[Training] [se] running in place

DEIMOS

The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates

The fundamentals were there; plain to see as the courier moved through the cycle of repetition. The serrated edges found their marks, but the strength, force, brawn, and power were lacking. It could’ve been any number of reasons why: his stance didn’t ground him enough to utilize all the aspects of his capability, his frame had been built for lean travel, and he didn’t have the defined bulk like some of the other soldiers had, or his endurance had been made for longer instances, and less precise, intricate motions. Striding forward again, the Sword tilted his head a fraction, clearly immersed in thought. “Your precision is well-executed.” He pointed out the marks chiseled along the effigy. “But you need more power to truly make your opponent feel the weight of that accuracy.”

He paused, placing his own ax upon his belt, alongside his blade. “We can take a break. Practicing those two techniques should be enough for now.” He moved onward, motioning Tal to follow him towards one of the braziers with an incline of his skull, leaving the floating pieces there, still cast in the air, for now. He had a plan to up the ante later anyway.

Gone for a moment, threading his way through the halls, he returned with a cup of water for the courier, glancing back towards the climbing wall in the distance. “Do you do any strength training?”

The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead