Deryn hefted her own weapon, studying Alek's pose. His feet were splayed at right angles, his left arm sticking out behind him like the handle of a teacup. His fencing armor made him look like a walking quilt. Even with his sword pointed straight at her, he looked barking silly..."More weight on your back foot," he said, nudging her boots further apart. "So you can push off when you attack..." "Always keep sideways to your opponent," he said, gently turning her. "That way, your chest presents the smallest possible target."

By james, April 22, 2012.

Found in Behemoth, authored by Scott Westerfeld.


On his first day of fencing Jonathan had grumbled, "Who in the last century has found this to be a useful skill?" His mother had just shrugged and shoved him through the door. The lessons had been offered free of charge by a guy at the food bank, even the uniform had been donated, grubby but serviceable. Twelve years later he was a university drop out working backstage in a theatre, often just messing with the dry ice. As he was leaning on the back wall one day, considering a girl he liked, on the stage there was a fight scene being choreographed. Without thinking he just waltzed up to the director and told them what they were doing wrong and how to put it right. He wasn't looking for a job, but he was hired none-the-less. Now he's the go-to guy for sword fighting in Hollywood, he's highly paid but prefers to live downtown in a small apartment. Too much opulence just unsettles him. At night he teaches the local kids fencing on the basketball court, uniforms supplied.

By sandimorrison, November 1, 2014*.