Quinn snorted and coughed as he stepped into the training hall. Dropping his sword and shield he shucked off his chain mail leaving the padding and leather on as he squatted down and examined his shield. The edges of the steel rim were notched and dented, the metal covering scored and scratched from the many fights he had over the years.
Standing he grabbed his sword, a bastard sword, still wrapped in its leather and fur sheath. Stepping forward into the center of the training hall he cast about looking for the one who has asked for the lessons. A grimace crossed his lean, grizzled face as his gray eyes flicked towards the entryway.
Exhaling forcefully, so much so that it sounded like a horse snorting he slipped his feet back into position. Left foot under him, bent at the knee, the right foot and leg back, toe pointing forward a slight bend in the knee. Hoisting the shield before him it covered his torso and left knee.
Right hand short forward with the wrapped sword, then up into a high guard position as the elbow bent and the tip of the sword pointed down over the lip of his shield. Exhaling he stepped forward as the right leg slammed hard onto the floor, while his left leg came back and the shield pulled in tight around his torso while the sword arm drew back and with a twist of the wrist swung in a tight arc before him.
Then with a grunt, he assumed the previous stance as his movement slides him back some 18-inches from where he started. Clapping the shield with his sword he exhaled as he stood and checked the leather straps of the shield to make sure they were tight.