Truly, a difficult burden it is to suck at fighting.  Perhaps Maraxus, Guildmaster of the Lost Souls, could help him out a bit with this?  Musashi had been hoping for a more academic approach to the arts of staying alive whilst beset by all manner of bone helm-wearing scum, but unfortunately Maraxus seems to be a believer in the test of fire… dueling!  Reluctantly, Mu agreed to this manner of teaching, although he did pause to get some last-minute advice on the finer points of using magic in combat.

Dawnstar was more than happy to… umm… assist Musashi in his combat training.  He even let Mu get a head start, as is evidenced by the small stack of misguided arrows.  Mu can only stare blanky, his lameness startling even himself.  Eventually, Dawnstar assumed the combat position and the duel began in earnest…
… and ended in earnest approximately 30 seconds later.  This was startlingly fast, even where Mu was concerned… had the God of Tailoring abandoned his avatar?  More likely it was Mu’s fault, as he finds less and less to keep him tied to Britannia every day, cultivating a death wish that should one day soon cumulate in a fit of psychotic behavior.  Will he become a murderer wholeheartedly?  Will he just run around blathering inanely even more than he does now?  Will he take to wearing bone armor and t@lk1ng k3w1?  Whatever the outcome of this inevitable process, it should make for an interesting chronicle.
Eep… Dawnstar had so much fun in his mini-struggle *cough* with Musashi that Maraxus felt a bit left out of the fun.  It MUST be fun to kill Mu… everyone seems to be doing it.  Into the breach once more…
Amazingly enough, Mu actually laster for some 8 minutes against Maraxus, despite his poor skills, lack of experience, and incompetence handling the targeting cursor shown at left.  What could have happened?  Was Maraxus just toying with him?  Well yes, of course… perhaps he sensed that Mu was trying hard to look good in front of his new guildmaster, covering up his inherent suckiness in a desperate attempt to avoid being kicked out of the guild due to lack of ability.  (Or, more likely, having Maraxus kill him for sport and tailor loot on occasion.)
What was in that bottle?  No doubt some sort of moonshine, which seems to have affected both participants, as Maraxus runs out of black pearl for energy bolts just as Mu runs out of mandrake root for whimpering healing spells.  Fortunately, both were restocked mid-fight by Dawnstar, who was laughing at their incompetence the whole time.  What shall happen in this epic struggle?  Which mighty vanquisher shall stand triumphant over the festering corpse of the fallen enemy?
Like you had to ask.  Good thing Maraxus is wearing that helm to hide his frustrated expression, as his balled fist belies his disappointment in his recruit.  Mu saw this as he retrieved his clothes from his pathetic corpse and scampered out of sight almost immediately, citing some ridiculous excuse which no one really believed.  After a while, when Maraxus had calmed down, a discussion was held, in which it was determined that no matter how good Mu mgiht get at fighting, there was little point to it, as at that point the only thing to do was to fight other people (which Mu finds distasteful), who will ofted be calling upon the mysterious evil gods UOE and UOP, circumventing the laws of the uncaring deities of Britannia, whilst the red gods ignore the citizens’ pleas for help and equity.  At times like this, there is only one conclusion that one can reach…

 

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