The sergeant sees me comin’ out of the corner of his eye, and, just like I expect, he sticks his sword out like he’s hopin’ I’ll run into it and save him the trouble of havin’ to plan and execute an attack of his own. This makes it easy for me to weave past his point and latch onto the wrist of his sword arm with my left hand, which keeps the weapon out of mischief and me, whilst I give him a medium strength pop under the ear with my right fist.
It was my genuine hope that this would end the affair without further waltzin’, but the sergeant is still a pretty tough old bird and it only crosses his eyes and drops him to one knee. I realize the situation has just become dangerous, as he still has hold of his sword and in his dazed condition may not remember that this is only an exercise … if that was his original intention at all.
“Give it up, Sarge,” I hisses quiet-like, steppin’ in close so’s only he can hear me. “It’s over.”
Just to be on the safe side I wind his arm up a little as I am sayin’ this to prove my point. Unfortunately, he either doesn’t hear me or chooses to ignore what you must admit is excellent advice, and starts strugglin’ around tryin’ to bring his sword into play.
“Suit yourself,” I shrugs, not really expectin’ a response, as at that moment he faints, mostly because I have just broken his arm … for safety sake, mind you. (For the squeamish readers, I will hasten to clarify that this is a clean break as opposed to the messier compound variety, and that it probably wouldn’t have put the sergeant out if he hadn’t been woozy already from the clout I have just laid on him. As I have noted before, controlled violence is my specialty … and I’m very good at it.)