaps even a bit of tumbling.
“Alright, I have a better way of goin' about this!” Darragh said firmly, taking up his stance. “I prefer practice to theory, and it’s better you see for yourself how this works. So… hit me. And watch what I do closely!”
The stoat raised his arms to shield his head, and shifted his weight back and forth from his right footpaw forward, to his left footpaw back. He smiled at Swifttail in what he hoped was encouragement. He was sure things would click into place in the fox’s mind once he saw the techniques demonstrated.
All Darragh needed was for Swifttail to punch him in the face!
“So! First rule o’ fightin’,” Darragh began. Then, he hesitated. “Well... actually, the first rule o’ fightin’ is ‘Don’t Get Into Fights,’ but a jack’s gotta make do, so let’s skip that one.”
Darragh cleared his throat a little self-consciously. As much as he was Swifttail’s friend, it felt odd to be teaching a beast older than himself. “Ahem… well, seein’ as you will be in a fight…”
The stoat bit his lip, and paused again. The next advice he wanted to give was that Swifttail had to accept that he was going to get hurt. In boxing and brawling, you were bound to take hits, no matter how good you thought you were. If there was a knife or dagger involved, you would be rushed to a surgeon afterwards if you survived, no ifs or buts about it. Fighting in real life was a messy business, not the daredevil heroics of serials printed on pulp.
It wasn’t a fight-fight though, or at least not the kind Darragh was used to. It was a duel to first blood, with swords. That meant Darragh’s expertise would have to be limited to where Swift was putting his head, his body, and his footpaws. Bobbing and weaving, dodging and pivoting, perhaps even a bit of tumbling.
“Alright, I have a better way of goin' about this!” Darragh said firmly, taking up his stance. “I prefer practice to theory, and it’s better you see for yourself how this works. So… hit me. And watch what I do closely!”
The stoat raised his arms to shield his head, and shifted his weight back and forth from his right footpaw forward, to his left footpaw back. He smiled at Swifttail in what he hoped was encouragement. He was sure things would click into place in the fox’s mind once he saw the techniques demonstrated.
All Darragh needed was for Swifttail to punch him in the face!
