One might be surprised how quickly a greatsword can be swung, as Fusdoval could certainly attest to. His own eyes, much less his arms, could barely follow the steel that seemingly came at him from all directions. Although, to truly understand the severity if the situation, I suppose one would need context.

The name mentioned above belongs to a Nord, one of the many inhabitants of the province of Skyrim. Quite a lot of ofs for such a small area. Nords themselves are a proud race, but for the blonde haired, fair skinned warrior with a greatsword at his throat, pride was the last thing on his mind.

"That shouldn't even be possible." Came Fusdoval's deep, accented voice. He looked up at his trainer, Vilkas, who said nothing. Then he got up, raised his blade, and charged.

See, for those who don't live in Skyrim, Fusdoval is a companion in training. The companions are a group of mercenaries. They're situated in Whiterun, one of the nine 'holds', or main towns in Skyrim. My, there certainly is a lot to explain, isn't there? Ah, well, I'll get to it in dear time. For now, I'll let you off with this: Vilkas was currently teaching Fusdoval how to wield a greatsword. It requires two hands, you see, so it must be great.

Goodralisk: Tell that to Cloud Strife.

Burstdragon: If only we could.

At the moment, Fusdoval was wildly slashing his sword every which way trying to land a hit on Vilkas' thick iron armour, but succeeded only in getting tripped and having to start over.

"How do you move so quickly, despite all the armour and the huge sword? Like, seriously? There's got to be a trick to it."

Vilkas looked thoughtful for a second, and then said, "Yet you wear just as much armour as I. The trick is to use your wrists, elbows, and shoulders in tandem. You don't have a shield to block with, so you can't over push with your sword. But now we're speaking of the mental aspect. You're not quite there yet. Go practice on a dummy until you've gained control of the blade."

Goodralisk: Is this whole "sword and shield" thing just written to say that I don't have any idea what I'm doing or something? I thought we weren't going to discuss that.

Burstdragon: No. The part later on where he absolutely wrecks a dual wielder with a sword/shield is the rubbing it in part.

Goodralisk: Dick.

"Fine." He sighed and headed over to the dummy. As the brown haired teacher sat himself down for lunch, he smiled slightly, knowing how great a warrior he was.

Even as Fusdoval struck the dummy again and again, he was aware of his teacher's nonetheless, he knew how to use a sword, so Fusdoval listened. He stood there for two hours, stabbing and slashing, bringing his sword at the dummy from every angle. just as he had seen Vilkas do to him. By the end of the day, he had perfect control over the blade, and by the end of the next day, he had successfully beaten Vilkas in a duel. Fusdoval was on his way.

Burstdragon: So, I'm gonna call it a day there. The later chapters will be much longer, I promise, but the next two are going to be short. This is still the introduction.

Goodralisk: Damn, dude, your chapters have to be the shortest I've ever seen. Or read, I guess.

Burstdragon: Maybe so, but it isn't without reason. Part of that reason being the pizza that just arrived.

Goodralisk: (blank stare) So… You're stopping the chapter… FOR A FUCKING PIZZA?! ….It better be good.

Burstdragon: (Banjo kicks in) That's just the way we animals roll. Anyways, while you eagerly (haha) await the next chapter, why not check out my YouTube channel? It's better than this crap. /Burstdragon1