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Orka listened attentively as Joe told him about the claymore. While Joe was speaking he looked down at his own claymore, seeing why it was considered such a brute weapon. All the other weapons, strapped to the waists of soldiers and the populace here he had seen seemed like knives in comparison. Orkashak smiled as he realized that the weapon was perfect for him. His size almost complimented the blade and the sword complimented him. He grasped his sword on the hilt and held it in one powerful hand.
He figured the blade would respect him as long as he respected it. He couldn't go flailing about with such a large weapon and not expect to hurt himself in the process. Orka had no doubt about his own spirit, though tragedy had struck him and his family and tribe he always had remained vigilant and assertive. His most valuable trait was persistence. He waved the sword slowly in front of him and back again, feeling the weight of the blade in his hand. He held it with both hands now, slightly swinging it but still respecting Joe's space.
The blade fit him well. The weight was not too heavy to be able to fight with, at least for a short while. Orka realized in a long battle he would probably be unable to weild the blade for the entire duration, for he was still not used to the weight of it quite yet. He cleared his mind of such a battle, such bloody fights were behind him now.
At Joe's command, Orka widened his stance. He crouched slightly, so he could spring and move around, bent his elbows and held the sword directly in front of him. He squared his massive shoulders and looked down at Joe.
"This is how I would stand were I attacked right now."He states simply.
"This is how I would stand if I were fighting with fists too. I've never had any proper training like I said before."
The blade glinted and reflected the light from the water that splashed over Orka's snout. He looked for Joe for further advice.
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