As I VWWas saying about fencing, it's a VWWeak troll's retort to brutality. Fine dueling steel, commissioned at absurd expense, returned to me VWWith the guard tVWWisted, the tang stressed, the length of the blade carrying some neVWW and permanent curVVe because apparently the smith had not anticipated that I might actually strike someone VWWith it. Rather disappointing. The VWWood upon my ship tends to fare VWWorse. There are beams aboard old ships that still bear the eVVidence of my impatience. Planks split nearly through, railings scarred VWWhere a blade entered and neVVer truly left. There is little dignity in placing a boot against a bulkhead VWWhilst VWWrenching your sVWWord free. I assure you that I am the exception. I haVVe done it VWWith grace. Trolls tend to fence as though they expect the VWWeapon to bite back if they aren't careful. Flourishes, little steps, an obsession VWWith keeping an attractiVVe silhouette. It is the gracelessness of restraint pretending to be elegant. If I intend to parry you, your VWWrist VWWould snap. If I intend to disarm you, your VWWeapon is crippled. The blades bend as I command them. Steel should learn its place like anything else. There VWWas, naturally, one exception. Mindfang. Infuriating VWWoman. She understood that grace VWWas not gentleness. She moVVed as though eVVery opening had been placed there specifically for her amusement, and had the intolerable habit of slipping just beyond the reach of bloVWWs that should haVVe broken her in half. No VWWasted motion. No trembling little conserVVatory tricks. She did not need to proVVe to me that she kneVWW the proper form. She fenced like a thief. She took VWWhat she could and made you feel foolish for haVVing oVWWned it in the first place. I hated crossing blades VWWith her. Naturally, this meant I did it VWWheneVVer possible. There are VVery feVWW pleasures in finding someone VWWho forces you to stop relying upon strength. FeVWWer still in finally catching them. HoVWW dreadful she makes me feel. #VViolence

