[Doggie Dash: LVL 3]

*ABILITY MORPH AVAILABLE

MORPH OPTIONS:

1. Doggie-Blink: Your Dash ability now functions as an instantaneous short-ranged teleport to a location you can see. Range: 5ft. Cooldown: 5 min.

2. Mass Dash: Doggie Dash can now be applied to up to 3 companions.

If I’m gonna do this, I have to do it properly.

And that means thinking about these skills I’ve got up my sleeve. Paw? Leg?

Whatever – I’ve got so many tools at my disposal that I need to start paying attention to what works well. So, as I make my way down the lengths of bridges and small, bouncy toadstools that take me down to the village square, I consider this latest little pending morph.

Looks like it’s a toss-up between making me more agile or making my allies just as fast as me. If I take this [Blink] thingy it looks like I’m giving up my speed burst that’s saved my skin on more than one occasion…but at the same time I’m able to teleport. No small feat. Also – it looks like there’s no restriction set apart from the whole ‘location you can see’ part. There’s probably ways I could mess with that, and the training session with Myrathellon sounds like the perfect opportunity.

I hop down onto an indigo mushroom that gently begins to lower me to the bottom of the village. Myrathellon’s there by the waterfall waiting for me – a few of the other Elves mulling about, washing their clothes in the waterfalls pool.

Alright. I did say I’d stop running from now on, right? Aethel didn’t run when that demon came for him. And I meant what I told Palka, despite what Swiftrunner might think about it: no one else dies because of me.

ABILITY MORPH SELECTED: Doggie-Blink (Lvl I)

Myrathellon sees me coming and straightens up, hands clasped behind her shining silver armor.

“You are on time,” she says with a hint of surprise. “Good.”

I wag my tail happily. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world! Anyway, I just gained a cool new skill. Maybe I could try it out before any-“

In the next second Myrathellon draws a wooden blade from her side and bonks the side of my head.

“Oi! What di-“

“The student does not instruct the Master,” she says, clasping her hands behind her back again as some of the Elven girls watching us start giggling. “Lesson 1: You shall heed my instruction. Today: we focus on blade technique.”

I look from her to the other girls who simply shrug their shoulders and get back to washing.

“I guess I don’t really have a choi-“

The stick comes down again.

“Hey!”

“Lesson 2,” Myrathellon snaps, and I can swear there’s a cheeky little grin appearing at the sides of her mouth. “When a warrior commits themselves to battle, they do so with feeling. I ask you again, Lightborn: are you ready to begin your training?”

My tails tucked now. And for the first time ever I damn my doggie instincts. It’s like this girl’s used to training pups or something.

“Alright!” I bark. “Bladework it is!”

This time, she doesn’t contain her smile.

“Then come,” she says before she begins walking toward the waterfall. “Our bouts are for our eyes alone. No one else.”

I bristle slightly and heave a sigh, then think better of it as she snaps her head back to fix me with her perpetually angry eyes. I follow behind her with little other option.

“So…we’re going for a swim?” I ask when we approach the side of the waterfall’s pool.

She spares one look at me before lifting her arm and spreading her pale fingers wide.

“Aneth’Gar.”

The Elvish women barely even lift up their heads as the bottom of the waterfall parts before us like a curtain, revealing a small, humanoid sized cave mouth.

Well, not like I can be surprised. After all, I know I’m not the only one that can work magic in this world.

Myrathellon nonchalantly wades into the pool towards the cave.

As I follow, I can’t help but notice that the other Elvish girls barely regard me. It’s weird. Only yesterday they were literally fawning over my fight with their up-and-coming Glenmaiden. Now? It’s like I’m just part of the scenery…

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I’d think about this more were it not for the sight that spreads out before me as I doggie paddle up to the cave mouth and follow Myrathellon through.

It’s a small glen filled with wild flowers – lilies floating in a pond, sunflowers sparkling from the burning light above, thistles swaying in an uncanny wind that blows through this place. The entrance is closed behind us by a bushel of clearly magic roses literally rising and plugging up the gap, and I instantly feel like I’m walking in another world.

“It’s…beautiful,” I murmur.

Myrathellon glares down at me, then sighs lightly as she regards the flower field framed by ancient trees.

“This is Aniel’Gethran,” she says. “The Sanctuary Grove. It is a place reserved for meditation and combat both – a sacred place to the Glenmaiden order.”

I shuffle through some sparkling daisies, letting my twitching nose guide me.

"It's so beautiful."

She sniffs. "The Grove's magic mimics the state of Glenheim. When a Sister shows anxiety or stress, rainfall dominates. When there is discord, the skies thunder. But mostly it is a place of peace. Just like our ancestral home always has been."

I gotta admit, this is exactly the kind of place a guy could roll around in for eons.

“I forgot what real flowers smell like.”

My reverie is then interrupted by Myrathellon throwing a wooden blade at my feet.

“Come,” she says, moving towards a tree by the side of the field. “We are not here to pick pretty poses. We are here to hone your skills in a controlled environment.”

I narrow my eyes. “’Controlled?’”

She nods, drawing her own practice blade with the grace of a practiced dancer. “You are but a neophyte, Lightborn. A fledgling who has survived the ordeals of the Darkseed, thus far, by sheer luck. Your powers are not yet fully known to you. You are as a child with dangerous toys, too excited to play, learning nothing as you do.”

Jeeze, tell me what you really think…

She whips her blade through the air and aims the tip at one of the tree’s branches.

“You have adapted to the Swallow Swipe sword technique adequately. Now, you must master the Glittering Thrust. Observe.”

The wind rustles her short, cropped hair and she breathes in, deep. Her chest rises and falls as the wind waxes and wanes. Then, all at once, her eyes shoot open, she places her right foot forward, and jabs her blade at the air.

I feel it before I see it. The collection of energy at the tip of her sword. The sparkling of electricity impossibly running along the wooden shaft of her sword and gathering at her command. Then, when the spark gleams its brightest, she grabs her hilt with both hands and thrusts forward.

The beam of brilliant lightning flies from her blade – both her hands are consumed by its killing light.

Then I hear the distinct crack of bark above, and one branch from the tree falls to the ground and crumbles into electrified dust.

She sheaths her blade and turns to me with nothing more than a curt nod.

“Okay. Proceed.”

I blink.

“Summon the Glittering Thrust and break a single branch from the tree,” she says with a reserved sigh. “Then I shall at least consider you worthy of my time.”

I look up at the smoking spot where she eviscerated the poor plant, and then scratch a persistent little itch in my side.

“Hey – you know I can do this already. You saw me do it yesterday, right?”

She looks at me with narrowed, knowing eyes. Like those of a cat playing with her play.

“You summoned the light,” she agreed. “But can you control it?”

I grunt. I don’t see how it makes much difference either way. But, hey, if it floats her boat, I’ve got no reason to disagree with my new Master. But something else strikes me as odd here.

I stare down at the wooden blade she’s tossed at me, and nod at the very real (though rusty) scimitar on my back.

“We really have to use these sticks?” I ask. “I’m more comfortable with ol’ reliable here.”

She closes her eyes and sighs again. “I suppose it cannot be helped. The Lightborn does love his comforts, does he not?”

I bite my lip and ignore the insult, drawing my blade and walking to the exact spot that’s still warm from her attack.

“Go on,” she tells me from behind. “Show me the light within you.”

Heh. You know what? For once, I actually want to do this.

I close my eyes, breathe in full and deep, and clench the sword between my teeth.

Then I brace and feel the lightning start to crackle down in my gut.

[Blade Art: Glittering Thrust]

ACTIVATED

Let’s…go!

The beam of light runs up the scimitar’s blade and flies from its edge, instantly throwing me off my feet and back into the flower-field. I stand just in time to see the beam fly towards the branch next to the one Myrathellon had just felled, the air itself splitting apart as it bounds towards its target.

Then, just before touching the branch, it fizzles away and becomes nothing but s twinkle of sparks.

I’m left looking at the branch open mouthed, probably like a prized moron.

Thus, when Myrathellon brings her wooden blade down upon my ears again, I’m not even mad this time.

“Witness failure!” she snaps, her voice piercing my sensitive ears. “Not only have you failed to heed Lesson #1 again, but you have proven why you do not heed it: you are not yet ready to learn!”

Another bonk. This time, it gets me barking back.

“Hey!” I shout. “Look, I get it, ok! I ge-“

I’m stopped by the fury in her eyes.

A fury that almost borders on tears…

“No, you do not,” she snaps back. “This is why you are not ready to fight the Darkseed. It is why you shall continue to endanger those you travel with. Is this what you wish?”

“I…no. Of course not, I just-“

“Then listen!” she shouts. “And listen well. Lesson #3: Hubris is the warrior’s greatest enemy. A student who believes he has all the answers can never truly learn.”

I lower my snout. “Sorry,” I murmur into the grass.

She sheathes her blade with a grunt, then marches back to my wooden blade and throws it back at my feet.

“The scimitar you carry,” she says. “It is a blade suited for wide strikes. Adept at slicing limbs. It is an inelegant weapon, and that is why it is fit only to perform the Swallow Strike. It is not made to perform the Glittering Thrust effectively. To master the blade, you must know not only the movements of the arts, but the strengths of your weapon – how it is molded, how it may be held, how its energies may be best directed towards your foes.”

I gotta admit, that’s something I never considered before…

She bends down and offers a hand under my mouth. I spit the rusty blade into her hand, and she tosses it aside, offering me the ugly wooden longsword.

“The longsword is a weapon praised for its purity,” she explains. “A thin, strong blade made for piercing hearts. It has been the bread and butter of the warrior for eons. It’s thrust shall serve to keep an enemy at arm’s length, while piercing even the thickest of hides.”

I take the blade in my mouth.

“But yesterday,” I murmur. “I thought…”

“You could copy my moves,” she says with a smirk. “And that was enough to reflect my strike. But it would do nothing against the greatest minions of the Darkseed. You must master the blade, Lightborn, to unlock the power that hides in your small belly.”

I bristle, trying not to blush, and take up my position again.

“I don’t suppose we get a lunch break anytime soon?” I ask as I ready the longsword for a thrust.

I expect another bonking, but instead I get something worse: Myrathellon’s dark, sneering laugh.

“We’re not done yet, Lightborn,” she says. “Not by a long shot.”