8 Vhalar 719
Location: Abra's Dreamscape
Abra stood in a white abyss surrounded by moving targets. The targets were made of wood, all with several red rings that got progressively smaller. At the center of each target was a small red dot which Abra would be happy to hit even once during tonight’s training session. “Guess the first part is making the weapons,” he thought with a pensive stare into the abyss. He held out a hand and formed a metal shuriken in his hand. It was dull to the touch except for the tips which held razor sharp points. He examined it with a careful gaze and threw it. It spun haphazardly for several yards then fell through the white abyss. He would have thought that using throwing daggers throughout his life would have made things easier for him but it didn’t.
“Everyone’s got to start somewhere,” he assured himself. He called the shuriken back to his hand, careful to not let it cut himself. He didn’t even know where to start when it came to using this weapon. It seemed less than favorable as a damaging weapon when compared to his throwing knives because with the knives all of the force he could put into it went right into the impact. With the throwing star a lot of the energy went into spinning which was a waste in Abra’s eyes. There had to be a method to this weapon if assassins used it. But what could it be?
“What if I try throwing it like a throwing knife?” he asked himself. He held it at his hip then threw the shuriken forward just like he threw his throwing knives. The shuriken flopped around and ultimately fell through the abyss without covering much distance. “Guess that’s not a good idea.” He once again recalled the pointy weapon. He slipped his index finger through the hole of the shuriken and spun it around. The pattern the edges made when they spun around in a circle was mesmerizing. He spun it over and over again while he thought of what to try next.
Not much was coming to mind. He gripped the shuriken more firmly this time, feeling the edges dig into his skin and then he threw it like a Frisbee. It spun, wobbly admittedly, but it spun just as a shuriken should spin. A dozen shuriken formed just within arms reach which allowed him to throw the small weapons at the moving targets. Each throw pumped more adrenaline into his body which made him go faster and faster. When that dozen was through he formed some more. He no longer cared if he even hit the targets, he just wanted to throw them.
The sounds of spinning metal echoed in the voidlike dreamscape coupled with Abra’s heavy breathing. He was quickly wearing out due to his inexperience. Sweat dribbled down his cheeks and armpits while his hands developed a slippery moistness. The shurikens felt less secure in his hands now and it only made it hard to throw. “That’s…. enough for now,” he said. He wiped the targets clean and took a breather. Water poured on top of his head as a cool refreshment for his brief yet hard work. He wondered why he even bothered with the targets if he couldn’t even hit any. “Wishful thinking maybe.”
Abra laid back in the vast open dreamscape and let the water drip off of his body and into the void. He was hopelessly bored now that his workout was over. He couldn’t wait until all his training paid off and he could be capable in a fight on his own. He thought back on how quickly he wore out, noting that he could have done well to pace himself better. He also thought onto how much time he spent adjusting his wrists to throw, noting that it would be important to work on his dexterity if he was going to throw faster.
“What should we do now shuriken?” he asked while getting up and calling a pile of shuriken to his side. “Let’s see how far you can go.” He governed the shuriken to hover in midair then fired them off one by one. He started with a little power but then increased it incrementally until the weapons were flying so fast they’d probably have to be shot from a cannon to meet the same speed in Idalos. He noticed that at a certain distance the shuriken spun out of control or lost so much speed from the air that it didn’t really matter how much power he put behind them. “This proves that technique is more important than power,” he mused.
Abra fell into a state of deep thought while he waited for Idalos to call him back to his own body. He’d accomplished everything he set out to do so all there was to do was wait. Time passed him by hours while he just lay there in the empty abyss until finally boredom got the best of him. He changed his dreamscape to be that of a training grounds that he’d seen many times on his travels through the Melrathian wilds. There he spawned a man dressed in leather armor. “This will make for a more exciting target than those floating discs.”
More shuriken found their way towards Abra’s immediate vicinity. He stuffed a number of them in his clothes then slipped one into each hand. He was about ten yards from the spawned man who looked very confused as to what he was doing there. “Where am I? I’ve seem to forgotten?” he asked to Abra. The dreamer didn’t think it necessary to reply. Instead he threw the shuriken in his hands at the leather armored target who winced. Abra couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn so it wasn’t surprising when the shuriken both missed.
“Let’s talk this out!” The target shouted, “I don’t know what you want but I’ll give it to you. There’s no need to throw those at me!” He ran and Abra threw the rest of his shuriken at him while running on his own. Running didn’t do him any favors in terms of accuracy. The shuriken were even more wildly off now, one even going straight up into the air when Abra stumbled over himself. The target had run even faster than Abra could. He reached the end of the training grounds and was trying to figure out why he couldn’t pass the finely drawn line in the ground that separated the grounds from the forest.
“You’re not getting away that easily.” Abra lifted his hands and pulled an imaginary rope which yanked the target all the way back to his feet. “Let’s make it a little harder for you to run.” He snapped his fingers and a set of chains wrapped around the target’s legs making it impossible to even get up.
“Focus now, if you can’t even hit him five yards away you’re going about it all wrong,” the dreamer told himself. He called the shuriken to his hands again and threw them at the much closer screaming target. He was screaming because the shuriken were actually hitting him now. They sliced into his armor, always conveniently missing skin. “Don’t worry, this should all be over soon,” Abra assured as he summoned another couple dozen shuriken to his side. He didn’t think that he could kill this man with shuriken unless he happened to get a few lucky neck shots. That was hard to do too because the target wrapped his armored arms around his face and neck.
“You’re no fun you know that?” Abra asked in response to all the pleading and crying. Soon after depleting his weaponry he felt like his arms were made of jello. Why was it that throwing these nearly weightless weapons took so much of his energy? After all that he hadn’t even drawn a drop of flesh on this emean creation he’d made. If anything he’d gotten more annoyed at the man than the moving targets because he made an awful lot of noise for someone who wasn’t sustaining any injuries.
“That’s enough of that,” Abra said while tightening his fingers into a fist. The whimpering and crying man before him suddenly became still once his entire body was constricted by an unnatural compression force. Abra watched emotionless as the body before him slowly died. He still hadn’t lost sensitivity to killing but it was different when he knew that it wasn’t a real person. It still gave him an uneasiness when the man’s dead eyes looked at him. “That’s just gross.” He waved the body from his view to prevent himself from throwing up.
Not too soon afterwards Abra felt himself waking up. “Right on time,” he thought while he rested his mind and let himself get pulled back into his body. For a regular old generic dream he thought he had made some measurable progress.
