Post by Daubee on Mar 12, 2008 17:34:48 GMT -5
“Gron, bare chested, stood beside him, resting the point of a great, long, curved sword on the tiles at his feet.”
Fighting Slave of Gor, page 118
Ibn Saran, scimitar poised, smiling. Then suddenly he cried, "Ho!" and leapt forward, the blade, in rapid, diagonal figure-eight strokes, backhand upswept, shallowly curved, blade turning, forehand descending, shallowly curved, tracing its razor pattern. His right, booted foot stamped forward, his body turned to the left, minimizing target, his head to the right, maximizing vision, his rear foot at right angles to the attack line, maximizing leverage, assuring balance.
Tribesmen of Gor, page 120
Fighting Slave of Gor, page 118
Ibn Saran, scimitar poised, smiling. Then suddenly he cried, "Ho!" and leapt forward, the blade, in rapid, diagonal figure-eight strokes, backhand upswept, shallowly curved, blade turning, forehand descending, shallowly curved, tracing its razor pattern. His right, booted foot stamped forward, his body turned to the left, minimizing target, his head to the right, maximizing vision, his rear foot at right angles to the attack line, maximizing leverage, assuring balance.
Tribesmen of Gor, page 120