It was the turn of the century the beginning of a new decade. It was a time when the globe wars were in their infancy and the stable of GOP war hoes were in charge at the promission of cocain pimp Democrats.

It was the age of Bush and Dick.

In fall of a few years from when the war drums for 911 were sounded I took a class in the art and combat of fencing. A dream of mean for many years in my childhood. When I watched endless seasons of the Highlander and saw many a movie never was realizing I was taken the steps into my own legacy.

A tiny elf of undetermined years was my teacher in group of twenty nobles and high and low born. Her name was Lady S. Her silver blond hair glowed under the gym lights she only smiled a few times and had a scratchy voice of an ancient one of wisdom.

We were given school helmets and armor.  Foils would be our weapons for first of three. Foil, Epee and Saber.

We were instructed in the rules in general and warm ups. Foils have their own style and history as do many blades. The Saber came to be my favorite though I was mid way learner at best.

The weeks followed and pasted into spring. Out of the bunch two Black Rambos rained Supreme of us all in the three sword styles. We had a stage of combat and point of face off. The rules were simple but the strategy and exercise was intense.

Lancelot and John the good of Forest Park cousins from the house brovido.

The time came for the ending of the season. Lady S was old school of course so she told us that top grade of the class would go only to one. The winner of the final test. A tournament of styles.

We matched blades in sword styles of our choices. I beat three of my fellow students but was bested by Lancelot. Then came time for the final match. Lancelot faced off against his own blood John the good in a one on one match best out of three.

They’re blades clicked and smacked against each other and then it ended with one smack. John the good won by one point.

To celebrate Lady S ended the class in one last event a free brawl for all. What the fucking hell is that you might ask.

We started facing against each other swords banging and two on three combatants at a time. Some black rambo asshole kept coming up behind me and smacking the back of my helmet with his saber and that was the end my of trainning in the sword. I didn’t get to take off any heads that day but it was a fun time.

Warm Regards,

Guardiandogg