Arn had followed the crowd of students into the dining hall.  He had believed to be early due to the lack of long lines, but the dining hall was so vast that it easily accommodated the students who sat on long tables.  He had tried to find a table that was not already being used to sit apart and solitary rather than be coaxed into engaging into conversation. 

The dwarf had enjoyed his walk towards the Dining Hall.  The school was well suited to house the multitude of students.  The grounds sported trees and patches of grass that were gently traversed using the flag stone paths.  Benches dotted the paths here and there and small ponds completed the scene of extreme serenity.  Truly a place to focus on training.  

While looking at the map he also noticed an area labeled [i]“Training Grounds”[/i].  He made a mental note to visit this in an effort to maintain his physical and weapons training up to date.  The Academy boasted many buildings and classrooms.  It was not wonder that it held such a reputation for training and producing quality adventurers that would serve rulers and the elite as mercenaries, body guards and sometimes even in their armies.  

A thought started to nag at him as he walked.  Getting entry into the Academy was very difficult.  One had to be of exceptional skill or exceptional wealth.  Arn had neither.  While it was true that they were vassals of the Battlehammer clan, the patriarch being the cousin to the ruling dynasty for more than six generations, his own StoneHammer clan was nothing more than a small family.  They were little more than glorified landowners.  Even amongst the bannermen of the Battlehammer clan, his family was medium in power and importance at most. 

While it was true that a few members of his family had distinguished themselves amongst the people of Iron Keep, the young cleric was definitely not amongst them.  His brother Krev, was a legend amongst the Underdark, or the Beneath as some other races called it.  While the legend did not extent much beyond the confines of the great Iron Mountains and the dwarven kingdom, many inside these borders knew the name.  

Another well known person was his uncle, Krum of the Silver hand. Now HE was famous and known through out the world as the great Magic Smith.  He had devised a method of combining magic and metallurgy to produce prosthetics that almost mimicked the original body parts.  Despite this this obvious useful and worthy achievement, many in the dwarven kingdom frowned upon the blatant use of arcane magic.

His own father, Thur, had not spoken to Krum since he left the ancestral home almost 100 years ago.  Nor had Krum returned, even after graduating from Hoseforn’s.  It was rumored that the Magic Smith had set up shop in some remote location  Krum’s wares however, had become highly priced and came at a high price. 

Arn hoped to one day be able to set his eyes and study one of these wares.  As a cleric,  having the ability to make broken men whole and in this manner enhancing the fighting force of Iron Keep was almost a necessity.  He needed to do this despite the bad taste in his father’s mouth.  Delving so deep in the Arcane was very untoward of an honorable dwarf who relied solely on the strength of his arm. 

So here he was, in the Academy his estranged uncle had once attended and which he had no idea how he managed to enter.  After all, he had not applied or had the means to enter.  This was a matter he needed to figure out.  But first, he needed to figure out where to sit. 

The cadet was not really shy but his social interaction was limited to either dwarven people who were boisterous and hearty or the military professionalism drilled into him.  In situations such as these, he often opted for the latter.  This is why after failing to find any spots readily open and been give a few dirty looks from tables filled mainly with humans or mainly with non-humans, for he looked very much like just as short human, he worked up the nerve to approach a table that had the most open seats.  Currently it housed two girls and three boys. 

He approach from the direction of a white haired lad who was sporting a bow.  He stopped a respectable distance to the lad’s side and clearly opened his mouth to efficiently say. [color=0054a6] “Greetings.  Respectfully request to use this seat if it has not been taken yet”[/color].  The lad, who seemed to be just slightly taller than him but much more lite, offered a friendly "of course" and pointed to the seat next available seat next to him.  His eyes caught something pink from the corner of his eyes and realized he was looking at girl who had long fox ears.  The girl smiled and nodded, obviously trying to be friendly but Arn quickly assumed a thousand yard stare posture. He had been graciously allowed to sit and he did so. 

So now he was here, sitting with the white haired archer to his right and a blonde haired boy to his left who was really eagerly looking at him.  A second mage type (was he the one who had been bumped?) sat to the left of the blonde boy.  A silver haired girl and the fox girl sat to the right of the welcoming white haired archer.  The young dwarf was trying to make no eye contact, with his hands clasped in front of him and resting rigidly on the table.  His back straight and his face stoic. Every now and then he would steal glances at his table mates. He most often looked at the pink haired fox tailed girl.  As a Cleric, he was very interested in anatomy and he had never seen or heard of a demi human with fox ears.  To be fair, his interaction to the outside world was very limited. 

He took long controlled breaths.  Hoping that he varied company was enough to deflect any sort of engagement in his direction.  After all, why would any care to engage a dwarf who seemed to be content in keeping quiet? The seating arrangement would also enable him to stay in middle ground as it seemed that the two boys knew each other and the two girls and the white haired lad was a trio.  Unfortunately, there seemed to still be some space open in front of him.  He hoped that the feast would start soon.  Dining times at the Fort always meant quiet.  Then perhaps there would be some sort of presentation that would further aid his mission of staying in the background.