On your fiftieth try, the knife you had just thrown misses the target completely. You angrily throw the rest down on the floor, and scream frustratedly. Soryn, who had been leaning against the wall, approaches you, amusement and pity dancing across her features. She slips a small knife out of one of her pockets, and effortlessly flings it straight into the center of the target. She turns back to you. "You have to flick your wrist more. It's all in the wrist." She winks.
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