You were studying your mantras and tuning them to your attunment in the most desirable way possible. You had spent countless days voyaging out across the world to get every single modifier possible to make your mantras as powerful as possible. You were proud of how your use of the song was coming out. As you finally put your last mantra in, you heard the door creak, with a menacing Canor woman stepping in.

" . . . "

She glared at you with a sense of hatred, gripping her mighty Crescent Cleaver blade.