🎵: Dash of the Daring, Rise of the Iron Will, Babel's Harmony, Whispers of the Unseen
The training yard hummed with activity as I arrived, the clang of weapons and shouts of sparring recruits filling the air. The dirt underfoot was well-trodden, marked with scuffs from countless drills. I tried to ignore the barely concealed snickers and pointed looks. News travelled fast in the fortress, and apparently attempting to steal Captain Reed's undergarments was today's favourite gossip. Someone had even written "Panty Thief" in chalk on the practice dummy.
"Ah, Brendan," Koren called out, his face suspiciously straight. "Ready for some dual-wielding practice? Though perhaps we should start with something simpler than ladies' garments?"
A few nearby recruits burst into poorly disguised coughs.
"I am ready," I muttered, face burning. "And it wasn't what it looked like."
First Training Match vs Mac
Mac stepped into the practice circle, twin practice blades moving with fluid grace. My own weapons felt clumsy in comparison—the natural rhythm I'd found yesterday seemed to have abandoned me, probably hiding in shame along with my dignity.
"You're thinking too hard," Mac observed, easily deflecting my awkward attempt at a dual attack. "Where's that musical flow Koren was talking about yesterday?"
Music. Of course. I'd been so preoccupied with my morning's embarrassment that I'd forgotten the fundamental lesson. Combat was music in motion. I closed my eyes briefly, letting my mind find that internal tempo.
When I opened them again, something had shifted. The weapons no longer felt like awkward extensions, but were part of a greater harmony. Mac's next attack came in swiftly, but I was already moving.
Sidestep successful!
My off-hand blade found an opening, scoring a light hit while my primary blade maintained the defensive rhythm.
Off-hand attack is successful!
"Now that's more like it!" Mac grinned, increasing his pace. "Let the music guide you!"
Our blades danced, the clack of wood against wood creating its own percussion. I wove through his attacks with growing confidence, each movement flowing naturally into the next.
Rhythmic Strike executed successfully!
The rhythm took hold, my body remembering yesterday's breakthrough. Each strike became a note in a larger composition, my footwork the underlying beat.
Quick Jab executed successfully!
Off-hand attack is successful!
"Much better," Mac approved, launching into a complex series of attacks. "But let's see how you handle a change in tempo!"
His blades came faster now, forcing me to adapt. I caught his right blade with my off-hand weapon while stepping inside his guard.
Rhythmic Strike executed successfully!
Sidestep successful!
"Keep that flow going," Mac encouraged, "but watch your—"
His warning came too late as his blade slipped past my defence, tapping my ribs.
Loss vs Mac
"Time for something more challenging," Koren called out. "Vic, join in."
Second Match - vs Mac and Vic
Vic stepped into the circle, bringing his aggressive style to bear. Suddenly, I was dealing with threats from two directions, the melody of combat becoming more complex. Like a tough piece of music, I needed to track multiple parts at once.
I ducked under Vic's wild swing, my off-hand blade catching Mac's attack while my primary weapon forced Vic back.
Sidestep successful!
Off-hand attack is successful!
"Now you're getting it!" Mac called out. "Use their attacks against each other!"
The music in my head picked up tempo, my blades moving in perfect counterpoint. For a moment, that familiar blue glow outlined my weapons.
Rhythmic Strike executed successfully!
Quick Jab executed successfully!
I moved with renewed confidence, the blue glow lending strength to my strikes. Vic came in hard from the left, but I was already shifting.
Sidestep successful!
The movement flowed naturally into a counter-attack, my off-hand blade scoring across his practice armour while my main blade kept Mac at bay.
Off-hand attack is successful!
"There's the rhythm we've been looking for!" Koren called from the sidelines. "Now maintain it!"
Mac and Vic coordinated their attacks, trying to break my tempo. Their combined assault was relentless, each of them exploiting any small opening I left. I had to predict their movements, adjust my footwork, and expect strikes from two different angles. I wove between them, letting the music guide my movements, feeling the pressure as if I were dancing on the edge of a knife. Every step mattered, every beat crucial, and missing one could mean a painful hit. Block-step-strike, like a complicated dance where missing a beat meant bruises.
Rhythmic Strike executed successfully!
Vic overextended on his next attack. I caught his blade with my off-hand weapon while my primary blade swept his legs.
Counter-attack after dodge successful!
Victory vs Vic!
But Mac wasn't giving me time to celebrate. His attacks came faster now, testing my endurance as much as my skill. Sweat dripped into my eyes as I struggled to maintain the rhythm.
"Remember," he called out, "the second blade isn't just for show!"
I managed two quick strikes with my off-hand blade, finding gaps in his defence.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Off-hand attack is successful!
Off-hand attack is successful!
The blue glow pulsed brighter, and suddenly I could feel the perfect moment approaching. As Mac committed to a powerful strike, I let the music take over completely.
Rhythmic Strike executed successfully!
Quick Jab executed successfully!
Sidestep successful!
My blades moved in perfect harmony, catching Mac off-balance for the first time today. A swift combination of strikes, and...
Victory vs Mac!
Training Session Results:
* Victories: 2 (Mac and Vic)
* Losses: 1 (Initial match vs Mac)
Dual Wield Progress:
* Experience Gained: 80 EXP
* Off-hand attacks landed: 6
* Rhythmic Strikes executed: 5
* Enemies defeated: 2
Dodge Progress:
* Experience Gained: 45 EXP
* Sidesteps in battle: 3
* Dodge and counter-attacks: 1
Short Sword Progress:
* Experience Gained: 30 EXP
* Enemies defeated: 1
Koren watched my final exchange with Mac, nodding approvingly. "That's more like it. Your footwork has improved, and you're starting to anticipate your opponent's moves. You're finally remembering how to let the music guide your blades." He paused, a slight smirk forming. "Now that you've shown some competence with dual-wielding, let's move on to something more... unpredictable.
"Time for throwing practice! Raise the flag!"
Two recruits struggled with a tall pole near the throwing practice area. As they secured it upright, one unfurled a bright red flag bearing my name in bold letters.
"Oh, wait!" someone shouted from the crowd. "We have a special flag for today!"
To my horror, someone had fashioned a makeshift flag from what appeared to be oversized undergarments. The laughter that erupted made me wish the ground would swallow me whole.
"That's enough," Koren barked, though I caught the slight twitch of his mouth. "The regular red flag will do."
"A thoughtful suggestion from Jay," he explained, his voice suspiciously neutral. "To be raised whenever you're practicing throwing weapons. For the safety of... well, everyone."
"Really necessary?" I asked, trying to maintain what little dignity I had left after this morning's debacle.
The red banner snapped in the breeze. The training yard cleared faster than if someone had yelled "fire."
Mac retreated to what he clearly considered a safe distance behind a suspiciously new-looking wooden barrier. "The flag's a bit much, but after what you did to the mess hall's weather vane your first day..."
"That was an accident," I protested. "The wind caught it..."
"Brendan," Koren interrupted gently, "it was pointing north when you started. Nobody's sure how you made it spin west while pointing east."
He handed me the practice throwing knives while positioning himself well to the side. "Let's see if we can keep everything flying in roughly the same direction today."
"At least we know he can successfully infiltrate a room," Mac added from behind his barrier. "It's just the getting out part that needs work."
My first throw started promisingly enough. The knife spun cleanly through the air, then suddenly veered left, curved up, somehow made a complete loop, and landed point-first in a bucket of water twenty feet behind me.
"Interesting trajectory," Koren mused. "I don't think I've ever seen a throw actually reverse direction mid-flight before."
"At least it wasn't the kitchen this time," Mac offered helpfully. "Cook Gregory still twitches whenever you walk past with anything sharper than a spoon."
Throwing attempt: 3/20 - Unusual Trajectory Mastered!
"Hey, that is not funny," I muttered at the notification. "I don't even have the skill yet! And 'Unusual Trajectory' is just a polite way of saying 'completely misses target in spectacular fashion.'"
The system, as usual, remained unhelpfully silent. Mac must have noticed my scowl at the empty air.
"Arguing with the system notifications again?" he called from behind his barrier. "Let me guess - it's giving you achievements for things you'd rather not be known for?"
"It thinks it's developing a sense of humour," I grumbled, taking aim for another throw. "I preferred it when it just stated facts."
"Try visualizing the path," Mac suggested from behind his barrier. "Like we did with the blade work earlier."
My next throw responded by somehow sticking into three different practice dummies simultaneously, despite there being only one knife.
"Now that's just showing off," someone muttered from a safe distance.
"Actually," Koren scratched his chin thoughtfully, "if we could figure out how you did that, it might be tactically useful. Assuming we could control which targets you hit. And possibly which dimension the knife travels through to reach them."
The afternoon continued, each throw bringing new and creative ways to defy both physics and common sense.
"Look on the bright side," Mac called out after a spectacular miss that somehow trimmed the flag above us. "Your unpredictability could be considered a strategic advantage. No enemy could expect where you're going to hit because even you don't know."
"That's... not as comforting as you think it is," I replied, watching my latest throw perform what appeared to be a perfect figure-eight before embedding itself in the exact centre of a target - unfortunately, it was the archery target on the complete opposite side of the training yard.
"Technically," Koren noted, "that was a perfect bull's-eye. Just... not on the target you were aiming for. Progress?"
The sun was mercifully beginning to set when Koren finally called an end to practice. "Solid improvement today," he said. "The dual-wielding is coming along nicely. As for the throwing..." he glanced at the various implements scattered across the training yard in increasingly improbable locations, "well, no one ended up in the infirmary, so we'll count that as a win."
"When can we take down the flag?" I asked hopefully.
"About that," Koren's eyes twinkled. "Jay commissioned a series of them. Red for knives, yellow for axes, and a special black one with skull markings for multiple weapons."
"He's joking, right?" I looked at Mac.
"The skull flag arrives next week," Mac confirmed.
I headed for the barracks, leaving behind a training yard that looked like it had been rearranged by a tornado with a sense of humour.
At least I was getting better at dual-wielding. Small victories.
[Status Update]
Dual-Wielding Progress: Steady improvement
Throwing Skill: Creatively chaotic
Training Yard Structural Integrity: Questionable
Flag Status: Permanent fixture
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The kitchen's warm air hit me as I entered, carrying the familiar mix of herbs and cooking smells. Jay was already there, humming tunelessly while arranging an impressive collection of pots and pans.
"Ah, my favourite disaster!" Jay beamed. "I heard your flag got its first official raising today. Brought a tear to my eye, it did."
I slumped onto a kitchen stool, not really in the mood for his usual jokes after our lunch conversation.
"Now then," Jay continued cheerfully, focused on his cooking, "while you're processing our earlier chat about valuable life lessons, you can help me prepare dinner. These vegetables won't chop themselves." He paused. "Though with your throwing skills, we might want to stick to crushing herbs instead..."
"You're enjoying this far too much," I muttered, reaching for a paring knife. As I did, my hand brushed against a thin wire.
Trap Triggered!
There was a puff of air and suddenly I was covered in a cloud of white flour, head to toe.
"First lesson still applies," Jay said cheerfully, without looking up. "Always check your surroundings." He tossed something that glinted in the lamplight. I caught it reflexively–my own lockpicks he'd somehow lifted from me yet again. Whisker's Delicate Touch felt natural in my flour-coated hand, even as I wondered when he'd stolen them this time.
"Oh, and recruit?" he added with a smirk. "Make sure you clean up every speck of flour before you leave. The kitchen staff gets rather... particular about their workspace."
"Practice time," he continued. "That cabinet needs cleaning. Oh, and it's locked. Funny that."
I approached the cabinet cautiously, examining the lock. It was a simple mechanism, or at least it appeared to be. As I inserted the first pick...
Trap Triggered!
A spray of rancid milk caught me directly in the face.
"Second lesson," Jay called out, now arranging spices with suspicious innocence. "Locks aren't always just locks. Keep cleaning!"
I wiped my face and tried again, this time with the lock.
Lock pick Success!
The cabinet swung open, revealing another task waiting inside. For the next hour, I alternated between attempting to pick increasingly complex locks and falling victim to Jay's elaborate network of traps. Each "cleaning task" seemed designed to trigger some new form of embarrassment.
Trap Triggered!
Lock pick Failed!
Trap Found!
Lock pick Success!
"Just remember," he called as I headed for the door, scrutinizing each step, "the best traps are the ones that teach a lesson. And speaking of lessons..."
I froze, eyes catching something suspicious near the floor.
Trap Found!
"Ha!" I declared triumphantly, carefully stepping over the thin wire stretched across the floor near the door.
"Well done!" Jay laughed. "Caught the tripwire! There's hope for you yet..." His voice trailed off as I grabbed the doorknob.
Trap Triggered!
And now my hand was firmly stuck to it.
"Though work on checking everything. One out of two isn't bad, but..." He grinned, gesturing at my glued hand, "you're not going anywhere until you figure out how to unglue yourself."
Training Summary:
Lockpicking:
* Successful picks: 3
* Failed attempts: 2
* EXP Gained: 45
Trap Detection:
* Traps Found: 3
* Traps Triggered: 5
* EXP Gained: 55
As I stood there, hand firmly attached to the doorknob, Jay pulled out a small scroll and began reading with theatrical flair.
"Your assignment, should you manage to unstick yourself," Jay smirked, "is to create three distinct traps. Each one must demonstrate different aspects of what you've learned today."
"All materials will be provided," he continued, placing his 'Jay's Guide to Creative Consequences' on a nearby shelf, just out of my reach. "And remember - no lethal components. We're teaching lessons, not ending them permanently."
New Quest Available: Tricky Business
Do you accept? [YES/NO]
Quest Accepted!
New Quest: Tricky Business
Type: Side Quest
Difficulty: Moderate
Time Limit: Three days
Primary Objectives:
* Create an obvious but effective trap
* Design a subtle, psychological trap
* Craft a trap worthy of Jay's approval
"Oh, and if you fail..." his grin widened impossibly further, "you'll get to experience all my new experimental designs. Personally."
With that, he strolled out of the galley, whistling cheerfully, leaving me alone with a doorknob firmly attached to my hand, a quest scroll floating in my vision, and the growing suspicion that the solvent for this glue was probably in his book - the one now sitting just beyond my reach.
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I was incorrect about the solvent being in the book. I carefully made my way back through the corridors to my room, the brass doorknob still firmly attached to my right hand. My clothes were spotted with honey, covered in flour and peas–a walking testament to Jay's teaching methods.
Failed mission or not, I had to admit Jay's lessons were sinking in. Trust no one, expect the unexpected, and always–always–check for traps. As I reached my quarters, I paused at the doorway, examining it carefully for signs of tampering with my one free hand. Sometimes the most important traps weren't the ones that covered you in flour or triggered cascades of peas–they were the ones that made you question everything you thought you knew.
Tomorrow I'd have to swallow my pride and ask around about removing industrial-strength adhesive from skin. For now, though, I desperately needed a shower to deal with the mess of honey, flour, and peas stuck to every inch of me. I stared down at the doorknob, still firmly attached to my palm, and sighed. Trying to wash myself one-handed was definitely going to be a challenge!