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. 


[color=ed145b]"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."[/color]

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.  [color=0054a6]“Well….Shit.”[/color]  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.