[i][/i]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. 

[b][i]“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”[/i][/b]

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[color=f26522] “Careful with your moanin…it makes the one who is fucking you that much more excited.” [/color]

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. 

[color=fff200]
“Student Arn Thurson, are you ready to commence assessment and beginner routine?”[/color]  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 . [color=0054a6]“Yes, I am ready please commence.”[/color]

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. [i][color=0054a6] “This is going to be more enjoyable than I thought.”[/color] [/i]