fandomhigh | The Right Tools, Tuesday Period Four

"We're going to be starting with the essentials," were the first words out of Kerrigan's mouth when the class met up in the Danger Shop that afternoon. "Knives are your basic, your number one, your default weapon." She flicked the one she was holding into the air, then caught it. "There are any number of reasons to carry a knife. You can use it to cut rope, cut meat, hell, you can use it to eat off if you're careful enough not to remove your own tongue. This is why you take care to make sure they're sharp, clean, and well-cared for. A good tool isn't just used to maim; the first rule of this class is to consider every potential use of anything we bring up here."

She slapped the knife down on a table beside her-- it was by far not the only blade on it. "As a weapon, it's first and foremost close-combat. It'll do more damage than your fist, unless you're some kind of martial arts master, and drawing blood can often stop a brawl in its tracks. Like all weapons, you've got to be very damn sure of your intentions on using it: these babies are sharp, precise killers if you know how to use them. Know your anatomy-- if this were an ordinary class, I'd give you all anatomy books for homework. One minute you're trying to scare a guy off, the next he's bleeding to death through his femoral artery."

She took a breath before continuing. "Close combat is the word here. As is speed. If you're not fast enough to confuse your enemy, don't take on multiples. In fact, in most instances, you're going to want to avoid their use unless you're sure you can get a first, decisive blow in. As the proverb goes, nobody wants to wind up bringing a knife to a gunfight, but if you don't keep your eyes peeled, you can wind up killed taking one to a fistfight, too."

Suddenly, she ripped a knife off the table, spun, and threw it at the back of the class: it soared neatly past the students and embedded itself in the wooden wheel there. "Number two. Throwing knives. Precision, precision, precision. Throwing your weapon means you're without it, which makes both the need for knowing the anatomy and knowing your own aim pretty much tantamount. Don't do this unless you have a clear view of your target and you're confident enough to know you can take 'em out: don't do this in a brawl, don't do this in overly confined or too open spaces." She leaned back. "Throwing knives generally don't have a handle: they're supposed to cut through the air, so check the aerodynamics of your weapon before you throw it."

The next thing, she was launching into an intensely technical ramble on the topic of weapon balance and purpose; it lasted most of the class before she fell silent. "So take a poke at those knives," she said, finally, "Try throwing a few. God knows I need a laugh."

[ ~~wait for the~~ ocd up! ]

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It's a table of ~~moddable~~ simulated knives, daggers and other blades. Kerrigan's got an eagle eye on it, though, and since they're simulated, they can't be used to maim.

Evey carefully picked up a few knives, finally selecting one that was small enough for her to feel comfortable holding it, and vaguely wondering how on Earth V had ever managed to wield more than one at a time. It must have take him years to learn.

Gwen examined several of the knives, weighing them in her hand.

Although she didn't entirely know what she was doing, Turtle was taking her time in inspecting all the different knives available, much like anyone would inspect a major purchase they were about to make. She didn't think she'd every really choose a weapon like this as her own, not when she had a gun to use in crises and a kick to use in close proximity, and she'd never want to get close enough to an enemy to cut them, as the phrase goes, if she could help it. So her focus was on throwing knifes, although she knew her aim was sort of bad, and then on smaller knifes, ones that allowed her to muse a little on the possibility of hidden blades in her boots, for those really tough shins, or perhaps jerks that needed a bit more than just a crippling blow...

He considered the knives on the table.

His eye was drawn to the least ostentatious; his time in Courtly Dance and Defense made sure that he was interested in practical use and ability to hide the weapon on his person. He considered day and night, his own comfort with the blade... versatility.

He ended up with what he assumed, from the other examples, to be a throwing knife. This particular model, however, did have a handle though it wasn't particularly large; just a bit of cording wrapped around the bottom half of the knife. He liked the size, he liked the color (black and silver), he liked that he could probably slip it into a boot, under a shoe, in a dozen different places, and the cording seemed to give him a good grip though there were some on the table that were better.

A fair trade, he figured. He'd just have to be careful to hold onto it.

Edited 2008-07-15 13:27 (UTC)

Real knives were so much better than simulated ones, Ino decided. If only for the maim factor.

Either way, she was perkily looking through the knives.

Helen not only examined the knives, she also experimented with making her right arm mimic them. With surprisingly good success.

Jen wandered down the table, looking at the choices, and found herself particularly drawn to a group of push knives (http://www.knifeoutlet.com/shop/10Expand.asp?ProductCode=CS39LSKB), in various lengths. She picked a few up, experimenting with the comfort of the grip and the feel of the balance in her hands, until she found a pair that she particularly liked.

These could come in handy, and certainly seemed to fit in with her style of combat. Sure, she couldn't create bone-handled blades from her own body mass like Ransik had, but anyway, ew.

Jack gravitated towards a few combat knives and some of the thinner throwing knives, testing how they felt, trying to find the right size of "manageable" and "make 'em run in fear".

Sam looked over the knives, eventually picking one up and making the sort of recklessly stupid jabbing movements one might expect from your average teenage boy given something sharp and shiny. There was no one in stabbing range, though.

Alice considered the knives carefully, liking the familiar feel of the large heavy blades in her hand, but appreciating the light balance of the smaller daggers. After careful examination, she selected a few, pleased with the array to choose from.

Hoshi picked up one of the knives, trying to get a feel for it.

The Right Tools, Tuesday Period Four

Examine the Knives

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