Precision.

A skill taught early to all Drow to guarantee their effectiveness. Without precision, a Drow is useless; they serve no purpose to the greater evils or to their brothers. 

But what if this precision were to be amplified? What if one could expand on what it means to be precise to the degree that not only a bolt or blade will strike true, but one’s arcane could do the same?  

Through conjuring and focusing all of one’s magic energy to a single point, and compressing it to be expelled from an opening no larger than the diameter of one’s fingertip, one can create a beam. 

Now, take this rare discipline of arcane, and couple it with the raw precision of a Drow paragon, the pinnacle of our species. The outcome is a breed of spellcaster unlike anything ever witnessed. The outcome is unfathomable opportunity for destruction. The outcome is-

–

​”Wrong! Do it again!” barked the elder sniper. Rygos picked himself up from the ground, rubbing his back which was beginning to feel raw against the stone floor. As part of Rygos’s training regiment, the young spellwarp sniper-in-training was to be taught proper form before magic was introduced to the technique. Without proper form, the compressed arcane energy could backfire, not only sending the caster to the ground as the Master simulated, but the pressurized arcane could explode, leaving a far more severe result. 

​Rygos went through the motions: assuming a typical combat stance, gesturing with his hands while eloquently moving his arms, and finally… a thrust!, to propel the arcane. 

​The Master stood for a moment, gazing over Rygos, contemplating the technique before he spoke.

​”…better,” he finally admitted. “Though under typical circumstance my pupil would rehearse proper form for a considerably longer span of time… these are not typical circumstances. However, regardless of your skill far exceeding that of my previous students… you must not be overconfident. Remember your basics and practice them often.” 

​The Master Kophyn chose his words deliberately and with a precision of his own, a sure representation of his practice in the discipline of a spellwarp sniper. 

​Thankfully, Rygos was used to the discipline and abuse from his former masters. He still bore scars from the whip lashings, mental ones as well as physical. Kophyn, his new master, was far less brutal. It was clear that the elder sniper valued knowledge, improvement, and explanation over physical torment and torture. Within the last 24 hours, Rygos had nearly mastered the basic form required of a sniper, a feat that impressed even him, with credit to his master’s teaching abilities. 

​”Now,” Kophyn barked, his age showing in his voice. It was obvious even he was growing weary from the training regimen. “We will begin adding arcane to the movements. I am aware you are no novice to the art of magic,” the elder said, as he began to slowly make his way across the room, clear of Rygos’s range, “but remember, your objective is not detonate your target, it is to eviscerate your target, with the precision of surgeon’s scalpel.”

​Rygos nodded in silent understanding and with concentration. He took his stance and with the same motions of his arms as earlier, began to channel the arcane as he would with any typical bolt. He felt the energy flow from his chest, to his shoulder, down through his arm, but instead of leading it to his palm, where he would normally expel the magic, he led it further, to the fingertip of his index finger. He fixed his eyes on the stone dummy across the room, directly in front of him. With a lunge, he extended his arm and a ray of red-hot energy shot from his finger to the center mass of the dummy, burning a hole approximately halfway through the stone. 

​”Yes!” Kophyn exclaimed. This was the most lively Rygos had seen the elder in the past 24 hours. 

​”Remarkable. Within a mere day’s time you have learned the art of the spellwarp sniper. Your aim leaves some to be desired, and your form could use adjustment… but I digress.” Kophyn strolled across the room to Rygos’s side. He put a hand on the young Drow’s shoulder. “I pass on to you here the art of the spellwarp sniper, a rare discipline not sought by many,” the master turned to face his pupil. “I understand that within a day’s time you must carry out a mission of grave importance. Rygos I can only hope that what I have taught you today will bring you success and will aid you in bestowing The Gift upon those deserving. Nevertheless, I know you will make me proud.”

​Rygos grinned. For the first time, the young Drow’s accomplishment was met with more than just satisfaction. He had made his master proud.