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Slippery Sands

  Sourcless voices whispered over the harsh blows of sands, their conversation untraceable except to the most acute of ears.

  “Why do we even have to sit out here? It’s not like anyone actually goes through the dunes,” Dormuk said. His face and body were covered entirely in ruddy fabric. His slim frame was impossible to spot, even hidden only partially beneath the turbulent sands.

  “You were the one who wanted to join the Crawlers Guild,” a lively voice sounded out from somewhere nearby. Its owner was thick with muscle, and contained a lilt that contradicted the harsh conditions it was suffocated by, “Sitting pretty in a little storm like this,” he let out a whistle, “a treat next to everything else you’re gonna have to do.”

  Dormuk shot a glare in the direction he thought his assigned mentor, Apuu, was almost definitely lounging. He wished he had gotten anyone else to help him become a full-fledged Crawler. Apuu had quite the reputation as a wastrel, and training up Dormuk was a sort of punishment for him. The guildmaster was hoping that a babysitting assignment might make him more responsible. If anything, it had made him even lazier. Now, Apuu was able to shirk the more tedious tasks onto Dormuk, holding membership over his head. Months had gone by like this. Apuu is doing the minimum to keep his new errand boy under his care, and Dormuk is forced to trudge through monotony. It wasn’t all bad, though. Dormuk had improved significantly because, despite Apuu’s tendencies, he was a high-ranking Crawler. Scions would have to pay a lot of money to experience what Dormuk was. The tips and tricks he learned from simple missions as well as the advice he received on skill improvement and build synergy, would take him very far. Dormuk thought his primary skill was a party trick, something with niche utility. Making things he was holding harder for people to grab by reducing their friction seemed only good for not getting disarmed easily. Apuu saw its prowess almost instantly, coming up with a myriad of ways to flip situations on their head. He could make blades and edges slice through tough wood without losing momentum, his feet glide effortlessly along the ground, and his body was almost impossible to get a hold of. Apuu had him working on making projectiles slide over his body, but the timing was extremely tight and outside of Dormuk’s ability at the moment. It wasn’t all powerful now, though; there were still a lot of ways for people to get around it. Apuu was guiding Dormuk to be something more like an assassin, aiming to end his opponents quickly before they could figure out the trick. Or retaliate. He was weak to most attacks and relied on not being hit to win most engagements. With his secondary skill selection coming up soon, he was eager to see how he could evolve his fighting style.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  A sharp whistle broke Dormuk out of his thoughts. Apuu had seen something. Dormuk squeezed his eyes tight, trying to parse anything through the beating sands. It was impossible for him to see farther than a few feet in front of him, though. Apuu let out another whistle, having been drilled ruthlessly on Crawler signals; Dormuk quickly collected himself and began to move towards the sound. Apuu would see him if he went too far off course. A sudden bang echoed through the dunes, a crater of clear air forming close in front of him. He could see Apuu and a man in heavy armor locked in a clash. Dormuk let his feet grow slippery as he slid down the dunes to move behind the assailant. It was easy to track their position as the storm was blown away with their powerful blows. He quickly found the attackers back in front of him and released his ability from his feet momentarily to launch himself forward. He focused on the blade of his weapon, still not entirely used to focusing his ability in multiple places. The armored back quickly approached as Dormuk readied his blade. The opponent was obviously out of his league, but he would still try to shift the tide in his mentor’s favor. He struck his arm forward, aiming to cripple a plated leg. His blade slid against a gap in the armor and left a thin, red line behind. A backhand struck Dormuk in the head before he could react, and he was sent tumbling through the sand. Apuu capitalized on the distraction and maimed his opponent. Within a few more exchanges, Apuu ended the battle mercilessly. He wiped his thick blade clean with a rag and turned toward Dormuk's unconscious form.

  “Not bad, kid, not bad.”

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