🎵: Dash of the Daring, Rise of the Iron Will, Babel's Harmony, Whispers of the Unseen
The training yard stretched before me, transformed. Platforms of varying heights dotted the space like standing stones in an ancient ritual circle, and trebuchets lurked in the corners like sleeping giants. Every element of this setup screamed of Mac and Koren's intentions - they'd designed this gauntlet to push me past mere drills, to test how well I could improvise when the ground itself became my enemy. The two of them stood in the centre, wearing smiles that made my stomach drop. But even as my mind cataloged potential escape routes, that familiar melody hummed to life in the back of my thoughts, rising to meet the promise of combat like an old friend eager for mischief.
"Today," Koren announced, "we're going to focus on expanding your dodge capabilities. Mac tells me you're getting... adequate at the basics."
Mac grunted. "When he remembers to maintain proper rhythm instead of flailing about. Your last session showed promise with those Rhythmic Strikes, but you're still treating each skill like it's separate from the others."
"Flailing is a kind of rhythm," I offered, then quickly stepped back as both instructors gave me disapproving looks. The music in my head seemed to chuckle at my weak attempt at humour.
"As I was saying," Koren continued, "dodging isn't just about avoiding a direct attack. It's about environmental awareness, adapting to different types of threats, and maintaining your balance regardless of the situation." He gestured to the platforms. "You'll be dealing with multiple types of attacks today, from multiple angles. Each successful dodge brings you closer to your Common 3 requirements."
Mac pulled out his training blades. "And just to add more challenge, you'll need to maintain your dual-wielding practice while doing so. Keeping both blades active will test your coordination and rhythm under pressure. Those Rhythmic Strikes won't master themselves, and you're still short on your off-hand attack requirements."
"Of course I will," I muttered, eyeing the trebuchets with growing concern. The melody picked up, anticipating the chaos to come. "Those wouldn't be loaded with anything dangerous, would they?"
Koren's smile did nothing to reassure me. "Define dangerous."
"Let's start with something simple," Koren said, making a subtle gesture. Two shimmering forms materialized in the air—training constructs that looked like angry sparrows. "These will provide our aerial threats. They're programmed to dive-bomb you at random intervals. Each one counts as a different enemy type for your requirements."
Mac stepped forward, spinning his blades with casual expertise. "While dealing with our feathered friends, you'll maintain your dual-wielding practice with me. Remember, your Rhythmic Strikes need to flow naturally, not just when you remember to throw them in."
I had just enough time to nod before one of the bird constructs dove at my head. The music surged, and I let it guide my movements. A familiar blue glow flickered around my weapons as I moved.
Sidestep successful!
Mac immediately took advantage of my movement, his blade whistling through the space where I'd just been. I brought up my off-hand blade to parry his follow-up strike, trying to maintain the rhythm we'd been practicing. The blue glow intensified as I found the beat.
Off-hand attack successful!
Rhythmic Strike executed successfully!
"Better," Mac acknowledged, "but you're still—" He was cut off as I had to suddenly roll away from another aerial attack, coming up just in time to block his next combination. The music guided my recovery, helping me maintain my stance. "—telegraphing your recoveries."
"I'd telegraph less if I wasn't watching for death birds," I managed, attempting to work another Rhythmic Strike into my defence pattern while simultaneously tracking the aerial threats. The melody in my head seemed to split, one strain following the birds' movements while another kept time with Mac's attacks.
The faint smile on Koren's face suggested this was going to be a lengthy afternoon.
The first trebuchet shot caught me by surprise—not because I hadn't been watching for it, but because I hadn't expected it to launch what appeared to be a sack of flour. The music spiked in warning.
Sidestep successful!
"Keep your footwork clean!" Mac barked as I narrowly avoided both the powder bomb and his low sweep. White dust billowed where the sack had burst against the platform behind me. "And maintain your rhythm!"
I tried to settle back into the dual-wielding pattern we'd practiced, letting the internal melody guide my movements. But another bird construct chose that moment to dive. The sidestep I used to avoid it was cleaner this time—at least until I realized I'd moved directly into the path of a second flour bomb.
POOF
"That's one way to make your movements visible," Koren commented dryly as I emerged from the white cloud, looking like a ghost. I felt my face flush with embarrassment, and the music in my head seemed to echo my frustration. "Notice how clearly we can see every telegraphed motion now?"
"Wasn't that the point of the flour?" I asked, working in a Rhythmic Strike between defensive maneuvers. The blue glow pulsed with the rhythm of my movements.
Rhythmic Strike executed successfully!
"No," Mac said, pressing his attack. "The point was to see if you could avoid it."
Another bird dove. This time I let the music guide me, using one platform to my advantage. The melody helped me time it perfectly, letting the construct's attack pattern carry it into the obstacle while I focused on Mac's increasingly complex combination of strikes.
Off-hand attack successful!
"Better spatial awareness," Koren noted. "But you're still not—"
The distinctive creak of multiple trebuchets firing cut him off.
Three flour bombs arced through the air in overlapping trajectories. The bird constructs adjusted their attack patterns to herd me toward the incoming projectiles. The music in my head became more complex, weaving together different melodies for each threat.
I glimpsed Mac's approving nod as I used Sidestep to thread between two of the flour bombs, letting momentum carry me into a roll that took me under the third. The movement flowed naturally into a rising defensive sequence with both blades, finally finding that elusive rhythm Mac had been hammering into me.
Rhythmic Strike executed successfully!
"Now you're getting it," Mac said, matching my pace. "Notice how—"
THUD
A direct hit from a flour bomb I hadn't even seen coming cut him off. I'd been so focused on the immediate threats that I'd completely missed Koren reloading the fourth trebuchet. The music had tried to warn me, but I'd ignored the subtle change in tempo.
"And that," Koren called out, "is why we don't get cocky just because we string together a few moves."
Through the settling white powder, I could see Mac trying to maintain his stern instructor face, though his twitching lips suggested he was fighting back amusement. "Reset positions. This time, let's see if you can maintain awareness of ALL potential threats while executing your combinations."
The bird constructs reformed, looking somehow even more menacing than before. Trebuchets creaked ominously as they were reloaded, while Mac's blades caught the afternoon light as he settled into his ready stance. In my head, the melody reset, building slowly as I prepared for the next round.
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"And Brendan?" Koren added. "Do try to remember that the flour bombs are the straightforward part of today's session."
The next phase of training proved Koren's warning prophetic when the next volley included what appeared to be water balloons mixed in with the flour bombs. The music adapted, adding a new pattern to help me track the different projectiles.
"Paste makes for excellent armour," Mac commented dryly as I discovered the delightful effect of water hitting flour-covered training clothes. A bird construct swooped low, and the music surged in warning. I had to choose between a clean dodge and protecting my off-hand combination against Mac's attack.
I chose the dodge—and immediately regretted it as Mac's training blade found my now-exposed ribs. The melody soured briefly, highlighting my mistake.
"Ow."
"You could have maintained both," Mac critiqued, not slowing his assault. "The Sidestep from the bird could have flowed into a Rhythmic Strike. You're still treating them as separate movements instead of letting the rhythm guide you through both."
He was right, of course. As another bird dove, I let myself sink into the music, allowing it to guide my movements. The defensive step flowed naturally into my counter-attack, the blue glow around my blades pulsing with the rhythm. To my surprise, it worked—my off-hand blade actually scored a clean hit while Mac was adjusting his position.
Off-hand attack successful!
Rhythmic Strike executed successfully!
"Better!" Koren called out. "Now let's see you handle—"
The distinctive whoosh of multiple trebuchets firing filled the air. But this time, mixed in with the regular projectiles, I spotted something glinting in the sunlight. The melody split into new patterns, trying to help me track everything at once.
"Are those..." I started to ask, then had to abort the question to focus on not dying, as everything seemed to attack at once.
Practice blunted throwing knives. Because of course they were.
The next few minutes became a blur of constant motion. I ducked under a bird construct and flowed the movement into a Rhythmic Strike. Then, I pivoted away from the throwing knives while maintaining blade contact with Mac. Using the momentum, I Sidestepped the flour bomb. The music wove it all together, helping me find the connections between each movement.
Rhythmic Strike executed successfully!
Off-hand attack successful!
"Much better rhythm," Mac acknowledged as I successfully chained three techniques together. "You're finally starting to—"
A throwing knife caught me in the shoulder while I was focused on a demanding dual-wield combination. The padding prevented any actual damage, but it still stung. The melody faltered, reminding me to stay focused on all threats.
"—get distracted by praise," he finished with a smirk.
I was about to respond when I noticed something odd about the bird constructs' flight patterns. They were forcing me toward one corner of the training yard, where the ground seemed...
"Is that ice?" I asked just as a flour bomb forced me to step onto the slicked surface. The music shifted, adapting to help me find my balance in the new conditions.
"Combat rarely happens in perfect conditions," Koren called out cheerfully. "Maintaining balance while dodging is just as important as the dodge itself."
Mac followed me onto the ice, his footwork unaffected by the slippery surface. "Show me you can maintain your dual-wield forms even here." The music adjusted, becoming smoother, more fluid to match the new environment.
*At least the paste-covered clothes are giving me some traction*, I thought, trying to find my centre of balance while tracking multiple incoming threats.
The ice added a whole new dimension of complexity. Each dodge had to be more controlled, each step measured. The melody helped me time my movements, keeping me from overextending or losing my balance.
A bird construct dove. I started to Sidestep but glimpsed something in my peripheral vision—the sunlight glinting off multiple throwing knives on converging paths. The music spiked in warning—the normal dodge wouldn't work; I'd slide right into their trajectory.
Time seemed to slow as muscle memory and the guiding melody clicked together. I let my back foot slide on the ice, using the reduced friction to drop lower than a normal Sidestep while maintaining my balance.
Critical hit avoided!
The bird construct passed overhead, the throwing knives whispered past where my torso had been, and my controlled fall transformed into a spinning recovery that brought both blades up just in time to catch Mac's attack. The blue glow pulsed as I found a new rhythm that worked with the ice rather than fighting against it.
Rhythmic Strike executed successfully!
Off-hand attack successful!
"Now THAT," Koren called out, "is adapting to conditions!"
For once, Mac didn't point out a flaw. Instead, he pressed his attack with renewed intensity, forcing me to maintain the dual-wielding rhythm while continuing to deal with aerial threats and projectiles—all while on the ice. The music grew more complex, helping me weave all the elements together.
"Think you can maintain this level?" Mac asked as I landed another off-hand strike.
Off-hand attack successful!
Right on cue, I heard the distinctive sound of ALL the trebuchets winding back in unison.
"I hate when you ask questions like that," I managed, before chaos erupted once again.
The next few minutes became a true test of everything we'd practiced. Flour bombs, water balloons, and throwing knives filled the air while the bird constructs executed more complex attack patterns. Through it all, Mac never let up his pressure, forcing me to maintain proper dual-wielding form. The music surged around me, stronger than I'd ever felt it.
Dodge successful!
Rhythmic Strike executed successfully!
Off-hand attacks successful!
But something was different now. The movements flowed into one another. A dodge from a bird construct became part of my blade rhythm. The slight slide on the ice added momentum to my Rhythmic Strikes. Each successful evasion positioned me for the next sequence. The music no longer guided me; it infused every action.
"Time to end this session," Koren announced, though his tone suggested anything but relief.
Mac's eyes gleamed as he stepped back. "Final test. Show us everything you've learned."
The trebuchets creaked one last time. The bird constructs multiplied, now four instead of two. Mac raised his blades. The melody in my head swelled, incorporating all the different rhythms we'd practiced.
"All at once," he said simply.
This is going to hurt, I thought, settling into my stance on the ice, waiting for the inevitable storm. The music pulsed with anticipation.
Everything happened at once.
All four bird constructs plummeted, each from a different angle. The trebuchets released their payloads—a mix of everything they'd thrown so far, creating a virtual ceiling of projectiles. Mac launched into his most complex attack pattern yet.
Time seemed to slow again, but different this time. Instead of panic, I felt a strange sense of clarity. The ice beneath my feet became a tool, no longer an obstacle. The music pulsed through every movement.
I let myself slide into a controlled spin, using the reduced friction to move beneath the bird constructs' attack paths. My blades moved in perfect rhythm with Mac's assault, the blue glow intensifying with each successful movement.
Off-hand attack successful!
Rhythmic Strike executed successfully!
The bird constructs wheeled around for another pass. I could see Mac's eyebrows rise slightly as I maintained the defensive sequence while simultaneously using the momentum from each block to position myself away from the incoming projectiles. Water, flour, and practice blades created a deadly dance around me, but for these few moments, everything made sense. The music guided every motion, every dodge, every strike.
Off-hand attack chain successful!
Rhythmic Strikes executed!
It couldn't last forever, of course. Just as I thought I had the pattern down...
Koren had saved his nastiest surprise for last.
The final volley from the trebuchets included something new—smaller sacks that burst mid-air, creating a dense cloud that obscured everything. My heart pounded, a mix of fear and determination surging through me. Through the haze, I could barely make out the bird constructs' silhouettes, while Mac became little more than a shadow of flashing blades.
But somehow, that made it easier. Without clear visuals to second-guess, I had to trust the rhythm we'd been practicing. Let the movements flow. Feel rather than think. The music was clearer than ever, helping me track threats I couldn't see.
A bird construct's wing brushed my hair as I slid under it. Mac's attacks came faster now, but my blades met his in perfect time. Each dodge positioned me for the next defence, each block flowed into a counter-attack. The blue glow around my weapons pulsed in time with the music, creating patterns in the mist.
Off-hand attacks successful!
Off-hand attacks successful!
Rhythmic Strikes executed!
When the cloud finally cleared, I stood at the centre of the ice patch, both blades in proper position, surrounded by scattered flour, water puddles, and practice knives—but untouched by any of them. Mac had stepped back, a rare genuine smile on his face.
"Now THAT," he said, "is what we've been working toward."
"Indeed," Koren added, descending from his trebuchet platform. "Though I have one final question..."
"What's that?" I asked, still maintaining my stance as the music slowly settled back to its ethereal whisper.
"How do you plan to get off the ice while wearing paste-covered clothes?"
Mac sheathed his blades with a flourish while Koren began directing his constructs to clean up the training yard.
"Now that's what I call progress," Mac said, somehow walking across the ice as if it wasn't even there. "You finally stopped thinking about each technique separately and let them work together naturally. That's the key to real combat mastery."
I attempted to follow him off the ice with considerably less grace, my paste-covered clothes making each step a precarious adventure. "Thanks. Though I have a feeling this was the easy version?"
Koren's laugh confirmed my suspicion. "Oh, absolutely. Next time we'll do it with actual combat constructs instead of just the birds. And possibly some fire elements. Mac has some fascinating ideas about combining environmental hazards."
"Wonderful," I muttered, finally reaching solid ground. "Any chance the next session could involve less flour?"
"Where would the fun be in that?" Mac replied, tossing me a towel. "Clean up and get some rest. Tomorrow we work on incorporating magical defenses into your blade sequences."
Training Day Results
Dual Wield Progress:
* Experience Gained: 25 (200/200)
* Off-hand attacks landed: 30/30 (Requirement Complete!)
* Rhythmic Strikes executed: 24/30
* Combat encounters completed: 3/5
* Notable Achievements: Maintained rhythm on ice without major injury
Dodge Progress:
* Experience Gained: 85 EXP (240/300)
* Consecutive Battle Count: 3/5
* Sidestep Critical Avoidance: 3/3 (Requirement Complete!)
* Enemy Type Variety: 3/5 (Birds count as their own category, right?)
Total Property Damage: Minimal (Mostly just water damage)
Unintentional Dance Moves: Several (Some might have been intentional)
Training Equipment Used: 4 Trebuchets, 2 dozen flour bombs, many water balloons, practice knives, and one very slippery ice patch
Confused Onlookers: Many (Several started taking notes)
As Koren's constructs efficiently cleared away the evidence of our afternoon chaos, I watched Mac and Koren already deep in discussion about tomorrow's training plans, their animated gestures suggesting I was in for an even more interesting session. Only my paste-covered training clothes and the lingering muscle soreness proved the last few hours hadn't been some bizarre dream.
The music had quieted to its usual background hum, but something felt different now. I'd found a new way to work with it, to let it guide more than just individual movements. Progress, it seemed, came in unexpected ways—even if those ways involved far too much flour.
Before heading off to clean up, I caught one last snippet of conversation between my instructors:
"So, about those fire elements tomorrow..." Koren was saying enthusiastically.
"Perhaps we should wait until the paste dries," Mac replied dryly.
Some lessons, it seemed, were better learned one step at a time.