Arn opened the door to the restroom slowly and peeked inside the room. The light of Athena’s soft glow the only thing that illuminated the space. He came face to face with his roommate’s golden-brown eyes. He stood there transfixed as if he had been poisoned by a basilisk. When she moved past him to the restroom he made his way towards picking up his gear. Suddenly, his foot crunched on something on the ground. Unknown to him, it was the remnants of his roommate’s attempt at a gift.

The young dwarf froze and looked in the direction of the restroom fearing the girl was done with her morning routines or had heard the crunch and somehow came out to investigate. He detected no movement of any door opening. He gave a sigh as it seemed he was still undiscovered. He had managed to grab his armor and put in in his pack and was about to pick up his maul when the magical orb increased its glow and loudly uttered.

"Attention first year students. Classes will begin in approximately 30 minutes. Please report to the Hall of Combat with any equipment that you require. If you do not have the appropriate equipment it will be provided for you on site."

Fearing any further morning pleasantries of his lovely roommate, the cleric in training positively hugged his gear and made a bolt for the door dropping one of his throwing axes as he opened the door which he kicked outside grunting as the hardy wooden shaft caught his pinky. Still, sacrifices needed to be made if he was to escape.

The cadet did not stop hustling until he was out of the dormitory building. He huffed and puffed as he found an out of the way bench and organized his gear as he caught his breath. Years upon years of practice made him donning the Mythril armor an efficient evolution. The scale mail fashioned armor was flexible but durable. Some other dwarves used full plate but these were front line tanks. He was a medic, he needed to move quickly in and out of the battle dragging wounded dwarves. This type of armor enabled protection but also allowed for ease of movement.

Even the boots were deceptively heavy looking. They were more padded than anything. Dwarves tended to march everywhere and the cushioning material had saved many a foot. The familiar weight of the armor made him feel at ease. Though his meditative sleep had refreshed him, it was the way the armor fit around him that actually made him sigh contently.

Not only that, but he was headed towards combat training class. He was looking forward to it. As with all dwarves, the love of fighting was not lost on the young cleric. The young dwarf placed the heather shaped shield to hand on specially fabricated hooks on his back so he was able to carry it like a back pack. He then placed his maul on a specially made groove in the shield.

These small and specialized fabrications enabled him to have his hands free and be protected when providing triage to a fallen casualty. Standing up and taking in a deep breath of the fresh pre dawn air, he referenced his map scroll and walked at a comfortable pace towards the Hall of Combat.

When he arrived, another part of his dwarven heritage was activated as the already short dwarf craned his neck to take in the four story tall building. The young cadet could have sworn that if dwarves had not built the structure, they most have most certainly at least been asked to supervise the construction.

Gloved hands lovely touched the stone walls, appreciating the craftmanship. The Hall of Combat was a worthy place for warriors to learn the noble art of warfare. Combat was made that much more glorious when held on a eye catching stage as this one.

He had arrived early but had wondered about the lower levels of the structure admiring even the smallest detail. The runes carved there were of special interest and he was looking forward to learning of them in class.

Finally, he entered through one of the arches just in time to not be considered late and rested a shoulder against a wall relaxing a bit. He had unhooked his maul and also let it rest head down in the sand. Moments later the entrance of Sir Vermont and two others elicited him to come to attention. He could not help it. His stance had both of his feet clamped together and his right hand placed holding his hammer as his left was straight and pressed against his body.

The young cadet noticed two others enter with the man who had instilled a sense of respect in him. One was a dangerous looking masked man whom Arn somehow sensed a very deadly aura from. Perhaps it was his divine gift which had been bestowed upon him when he had been branded by Storalla. Whatever the case, the man looked like someone you did not want to meet in a dark alley. Hell, he was not one you wanted to meet in a well lit alley.

The second person caused him to have mixed emotions. On the one hand, she was a race that had been at war with his people for hundreds upon hundreds of years. The Drow had no love for dwarves and the same could be said of the dwarves. Indeed, at this very moment, his older brother, Krev, was in campaign on the lower realms of Beneath doing battle for territory.

On the other hand, as a male, he could not help but be captivated by her beauty. She was a poetic work of art. Delicate features and ratios combined with an air of lovely sweetness and an underlying air of deadliness made her prime candidate of gawking. Her light blue eyes fell in his general direction and guilt made him turn away as if he had been caught red handed. The color in his skin blushed a little and he lowered his head in shame.

Thankfully, the brightly armored instructor saved him from the awkward silence by laying down some rules. Arn sighed relieved. If there was something that brought control back to world of chaos was rules. He listened attentively from his place making sure to commit the rules to memory.

As the man spoke, the young cleric’s regard for him grew. He agreed with everything that was coming from the man’s mouth. The knight could be confused for a dwarf were he less tall and more round.

He was still maneuvering the mental image of Sir Vermont into a pedestal when he was abruptly caught un wares by the sudden call to run. Arn groaned audibly and he said with a voice steeped in displeasure. “Well….Shit.” He picked up this maul, and pressing some hidden buttons, the head came off revealing a javelin tip. He hefted the shaft and placed it in the special holder on his shield and took of at a measure pace.

This was not the first time he had to run in formation. This was not the first time he had to run in full armor. This was not the first time he would do so suddenly. However, this WAS the first time he would do so with other people that were not dwarves. This placed him at a disadvantage.

His short legs were strong and his stride was even, considering he was running on sand with full armor, but still he had to work just a bit harder that those with less armor and longer strides. Still, he knew that this was going to be a longer run and he decided to conserve his energy.

This tactic landed him very close to the end of the pack by one or two people. His breathing was rhythm as he rounded the third lap. The young dwarf was just wondering what sort of penalty those who came last would face as in his training routines, the last ones always earned the whole group some sort of undesired consequence, when suddenly, an arrow whizzed just above his head and impacted….the bully from the night before?!

Though he was not glad for the seeming work of Karma, Arn could not help but grunt at the irony. He was about to stop and offer his help when a human lad had the same idea. However, his incredulous annoyance was almost palpable as the bully pushed the good Samaritan down and ran away cackling.

The cleric low growled but was gratified when he saw not only one but two of his table mates from the night before exact sweet revenge upon the errant bully. He appreciated that the marble skinned girl named Valeria was also in full armor and sporting it well. Again, something told him there was more to her than met the eye but he could not quite place it.

The blue haired lass obviously was more than capable at using the daggers she had strapped on her body and the result of such skill was comical. However, Arn could only express his mirth in the form of an approving grunt and a smirk. The others were too far ahead of him for the dwarf to notice. He held his position but despite the armor and thanks to his steady pace and training, he was not in the middle of the back group.

Rodrick

Rodrick was doing everything in his power to keep looking ahead and not fall over as the other tiefling ran up next to him. He looked at her incredulously as she said stated how thrilling this all was. "Thrilling?" He said in voice that fell between a gasp for breath and a laugh. "This is thrilling to you?" She did actually seem to be enjoying this. Maybe it was because he felt like he had been beaten in his sleep but he was having trouble finding any sort of thrill in this.

Still, he couldn't help but laugh as she let him know that she had no issue leaving him to the wolves if they fell to far behind. Something about the way she cackled after she said it was too funny to Rodrick. It also sparked a competitive side in him he hadn't been aware he had. He pushed down the feeling of panic and the intense nausea in his stomach. He had been in worse shape then this plenty of times, he had the scars to prove it. He pushed himself, catching back up to Anise. He gave the best diabolical smile he could muster as he caught up to her. "That's assuming your kin lets you leave them to the wolves!"

---

Dex studied the students as they ran. This had always been his specialty, to study people and determine their strengths and weaknesses. His first arrow had struck Patrick, mostly because he had fallen to far behind, but also because he didn't like the man's attitude. He rubbed Dex the wrong way, which generally ended up being a bad thing for the other person. He was surprised when the young man, Toma, came to help him up, and less surprised when Patrick pushed him to the ground in an effort to get ahead. It was painfully obvious the kind of adventurer Patrick would be.

Still the rules were the rules, the one in the back got the short end of the stick. In Dex's mind it was less of a punishment and more of a motivator. You had to be able to get back up, no matter how many times you got knocked on your ass. Failure to do so would get you killed. Dex watched as Patrick got repaid for his actions. The pale girl delivered a fairly good clothesline. He fired a shot at her side regardless. Her actions weren't against the rules, but drawing attention to yourself was foolish. He fired another shot at Lorelei, and inwardly nodded approvingly as she managed to blunt the hit by catching it. These arrows flew a little slower then his usually did, still it took no small skill to catch one. He was less impressed when she threw it back to him and blew him a kiss. Arrogance got you killed. He removed a normal looking arrow from his back and fired it, this one traveling faster then the first. He aimed it so it would pass just in front of her face, the fletching of the arrow just grazing her lips before it stuck into the wall behind her. A fitting warning.

He watched with some interest as the blond headed mage tried to use his cloak as a distraction. An interesting idea, but one that only drew attention to him. In situations like this it was often better to blend into the crowd as much as possible. Those who tried to push ahead to show off or those who fell to far behind were generally the first to fall in a combat situation. There was strength in numbers, something the students would need to learn quickly. The young man was certainly fast as he managed to catch up to Vermont and, Dex assumed, tried to use the large man as a shield. It was normally sound strategy to put an enemy between yourself and an attacker. However in this case it wouldn't work out so well. Dex pulled another normal arrow and fired it. At the sound of his bow Vermont lifted his chin lightly. allowing the arrow to pass right under it. The arrow snagged the cloak and tore it off of the two young mages who had tried to use it as cover. It stuck into the wall behind them, the cloak dangling there as a warning. A look at Ixius's face made Dex wonder if he was going to need to stop him from killing the blonde mage.

Dex scanned over the rest of the students. The dwarf Arn was keeping a steady pace towards the back. Still, considering he was in armor and his legs were shorter then most of the others he was holding up well. Finn and Serena seemed to be doing well, not that he was overly surprised by that. It was safe to assume that Fenros had already put them through similar training. He watched with interest as Karya ran back to help Toma. A kind hearted gesture, if a dangerous one. He could almost feel Maya's approval as the young wood nymph went back to try and help the boy out. She loved that sort of thing.

The two tieflings in the class, Anise and Rodrick, seemed to be having their own little race. Anise looked as though she was having a blast. A rare reaction to this sort of training but one that Dex had seen before. Rodrick's face kept changing between a look that said he wanted to be dead and a look of determination. He could tell the boy was hungover, but adventurers needed to learn to push through all sorts of ailments, hangovers being a common one.

---

It was another seven laps before Vermont finally stopped. Seven laps of absolute hell for Rodrick. He was almost sure that the only thing that had kept him going was his determination not to fall too far behind Anise. He was never going to drink again... Well not as much at least. Rodrick leaned over and allowed himself a moment to breath. It seemed like Vermont was giving them a moment. Gods he hoped Vermont was giving them a moment. Rodrick looked over at Vermont, and gaped. The man didn't have a lick of sweat on him! He wasn't even breathing heavy! What kind of black magic bullshit was this?!

"Alright, line up students." Vermont looked at them all, his eye scrutinizing each student in turn. "It's seems that some of you made the assumption that coming in last would mean that you would fail this class. Assumptions are dangerous and often lead to mistakes. Falling behind does have consequences, as I'm sure you all noticed. But failing is not one of them. You all stood back up after getting knocked down, that is what we care about right now. If you fell behind today, push harder tomorrow. If you truly want to be adventurers you must always push forward, until you succeed or you die. Those are the only options available to you if you truly wish to continue down this path."

Vermont paused for a moment before continuing. "Now that we've all gotten warmed up, its time to start class." Rodrick felt his face drop. That was a warmup?! Great! Fantastic! This class was 100% going to be the death of him.

Vermont walked over to the wooden mannequins that were placed in the middle of the ring. "These will be your training partners for the next few months. Don't let their appearance fool, these are magical items and powerful tools. They adapt to your level of skill, the better you are, the better they fight. I am well aware that some of you have no combat training at all, these are the best way for us to feel you all out, to see the way your bodies naturally move, and to help you get up to speed with the rest of your classmates. If, on the off chance, some of you are too advanced for one mannequin, we can provide a second one to help you along. Though I will warn you that most graduates can still only take on a maximum of two at a time."

The mannequins made Rodrick pause. They were featureless wooden mannequins like you might see in a clothing store. They carried a variety of blunted metal weapons. It was hard to believe that they could provide that much of a challenge. Rodrick looked around at the other students, and noticed that he wasn't the only one who seemed to feel this way. Some looked excited, others seemed annoyed at the very idea that they would have to face these mannequins instead of real opponents.
It seemed that Vermont could see the looks on the students face as well. "Perhaps a demonstration is in order. Lady Maya, would you like to do the honors this time?"

Rodrick looked over at the drow woman, and felt a tingle down his spine as he did. He had only seen her from a distance last night, but now that he was closer it was even more impossible to ignore how beautiful she was. Everything from the shape of her body to her smile was slightly intoxicating. He could tell many of the other male students, and some of the female ones, were just as entranced by her as he was. “Of course.” She said, her voice sounding like bells as she spoke.

Vermont ushered the students back and he and Dex took up places on either side of the group of students. Rodrick was entirely sure why. Maya moved over to one of the mannequins that was holding a blunted longsword and placed her hand against its chest. The wooden creature stood up straighter, a pair of lights appearing where eye’s would be on a normal person.

“Greetings Maya Jhalavar, would you like to begin training regiment 56A?” The voice was strange, not quite human but close too it.

“Regiment 50C will do fine.” Maya said with a smile.

“Understood. Commencing.” Four other mannequins came to life. Another of the mannequins held a sword, two held spears, and the last one had a large maul. The five wooden creatures moved to surround Maya. Each with their weapon at the ready. Rodrick had expected the things to move jerkily but they moved as smoothly and as easily as any person. Maya pulled the two strange swords from her back. They were long and curved. Rodrick had never seen anything quite like them. Maya stood motionless, her blades at her side, until the mannequins surrounded her. They circled slowly, looking like hunters attempting to find a weak spot in their preys armor.

Faster then Rodrick would have ever believed possible the two mannequins with spears, who had taken up opposite sides of Maya, lunged forward thrusting their spears towards her. Maya spun too the left, the spears passing harmlessly through the point she had just been standing. As she did she brought up one of her swords and caught the longsword that had been swinging towards her head. She flicked it away effortlessly before rolling backwards out of the way of the other sword that had been swung towards her stomach. As she came up from her roll she brought up the two swords in an X and caught the large maul that had been hurtling towards her head. She flung the maul to the side and used the momentum of the move to spin her around and deliver a powerful kick to the maul users head. Rodrick had the distinct feeling that the kick would have cracked a normal persons skull, but the mannequin seemed to still be intact.

As she finished her spin Maya caught one of the spears that was being thrust towards her on the curved part of her blade and moved it just enough so that slid past her side. The mannequin stumbled forward, off balance a little. Maya’s second blade caught it in the neck, and sent the wooden head rolling. The two mannequins with swords moved together in unison. Each one striking with incredible speed and precision, attempting to get a hit in on the drow woman. Rodrick could see why these things were probably more then good enough to take on an average student. In his younger years Rodrick and his mother had attended quite a few tournaments. He had always loved watching the melees. But most of the fighters in those melee’s wouldn’t have stood a chance against the wooden constructs. Still…. Lady Maya made them look like children swinging sticks.

Maya danced backwards. Each blade strike that came towards her wasn’t so much blocked as it was moved away from her body so it only struck air. Even though the two mannequins moved in almost perfect unison Maya’s defense was seemingly flawless. Every move she made was like a dance. It almost looked like her body was made out of air as it spun and moved.

Seemingly finding an opening, Maya brought her body low the ground and brought her leg around in a low kick. It caught one of the mannequins in the back of the shin and brought its legs out from under it. Maya used the momentum of her movement to spin upwards, her blades cutting through the middle of the falling mannequin.

With its partner gone the other sword wielding mannequin didn’t stand much of a chance. Maya moved forward, unleashing a flurry of blows that Rodrick could barely follow. To its credit, the mannequin managed to parry and block the first few passes of Maya’s blades. But it was only a matter of time before Maya found the opening she needed again, removing the mannequins right hand before spinning and taking off its head. The other two mannequins had not been idle as the fight between swords had been going on. Rodrick hadn’t noticed the maul carrying mannequin running forward until it was in mid swing. It came in low, swinging the maul in an upward arc with so much force that it probably would have smashed a stone wall to bits. Maya did a back flip, the head of the maul just missing her. Rodrick had entirely missed the other mannequin that was now behind Maya, thrusting its spear towards her mid section.

Rodrick pulled in a breath, every instinct telling him the woman was about to be impaled. But the woman was too good at what she did. As her hands hit the ground in the middle of her backflip she pushed off with one hand, causing her to spin to the side, just out of reach of the spear. As she finished the flip she brought her blades up, severing the mannequins arms at the elbows. With one more quick strike the mannequins head fell to the ground….. And then there was one.

Maya turned to face the maul wielder and the pair circled each other for a moment before the last mannequin rushed in. It changed its grip on the maul slightly so that it could strike faster. It lost some of the devastating power but the fast strikes seemed to let it keep Maya at bay. Maya didn’t even attempt to block the blows, she just moved backwards flowing out of the way of each blow. This went on for several more seconds before Maya found the opening she was looking for one last time. Maya stepped back slightly before unleashing a stunning roundhouse kick to the mannequins head. Either the earlier blow had loosened its head, or her kick was just so devastatingly powerful that it completely took the head off of the mannequins. To some of the students horror the head went soaring towards the group of students at terrifying speeds. Rodrick finally realized why Dex and Vermont had taken up places on either side of the students, as Vermont’s hand flashed out just before the mannequin head collided with a student and caught it. Rodrick noticed that there was an indent in the mannequins head where Maya’s foot had collided with it.

“Right, who’s ready to start?”

---

@Inertia@StOpossum@LuckyBlackCat@Tae@Omni5876@Aerandir@datadogie@Heartfillia@Ryik@Duoya@mantou

Valencia was glad that a couple of others were getting their own shots in at Patrick; Both because he deserved it, and because she didn't want to be the only one, particularly if she alone would get in trouble for it. It seemed to be that quite a few people were switching positions in the running column; Some were pushing forward, some were falling back. Valencia herself kept her pace and kept in the middle. She didn't want to fall behind too much, and felt that if she were to suddenly sprint forward she would falter and slow down quite quickly. It seemed that getting hit by arrows was an extra reason for people slowing down.

Keeping most of her attention on Dex paid off, because an arrow was fired at her - presumably, it was revenge for what she had done against Patrick, for she certainly wasn't at the back of the crowd. She shifted her arm a little, and it struck; as intended, her arm slammed against her side, taking most of the brunt of the hit. She let out a little breath, though continued to run, staying on her feet and clunking along. It'll take more than that, she thought to herself, her eyes fixing on Finn as he ran past. Her cheeks turned a little pink as he gave her a wink, but she was too exhausted to do anything back.

Another lap. Another lap. Another lap. Finally, when the last lap ended, Valencia dropped to her hands and knees, sucking in what air she could. Her knees were trembling a little, but after a few moments she picked herself up off of the ground to line up with the rest of the students, breathing heavy and sweating. She wondered if there was a way for, in future classes, to determine whether or not she needed to wear armour. Perhaps she could take the time to enchant her armour with runes that allowed her to simply step in and out of it, however she feared damaging the integrity of the armour if she failed.

Valencia quietly, with the exception of her breathing as she fought to get it under control, watched the drow woman (which the mannequin revealed was named Maya Jhalavar) get ready to duel. The pale woman couldn't help but admire Maya's form briefly, before quickly blinking and refocusing on the fight that was about to happen and not on Maya specifically. First Dex, now Maya. All the teachers seemed to be alluring in their own ways to Valencia.

The fight was spectacular. Valencia was confident in her own fighting capabilities, however Maya was definitely a lot more skilled in the affair - obviously she had a lot more experience. Slowly, Valencia's lips curled into a smile, one of glee, of awe, as Maya expertly fought the mannequins. One day, she was going to be like that, but not in a school. Out in the field, she was going to be making a name for herself, she was going to work on changing the Coquerdale name to something of excellence, of pride, of good. She was going to show her father that she didn't need him to make herself powerful, and that she was going to grow into a powerful, strong person without him trying to guide her every step. Her eyes tracked the final mannequin's head as it flew in their direction, instinctively ducking a little before Vermont caught it.

Me, I'm ready to start, Valencia mentally replies. She made her way over a dummy that was armed with a sword, standing before it and giving it a respectful bow. She mentally repeated what Vermont had said, that the better she was, the better it would fight. She had fought opponents before that had underestimated her, guards that at first had thought she was a rich stuck-up, and that the training that she had done was akin to that of fantasy fights rather than real ones. They had went easy on her, and she had taken advantage of that. Soon, they had learned that she was only pretending to be a novice, most through getting their butts handed to them, and others through word of mouth. From there on, she hadn't been able to make them underestimate her, but that didn't mean she wasn't a good fighter against opponents who knew her skill level. Drawing Lazarus from it's sheath, Valencia believed a similar approach would work on the mannequin. If it adapted to her level of skill, she could constantly one-up it until she reached her peak.

She held Lazarus with one hand, and the mannequin readied itself to fight. Surprisingly, it struck first. She gave a weak defence, tilting her sword to guard against the mannequin's blow. It pulled back, and struck again, for which it received another weak block from Valencia. On the third strike, Valencia struck hard against the mannequin's sword, parried, and thrust forward. The mannequin adapted a lot quicker than she thought, for it cut at her own sword, pushing it down before it could connect with it's chest. Valencia's reaction was to bring her sword around, letting the end of her blade drift near her opponent's fingers. A connection was almost made, but the mannequin twisted away, creating a step of distance, before pushing straight back in.

It was then that Valencia upped the ante once more, adding proper footwork into the mix. She sprang forward with speed, lunging at the mannequin. It had to step back. It then moved forward, sword raised for and overhead strike. She brought her sword up to bear, but kicked for it's midsection. The first hit had been landed. Now that it knew that she was able to fight properly, the mannequin didn't seem to want to hold back; it went for a sideways cut, which was parried, and then without missing a beat, Valencia went on the counterattack. She went for her own horizontal slash, then vertical, pushing the mannequin onto the defence. It tried to bring it's sword to bear, but she cut from beneath, and it was forced to bring it's sword on the defensive again.

Valencia picked out the change in skill of the mannequin as it happened. It released it's sword with one hand, making a sudden grab for her arm. She stepped back, out of it's range, and brought her sword to bear on it's arm. It pulled it's arm back, and brought it's sword down on the back of her own sword. She pushed back as it pulled back, bringing her sword back into position swiftly, and used that same momentum to twist her sword and go for another strike.

Then, the trick to finish the mannequin, Valencia performed another quick slash of her sword from below. It was parried, of course, but ass their sword connected, she sidestepped into her opponent's space, on it's sword-arm's side. She brought her hands to the mannequin's hands, locking their swords, and swung her leg around, swiftly kicking at the back of the mannequin's knees before it was able to unlock their blades, knocking it's stance out and letting it fall. She slid her blade down and out from the lock, spinning in a flourish to allow the mannequin to drop to the ground, and connecting her blade with it's back at the other side of the spin. With that, she stepped back.

The mannequin rose to it's feet, albeit now with the wood on it's back scarred from her blade. Valencia had won that fight. "Let's go again," she says. She stepped forward to strike, and the second fight began.

His lungs began to burn with the strain of supplying oxygen to his body. Each rhythmic breath fueling the fire and dryness of his throat. His legs began to feel heavy and not only because of the armor. Each step making the dwarf feel as if his legs would buckle. The sand of the arena did not help as it challenged him in keeping his balance on the randomly shifting ground. His shoulders and his neck began to ache from the weight and movement of the armor he wore. No amount of practical design and centuries of trial and error would completely do away with the strain of wearing protection. By all means many would consider the evolution cruel and unusual punishment….HE LOVED IT!.

This he knew. This he understood. Years upon years at the mercy of a (probably deranged) strict drill sergeant doing seemingly pointless and demeaning tasks had prepared him for this day. The young cadet felt so at ease that despite the protest from his lungs, he even began to chant one of their cadence songs under his breath as his stubby legs kept beat.

“Under Mountain Halls
Deep in caverns Below
When the hammers falls
When the war drum’s roll
All true dwarven bred
Shall listen to the call

So march, March
You lazy bastards
March
We’ve gone one mile
But there are more to go
So
A’ marchin we shall goooo

The ring of steel
The crash of shields
Will be the melody
Our iron will
On glory fields
Shall be our victory

So march, March
You lazy bastards
March
We’ve gone one mile
But there’re more to go
So
A marchin we shall goo

When the fightin’s done
The mead and food shall flow
Well honor those who’ve gone
Their deeds all shall know
So raise a mug and gulp it down
Its time for another round

So MarchYou lazy bastards
March
We’ve gone one mile
But there are more to go
So
A’ marchin we shall goooo”

There were many more colorful and objectionable verses but the cleric in training decided perhaps that was best left for more appropriate company. His pace never changed. People passed him and others fell behind. He stayed consistent through the whole run. After all, his mentality was on that of survival. This was not merely a class to him, this was a reminder that in battle a flashy kill or a lucky kill is still a kill.

After seven laps, the impressive man in shining armor called for the group to stop. The young dwarf almost let out a chuckle as the instructor announced that was only a warm up. There were many grumbles and groans from many of the students. Arn shook his head secretly. No matter how he felt about it, he would never volunteer his feelings. His drill sergeant always used to say “Careful with your moanin…it makes the one who is fucking you that much more excited.”

Arn lumbered over to where the head of his maul had been left. The locked the javelin shaft in place and walked back just before the start of the demonstration. He was a bit disappointed when the demonstration was not given by Vermont. He wanted to see him in action as the dwarf felt he was the most closest to his fighting style.

However, eye catching as the Drow might bet, despite the clerics vehement self denial that he found Instructor Maya dangerously attractive, what mesmerized him more was the way she danced. This was not a fighting style, this was an art form. The ease of movement and the precise placement of every block, and strike. It was like watching Maya perform a deadly dance. The mannequin, one after the other, fell until there was only one.

For some reason, perhaps because the attacker sported almost the same weapon as he, Arn felt like it was he who now faced the deadly beauty. What shocked him the most was that the stance and the way the weapon was held matched very much his own fighting school techniques. A chill went down his spine. It was unreal watching the mannequin move as it was moves that the cadet himself would have attempted against a sword wielder.

Sweat ran down his face as he watched transfixed how easily the woman avoided strikes that were well thought of and efficient from the maul wielder. He swallowed secretly willing the maul to make contact with her lovely dark skin. More as a way of self-assurance that he, Arn, stood a chance. His hopes were dashed when the instructor flawlessly delivered a devastating kick. The very audible crack as the head got separated from the body made the young dwarf feel sick. Almost as if he had been the one whose head had flown off.

He was standing on the opposite side of Vermont and the dark armored Valencia as he watched the head flew in his direction. The young cleric was so transfixed he swore that the head looked like his own. It was not until the wooden head fell to the ground harmlessly that he was released from the spell.

Arn looked up with new admiration towards the dark elf. Her ever present smile even more powerful. Indeed, the dwarf more than pitied anyone or anything who ever made her change that beautiful smile adorning her face into a sad or angry semblance. Not only because her fury would be hotter than all the hells in existence but because he was sure the masked archer and Vermont would probably have a hand in it too.

“Right, who’s ready to start?”

The young dwarf gladly moved over to an unoccupied mannequin, this one had sword and shield. Arn performed a bit of stretching and loosening up prior to the confrontation. He released the mechanisms attaching his heather shield to his back and hefted the maul. The creepy glowing eyes of the mannequin regarding him emotionless.


“Student Arn Thurson, are you ready to commence assessment and beginner routine?” The voice seemed to be disembodied and monotone. How unnerving it would be to fight a whole army of these. Even undead groaned and shuffled along. The young cadet took a breath and nodded firmly replying . “Yes, I am ready please commence.”

The fighting dummy promptly complied as it launched itself forward sword swinging perfectly horizontal aiming at the maul side of Arn probably thinking that the big weapon would be too slow to parry the blow. At least it was right in that he dwarf would not parry the blow. One of the advantages of being short is that many fighters aimed based on their own height. Taking this into consideration, Arn merely crouched about a foot, raised his shield to slightly deflect the attacker’s sword and as he stood up, swung his own maul at the dummy’s leg just behind the knee. The grip on the maul would relax as Arn allowed the weight and momentum of the swing to slide the shaft forward in his hand in order to cover the gap between them.

Just as they were promised, the mannequin lifted its leg just in time to avoid the strike. However, Arn had expected this and pivoting on his maul hand leg he continued to spin as he came up to a standing position and then aimed the swinging head at the lower back of the automated fighting instrument. Caught with his leg up and off balance, the hammer connected just enough to send the dummy rolling forward. It did not cause much damage because as soon as the dummy felt the maul connect he had started the forward dive roll.

The contraption finished its move facing Arn in a sort of kneeling position with shield just below his eyes and the sword pointed at the dwarf to defend and counter any follow up attack. With an approving grunt and a smirk on his face, the young cleric acknowledged the fighting capability of the mannequin. Would it not be for the fact that the contraption was faceless with only two glowing eyes, the young dwarf would have sworn he was fighting a living being not one powered by mysterious magic. He took a deep breath and adjusting his grip he rushed forward one single though running through his head. “This is going to be more enjoyable than I thought.”

---

Selena had kept quiet for most of the morning, only nodding to those who did say goodmorning to her. While running she easily kept ahead of the pack, shocked of course to see Dax shooting other students...but not totally surprised, She had seen Finn go through similar situations with his father.

She was breathing slightly heavier after the run, but she wasn’t winded. It had been a while since she went on that long of a run. Usually much faster in sprinting and short bursts. She watched the demonstration by the drow elf… and she was mesmerized. Kitsune warriors always had a beautiful and deadly style. While the teacher reminded her of it, it was clearly different in its own way. She would like to see how the teacher would match up to a master swordsman of her race. From either the red haired kitsune clan or black haired one. They were considered rivals in skill.

Not that she received as much training being part of the red haired kitsune. She wasn’t even allowed to train with a real swordsman. The very act of hitting a Goddess even in training would have been death. So she really couldn’t compare...destined to fight golems as her sparring partners. She was told she had great skill… but she wondered really.

When she started, she also bowed down but didn’t draw her weapon. Reserving to just rest her right hand on the smaller of the two swords grip while her left held the sheath just at the crossguard. When the dummy would attack, she would step just out of reach and slash. Cutting off one of it's arms.

it only hesitated for a moment, before it attacked in another direction. This caused her to duck down, and slash again, but it quickly danced out of the way, Selena’s tip only cutting the wood slightly. It followed up with another attack, which Selena raised her sword over her head, the tip of her sword pointing down at an angle, catching the weapon. She pushed up and pivoted her sword tip up while stepping closer allowing the dummy’s weapon to slide down and miss her as she twisted the swords blade and slashed at the opening. But barely nicked it's neck as it did a back summersault. It's foot mere millimeters from her chin.

The mood suddenly changed as she quickly went on defense now. It seemed the dummy was only getting faster and faster, causing her to dodge and parry blows from the dummies sword. Never really getting an opening to attack. She started to sweat at the excursion, as each block or parry was JUST in time. while she had similar training exercises, none of them were ever this intense. She was sure the magic was held back because of who she was. While this... this was a pure spar. Something she never had.

She messed up, thinking of her previous training sessions… caused her to lose focus. Her sword arm was twisted and grappled so she couldn’t move and she received a solid punch to her gut. Which caused her to crumple to the ground holding her stomach and letting her sword go.

She sat there for a moment, winded. She never received a hit that hard from her training dummies… She started to realize how much training she was not given...because she was...their fragile goddess. She gripped at her sword again which was dropped in the dirt annoyed. Wiping down the blade and dusting it off quickly before groaning as she stood up.

She was happy she was getting a chance to actually train. But at the same time annoyed on how much it hurt. Annoyed with how she was treated back home....and really irked the stupid dummy dropped her sword in the dirt. She gripped her sword tightly and got in a ready stance and waited for the next attack. when it came, a high cut straight down. She quickly took two steps forward, raising the blade over her head, with her right hand. The tip pointing down towards the ground and deflected the oncoming blade. She wrapped her left arm around the dummies sword arm, and cinched it to her side. Pushing her body against the dummy and her right leg behind it's right leg. She simply twisted, pulling the dummy into her with it's arm and causing it to become unbalanced and trip over her right leg.

With her blade already pointed towards the ground she quickly stabbed downward into the neck. Letting a huff out she pulled it back out and readied herself for another, while rubbed her stomach once again.

Despite the rocky start, Toma seemed to get a lucky break for the rest of the run. The instructor that was shooting the students had moved onto other targets - whether that was because he found someone better to shoot at or Toma had gotten closer to the herd was anyone's guess. Toma just chose to consider himself lucky that he managed to only get hit with two arrows.

Unfortunately, the person that pushed Toma was quickly assaulted by several of the other students. While a part of Toma was pleased that his peers were attempting to punish someone for being an asshole, he couldn't help but feel some pity for the man. At the end of the day, Toma didn't care what happened to him. And Toma was just pushed to the ground - this student was embarrassed in front of their entire class...

But Toma did decide that interacting with that guy might not be the best idea. Getting pushed down during a race was one thing, but adventurers have gotten into bad fights over loot. And some adventurers were so bad, some of the residents in Toma's town called them 'Murder Hobos'. The teachers already said that having fights without proctors was banned, and while Toma wasn't afraid of getting in a brawl, he would never risk his spot at the school - hanging around a guy like that was just begging for trouble.

Other than the student that pushed him, Toma didn't focus on most of the other students during the run - he couldn't see Alexis running, Finn was far up in the front. He didn't know anyone else, so they just didn't stand out much. Some students were wearing armor over their uniform as they ran, causing Toma to fear that he might need to buy some. He definitely didn't have enough gold to get anything nearly as good as what the Dwarf and Human (?) girl had.

Toma quickly started focusing on another student, who had come to run alongside him.

"You ok there?"

A girl, darker-skinned than Toma. Her skin looked a little off, almost like it had the texture of bark...

Was she a 'Wood Elf'? Toma had never seen one before, but that would definitely explain the name... Or maybe she was a human with weird-looking skin? He knew someone from his village with horribly dry elbows - maybe it was something like that, just way less gross? Either way, asking something like that wasn't really appropriate during a run. As he was about to speak, the instructor must have decided that she deserved an arrow for slowing down, and launched it straight into the young woman's shoulder. Toma was quite surprised when she managed to take the blow - heck, she took it better than he would have. Weren't girls supposed to be dainty?

She must have noticed Toma breathing a little harder, or maybe she could tell that he was starting to lose some steam. Whatever the case, she grabbed his arm and began to drag him along, helping to speed him up a little.

"C'mon, there's no time to lose!"

Toma coughed a little in surprise, raising his voice to be heard over their pounding feet.

"S-sure thing! Thanks for the help!"

She did look a little weird, and she probably wasn't human - but it could be worse, right? She wasn't an orc, or goblin, or whatever the heck that snake lady was. And besides, she seemed more than capable of keeping up with the other students - and despite that, decided to slow down near the back of the class in order to help someone she didn't even know.

At least she was friendlier than one of the humans that Toma had met here so far.

---

Toma hadn't been counting the laps, but they had run around a lot more than he was used to before class even started. He probably would have taken a seat the second they stopped if his classmate hadn't helped him, and even with her assistance, Toma was sweating bullets. Some of the more agile students seemed completely unfazed by the laps, while others were even more tired than Toma was despite not getting shot once. Hopefully, they occasionally warm up with a march or lifting heavy things instead of always doing laps...

His uniform also was a little... wet. He managed to spill on it when trying to get a drink from his waterskin during the run. Thankfully, he had brought an extra, and his bag was nearby - he quickly retrieved the bag from where he dropped it at the beginning of class, before slwoly jogging back.

Sir Baleth had gone to the center of the large arena they were in and had begun explaining the purpose of the mannequins that were standing there since the class started. If the Toma from yesterday was asked to fight them, he would probably ask to take on several all at once. After all, how dangerous could a wooden dummy be?

After seeing so much magic in such a short time, however, Toma had learned that looks could be very deceiving.

Soon, the attractive drow woman from the feast was invited to fight the mannequins, leading the others by example. Toma was just thankful that she'd be fighting magical dummies rather than the students - she could take out her Drow sadism against them instead of Toma or his peers. Toma, like many of his classmates, was somewhat distracted by her figure... Although, the purple skin and exotic curved swords made him quick to lose interest.

'Still a monster, at the end of the day...'

Upon touching the mannequin, the construct began to rise, almost as if awakening from a half-asleep state.

“Greetings Maya Jhalavar, would you like to begin training regiment 56A?”

Yep, definitely magical... Toma was amazed that it was possible to make such creations, but he was a little less impressed than the day before. Athena's crystalline form was a lot more interesting than this wooden imitation of a person.

As if to prove Toma wrong, several of the mannequins seemed to awaken simultaneously. Each was armed with various weapons, and Toma was particularly intimidated by the one wielding a large hammer. It resembled the ones he used to plant fenceposts into the ground - and while he never got hit by one, he knew they were a lot more powerful than they looked.

The woman removed her blades, and before Toma could even process it, the fight had already begun. If Sir Baleth was telling the truth when he said graduates of the academy struggled to handle two of the mannequins at a time, then Miss Jhalavar must have been a genius with those strange swords of hers.

Even considering his lack of skill, Toma could tell that the drow was quite impressive with her weapons. She seemingly danced between the blunted spears and swords, weaving around and parrying hits rather than taking them head on - a very effective strategy if she were in an actual fight to the death. As she pushed away the large maul that came crashing towards her skull, Toma realized that she was not just skilled - she must have been much stronger than he expected in order to accomplish something like that, unless she knew some technique to help her deflect the hit.

Could women be strong like that? Or was it some enchantment on those exotic swords? It would make sense that drow women were stronger than the men...

It didn't really matter, however. Even if drows were exceptionally strong and agile, there was no way Toma could simply attribute his instructor's abilities to her race. She was an incredible fighter - the only person Toma could think of that rivaled her skill with the blade was Tarkus, the paladin that he had known all his life...

No, she was more skilled than even him. Tarkus took blows directly to gain an opening to strike - and while that was effective at times, he was in constant pain from his scars during his last few years. Miss Jhalavar dodged the blows entirely, choosing to counterattack and parry rather than let herself be struck.

The fight had taken maybe 30 seconds. 45 at most.

“Right, who’s ready to start?”

Toma couldn't help but grin, his breathing finally having returned to normal after the run. Finally, he'd actually be allowed to fight!

---

As it turned out, Toma was terrible at fighting. His sword was on the ground near Sir Baleth, and Toma was instead wielding one of the spare blades that was offered for those without their own equipment. Using the enchanted blade counted as 'using magic', and under threat of receiving another blunted arrow from the masked instructor, Toma was now relying on his own skill with this rented blade rather than the skill his own sword gave him.

'If only I knew where the off button on that thing was, I wouldn't have to use a different sword...'

Toma groaned as the mannequin he was fighting slammed the pommel of its longsword into his stomach, before sweeping Toma's legs out from under him. The young man fell to the ground, and when he opened his eyes, the blunted tip of the mannequin's blade was pointed straight at his throat.

“Toma Enow, would you like to decrease training difficu-”

Toma cut off the mannequin as he rose to his feet, coughing as he tried to catch his breath.

"Nope, no, I'm good. Just uh... wasn't watching my feet, I guess."

At least Toma was doing better than some of his more magically-inclined classmates.

As soon as he was ready, the fight started once more. Swing, miss - it dodged to the left and the sword only cut air. It retaliated with its own strike, and Toma could feel it clip him on the shoulder as he tried to pull away. The paladin tightened his grip on his sword to avoid dropping it.

'Give it more room, the blade is longer than you expect...'

Seeing Miss Jhalavar fight taught Toma a valuable lesson - while taking attacks was certainly easier and the opponent might not expect it, avoiding them entirely was a lot safer in the long run. Tarkus was pleased at the attention his scars gave him, but was almost always complaining about the pain they brought him in his daily life. Toma would like to avoid that if he could...

Suddenly, the Mannequin lunged forwards, attacking in the same manner it did in the last fight. It held its sword in one hand, using the free arm to try and shield its body as it closed the distance between them. It was trying to get in close and slam the pommel of its weapon into Toma's stomach again.

No time to dodge, it was already too close - Toma was forced to parry instead. He moved his crossguard against the mannequin's blade, locking the blades against one another. Overpowering the mannequin was a lot easier than all that footwork stuff - it wasn't used to his strength yet, and while it adapted fast, Toma could hold it off for a brief time.

'Legs!'

Toma had expected it - that was the only reason he managed to sidestep the mannequin's attempt to sweep his legs. With its balance compromised, Toma pushed his blade harder against the dummy, causing it to fall to the ground.

Breathing heavy, Toma relaxed slightly, standing tall at his victory. Suddenly, the prone dummy swung at Toma, catching the paladin off guard as its blade slammed against his knees. Once again, he fell to the ground, only for the mannequin to climb on his body and hold the dulled sword against his throat.

“Toma Enow, please remember to 'kill' any mannequin you are training with in order to win. Mannequins repair themselves shortly after combat, so there is no risk of damaging academy property.”

Toma groaned. 'Can't I savor my win a little bit before getting punished?' Rising to his feet once again, Toma shook off the sand from his clothes. Hopefully, these mannequins were around outside of class hours - if Toma wanted to catch up to his classmates, he'd need all the practice he could get.

---

Fighting, as it turned out, was a lot more exhausting than Toma had thought at first. Even when the fights only lasted a minute or two at most, they took an enormous amount of energy. And that wasn't even considering how sore Toma was from the various hits he had taken from his opponents' blunted sword. By the end of his seventh round against the mannequin, he was on the ground panting.

“Would you like to take a small break, Toma Enow?”

Toma was a little shocked - they were allowed to take breaks, just like that? It made sense - someone wouldn't really get better at fighting if they could barely hold their weapon... Maybe Toma assumed the class was more totalitarian than it really was?

... Or maybe he'd get a worse grade if he took a break...

"... Yeah, I'll just get a bit of water. Be right back, Mannequin."

Toma would fight better after recovering his strength. His stamina was far better than his sword skills, so he needed to focus on getting better at fighting, rather than getting better at fighting while exhausted...

And it also gave him time to think up a good name for the Mannequin he was fighting. He was probably going to spend a lot of time with the mannequins during the class, so having something better to call them by would make things more convenient.

...The only question was, what did these mannequins eat?

Probably a good question for the magic class.

Toma quickly took a sip from his waterskin, careful not to spill anymore on himself. Many of the students around him were either tired or taking breaks, but several were continuing to fight without any sign of stopping. Toma spotted his roommate, Finn, and thought about walking over to say hi... but decided against it. It might have just been Toma's imagination, but he was beginning to think that Finn was upset with him...

... No, Toma couldn't think of anything that he did to make his roommate upset. Maybe he woke up badly? Toma didn't get a good look at Finn this morning - even when he tossed that flaky bread on his bed.

It was probably just Toma's imagination.

Noticing the girl that had helped him during his run, he felt a small pang of guilt. She had helped him during the beginning of class, so he should thank her, right? Toma briefly abandoned his mannequin and started walking towards his wood classmate, retrieving his second waterskin from his bag and holding it out to her.

"I don't think I thanked you for the help earlier - I appreciate it."

She'd probably like water right? She looked like a plant, and plants loved water... Well, except when they get too much. Toma cringed slightly, remembering a time in his youth when he had drowned all of the herbs in his mother's potager. Thankfully, she told him off before he could do the same to Tarkus' own garden...

Did he ever apologize to her? Toma couldn't remember. Not that it really mattered. That was back in Whitelot - the academy felt a world away from his old village... even though it was only a weeks' travel away, two at most.

'Keep talking, don't act weird.'

"I should probably introduce myself. My name is Toma."

Suddenly, a thought crossed Toma's mind. While he didn't think his classmate was really made of wood like the mannequins were, and they looked nothing alike, Toma couldn't help but connect them. They were both humanoid, looked wooden, both could beat him up... Maybe they ate the same things...

"...If you don't mind me asking, what are your favorite foods?"

If Toma was lucky, he wouldn't have to wait till magic class to name the mannequin.

If Karya was lucky, Toma would get called back to his mannequin before he took up too much of her time.

With their run finished, Anise slowed to a clumsy halt and placed her hands on her knees, bending down with exhaustion to catch her breath. She was sweaty and breathless, and had a side stitch like you wouldn't believe, but she was ecstatic! "Eugue!" A light and breathy laugh followed the exclamation in her infernal tongue. "Oh that was nothing like I expected my first class to be like! I was ready for the drab and dreary. A no nonsense orator with no sense of humor or excitement! But that was dangerous and exciting!" She said to her running partner before the introduction to the next assignment: Combat.

She watched as the Drow fencer took the lead against the dummies. That was the interesting part of this however. If she had to hazard a guess it was some form of "dancing" enchantment as she liked to call them. Basically a more complex animation spell that follows certain steps. She was so enthralled with the complexity of the movements of the dummy that she neglected to really watch their instructor.
Well at least until each and every poor mannequin was horribly dismembered by her. When she called out to have them take on their own, Anise looked up. Oh yeah. She would need to fight a little wouldn't she?

She saw a table filled with weapons for the students to take in order to fight. She picked up a dagger and felt it in her hand. It was light and sharp. But too complicated. She'd need to be right next to them to stab it in them. She looked at all the weapons. A sword seemed difficult to manipulate, a spear looked like it needed two hands. She didn't feel like hugging her enemy to strike them with a knife... Her hand aimlessly wandered in the opposite direction of her eyes, as her fingers wrapped the rounded handle of a simple metal rod wrapped in leather.

She looked over at what she grabbed. It was a simple mace with a small ball with in jagged plates. This should work. It had a little heft behind it. All she had to do was swing it at the person to hurt them It was simple and effective. She turned around to be stared down by the faceless automaton of the mannequin before her. "Um... Hello." She said as she slowly approached it. It took up a fighting stance, but did not strike. This Mannequin was unarmed, unlike some of the others. With no other idea, she raised her mace and brought it down to strike the wooden frame.

Instantly her sparring partner sprang to life, grabbing her arm and forcing her to drop her weapon. She looked down to the ground in surprise. This one was surprisingly nimble. So much so that that split second that Anise looked away was a huge mistake, as she was suddenly punched in the stomach, causing her the keel over with a low, growling "Fuuuuuuugh" only to be met with an elbow strike to her back, knocking her flat on the ground. The dummy climbed atop her and pulled its arm around her neck in a choke hold. Anise was now stuggling for something. Her hand reached for the mace again, her fingers barely able to touch the tip of the weapon. She needed to do something, as she let out choked grunts and groans.

She needed to get closer, which means she needed to roll over. She rocked back and forth as best she could, but man that mannequin was heavy! Still with a few rocks back then forth she managed to get enough momentum to grip the mace and roll the mannequin off her. She sat up on her knees and raised the mace over her head before smashing in the wooden face of the mannequin before it could react. "You stupid termite farm!" She grunted as she struck down on it one last time before standing up, technically victorious. "I take back the exhilarating part..." She complained to herself this time.

---

---

The arrow zipped past and Lorelei paused only for a brief moment as she felt a stinging on her lips. She glanced over at the arrow and then touched her lips. As she pulled her fingers away there was a small amount of blood that came away with them. Aww how sweet, he returned the kiss. She thought to herself as she giggled and grinned before picking up running again. She had considered for a brief moment looking to Dex with a grin, but decided to not push her luck. She had a feeling he wouldn’t hesitate to actually shoot her with an arrow. While it wouldn’t be the first time she would have been shot with an arrow, she had several scars to prove it, she would admit she didn’t ENJOY it when it did happen.

Finally the run came to an end and while she was breathing heavier than normal, she didn’t feel completely exhausted. Zendan had always made her start her mornings with a long run and she’d actually come to enjoy it. It had become one way for her to let out some frustrations and so she was in pretty high spirits currently. As she went to join her classmates she came up beside Anise and Rodrick, a huge grin on her still bloody lips. ”Wasn’t that just thrilling?!” She said after Anise claimed it was dangerous and exciting. She then went on to watch the demonstration that was beginning.

Maya was absolutely gorgeous and Lorelei could definitely appreciate her beauty, but her attention was soon caught by the weapons that Maya was using. Those weapons were incredibly beautiful and very unique. She would have to speak to the teacher later to learn what they were. Lorelei found that she may be interested in learning how to use them. As the deadly dance began, the siren just fell more in love with the dark elven woman. Her fighting style seemed similar to Lorelei’s and while Lorelei considered herself a rather experienced fighter, having been trained since she was eight and utilizing her skills since she was ten, she wasn’t naive in knowing there were always things she could learn and improve on. Yes, she decided she must learn whatever she could from this woman.

Finally it was their turn to practice on these strange dummies. Lor decided upon a dummy that was holding a long sword and, before anything else could actually happen, she had pulled out three throwing daggers and swiftly threw them at the dummy. The first one hit her mark, the second barely hit the dummy’s shoulder as it began to move, and the third dagger it dodged entirely as it went soaring into another dummy behind it. Was that Cal standing near that dummy? Lor didn’t have time to actually check as she had to move swiftly. When one fought with daggers you had to move quickly and give little time for your opponent to react. She had two more daggers in her hand now as she rushed at the dummy. These things learned swiftly and so she realized she only had a small window.

She analyzed the dummy’s movements and, as it came at her with a downward swing, she kept one dagger up guarding her face as protection while she spun out of the way and closer to the dummy. Perfect, she was now inside its guard. As the dummy recovered from its swing she spun around to its back, slicing at what would be its hamstrings and then stabbing into where its kidneys would be. In her mind she ran through where the weak spots would be on this thing if it were wearing armor. The armpit was a good place, but small and hard to hit. If you could get behind them, like she was, then the weak spots often were the backs of their thighs and the lower back as these spots had to be bare of armor if they wished to ride a horse. If she were to slice the backs of the thighs just right then she’d hit a fatal artery and would bleed out quickly. If this were a real fight as well she would have definitely applied a poison to her daggers just to ensure her opponent would die, but it wasn’t and this dummy also didn’t have arteries that she could slice open.

Unfortunately for Lorelei the injuries she’d inflicted on this thing wasn’t enough for it to consider her the victor. She had been cocky enough to believe that she’d be considered the victor and let her guard down for a brief moment. The dummy had pivoted and its elbow soared right into her face. The surprise of it threw her off balance and she fell flat on her back. As she lay there feeling blood begin to trickle out of her nose, she heard Zendan in the back of her mind. ”Never let your guard down until you are sure your opponent is on the ground and no longer breathing.” Her stomach ached at the memory right where Zendan had impaled her with a dagger when he spoke those words. Of course he had a healer come in and heal her immediately after, but she still had a fading scar where the wound was. She had been only nine years old when this happened. She clenched her teeth as she watched the dummy swing the sword down toward her, but she quickly rolled out of the way. She quickly kicked up to her feet and turned to face her opponent once more. There was pure fury in her eyes as she looked at this thing, the dummy morphing into Zendan standing in front of her.

She smirked darkly at him as blood trickled down her face before she ran at him. It was definitely ready for her this time, but she was expecting this. He swung at her and she used both daggers to block the blow. Her wrists screamed in protest, but she ignored it as she watched his moves closely. She danced around with the Zendan dummy for a minute more, waiting patiently for an opening but also knowing she couldn’t block the longsword for much longer with her daggers. She backed up, quickly putting some distance between them as she assessed the situation. Finally she rushed at him again while throwing a dagger. He dodged the dagger like it was nothing and went to swing at her, but she dropped to her knees and slid under the strike. Once again she was behind it and she quickly stood and jumped on its back as it recovered from the swing. She screamed out angrily, her legs wrapping around his waist and one arm around his neck as she brought her other dagger down into his chest over and over and over again until he didn’t fight anymore. Unfortunately this thing wasn’t Zendan and as she looked down at it she began to realize this. She stood up and backed away, breathing deeply as she watched it quickly repair itself ready for another fight. Of course it was...

---

Amused after the running-and-getting-shot-at ordeal, he still had plenty of energy to spare. While standing with the rest, the blond magus wiggled a finger through the hole Sir Dex’s arrow had made, appreciating the wear’s very first battle scar. Next to him stood Ixius, from who he felt the air shift around in waves, almost feeling indecisive in its nature. A push and pull of... mana? Was Ixius feeling sick, perhaps? It bothered the aura of his own, but he ignored it, settling on making him some chamomile tea after class. The red-eyed boy glared at him with killing intent, but the meaning flew over the blond’s head as he happily raised two thumbs up in return. Right, he just needed some hot tea!

”If you fell behind today, push harder tomorrow. If you truly want to be adventurers you must always push forward, until you succeed or you die.”

Sir Vermont sure knew how to get his students feeling inspired. Even though the boy had never thought of fighting someone, let alone partake in a fight, the teacher’s words had him more than ready to take people on. Then, the lithe Drow professor, Ma’am Maya, took a step up. Starry-eyed, he was doing his best to keep up with the pace of the demonstration, but ultimately failed. Still, he did pretty well to imagine the in-betweens, the boy’s naivety shining through as he recalled memorable scenes from stories he’d read. In the middle, sparks flew, and their professor was all but a blur. In no time, the giant pieces of wood gave way to the professor’s skill, causing Calven to erupt in cheers and big claps.

---

“Greetings Calven Fallard, would you like to begin the newcomers’ training regiment?”

“Hello~” Calven carefully approached the mannequin, unarmed but in high spirits. “And yes, but first, look!” He waved his empty hands in front of him, hoping that this dummy would give him an experience to remember. “No weapons! And you only have my skill level, so I’ll go easy on you. Together, we’ll have my combat up to par with Ma’am Maya in no time! Alright?” Almost as if to doubt the plan, the dummy lightly tilted its head. The chef took this gesture and smiled, assuming his opponent understood him. “Alright!”

Readying his uninformed stance excitedly, he dusted off his fists, brandishing his weapons for the day. In turn, the mannequin took its position. “Okay, here I go! Don’t get knocked out too fast, or it’ll be too easy!” Through the air moved a fist, approaching at the speed of a tired old man. For a moment, the dummy seemed confused. It shook its head. It then proceeded to take note of the boy’s fist, still clumsy in its slow-moving trajectory. If wooden beings could sigh, that's what it did, and then slowly stepped to the side. The chef’s punch completed its route, thoroughly missing the wooden body, granting it a thumbs-up from the boy. Continuing their lesson, the dummy seemed almost tired as it put in effort to match Calven’s painfully naive strikes. On the other side, the chef was happy to be learning combat for the first time!

Just then, a glint of metal flew past, whizzing through the blond’s hair and landing with a thunk right in between the dummy’s eyes. A knife? Perhaps from one of his classmates trying to help him out? Odd as it was, he decided to leave it there and continue on.

As if a switch flipped, from lax to solid, the dummy tensed its battle stance when it looked back to Cal. “Uhh… that was a great dodge! Now hit me back--” It seemed to need no instruction as its foot immediately found a home in the mage’s chest. A rough gasp came from the boy as he was knocked back, wind completely having left him. “Wait!” A hand shot up to his chest, feeling to make sure his ribs were still intact, and took this moment to regain his breath. Thankfully, his shock significantly numbed down the pain, but something was clearly wrong. What the hell was going on? This was far beyond his capabilities!

The wooden body readied its stance again. “Hey! Look at me! I can’t keep--” Words cut short, his vision suddenly dimmed as the mannequin swiftly retracted a fist from Cal’s face. Though the boy yelped in pain, he could not react before a third hit came in the form of a knee to his gut, sending him back-first to the ground. So powerful was the strike that he laid there motionless for a long while before he rolled to his side and spat out a little mouthful of blood.

The ground provided respite for about two seconds before the mannequin approached him again, slowly yet ever so menacingly. Panicking, the stars floating around in the boy’s vision scattered. A jolt of adrenaline shot through his pained body as the hunk of wood turned its face to the student, glaring actual daggers at him, knife sticking out and all. Still on the ground, he needed to think fast. He stuck out both arms to pull himself forward, willing his legs onward as he crawled his way to one of the professors. Though the dummy was slow, no effort was needed for it to catch the boy’s ankles and drag him back to their post.

“Wait! Wait wait wait!” the chef’s legs thrashed helplessly in his opponent’s grasp, clawing at the ground in a lame attempt for control “You’re supposed to help me learn! I can’t learn if I’m dead! SO DON’T KILL ME!”

"Calven Fallard, please do not try to exit the training circle. Rest assured, we are not required to kill you. Would you like to take a break?

"Huh?" the student stopped his clawing and sighed in relief. "Ah yes, please. Give me a moment. And could we perhaps turn down the difficulty? It's like you were fighting somebody else back there..."

---

---

Finn came to a stop after the run with only a slightly elevated breathing. He was glad his father put him through some grueling workouts before even attempting to come here. He turned his attention to the demonstration. And like Arn, he was entranced by the woman's ability. He was told by his mother and father that she was an amazing swordswoman, but still to see it for himself. He didn’t believe what he was seeing.

He only hoped she would be interested enough to come over to him to give him a few pointers.

When it came time for him to start, he glanced around. Taking in his surroundings and making a mental note where everyone was. ‘Always be aware of your surroundings.’ He heard his fathers voice in his head. Once he was ready he looked at his own training dummy which had a basic arming sword. Placing a hand on it and taking a step back as it stood up straighter.

“Student Finn Reinheart, are you ready to commence assessment and beginner routine?”

” Sure. I am ready.” He said simply as he got into a stance. Not pulling his bow from his back. He needed to practice everything. Even though it might be short.

The training dummy rushed forward with a basic right to left slash, to which Finn stepped forward, reaching out and stopping the blow by grabbing the wrist. Twisting into the dummy and jamming his elbow into the face. Very much like Selena… then twisted while pulling the dummy’s sword arm and toppled it over in the same manner. A little trick he learned from her.

However, the dummy quickly rolled around, despite its arm still held by Finn. When it got into a stronger position, it used Finn’s grip against him and pulled itself up and launched a punch with it’s free hand. Finn barely moved his head out of the way, receiving a grazing but still strong hit on his Jaw. He kicked the dummy square in the stomach and released it’s arm at the same time. Sending it rolling.

He took the moment to rub his jaw and shook his head before taking a breath. He probably would be able to dodge that sword again, but he wanted to push his luck. Rushing forward as the dummy did, he dodged two more attacks. And slapping away a third and very close one aimed for his gut. Though as if the mannequin read his thoughts, performed a kick to Finn’s gut just before he was about to kick its knee out. This time sending Finn rolling.

Coughing, as he rolled to a kneeling position. Quickly getting back up while holding his stomach. It probably wasn’t the best plan, but at least he managed to evade three attacks. He smirked to himself. He reached up and over his shoulder and flipped his bow over it and held it in his left hand. He could easily shoot it from this distance, but now there were students behind his target. While he was confident. He decided to wait till he managed to switch positions, as his back was near the wall of the Combat arena.

The mannequin rushed forward, attacking Finn with a flurry of attacks. Finn, doing much better now with his bow in hand, using it to match each attack. Deflecting and slapping away. Each time becoming slightly harder to block. He was starting to feel the exhaustion in his left arm, moving the slightly heavier prosthetic as quick as he was.

Finally he gripped the bow with both hands, using it more like a quarterstaff now, easily catching up to the speed of the training dummy, if but for a few moments. He managed to knock the sword to the dirt with a hard hit downwards, following up with a quick uppercut to the chin. Then spinning it around the back of the mannequin’s head and twisting, sending the mannequin stumbling forward where he once was. Finn didn’t hesitate as he pulled three arrows from his quiver and within three seconds fired all three.Two centermass and one aimed for the head, but just barely missed.

“You missed that one.” Dex said, standing almost directly behind Finn. The beak of his mask was mere inches away from the young man’s head. “Don’t forget to pay attention to your surroundings. The quickest way for a marksman to end up dead is by letting someone sneak up behind them.”

Finn flinched as he suddenly heard the teacher's voice behind him. He swore there wasn’t anyone right there before. Only students farther away. Not even his father was THAT quiet. He shook his head when he said nearly the exact same thing his father drilled into him, that and stating the obvious with his miss. As much as it irked him, he understood why he said it. It just reminded him too much of his father and brothers. Every single shot he missed, they would make sure he knew they saw it.

“I'll make up for that missed shot with extra training tonight.” He said before turning around and looking up at the mysterious teacher. That beak and blacked out eyes was a bit unnerving.“I thought I was paying enough attention, apparently not enough though, if I missed a big dark bird walking around.” He said with a Cheeky grin.

“My point exactly. You can never be too careful about what’s behind you. It’s a delicate balance, focusing on your opponent and paying attention to what’s going on around you, but it’s a vital one. Range user’s will always be a target in battle, so it’s important you learn these skills quickly” Dex cocked his head to the side ever so slightly. “As is making sure that you finish off an opponent before you turn your back on them.”

He knew this already, logically it made sense to get rid of the ranged fighters first. But it was a clear reminder that he still had much to learn if he couldn’t keep aware of the one teacher with a large beak.

Finn only smiled as he brought up turning his back to an opponent. He might have been caught unaware by Dex, but he could clearly hear the mannequin behind him. He turned quickly and raised his bow to deflect an attack before pulling and knocking another arrow within a second and firing at half pull. Hitting the mannequin dead center in the face.

He notice a glint of metal moving quickly towards him, looking to his right and just barely raising his right arm to block a dagger that was flying directly at him. The dagger sliced into his forearm, just below his elbow. He grunted in pain, holding his arm close to him before pulling himself out of it and dodging another attack, from his own Mannequin.

Of course this had to happen right after being told to watch his surroundings. He backed up more and more with each attack from his training dummy, barely knocking away some attacks with his bow in his left hand, as his right hand couldn’t grip anymore. Soon enough his bow was knocked from his hand, causing him to dive out the way with the follow up attack.

Finn pulled the dagger from his arm, and charged the dummy, who went for a right to left swing. Finn fell to his knees and raised his arm, the blade deflecting off his prosthetic, while slashing up his uniform in the process, but it deflected the sword just high enough to miss his head. He allowed his momentum to carry him into the training dummy’s stomach, stabbing it with his ‘new dagger’ just above the groin.

“Good. Adapting when you’ve lost your weapon is important as well. Although I’m sure you know what I have to say about watching your surroundings.” Dex pulled a small vial filled with a dark red liquid out of one of the many pouches that covered his suite. He tossed it to Finn, trusting that he would catch it. “That will heal up your arm in about a minute. Take a break. If I were you, I’d take that time to study some of your classmates. Many of them are dangerous in their own right. And there’s a good chance that some of them have been….provoked, recently.” Dex turned to walk away before pausing once more. “Getting too close to him is dangerous. He’s strong, and faster than he looks. Don’t let your guard down.” With that Dex walked off, seeming to move in the direction that the throwing knife had come from.

Finn smiled for only a split second at the complement, going away right when he brought up the surroundings again. He wanted to say that he was aware enough to notice the odd sound of the blade enough to block his face from being the target. But he held his tongue, only nodding slightly. He stood up and placed a hand on the mannequin again to stop it from restarting. Looking back just Dex tossed him the small vial. He winced as he tried to catch it with his right hand, managing to knock it up and unintentionally juggling it between his hands till he managed to catch it with his left.

He let out a sighing groan at the multiple attempts to flex his right arm and sent jolts of pain searing through his muscles. He looked back to Dex and said softly, Thanks.” before he continued on to give him a tip. It was clear who he was referring to. He nodded once again, indicating he understood. As he walked away, Finn popped the cork and tossed the potion in like it was a shot.

His neck tensed at the horrid taste, and he cleared his throat as if it would help...it didn’t. He then slowly walked over to his bow and picked it up, while watching the one who he was to fight later that day.

Arn’s eyes were trained on his current adversary. He had managed, through many different trial and error moves and plenty of painful reminders on what not to do, to defeat one mannequin. Many places in his body throbbed and ached from the hits received. His armor had served him well. Thousands of years in engineering and a war like culture that demanded the best protection possible enabled him to keep his limbs. Pain meant you were still alive.

Even if the weapons would not have been blunt, the scales in his armor were designed to absorb the slash or the stab by compressing into a solid sheet and the padding underneath with a small layer of strong hide minimized the damage even more. Hence, most dwarves used maces, hammers, or powerful armor piercing projectiles fired from crossbows or Scorpios to overcome these defenses. Mobility was not compromised and a dwarf’s inherent strength allowed for easy movements. This still did not fully take away the damage that blunt weapons could cause. Broken bones were common battlefield injuries between dwarven clan's fights.

Another reason he was learning his lesson’s so painfully was because all dwarves are trained from a very young age to fight as a unit. The strength that comes from having a person to your left and to your right trained like you and almost the same skill level as you is reassuring. It is not difficult to know why they call themselves shield brothers or sisters. Breaking through a shield formation of veteran dwarves is like trying to carve a mountain with a spoon.

Dwarves were bred for fighting. They have processes and procedures that are literally beaten into their psyche. Even if a dwarf was blinded, they would still be able to fight in the shield line thanks to cadences and war songs that synchronized each strike, each block. A true proud warrior culture. They have a saying “my family is my strength”.

Each warrior is tasked with being the strongest they can be, not so they can fight alone, but so that they are not the weakest link. So for Arn, fighting in the open with no back up, no shield brethren, and against a faster opponent, stretches the limit of his skill.

Add that to the fact that combat doctors are kept in the middle lines to provide support and quick combat care, and you have a dwarf who is cautiously watching the movements the mannequin armed with a sword and a dagger. An experienced fighter such as the lovely Drown lady would have made mince meet of him, armor or not, in a matter of seconds.

As the two opponents circled each other, the young cadet’s eyes fell on his roommate and the young man who had been pushed down by the bully. They seemed to be talking very comfortably. Did they know each other? Maybe, they were together? The distraction was enough that he lost momentary sight of the dummy. It was almost too late when he brought up his shield to protect from a downward cut that would have sliced his shield shoulder at the neck. His block was exactly what the mannequin wanted. The dagger tried finding the exposed underarm. Thanks to the painful lesson’s he had been learning, Arn was fast enough to use the shaft of his hammer to push the deadly blade just enough that it missed and made the dummy follow the momentum

However, this was also expected by the dummy and using the momentum, delivered a round house kick to the young cleric’s head. The heel connected solidly with the back of the head with enough force to make the helmet fly clean off. The force of the impact sent the young dwarf falling forward into the arena’s sand with a very audible huff.

Rage and shame rushed through the cadet. He had been defeated because he had lost concentration over his roommate’s interaction with another boy. What did he care? It was not like they even spoke really. So what if she was talking to other people. Why did it make him feel so strange? All these questions and no answer fueled the sudden rush of adrenalin that surged through him.

He quickly got into a kneeling position and regarded his opponent. The glowing eyes and expressionless face made him feel even more enraged. The young dwarf was sure the dummy was judging and laughing at him.

With a growl, the cadet lunged forward utilizing the shield to bash. The nimble opponent easily dodged to the dwarf’s left trying to take advantage of the exposed flank. However, this was predicted and the dwarf followed through with a back hand strike powered by the head of his war hammer. Again the move was easily dodged by the mannequin who ducked beneath blow. This time however, Arn was nimble himself and maintaining the spin momentum, he flattened his shield and used it as an edged weapon against the dummy aiming just below the knees.

Unable to doge quickly enough, the shield connected with an audible crack as both shin’s of the mannequin broke. Using brute force and the power of his torso and abs, Arn stopped the spinning motion, hefted the hammer above his head allowing the shaft to slide through his hand to the very end and then with a grunt, he brought the hammer down one handed on the back of the dummy’s head.

The head exploded into a thousand wooden splinters. Arn’s breath came in gasps. He turned to see another mannequin approaching but he must much too unstable to continue. The young cadet held up a hand and stated breathlessly. “I request quarter…” The emotionless dummy simply stopped. “Break has been requested. Please inform me when you are ready to continue.” With that it lowered the two headed battle axe it was holding and stayed perfectly still.

The dwarf grunted as he stood up and looked around. He had forgotten to bring a canteen or water skin. Would the school provide liquid relief?

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