NBA Fanfiction Collection (2018-2019)

Russell Westbrook Trains with Paul George - 10/19/18

The Lord of Wind and Thunder, Russell Westbrook was a revered knight who dedicated his life to leading his men in battle. Despite this, he was so massively skilled that he could not reach his potential through standard training with his men. He was known to train privately and intensively with his right- hand man Paul George, the Storm Rider. During one such training session in the courtyard of Flatlands Castle, something extraordinary happened.

The two exchanged sword strikes with blistering pace and fury. Westbrook never let George reset his distance, relentlessly pushing forward and raining strikes with his solid oak training sword. After George deflected another overheard strike, the two warriors moved into a close-distance clinched position. George simultaneously jumped away and pushed Westbrook backward with the tip of his greatsword to re-establish a favorable distance. As he pointed his sword, he noticed Westbrook was breathing more heavily than he normally would this early in a sparring session.

As Westbrook reset his footing, George noticed the slightest of buckles in the knee of his opponent. He did not press forward, opting instead to to hold his sword firmly straight forward with both hands, as though inviting Westbrook to strike again.

Westbrook wasted no time and darted forward, and upon planting his foot to begin his strike, his leg buckled completely and he tumbled to the ground at the feet of George. He yelped in acute agony upon impact.

"My lord!", George yelled out, immediately sheathing the sword to free up a hand to offer to his fallen comrade. Westbrook flailed and hit the Storm Rider's hand away.

"GET OFF! Now let's go again!"

George took a step back but kept his eyes on Westbrook as he slowly stood up and dusted himself off. Never before had he witnessed a physical fault with the demigod to this degree. Given his hyper-competitiveness and pride, George knew he would need to choose his words carefully.

"I too was injured in battle, my lord. You need rest. There's no sha—"

"I DON'T NEED TO REST BECAUSE THERE ISN'T ANYTHING WRONG!"

Westbrook turned around and walked several paces away from George before facing him again. Still panting trying to catch his breath, he assumed his battle stance and pointed his sword.

"Now run it back, George."

George said nothing as untied his training sheath from his side and headed back towards the armory, leaving Westbrook cursing and smashing the ground behind him.