Throwing Weapons

Lafayette

Man of Artistic Fingers
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Phoenix, Arizona
In my story, one of my protagonist is involved in a five on one duel. He (the good guy) kills one with a sword, two with thrown daggers, and the other two run away.

My question: is there another throwing weapon that my hero could use instead of daggers? Are darts throwing weapons?

My other concern is that I don't want my protagonist to be bogged down carrying heavy or clumsy weapons.

And, while I'm at it, is a there way my hero can win a sword fight with five swordsmen just using a sword (and maybe a dagger) as his weapon? I know fantasy involves doing the impossible, but I also know a writer needs to make it believable. Any suggestions on this?

I welcome all comments and/or questions and perhaps a few insults.
 
Some people throw axes.
Many vs one has been done enough that most readers wouldn't bat a lash. Whether it's possible depends on who the five are and who the one is. My personal feeling is that as long as the five are afraid for their own lives the one has a chance. But should all five decide to run him through at once, he's toast even if he manages to take out one or two.
 
is a there way my hero can win a sword fight with five swordsmen just using a sword (and maybe a dagger) as his weapon?
Consider having the environment aid the hero and limit what the antagonists can do. A narrow hallway might limit the attackers to one or two at a time. Having the protagonist higher up on a steep hillside would provide an advantage in swinging down as opposed to up. Running through a crowded street may also constrain the attacking group. In his novels, Lee Child often has Jack Reacher take on five antagonists by attacking the lead first, defeating two more, and the last two running away. Of course, that is not with swords, that should still work. In any case, there needs to be some reason why the attackers do not surround the hero before attacking,
 
Throwing knives? I do understand however they weren't particularly deadly so more often used as a distraction or way to immobilize an enemy.

Regarding the defeat of multiple enemies, I think it depends on what skill level you have established for this protagonist. If he is a convincing badass 1 v 5 should be no problem. If he's not then some luck or quick thinking might need to be on his side.
 
Are you trying to make it believable, or are you trying to make it unbelievable? It is a fantasy, after all.

The whole notion of throwing weapons is fairly unbelievable. We know that some warriors of old carried them (from shuriken to throwing knives to throwing axes/hatchets), but the reality is that precision throwing weapons have never been more than a circus side-show, never a real combat doctrine. Even notoriously inaccurate DnD rules get this one right, in that they don't allow for precision throws of weapons beyond 10 feet--and even that is generous. The investment in time and effort it takes to get a person to the point where he can throw a weapon accurately beyond six feet (two arms' reach, or the reach of an arm and a sword, the nominal limit of what we gamers call "melee" combat, i.e. hitting people with held objects) is simply prohibitive, not worth it when weighed against the nonexistent benefit. If you want soldiers or warriors who can affect an individual targeted enemy beyond melee range, you're much better off teaching them to use first a spear (held, not thrown; get your reach the easiest way possible, by just holding a longer weapon), then a bow if a spear still isn't long enough. They can become lethally proficient much more quickly. Second, a bow also produces far superior penetration. It is always penetration that kills, in combat. (The hacking sword frightens; the thrusting sword kills.) A thrown weapon is going the be more annoying than deadly, especially to a target wearing, y'know, clothes. Even light armor will thwart anything but a perfect throw of a very sharp weapon. Third, a bow allows more ammunition per weight. A warrior's load is already heavy enough. Why would I add ounces in the form of knives or shuriken which are single-use--literally, which I am going to throw away on the battlefield--and which the enemy's buddies can then pick up and throw back at me or use to stab me if they do break through my melee defense? Thus, the vast majority of even elite warriors went into battle with polearms and bows (with swords as fall-back weapons, similar to a modern soldier carrying a pistol to complement his rifle). I've never looked into it, but I suspect even the famously purpose-built shuriken was never actually regarded as a killing weapon outside of legend. Ancient warriors were scientists of killing. They thought in the language of killing, as we do today. A warrior looks at a throwing star, and those short tines, offering only a couple of inches of expected penetration, tell him as clearly as if it had been shouted that this thing is not designed to kill a man but for some other purpose. To the extent that there were real ninja or others running around with such tools, I'll lay money they used shuriken to stagger or distract a lightly-armored attacker as they fled or pressed an attack into melee range.

The above all speaks to a specific concept, which is the "precision thrower" of legend. The idea of throwing a sharp weapon at a specific guy and hitting him in such a way that he dies from the wound. This is an extension of the concept of precision ranged attacks generally, the idea that one fighter can target another single, individual fighter at beyond melee distance and reach him with some kind of missile, with enough precision (and force!) that he dies from the wound. The truth is that any precision ranged attacking, even with bows, crossbows, and guns, was rare prior to the advent of the rifled barrel and limited to a distance of (again, DnD surprises us with its accuracy) probably about thirty feet, give or take. Beyond that, most archers and musketeers were not going to be able reliably to hit the vital zone of a single, selected enemy--especially a moving, armored enemy in the heat of combat. And inside a distance of thirty feet, a normal archer or musketeer is going to manage one shot and then get overrun, so he will probably drop his ranged weapon and go to melee--or run away--rather than try to Legolas it out with his foes. So this means even the dedicated, skilled archer ends up performing relatively little, if any, precision shooting, at any distance. Beyond 30 feet he can't, and within 30 feet it's too late. (Again, 30 feet here is just a rough gauge of the outside distance at which a trained archer could reliably target and hit the vital zone of an enemy in combat.) Only with a rifled firearm do I actually begin to consider ranged weapons as precision, targeted weapons at any distance. With a rifle, suddenly, beyond 30 feet I still have plenty of accuracy, and within 30 feet I have a combination of per-round lethality and rate of fire that makes my pistol or carbine still far more deadly, a far more efficient killing machine, than your sword or spear.

The actual shape of ranged combat, in the vast majority of instances of its use prior to the rifle, was (as you have probably guessed or already knew) the formation volley. Early European warfighters opened with volleys of thrown hatchets or hunting javelins (atl-atls?). (There was one particular small axe design with an oddly bent handle, of which I forget the name, which one recreator theorized, after some experimentation, was designed thus so that if it missed a target, it would bounce wildly off the ground, allowing it to hopefully score a telling leg hit in a dense collection of enemies.) Roman legionnaires would open with two volleys of pila. Medieval armies would open with volleys of arrows. And later armies would fire muskets and cannon in volleys. Nothing particularly targeted, as a general rule. Just numbers against numbers, forcing attrition as the two sides close.

BUT...

This is a fantasy. We have legends of warriors killing with targeted, precision throwing for a reason. A few did develop those skills to such an extent that they could at least be demonstrated on a static target board and used as a means of off-field competition--especially among ancient warriors, prior to the advent of the professional army and the phalanx (in all its various forms and names across various cultures; every culture which is serious about war eventually invents a phalanx concept). An ancient warrior who could hit a melon with his axe or knife at twenty feet could probably at least claim that he was more likely to land a lethal hit at greater distances during the opening volley, or in extremis during the melee mix-up when he might use his last remaining axe or javelin to at least disable one of several oncoming rushers before engaging the rest with his held weapons. These skills and demonstrations, and the naturally heightened records of great warriors of ancient times, mean that the idea of the precision knife throw, precision killing shuriken, precision axe and javelin, are a natural feature of warrior legend, then and to this day. Fantasy, remember, is not a reflection of historical record but legendary record. If you play a fantasy, you're not supposed to be playing in the world of a medieval person but in the stories, the heroic epics, which medieval people recounted by firelight and in ritual.* Your hero is not a real person, he is a character of legend. Therefore, he should do things that legendary characters do, and one of them might be throwing daggers into people's throats in the middle of a fight, because that's awesome and it illustrates some cardinal virtue of the storyteller's culture. If he is doing that, then he's probably repurposing some throwing weapon that is already common to his era as a volleying or harrying weapon, well known to the storytellers who are telling his legend to their grandchildren at bed time. Is his culture more primitive? Then it's probably a small axe. More Classical? Maybe a short spear. (I personally love the idea of the javelin, and most of my DnD strength-melee characters carry a few and chuck them at mooks for style points.) Is his culture capable of producing light, balanced, symmetrical blades? Then throwing knives--or, if it's aesthetically appropriate--throwing stars.

Could he use a couple of these to help him in a 5-on-1 fight? Abso-frickin'-lutely. You have this underlying question: "How would a guy take on five assailants at once and win?" You want a model for this accomplishment. Well, if you're writing the next Jack Reacher clone, then you and I can talk about how that might really look, what we might really do to survive that encounter and come out on top. Let's look in your area for a good martial arts school that might let you learn these skills and experiment with some many-on-one engagements. But if you're writing heroic fantasy, and you want to know how a hero would handle it, then what you want to do is read the Illiad, the Odyssey, Beowful, and so on, and imagine how these guys would manage five oncoming mooks, and then let your imagination put your own spin on it.


* Remember, "heroic" here does not mean "the guy was a hero" like we mean hero, like he saved a lot of people. "Heroic" in the literary context has a different meaning. It refers to the heightened aspect of a legendary figure, usually a warrior of some kind, who is used in a culture's stories to exemplify and illustrate that culture's prime virtues, such as strength, cleverness, perseverance, loyalty to king or country, faith in the gods, etc. The trials of the hero are a way to illustrate for children the virtues which the community values and wishes them to emulate and preserve.

This is what Tolkien got right, and which so many fantasy authors since have missed, which is why their work somehow always seem to fall short of his: He did not write the history of Middle Earth; he wrote the stories of Middle Earth. His expertise was in the ancient heroic epics and legends, and his academic thesis was that the fundamentally unrealistic fantasies which the ancient cultures produced as their "histories" were not just illegitimate product of primitive minds, but rather were creations with a purpose--though a purpose different from what we use history for today. Specifically, he was one of the earliest well-known scholars to recognize the cultural purpose and significance not just of the hero, as I've defined it here, but also of the legendary monster. He wrote his fantasies of Middle Earth in that vein, from the perspective that he was recording not what "actually happened" but rather what would have been retold in those cultures' oral and written traditions. The result is a story that feels, authentically, like it fits in with the Beowulfs and Illiads and Tains, rather than just feels like an unrealistic fake history.

You might even say that all the people who feel like later fantasy doesn't quite match up to Tolkien's because nobody's world-building is quite as good as his have missed the fundamental truth: Tolkien never did any worldbuilding. Not a whit. "World-building," as modern fantasy authors/Tolken-emulators try to do it, is all about making a more believably complex, detailed, sprawling world--usually (tragically) beginning with a map. Tolkein didn't begin with a map. He began with a hole in the ground and an invented word, "hobbit." He never concerned himself with what the truth of the fantasy world actually would be, but skipped history and began his writing at the point of legend, because he knew that the literal, historical truth was not what was important to the ancient people who created legends. What was important to them was to preserve cultural qualities, specifically cultural virtues, encapsulated in the form of heroes, their trials, and their monstrous foes.
 
Are you trying to make it believable, or are you trying to make it unbelievable? It is a fantasy, after all.

The whole notion of throwing weapons is fairly unbelievable. We know that some warriors of old carried them (from shuriken to throwing knives to throwing axes/hatchets), but the reality is that precision throwing weapons have never been more than a circus side-show, never a real combat doctrine. Even notoriously inaccurate DnD rules get this one right, in that they don't allow for precision throws of weapons beyond 10 feet--and even that is generous. The investment in time and effort it takes to get a person to the point where he can throw a weapon accurately beyond six feet (two arms' reach, or the reach of an arm and a sword, the nominal limit of what we gamers call "melee" combat, i.e. hitting people with held objects) is simply prohibitive, not worth it when weighed against the nonexistent benefit. If you want soldiers or warriors who can affect an individual targeted enemy beyond melee range, you're much better off teaching them to use first a spear (held, not thrown; get your reach the easiest way possible, by just holding a longer weapon), then a bow if a spear still isn't long enough. They can become lethally proficient much more quickly. Second, a bow also produces far superior penetration. It is always penetration that kills, in combat. (The hacking sword frightens; the thrusting sword kills.) A thrown weapon is going the be more annoying than deadly, especially to a target wearing, y'know, clothes. Even light armor will thwart anything but a perfect throw of a very sharp weapon. Third, a bow allows more ammunition per weight. A warrior's load is already heavy enough. Why would I add ounces in the form of knives or shuriken which are single-use--literally, which I am going to throw away on the battlefield--and which the enemy's buddies can then pick up and throw back at me or use to stab me if they do break through my melee defense? Thus, the vast majority of even elite warriors went into battle with polearms and bows (with swords as fall-back weapons, similar to a modern soldier carrying a pistol to complement his rifle). I've never looked into it, but I suspect even the famously purpose-built shuriken was never actually regarded as a killing weapon outside of legend. Ancient warriors were scientists of killing. They thought in the language of killing, as we do today. A warrior looks at a throwing star, and those short tines, offering only a couple of inches of expected penetration, tell him as clearly as if it had been shouted that this thing is not designed to kill a man but for some other purpose. To the extent that there were real ninja or others running around with such tools, I'll lay money they used shuriken to stagger or distract a lightly-armored attacker as they fled or pressed an attack into melee range.

The above all speaks to a specific concept, which is the "precision thrower" of legend. The idea of throwing a sharp weapon at a specific guy and hitting him in such a way that he dies from the wound. This is an extension of the concept of precision ranged attacks generally, the idea that one fighter can target another single, individual fighter at beyond melee distance and reach him with some kind of missile, with enough precision (and force!) that he dies from the wound. The truth is that any precision ranged attacking, even with bows, crossbows, and guns, was rare prior to the advent of the rifled barrel and limited to a distance of (again, DnD surprises us with its accuracy) probably about thirty feet, give or take. Beyond that, most archers and musketeers were not going to be able reliably to hit the vital zone of a single, selected enemy--especially a moving, armored enemy in the heat of combat. And inside a distance of thirty feet, a normal archer or musketeer is going to manage one shot and then get overrun, so he will probably drop his ranged weapon and go to melee--or run away--rather than try to Legolas it out with his foes. So this means even the dedicated, skilled archer ends up performing relatively little, if any, precision shooting, at any distance. Beyond 30 feet he can't, and within 30 feet it's too late. (Again, 30 feet here is just a rough gauge of the outside distance at which a trained archer could reliably target and hit the vital zone of an enemy in combat.) Only with a rifled firearm do I actually begin to consider ranged weapons as precision, targeted weapons at any distance. With a rifle, suddenly, beyond 30 feet I still have plenty of accuracy, and within 30 feet I have a combination of per-round lethality and rate of fire that makes my pistol or carbine still far more deadly, a far more efficient killing machine, than your sword or spear.

The actual shape of ranged combat, in the vast majority of instances of its use prior to the rifle, was (as you have probably guessed or already knew) the formation volley. Early European warfighters opened with volleys of thrown hatchets or hunting javelins (atl-atls?). (There was one particular small axe design with an oddly bent handle, of which I forget the name, which one recreator theorized, after some experimentation, was designed thus so that if it missed a target, it would bounce wildly off the ground, allowing it to hopefully score a telling leg hit in a dense collection of enemies.) Roman legionnaires would open with two volleys of pila. Medieval armies would open with volleys of arrows. And later armies would fire muskets and cannon in volleys. Nothing particularly targeted, as a general rule. Just numbers against numbers, forcing attrition as the two sides close.

BUT...

This is a fantasy. We have legends of warriors killing with targeted, precision throwing for a reason. A few did develop those skills to such an extent that they could at least be demonstrated on a static target board and used as a means of off-field competition--especially among ancient warriors, prior to the advent of the professional army and the phalanx (in all its various forms and names across various cultures; every culture which is serious about war eventually invents a phalanx concept). An ancient warrior who could hit a melon with his axe or knife at twenty feet could probably at least claim that he was more likely to land a lethal hit at greater distances during the opening volley, or in extremis during the melee mix-up when he might use his last remaining axe or javelin to at least disable one of several oncoming rushers before engaging the rest with his held weapons. These skills and demonstrations, and the naturally heightened records of great warriors of ancient times, mean that the idea of the precision knife throw, precision killing shuriken, precision axe and javelin, are a natural feature of warrior legend, then and to this day. Fantasy, remember, is not a reflection of historical record but legendary record. If you play a fantasy, you're not supposed to be playing in the world of a medieval person but in the stories, the heroic epics, which medieval people recounted by firelight and in ritual.* Your hero is not a real person, he is a character of legend. Therefore, he should do things that legendary characters do, and one of them might be throwing daggers into people's throats in the middle of a fight, because that's awesome and it illustrates some cardinal virtue of the storyteller's culture. If he is doing that, then he's probably repurposing some throwing weapon that is already common to his era as a volleying or harrying weapon, well known to the storytellers who are telling his legend to their grandchildren at bed time. Is his culture more primitive? Then it's probably a small axe. More Classical? Maybe a short spear. (I personally love the idea of the javelin, and most of my DnD strength-melee characters carry a few and chuck them at mooks for style points.) Is his culture capable of producing light, balanced, symmetrical blades? Then throwing knives--or, if it's aesthetically appropriate--throwing stars.

Could he use a couple of these to help him in a 5-on-1 fight? Abso-frickin'-lutely. You have this underlying question: "How would a guy take on five assailants at once and win?" You want a model for this accomplishment. Well, if you're writing the next Jack Reacher clone, then you and I can talk about how that might really look, what we might really do to survive that encounter and come out on top. Let's look in your area for a good martial arts school that might let you learn these skills and experiment with some many-on-one engagements. But if you're writing heroic fantasy, and you want to know how a hero would handle it, then what you want to do is read the Illiad, the Odyssey, Beowful, and so on, and imagine how these guys would manage five oncoming mooks, and then let your imagination put your own spin on it.
Thank you for your comments.

It appears I've been trying too hard to make my fantasy believable where instead I should be using my imagination more. One of the reasons I wanted to be a fantasy writer (partially due to my muscular dystrophy) was because I don't know enough about the mechanics of the real world. For instance, I know little about cars. If for example I was writing a story where a character was driving a car I would mess up somewhere in it's functions. In your comments you certainly proved to me how little I know about war and combat.
 
An interesting conundrum you face. You've heard it said, "Write what you know." People tend to think of this as advice, but it's actually not. It's just the only thing a person can do. We aren't capable of true creation, ex nihilo. We are only capable of recombination of, and extrapolation on, what we have learned. The more you know, the more realistic your fiction can be, but that's why our imaginations fly highest in our earliest years. When we know little, our fantasy is least bound. Both are pathways, and both can produce works of value.

The "but" here is that ultimately strength rules the world, whether it is strength in knowledge or strength in body. (I like to say that might doesn't make right, but might makes reality.) You've probably experienced this in more ways than most, but everyone has experienced it. The car mechanic has power over the mechanically ignorant customer, the man over the woman, the armed man over the disarmed man. It is the moral obligation of the stronger to give of themselves for the sake of the weaker in any circumstance, but very, very few people concern themselves with their moral obligations, so most of the time the stronger takes advantage of the weaker, and in no circumstance can either party escape the fact that strength sets the rules. Strength--of body first, then of mind--rules the world, one way or another.

In the case of writing, more knowledgeable writing has strength over less knowledgeable writing. Less knowledgeable writing may contain more fancy, wilder imagination, and in some cases may even tell a better story, but it teaches less than the more knowledgeable writing, and the ultimate value of a story, its lasting value, is what it teaches. (This is important. We write to entertain, but entertainment is like sweetness, a transient pleasing of the senses that does not reflect nutrition. The only thing which a story can produce which is truly positive and lasting, the only nutrition it can offer, is some kind of learning--learning being a kind of increase in strength. Food strengthens the body if it carries nutrition; a story strengthens the character if it carries wisdom.) Without a foundation of knowledge, your story will be less "believable," less adult in character. It will have less to teach.

That said, the writer's knowledge, the wisdom which informs a story, does not necessarily take technical form. In our post-scientific society, knowledge is generally defined as who has the most factoids, can make the most obscure technical references, but how many scientists, filled with specialized technical knowledge, have been able to turn that knowledge into mastery of life? Into actual maturity and wisdom? None, I daresay. Here again, Tolkien provides an excellent example. I have read plenty of very "adult" fantasy which is incredibly rich in its technical intricacy, with thorough worldbuilding, piles of imagined geopolitical detail, and, of course, lots of adult content, but it is still the fiction of children. It's imagination founded on nothing, often somewhat nihilist in character, long on entertainment but ultimately teaching nothing, unable to reach any answers that matter.

Compare that to the works of Tolkien which continue to inspire us a century later. How much will you learn that is technically correct about medieval sword-making, or real medieval tactics, or medieval politics or culture, from Middle Earth? Not a damned thing. That was not his expertise and he did not pretend to be writing medieval science fiction. He wrote, as I said before, heroic epics. From his stories, a child learns about courage--the ability of a small person, alone in the dark, to act despite his fear. A reader learns about the far-reaching consequences of small decisions and happenstance. A thinker is inspired to consider a new perspective on the many-faceted nature of evil and its insidiousness. A young person learns about duty, and how gracefully to inherit from his or her parents a duty for which he did not ask and which he did not want, and how to see these inherited, unwanted duties as a chance to live for something greater than ourselves and our wants. A boy learns the difference between fighting with hate and fighting with love, the dangers of hate, the necessity of fighting, and the necessity of keeping love in his heart when he is required to fight and kill.

So, I'd offer you two ideas, in your situation. (Maybe three.)

First, consider what you already know. You are not an expert on combat, any more than Tolkien was, so technically-correct combat probably shouldn't be your goal for now. Which means that's not what your story is about. (Here we're talking about what in High School English class is called "theme," which Stephen King rightly and brilliantly explains is "the thing your story is about, aside from its characters, plot, and setting." Your story involves fighting, but it's not about the fighting. It's about the hero, and what he is fighting for, and what we can learn from his trials and his battles. Be satisfied with what your imagination gives you for the fight scenes. Feel free to write them and have fun with them. And when a reader comes along and says, "That's totally unrealistic," you say, "Well, yeah. What the hell do I know about combat? But don't worry about it. That's not what the story is about." As long as you stay true to your themes, your story will be about its themes, and it will be as valuable as those themes are.

Second, do not give up on learning. Just because you will never be a master martial artist or an MMA champ is no reason not to go to a martial arts gym. There are two kinds of challenge we can give ourselves in the battle against self. (Remember, life contains three kinds of battle: man vs environment, man vs man, and man vs himself.) The first kind of battle against self, the most common, is the fight to improve upon our strengths. This is most common because it is easiest. If I have a talent for football, then it is easy and rewarding for me to play football, and to try to become very good at football and reap all the rewards of being a champion football player. I'm working squarely within my comfort zone, my confidence zone, and reinforcing my sense of identity. (The scariest thing for any human animal is to self-annihilate, to truly change oneself, which requires the destruction of the existing sense of one's own identity. Thus, we much prefer tasks which allow us to reinforce our identities.) This kind of battle produces incredible football players, actors, scientists, musicians, etc., but it does not produce people who make the world better. It produces aesthetic leaders, not moral leaders. The other kind of battle against self is the fight against one's weaknesses. This produces far less material gain, far less social recognition, and will probably just end up killing you--but everybody dies, and once you're dead, all the worldly stuff matters for naught. It's in trying to improve the things at which you are worst, trying to practice the things which most frighten you or in which you are weakest, that you develop your own character and moral fitness, the only things that have any chance of outlasting your mortal life. They are, ultimately, the only things that matter.

If you go into a (good) martial arts studio and say, "I have muscular dystrophy, but I'd like to learn what I can, and strengthen what I can," they'll work with you. You'll have to be careful. You'll have to plan carefully what you can do and how you should do it. It will probably be painful, and you may even end up injured. But it's those risks which will make it worthwhile. What you do learn, and what you do gain, will be all the more valuable, both to you and to your writing. And you may gain far more than you expect. Stranger things have happened than for a person who should have been incapable of a physical activity to take it up anyway and experience a reversal of what should have been an irreversible disease. Don't bet the farm on it, and don't go into it for that. Go into it because it is the harder road. But you never know.

Third (or maybe second-and-a-half), recognize that what you do learn, if you go out and learn things that you're not "supposed" to learn (like a person with muscular dystrophy studying combat and fitness) will have a unique perspective to it. Do this, have this experience, and you may find yourself uniquely positioned down the road to write a story no one before you has been able to write, like an action story about a protagonist with a muscular degenerative disease, who still manages to find ways to win--or at least survive--fights. You'd actually have something new and different to bring to the world of technically-correct combat fiction, something only you know, and therefore only you could ever write.
 
P. S.: The fact that you have any interest at all in writing technically correct combat suggests to me that you are indeed a man, and a healthy one, at that, notwithstanding a specific limiting factor here or there. While I do maintain that working against one's weaknesses and inherited identity is morally superior to working within to one's strengths and inherited identity, that is not to say that working against one's inherited identity is the same as working against one's nature. My identity and my nature are two different things, and most people who are thoroughly acquainted with their identity constructs are least familiar with their true nature, because nature is subtler and much bigger than they realize. Often, one must deconstruct one's identity before one will ever perceive one's true nature. Part of your nature as a man is to be fascinated by the physical, by physical contests, and, yes, by combat and killing. That's not the whole of your nature, but it is elemental to it, and you can safely tap into it, especially in your case, as a tool to help you exercise against your weaknesses, if you so choose. Do it because, despite the fact that you aren't naturally gifted for it, you nonetheless by your nature find it fascinating and satisfying to learn. Muscular dystrophy is part of your nature, but so is your interest in fightin' and killin'. Muscular dystrophy may inform your identity, but as you deconstruct and discard your identity, you will be able to discover your true nature, in which somehow the muscular dystrophy and the fighter and the writer and the moral being all coexist and combine to create a greater whole. Neither of us can know what that whole, your true nature, is until it is fully uncovered.
 
I think the key is to remember that when most read a fantasy story they suspend their concept of reality and enter a fantasy world. The flow and style of your writing; the story and characters; the plot and visual image you create. These are all the things that lock them within that alternate reality. The issues are if your deviations from reality become too outlandish without reasoning or structure; if your deviations appear to shift at random or without any logic - eg if your hero who can't hit a barn with a blade in chapter 1 suddenly defeats 10 warriors in chapter 2 with a single thrown blade without any remarked upon change or alteration.

Also don't forget within fantasy there are tropes people "accept". We mostly accept that an elf or non-human can do things humans can't; that thrown blades can more easily kill. Often we believe that skills which might be 1 in a billion in reality are skills people can learn within a fantasy setting etc... Plus don't forget in the real world perceptions on what can be done can be wrong as well - sometimes using a thing in a certain way just isn't done or remarked upon so no one tries or practices. Eg there's at least one guy on youtube who has a load of trick and action shots with a bow - things like pulling it out, shooting 3 people, putting it down all in the space of simply sitting at a bench with them. Ergo total point blank shooting that normally most would consider impossible. Yes he's had to practice a lot to get to that stage, but its possible.


I do think understanding reality helps, it lets you know when you're deviating and then perhaps need to consider if either your character is special in some way to be remarked upon; or their group/faction/family/upbringing or perhaps its just how things work in your setting. So if he can kill 2 people with a thrown blade and he's not part of the "House of Flying Daggers" elite trained mystical group of dagger throwers; then he might well expect to have daggers thrown back at him
 
Random thoughts:

The composer Joseph Bologne, who was an expert swordsman, was once attacked by five men, one of whom had a pistol, and "put them out of commission". Whether he killed them or just made them flee I don't know, but it's thought to have been an assassination attempt, so the fighting must have been serious.

But I think a lot of fighting in stories, especially fantasy, depends on the feel of the novel. In a more swashbuckling story, the hero might take on dozens of opponents without any real problems (see Dragonlance!), but in a more realistic novel, he might have trouble with a couple, and his wounds might severely hamper him. It depends how "dark" you want it to feel: from the excerpts you've put up before, I'd have thought a lighter style would be more appropriate, but it's up to you.

(Actually, since you've written about music, there is a tradition of "bards" in fantasy, especially the lighter, D&D-influenced sort. I could imagine such a character being quite swashbuckling in an Errol Flynn sort of way.)

I once read that a good throwing knife is large and quite heavy. I've written characters throwing knives a few times, but usually to slow or wrong-foot an opponent - if they hit and do damage, that's an added bonus. But again, I can't see why an outrageously skilled adventurer couldn't throw a stiletto or two.
 
There's already a lot here so I'm going to suggest 'found objects' laying around the place. Obviously depends on where you're fighting but a street might have little rocks, a room would have candlesticks or books, anything that could be grabbed and thrown to disorientate or injure an opponent.

Taking innocuous objects and using them in a fight can be fun, useful, and show the character's quick thinking. There's a reason Jackie Chan got so popular.

The unexpected would also give the one an advantage, if they all charge in and something is kicked into the feet of one of them, causing a stumble and a pileup...
 
This is how David Gemmell does a 5 on one fight in his book Legend. Druss has been drugged earlier but has taken some indigestion remedy prior to the fight, he is still groggy. Druss is a legendary fighter so in this world, you wouldn't expect the same action from everyone. Snaga is the name of his axe and Mendar is a soldier he thought was loyal who asked to meet him late in the evening at some tavern.

The fight seems to follow the recommendations mentioned by others above, dark alley, opponents not coming all at once, etc.

Something swished through the air. Light exploded in his eyes as the club hit him — he went down hard and rolled in the dirt as a dark figure sprang forward. Snaga sang through the air slicing through the man’s thigh, crunching on bone which splintered and broke, tearing a scream from the assassin. Druss lurched to his feet as more shapes came from the shadows. His vision blurred, he could still make out the gleam of steel in the moonlight. Bellowing a war cry, he lunged forward. A sword arced towards him, but he batted it aside and clove his axe through the skull of the swordsman, simultaneously kicking out at a second man. A sword blade cut through his shirt, nicking his chest. He hurled Snaga and turned to meet the third man.
It was Mendar!
Druss moved sideways with arms outstretched like a wrestler. The young officer, sword in hand, advanced confidently. Druss glanced at the second man; he was lying groaning on the ground, his weakening fingers desperately trying to pull the axe from his belly. Druss was angry with himself. He should never have hurled the axe – he blamed it on the headache and sickness. Now Mendar leapt and swung his sword, and Druss jumped backwards as the silversteel swished by him, an inch from his neck.
‘You can’t back away much longer, old man!’ said Mendar, grinning.
‘Why are you doing this?’ asked Druss.
‘Playing for time? Sorry? You wouldn’t understand.’
Once more he leapt and slashed and once more Druss jumped clear. But now his back was against a building and there was nowhere to run.
Mendar laughed. ‘I didn’t realise it would be so easy to kill you, Druss,’ he said, and lunged. Druss twisted, slammed his hand against the flat of the sword, then leapt forward as the weapon sliced the skin over his ribs, and hammered a fist into Mendar’s face. The tall officer staggered back with blood pouring from his mouth. A second blow crashed under his heart, snapping a rib. He went down, losing his grip on his sword, but huge fingers gripped his throat and hauled him upright. He blinked – the grip relaxed just enough for him to squeeze air through his windpipe.
‘Easy, boy? Nothing in life is easy.’
A whisper of sound came from behind him.
Druss grabbed Mendar and swung him round. A doubleheaded axe clove through the officer’s shoulder, lodging against the breastbone. Druss hurdled the body and shoulder-charged the assassin as he struggled to free his weapon. The man was hurled backwards. As Druss clambered to his feet the killer turned and sprinted out into Baker’s Row.
Druss cursed and returned to the dying officer. Blood poured from the ghastly wound, soaking into the hard-packed earth.
‘Help me,’ said Mendar. ‘Please!’
‘Think yourself lucky, you whoreson. I would have killed you much more slowly. Who was he?’
But Mendar was dead. Druss retrieved Snaga from the other dead assassin, then searched for the man whose leg he had wounded. Following a trail of blood into a narrow alley, he found the man lying back against a wall – a dagger rammed to the hilt in his heart, his fingers still curled about the handle.
Druss rubbed his eyes and his hand came away sticky. He ran his fingers over his temple. A lump the size of an egg, tender and broken, made him curse once more.
Was nothing simple in the world any more?
In his day a battle was a battle, army against army.
Pull yourself together, he told himself. There have always been traitors and assassins.
It was just that he had never been a target before.
Suddenly he laughed as he remembered the silence. The inn was empty. As he turned into Unicorn Alley he should have realised the danger. Why would five men be waiting for him after midnight in a deserted alley?
You old fool, he told himself. You must be getting senile.
 
Another aspect to consider is to give the hero a shield and maybe armor. A shield provides a defense against many weapons and chain mail or even leather would provide protection against cutting weapons. This increases plausibility over having the hero nimbly side stepping all attacks.
 
PIES !!!


The world of throwing weapons is infinite.

Open any book on medieval weaponry and feast your eyes.

The important thing is that whatever it is needs to be deadly,

As can be seen in my whimsical example above.

Slings, bolts, whizzing disks, stones, dead cats and yes even pie crusts.

You name it death can be delivered by most items if thrown with enough speed and accuracy.

Invent your own. Twenty words about how it works over what distance along with it's limitations is all the reader need to absorb it as fact.
 
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The fact that it is a duel part implies much. It is an arranged fight with rules. This makes it hard for the protagonist to have situation advantage. Why don't the others use throwing weapons in response or even to start? Does the duel start with them close to one another (like in fencing) or far away to allow multiple throws? If so the main could have a few spears or javelins stuck in the ground and use them as the swarm approaches.

The five on one part implies a certain amount of asymmetry. Are the opponents obviously far inferior to the main? Is the main in full armour and the five pissed off peasants with pitchforks that challenge? If so the main could demonstrate the superiority by the success of the first two throws.
 

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