Dancing Blades

A battle of honor and a duel of wits,
Execution over result.
A thrust coupled with a repartee,
A blow with an insult.

That’s what you see in a Bladesinger spar,
As we tirelessly practice our trade.
A quick sword and a quicker tongue,
Our mind as keen as our blade.

I salute my partner, and with a smile
Begin my probing feint.
Careful not to overextend,
Our actions show restraint.

My opponent makes a sudden lunge,
His blade piercing skin and bone,
I collapse to the ground, paralyzed,
With an agonizing groan.

I bite hard on a bloodroot leaf,
My muscles quickly unlock.
My opponent knows not my subtle trick,
That now I can parry and block

He advances with a sneer on his face,
Laughing at my feigned despair.
He lunges at me but I flip away,
He pierces only air.

“How now, friend? What have you got?”
I say with a joking smile.
He recovers and comes on guard again,
His expression quite hostile.

I think through my studies of poetry,
Trying to forget his rapier's gleaming.
I finally recite a confusing haiku,
He pauses and ponders its meaning.

“Et La!” I yell as I thrust my sword,
My blade entering his heart.
He stiffens in pain and he looks at me
“Dang, you sure are smart!”


Penned by my hand on the 14th of Scarlatan, in the year 385 AF.