Fighting duels
Preface
Fighting duels is a piece of Player Created Fiction written by Herko Kerghans as one of his many Caldari tales. Originally published in the EVE-online forums [1].
Fighting duels
”(…) although Caldari refer to it as an "art" rather than a combat technique. Called "S’karpur stalaandi" (literally “sharp steel spirit”) it is one of the oldest surviving Caldari traditions, dating back to the Raata Empire (…) [and] widely in practice still today although its lack of modern practical use.
Children are usually trained from the age of four, (...) [in] the rather questionable belief that it helps them develop discipline and spiritual strength (…) [and although] being obviously useless for space warfare it is a requirement for all warship pilots.
Among the many bizarre misconceptions the Caldari hold for their “art” (…) is the clearly irrational belief that dueling against each other is a way to preserve unity among them (…) belief that only a militaristic, tradition-obsessed society like the Caldari could possibly keep alive to this modern age.”
Quoted from Jean-Pierre Beaumont, “A short history of Caldari military traditions”
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Oh me/we
Yes, me/we
The shortest poem
In all poetry
Ancient song from Mother Earth
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"But Master… it makes no sense…"
"It’s true..."
"If the master defeats the student, then the master has failed as a teacher…"
"It’s true..."
"…yet if the student defeats the master, then the master has failed as a warrior!"
"It’s true..."
"But… but… master!?!??… it makes no sense at all!!!??"
"It’s true..."
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The student arrived at the clearing where the master knelt, his eyes closed. Steam rising from the cup battled with the raindrops.
It makes no sense. No sense at all.
The student knelt on the grass and closed his eyes. He deepened his breath. He emptied his mind.
Silence.
Wind on the pine trees.
An eagle’s cry.
Four empty scabbards in one hiss, four blades gleaming under the rain.
Kestrel’s claw to the throat, Merlin’s talon to the right wrist. One step backwards, Blackbird-over-the-lake with one blade to each side. Caracal’s leap, right sword slashing to the forehead, left sword protecting the stomach.
Harpy’s slash to the chest.
Crows’s dive kneeling on the the wet grass, left sword cutting up to the right knee.
And the master jumps forward, letting go of his shortsword, helding the longsword with both hands cutting downwards straight to the head. Raven’s fury. By the master. Impossible to stop.
Makes.
No.
Sense…?
I see: One. And techniques become nameless.
The student buries his blade in the master’s chest. The master softly kneels to the ground, blood and raindrops on the wet grass.
“It’s true, Master… duality makes no sense.”
The master smiles and closes his eyes.
The master bows, cleans his sword, and walks away into the forest.