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Description
Previously on Layla's story:

When you're a kid, adults are the worst, or so Layla thought. All you want to do is have a fight, but they spend so much time talking and standing around boring you could've had 3 fights already!

But finally, the elf traveller, keeping from laughing at the scrunched up war face the elf was facing, and dropped the bag.

In one swift movement the elf drew the sword, arcing it perfectly. The blow striking Layla’s sword sending it flipping through the air several feet.

Then, with the scabbard of the sword, the elf pushed the surprised Layla, making her stumble.

"Now, in fighting, the first thing you need to learn is how to fall! Yep--you know how to fall alright!" said the elf, as the little ozcurilla ended up on her butt. "Learn to fall! Don't cut yourself when you go down! Don't break anything; particularly your head!"

"Owiee! You meanie!" the girl, sitting on the road, protested.

"You need training, little one."

"And what do you think I was trying to do here?!" protested Layla, as she looked at a scrap on her hand from the fall and the stinging hands from losing the sword.

Then she heard a voice.

"LAYLA!" she turned around... and saw her mother. In front of her, was her sword, that had landed sticking in the soft ground at her mother's feet. "Get over here! A bad storm is coming! You can play with the sword later!"

"But Moooom!"

"Let's go little one." the elf said. "Never argue with mother."

Layla growled, favoring her stinging hands. She went after her mother, as the elf waited on the road. As she unstuck the word from the ground, she glanced over to the traveller. "Come on. You heard mommie. A storm is coming."

Summer storms in the plains of Morod, while furious in their rage, normally tire themselves quick and doesn't last long. And as soon as stopped the thunderbolts and lightnings and the pouring of water, the little ozcurillas grey orcs who had been hiding in a confusing pile under their huts at the hamlet, stormed outside to play in the puddles of water.

Except Layla. As they hunkered down in the farm, the elf had agreed -in exchange of some cheese, dried meat and a couple of other rations- to help her train with her sword.

While initially she was very eager for it, soon she encountered a problem.

Boredoom.

"I can't believe you! You made swords boring! Clearly, only a knife-ears can make one of the most cool things, boring!" Layla protested, as she was told to keep the same tiring stance, practising at most just some steps and holding her sword straight.

"Standing is key for swordplay"

"PLAY is key for swordPLAY! This is SwordBORING!"

Next on Layla:

Description
Previously on Layla's story:

When you're a kid, adults are the worst, or so Layla thought. All you want to do is have a fight, but they spend so much time talking and standing around boring you could've had 3 fights already!

But finally, the elf traveller, keeping from laughing at the scrunched up war face the elf was facing, and dropped the bag.

In one swift movement the elf drew the sword, arcing it perfectly. The blow striking Layla’s sword sending it flipping through the air several feet.

Then, with the scabbard of the sword, the elf pushed the surprised Layla, making her stumble.

"Now, in fighting, the first thing you need to learn is how to fall! Yep--you know how to fall alright!" said the elf, as the little ozcurilla ended up on her butt. "Learn to fall! Don't cut yourself when you go down! Don't break anything; particularly your head!"

"Owiee! You meanie!" the girl, sitting on the road, protested.

"You need training, little one."

"And what do you think I was trying to do here?!" protested Layla, as she looked at a scrap on her hand from the fall and the stinging hands from losing the sword.

Then she heard a voice.

"LAYLA!" she turned around... and saw her mother. In front of her, was her sword, that had landed sticking in the soft ground at her mother's feet. "Get over here! A bad storm is coming! You can play with the sword later!"

"But Moooom!"

"Let's go little one." the elf said. "Never argue with mother."

Layla growled, favoring her stinging hands. She went after her mother, as the elf waited on the road. As she unstuck the word from the ground, she glanced over to the traveller. "Come on. You heard mommie. A storm is coming."

Summer storms in the plains of Morod, while furious in their rage, normally tire themselves quick and doesn't last long. And as soon as stopped the thunderbolts and lightnings and the pouring of water, the little ozcurillas grey orcs who had been hiding in a confusing pile under their huts at the hamlet, stormed outside to play in the puddles of water.

Except Layla. As they hunkered down in the farm, the elf had agreed -in exchange of some cheese, dried meat and a couple of other rations- to help her train with her sword.

While initially she was very eager for it, soon she encountered a problem.

Boredoom.

"I can't believe you! You made swords boring! Clearly, only a knife-ears can make one of the most cool things, boring!" Layla protested, as she was told to keep the same tiring stance, practising at most just some steps and holding her sword straight.

"Standing is key for swordplay"

"PLAY is key for swordPLAY! This is SwordBORING!"

Next on Layla: