barsoomcore said:
This is where my gibbon-like arms come in handy. My opponent can give my incoming blade a whack and I've still got a foot of extension to go without moving my body.
Ha-ha! "Gibbon-like" arms. That's funny, kinda like how Andy in Jonrog1's pulp story hour said his Captain Texas PC had trouble manipulating small objects because of his "huge Kirby-hands".
I know what you mean. I spent most of my time in various swordwork learning how to get inside on big fellas like you. Those gibbon-arms get a little tangled up when you've got a saber-wielding fire hydrant standing 1 foot in front of you

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led: I'm not saying the psychological craving are any easier to deal with than physical ones, mind you. Hang in there, buddy.
Phhhpppttt! This ain't psychological brother! This chemical (or lack thereof) is trying to *kill* me. Why, just the other day, I was feeling so anxious that I darn near felt like my heart was going to start palpitating, and I was taking short breaths and trying to do my old martial arts breathing exercises, and this little voice in my head says "I'm gonna give you a f-----g heart attack if you dont get some nicotene. Now. Are you listening? Because next I'm starting in on the testicles...". I tell you what, that addiction beast is one bad mutha. And he's got, like, Darth Vader force powers and stuff, but with James Gandolfini's voice.
But thanks for the support anyhow. Actually, I find a good rant every now and then helps me a lot, because that's how I burn off some of the excess nervous energy.
Joshua Dyal said:
That's one aspect of fencing that's a bit miffing; genetics make so much difference in how good you'll be (or at least, they can make it quite a bit easier). Not that I should complain too much; I'm taller than average (by a bit) and naturally lanky in build (only the last five years or so have started to challenge that statement a bit) so it's generally been in my favor, but still.
Yeah, people kept telling me that. Being about 5'8" tall but of Italian decent (so it's all body with short tree-trunk legs) I had to just ignore it. Of course, those stubby ape-like legs allow me to make short leaps with deceptively good speed (when I'm in shape), and I did drill after drill after drill to cultivate fast hands. You know, having someone stand behind me while I face the wall and throw glove after glove over my head and hit the wall, trying to pin them as they fall with my foil/saber. Or doing the tennis-ball hanging on a string thing in the garage, but putting it close enough to the wall so that when I hit it with the foil/saber, it can rebound back with a little bit of speed, then I keep extending over and over to try to keep it going for a few hits. Heck, I even bungeed one for a while so when I hit it with saber I had to dodge the thing as it shot back at me and then try to hit it as it "retreated". Oh, for the record, a moving tennis ball smarts when it hits you in the eye, so wear your stupid mask if do this drill. Or so I heard

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Epee was the only place it really killed me, because even though I'm short I have big stupid clown feet for my height (11.5), so the tall guys would retreat from me as fast as they could, then wait for me to overextend trying to catch their lanky butts and put all my weight on my front foot, and then flick-hit me in the big freakin' toe or the top of my clown foot. Which smarts. A lot. Sheez. If I was Errol Flynn and I was fighting a duel and some mook hit me *in the toe*, I'd pull my damn flintlock and shoot him.
That's why I liked Saber most, and foil some. In foil, most folks dont think to back up too much, because they still have to hit you in the main part of the body which requires them to maintain a "deadly" distance (i.e. they stay close enough for me to hop-lunge after 'em), and Saber folks are just too darn crazy to retreat
Oh, and Greatwrym... you win. Hands down. A man is willing to take that kind of pain to game, I gotta respect that.