Style of a hunter

Gendral was new to the hunting business, and in anticipation of getting his butt royally handed to him, had elected to go into the field with the more simple sword and shield, hoping that the simplicity would keep him from getting overwhelmed, and that the shield strapped to his off hand would save him from a few harsh blows. Standing there, however, looking at the monster towering above him at nearly three time his own size, he questioned the utility of a shield that was roughly twice the size of his head and fit comfortably on the one arm.

Even just the roar of the beast was powerful enough to send Gendral staggering backwards, flailing his legs wildly in an attempt to keep from falling on his ass unsuccessfully. As he landed on his rear, unable to take his eyes off of the creature in front of him, the wind knocked out of him by the blow, he heard the distinct sound of a horn blowing behind him. The monster's attention was pulled away from the newling hunter, and it stalked past him, barely even paying attention to the tiny human.

"Gen, you ok?" There was a hand on Gendral's shoulder then, taking a firm grip of his clothing and lifting him onto his feet. Gendral looked up to see the face of Ling, his master, whose own enormous great sword was still strapped to his back. One of the other pupil's - whose name Gendral was now spacing out on, thanks to the ringing in his ears - had been the one to sound the horn and pull the monster's attention. Gendral had wanted to prove his worth and take the charge into battle. That had gone south quickly.

"I-I'm fine," Gendral tried to assure his master. The quiver in his voice gave that lie away. But Ling smiled and patted him on the back.

"Remember, Gen. You're a hunter now. That doesn't mean being fearless. It means you think about what's going on around you, you adjust to your surroundings, and you conquer them. It is no competition. It is merely a test of your will, to which your successful return is the ultimate proof."

Gendral nodded quietly. Over Ling's shoulder, Gendral could see the other hunter flinging himself into the air off of the monster's head, swinging the hard backing of his horn onto the monster's spine on his way down. The monster merely shook him off, but the hunter was rolling along the ground and getting ready to move back in to the fight.

Gendral pulled the sword from his back into his hand, his shield already ready. He was trained in the basic style of the guild. To take the basics and to utilize them to their limits. He could hear the weight of Ling's great sword falling into position beside him. Ling was what they called a striker. He gave up some of the essential tools of the guild, but in turn was capable of incredible feats of strength and precision. They said that he could swing his sword so hard, the air itself would cut through a monster's hide.

Now Gendral would get a chance to see that in action.