Chessna'ra was lathered in sweat as he moved to the table, took a seat, and tore into a piece of bread with abandon. Compared to his training as a child among other drow nobility, there were few things in the world he could imagine to be more hospitable and kind. Instead of the lash of one of the many headed drow whips to keep him running, it had simply been more exercise and healing magic. Instead of hunger or toxic foods one could scavenge deep underground, there was a feast of simple surface-world delights. Chessna'ra couldn't have been happier or more suprised, and the drow who was very far from home said a tentative prayer to the Dawnflower in thanks before he ate more than a few bites of the great meal.
Ryujin moved to the table to find some appropriate food to eat after such a workout. He had pushed past his limits many times in his years of training and the weariness he felt from such a long day felt familiar and right.
Karlov made his way over to the table. He quickly snatched up some food and began to eat.
"Yes, this is quite a meal! It will fill me quite pleasantly," he said, between pants and chewing.
Zib made his way to the table, sat down and started to eat. Being one of the smallest he was also one of the slowest due to his short legs, and due to his earlier outbursts, Zib ended up having Big Blues personal attention more then once. At some point during the ordeals he just stopped thinking. While his own horrible upbringing was full of pain and abuse, he never had to physically push himself in such a manner. For one his mind wasnt racing, for once he didnt talk, he just ate.
Durgen didn't walk to the table, he ran. After shoveling as much food into his arms as he could he sat down next to the dark elf. Behind the mountain of food, Durgens lips smacked as he greedily ate is fill. Inedible pieces of food such as bones ended up being thrown behind him. He didn't eat out of starvation despite the appearance, this is just how he ate. And although he didn't get to smash some heads in he considered it a good day.
"More food! he yelled loudly, after which he turned to Chessna'ra with food stuck to his massive beard, "Good food huh?'
After having stoically endured the torture meted out by the autocratic ogre, Lorth was pleased when an end was called. After having smoothed out the creases from his jerkin and having checked his tarred mustache for damage, Lorth moved to the tables for sustenance.
He chose a loaf of seeded bread and some cured meats and settled in for a sandwich.
Samson nearly collapsed as he came to a stop, he spent a few moments catching his breath. He had enjoyed the opportunity to work out at an extended pace, but that was something that would take a while to get used to.
He grabbed his allotment of food, mostly meats, and began quietly devouring his food.
Gwrrr'rrr filled a plate with meat, over which he poured about half a cup of salt. Watching him eat was not a pleasant experience. The orc's mood improved visibly, however, when he finished the meat and began crunching up the bones.
As the slight woman sat down next to Lorth her sweat-soaked hair seemed to freeze, despite no chill being in the air. Seated she looked almost of a size with the halfling. As she slowly ate her food, she said quietly to him:
So, what's your take on the rest of these guys? And have you heard anything about Big Blue? How did he get this job?
As Melashara moved to sit beside him, Lorth stood and gave a short bow as a courtesy... and only moved to take his seat after the human had taken hers.
"The ogre plays the part that he has been given with enthusiasm... as do the others. Today was merely facepaint and hand shadows... we will see upon the morrow whose upper lip is stiff enough to endure."
Melashara nodded in agreement and replied:
I said as much to Cedrica before we were thrown into the fray. Good luck tomorrow. I heard it will be a team battle of sorts. I hope that we will be on the same side, but know that if we should meet across the field I will not underestimate you as many of these others surely will.
Ryujin pointed to the roster sheet, "The roster is posted. At least we know who all is involved. Good fighting to you all tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? Yeah, like you lot'll be ready for the arena tomorrow. The season doesn't open for two weeks. Until then you'll spend every waking moment with me. It ain't too late to leave..."
Feeling exhausted and dizzy, Lorn stumbled into the gladatorial stables unsure if what he felt in his stomach was hunger or pain. When his vision was no longer distorted by stars and spots he grabbed a plate and filled it with easily digestable food. Lorn sat down at the nearest available spot amongst the new fighters, mumbled a "hello" and didn't bother talking for a while.
Satisfied seeing no foul comments from those heartily eating, Duroja snatched enough bread and meat to fill her stomach, and continued to pace slowly ... trying to stay limber... "Hope whoever I'm facings ready .. hate to pull my punches just to make a match last longer than some glory-blind whelp's introduction.. " She smiled just enough to be able to claim it was in jest.
After spending quite some time on the jakes...Joboo did enjoy a good poop...the crafty gobbo made his way back to the arena as the others were still running. He stayed to the shadows and waited until they were about done. He doused himself with a bucket of water nearby and as soon as Big Blue's back was turned he slinked his way into the middle of the pack and said to no one in particular.
Mesa so tired of all this running! When's we gonna get a break?
He huffed, puffed, winced and wheezed like some of the others and then saliciously made his way to the laden table. His little tummy was growling with hunger and it all looked delicious. He greedily set right into the closest meat substance.
Whosa gonna leave Big Blue? This food is yummy, yummy! And wesa get two weeks to party, get fat and has plenty of squishy, squishy time before next match. This good gig indeed. Mesa gona stay forever and be Big Champ. Yusa gonna see...
He didnt so much as trail off as the food in his mouth just muffled him.
After filling his tiny stomach, Zibs mind started to turn again, he pocketed some of the food, having something in mind for later.
Surrounded by empty plates Durgen was a mess, his beard was full of half eaten pieces of food that had fallen out of his mouth, snacks for later he thought. The dwarf leaned back in his chair, unbuckled his belt, exposing his engorged hairy belly and quickly fell into a deep slumber, his snore echoing throughout the mess hall.
Karlov laughed heartily at the sight of the dwarf.
"This, my friends, is true image of champion! He is man which I very much respect!"
He gave Durgen a mighty slap on the back and proceeded to stand from the table. After a few stretches, he took a deep breath and sighed.
"YES! I can feel the spirit of competition in the air! I am quite excited!"
At the slap to the back, Durgen awoke with a start throwing both fists suddenly, one of which accidentally went straight for Karlov's face. The dwarf yelled, .
After which he fell back to sleep as quickly as he awoke.
As Durgen was swinging his fists, Karlov chuckled.
"This man is filled of passion! Even when he sleeps, he must fight." Karlov took a seat again. "If you are to be looking for victory, you must have passion as much as this one," he said, looking everyone in the eye.
Durgens snore continued, growing ever louder, a sound much like a puff emanated from the dwarf, the air was soon filled with wretched stink, the dwarf smiled in his sleep.
Chessna'ra did his best not to gawk to much at his competition. They are far too respectful to each other! And not one of them have tried to poison one another. Even in such an odd gathering of folk from across the planes, the dark elf was keenly aware that he really knew nothing about any of these varied creatures and humans, even from his studies and basic education. That fact made the drow uncomfortable, for that lack of knowledge spelt doom in his culture. None the less, the drow clearly wasn't in drow society any more. And so, Chess sat back and watched, smiling at the oddities that surrounded him.
Zgyjhu was getting tired with every step... Then Big Blue washed them with energy invigerating him, but only so he can run more...
Soon he was told to eat. This was the kind of exercise he could get used toward.
"So, are we going to be running and eating every day?" Zgyjhu said as he ate. Then laughed as Durgen fell.
The gnome took in his surroundings looking at the each of the competitors. His eyes fell on Chessna'ra, a smile grew as his eyes widened, coming to a realization. He hopped from his seat and quickly made his way over to the drow, looking as if a child asking their parent a question, "Hello, I am Zib, I noticed that you are in fact a drow. Despite my specialty with explosive material, any sort of chemical materials sparks my interest. I have read that your people have a certain fondness with poisons, would you be willing to divulge the properties and construction of said poisons?
After he wiped the vomit from his chin, Varniel wandered in.
Even after running together all day, no one seems to have noticed me. Good.
Noticing another crazed alchemist in his midst, Varniel moved to sit down near Zib such that he could grab some food and eavesdrop on his conversation with the drow.
They slept in a communal barracks. Apparently they would have to earn their own sleeping quarters. Most of them were asleep the moment their heads hit the pillows, and dawn came far too soon.
"Good morning, Fight Fans! Bandy Spyglass here bringing you an inside look at what it takes to be a champion. We got a good look at how they started on day one of pre-season training. Day one is done and we've been following them for two weeks, watching Big Blue turn these newcomers into potential champions! The weak have been culled from the herd. All that's left are the ones with real heart."
"Let's take a look at what they've been through..."
...Chess dropped into a roll as he leaped off the climbing wall, tumbling onto the ground in a somersault and using the momentum to leap halfway up the next one, using his agility to make up for his meek stature. As the drow forced his aching arms to pull his body up to the top of the wall, he thanked both the sun goddess and the multitude of demon lords that the drow had worshiped in his life that he weighed as little as he did, and that he had left his armor behind for the day. Chess looked down to those climbing below him, and saw the frigid witch about half way up the wall. He lowered his arm to her, and called out to her before gritting his teeth and readying himself for her icy grasp, which came in the form of her long locks of icy hair. The drow let out an involuntary gasp as the locks wrapped round his arm, but he other wise composure as he helped her make the ascent...
... "No no, Bandy, you misunderstand me. The smallfolk most certainly THINK of me as a hero. I'm merely saying that being a hero is not my goal. I have come here to improve my combat prowess, that I might better be a champion of the light. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my training."
With a flick of his flowing golden hair, the handsome knight in shining armor ran off, charging a wooden dummy and shattering it to splinters with the massive spiked hammer he was wielding....
...his eyes narrowed as he surveyed the field of conflict. His hands held the jagged blade steady as a rock in his right hand and poised to strike. A single bead of sweat welled upon his brow, then carved a tortuous path through wrinkle and ridge as it began to descend. Lorth took a moment to raise his left sleeve to forehead and sop the remainder of the sweat so it might not distract him further.
His feet remained planted in a solid stance that ensured balance and the ability to react with both speed and grace. Suddenly his eyes widened I have you now blaggard Lorth mentally exclaimed. His right hand moved in a practiced motion, sweeping the jagged blade forward and up.... to his face, where he becalmed the section of his mustache that had dared to become recalcitrant. Order was once more restored to the tar smeared kingdom of hair that claimed Lorth's upper lip as its own fiefdom.
Satisfied, he allowed a small smile to cross his lips as he placed the comb back in its holster behind the mirror that had occupied his focus. Taking a second moment to smooth his jerkin once more, Lorth ensured that his creases were as straight as an arrow. He then moved towards the stable to spend time training with the second most important figure in his life - Magnus Rufus...
During the weeks of training, Zib was anything but quiet. He spent more time babbling about his ideas then actual training, much to the ire of Big Blue, even more so after a stray bomb his Big Blue in the face. Zib had many accidents, after trying to emulate drow poison he accidentally smoked up the living quarters, leaving is uninhabitable, causing everyone to sleep in the arena for three days. He decided poisons were not for him. The next event was trying to make "enhanced food", Zib had sneaked into the kitchen injecting his creation in as much food as possible. All the competitors had explosive bouts of vomit and diarrhea. No one pulled their punches with Zib, he was constantly bullied and mistreated. After a few days of abuse some clarity came to Zib. He started to see this fellow competitors as more then "test" subjects, but even this revalation didnt pass through Zibs broken mind unscathed. Sometimes Zib had a kind side, using his knowledge of alchemy to help though hurt from training, wnat to alevate pain, a way of preventing what he himself had gone through. He soon gaining the appreciation of the more "good" folk. Other times though, his anger flared and he turn malicious, want to bring the pain he had endured to others, exposing his sparring partners to horrid injuries. His mind seemingly split, even his eyes changed color, one eye became a bright greenish blue full of life, the other a burning yellow submerged in anger and pain. He earned the name "Split Eye Bomber"
Vedex seemed standoffish, not comfortable among all of these competitors instead of among his own kind. A few stared when he dropped his hood and revealed his Ratfolk features.
...
When Joboo asked him how a Ratfolk got so big, Vedex explained in Goblin that every morning he woke up as a normal Ratkin, but had found a way to make himself big and strong.
...
The Ratkin sparred with Chessna'ra, pitting tooth and claw against razor sharp scimitar. As they practiced, they spoke in Undercommon about how they ended up in this place. Their fighting ability was evident not in how powerfully they fought, but in how close they came to killing blows without ever actually connecting.
...
In one sparring session, Vedex was almost knocked out, and he suddenly shrank down to the size of a normal Ratfolk. Panicking, he made an arcane gesture, and a fiendish looking dire rat flashed into existence, at least 40 pounds and snarling, menacing his opponent. When Vedex regained his composure, he realized his mistake and willed the rat out of existence before it attacked.
...Melashara struggled up the climbing wall, her long hair moving in independent strands, probing for a hold on the sheer surface. Above her on the wall the dark-skinned elf perched, extending a hand in help.
"What does this one want? Is this a trick?" she thought. Her eyes narrowed as she studied Chess's face, trying to discern his motivations. She frowned, unable to read him, but the drow's smile seemed to show that he could see right through her.
As she hesitated her grip began to fail, so the pale woman lashed her hair up with surprising strength to grab the man's arm. He winced in pain but kept his footing, allowing her to ascend to the top. She lingered there a moment as the frozen strands of hair siphoned the warmth from the elf's skin. For a heartbeat the icy tendrils constricted around his wrist like a greedy man loathe to give up his only treasure, but just as suddenly they receded under the hood of her cloak.
You knew it would hurt, but you helped me anyway. Why? What's in it for you? This face isn't one that inspires chivalry in most.
She turned away and briefly smiled at her own jest before looking into the elf's eyes.
I have survived on my own for my entire life--I don't need a stranger's assistance to get over some wall. Still, I thank you for your help. One question, though: Why are you climbing this wall? Did you forget that you can fly?
With that she hooked a leg over the wall and began descending the other side before Chess could respond...
...
Cut to a scene of Gwrrr'rrr the orc, practicing with clubs again. He stood in the middle of a group of smaller men, who were frustrating him by working as a team. He snapped, and picked up one of his opponents, tossing him bodily into the two others. This did not impress the trainer, who flipped Gwrrr'rrr head over heels to the floor, knocking him out.
...
Cut to a scene of the orc sweeping the training room floor, with a bandaged head and a sour expression that made it clear this is far from the first time he had been given this job.
...Lorth stood erect and composed by the table that held the breakfast that was given to the gladiators each morning. His left hand was tucked betwixt his not insignificant girth and the opening of his jerkin while his right bore a container of liquid more valuable to him than gold. Raising the cup to his nose he allowed the heady aroma of the brew to permeate his olfactory senses. His eyes closed and a look of absolute contentment suffused every fibre of his body and mind.
He had steeped the aromatic herbs in accordance with the strictures held most sacred by his order. Soon the brew will have cooled to the optimum temperature and the ecstasy being enjoyed by his nose could be shared by his mouth and gullet. His eyes opened and the pain of the training to come this day slowly faded into the background. Any degree of torture would pale into insignifigance as long as the day was begun with an admirable cup of tea. Lorth's lips quivered in anticipation as the cup was raised steadily towards his mouth. But then... the unthinkable occurred...
A figure approached, like a derelict hulk devoid of captain or the ability to steer. In what appeared to be slow motion to any observers, Lorth's elbow was impacted and jostled hard by a passing gladiator. Unable to react to the adjustment in momentum, Lorth's right arm reacted as though a violent muscle spasm had taken root. Tea arced from his cup in a spray both ahead of the cup and onto the ground before him. Panic stalked into his mind and he looked into his porcelain receptacle to find it devoid of any content. A hardness not yet seen fell upon his visage and his eyes narrowed with barely restrained fury. His left hand still firmly lodged at his midriff, Lorth spun on his heel and found Joboo before him...
Although an apology was provided by the diminuitive tea assassin, it fell upon deaf ears. Lorth did not speak, nay he could not for the force of anger that clenched his jaw closed. Apart from the tightness of his features, the only outward sign of the darkness of his thoughts was an almost imperceptible twitch of the muscles surrounding his left eye.
He gave a small bow of acknowledgement to Joboo's apology, then stared daggers into the goblin's back as Joboo walked away. Lorth's right hand grasped his cup and squeezed as his thoughts turned to dark revenge. He will keep, this miscreant... he will keep. The tea cup crumbled under Lorth's compressive ministrations, and he let the fragments fall into the mud below him. Retrieving his left hand from his jerkin, Lorth's leathers were smoothed and made serviceable. He then stalked off after Joboo and into the arena for training...
...seated among the crowd, Zar'zan watched the circus of contestants that would be called many things in the coming trials. Comrades... Enemies... But the one he found best was far simpler... Stepping stones...
...his feet set for stability, Zar'zan stared down the menacing orc as he swept his greatsword in practiced strokes in front of himself. This creature knew nothing of intelligence, but it held a strength he respected. Wishing to keep a few secrets up his sleeves, Zar'zan had vowed to use nothing but his strength till the real matches began. More and more he was starting to regret that decision. Losses were something unacceptable to him, but the sand in his mouth would soon help even the odds...
..."" Zar'zan would scream as he chased down the maniacal pyromaniac self-proclaimed as the 'Split Eye Bomber.' His beard singed by a supposedly stray bomb, Zar'zan had turned upon his current team mate...
...warily Zar'zan had taken Big Blue's punishments with curses under his breath. He respected the brute's strength and merciless nature, but he swore that he would put the beast in its place...
...curled up in bed, Zar'zan stared up at the ceiling with a smile upon his face. The time had come for the fun to begin. 'Fools. Let the predators become the prey.' He thought to himself as he allowed his wariness to carry him off to a restful sleep...
Samson swung hard at the practice dummy, sweat dripping off his brow, as the weighted dummy made it's counter-attack he swiftly rolled under the dummy's half-hearted attempt.
He had been training for days at this point, trying to make a few friends along the way, particularly with Gwrrrr, despite his lack of civility Samson felt a sort of kinship to the fellow Orc relative.
"Haha.. there's a good chance you're my uncle.." he said nervously, he hoped his attempt at humor was not lost on the Orc, he rarely had the opportunity to learn of his other race's culture.
Lorn looked like he meant business. Anyone watching him wouldn't see a muscle in his face move. He carefully dropped his whetstone in one of the pockets on his black leather apron and closed that pocket. Lorn reached into another pocket and drew out a rolled up piece of leather. He unfolded it and took the sharpest knife he had. He put the rest back in a pocket and then stepped forward... to the small piece of mirror he'd stuck in a crack in the wall. His face looked a bit funny covered in shaving soap. He'd always imagined himself a dwarf when he'd used too much soap. A white bearded one. Lorn then set to work, cutting away the unwanted hairs on his cheek and chin. Lorn had earned some money the last few days shaving and cutting the hair of the wealthier fighters. Some of them were so vain but looked like beggars with their unkempt beards and unwashed hair. Lorn worked quickly as he heard Big Blue approach, no doubt to rudely wake everyone still asleep.
"Duck, duck, forward, jump, stab" Lorn thought as he tried not to get hit by his opponents stick. He surely wasn't the best fighter of the bunch so if he wanted to achieve anything in the first fight he'd have to step up. "Back, back, forward, forward, high kick", Lorn continued his mental comments on his moves as he tried to drop his relentlessly attacking trainingpartner with a boot to the face. He connected but it didn't seem to do much besides putting a smear on his opponents face.
"BY THE BLOODIED BODIES OF MY STUPID ANCESTORS!" Lorn cursed as he once again let loose his net too early. The net partly wrapped itself around Lorn's left arm. Lorn tried to shake it loose but that of course only made matters worse. "STUPID NET, STUPID FISHERMEN, I WILL KILL THE NEXT CURSED FISHERMAN I SEE!" Lorn continued his outburst, now dropping on one knee, trying to prevent himself from falling down. He noticed more and more people were watching him. Some of them trying not the laugh, other straight out laughing at him. "DON'T YOU DARE LAUGH YOU WORTHLESS SWINES" he cried out. Lorn promised himself he'd make them pay one day, but first he'd have to get out of that stupid net.
… Joboo lay hurting in his cot. He was stiff as board from all the training that…ugly Big Blue Booger…had been putting them through. Unfortunately the little gobo hadn’t been able to shirk the sessions since that first day…
…the wily goblin had stared in wide eyed wonder at Vedex. He’d never seen…a meal…he meant a rat; so big before. He had a slew of questions for the obviously skilled fighter but the in the back of his mind all he could think of was how he was going to find enough batter to fry him proper. Although he could see the possibilities of a good partnership in the ring…maybe hesa would let me ride him!...
…with thoughts of poison dripping from his katana Joboo went looking for Zib. He had been sure the crafty gnome would have ideas on how to best prepare such a thing. His fellow shorty had him try all kinds of different colored drinks and powders. He wasn’t sure what this had to do with coating his blade and some of them didn’t taste so good. The last one had his guts roiling and that icky stuff rising in his throat. He made a mad dash for his beloved jakes and promptly ran into Lorth. He muttered a quick ”uh…mesa sorry. Why yusa wet?” before his guts squeezed something sticky out all on their own…”oh noes!” and sent him scrambling for the pot before a reply came…
…the sun beat down relentlessly and the sand made the air dry but Joboo was having the time of his life. He scrambled and ducked around Gwrrr’rrr’rrr as the orc swung his feckin huge sword at him. The large beast man was working on training against smaller opponents and Big Blue told Joboo to practice avoiding injury. The little gobbo liked the big orc though. He reminded him of some of the brutes in his tribe and even seemed annoyed by him just like they did. He would sometimes climb up the barbarians back; only to jump down on another fighter and trip them up with his kusarigama…
The dark elf was surprised at the unexpected kindness, Zib having giving him a mixture of healing herbs for his frost bitten hand....
For about the seventh time the two figure laid on the floor unconscious, Zibs forehead burst open from the savage blow from the orcs club, Gwrrr,rr unconscious covered head to toe with burns.
For once Zib had made an honest mistake, that bomb was supposed to hit the target dummy not Zar'zan, the gnome felt bad, however feeling bad doesnt equate to stupidity, a quick drink and Zib was faster then even the orc.
He drank the potion, it seemed almost like a drug, the way his body contort and change as he mutates, as his mind becomes "free". What can no longer be described as a gnome, the tiny beast surveyed the arena. Someone caught his eye, standing only slightly taller then zib on a normal day he was the only other small "person". He was everything Zib was not, clean ordered, he had everything in in control, this irritated the gnome and brought out his sadistic side. That day the halfing trained without his strange companion, who had mysteriously became ill, Lorth had just taken a break to comb his mustache yet again. Using his enhanced agility Zib crawled up the climbing wall using a grace caught somewhere between cat-like and monkey-esqe. Zib lined up his shot and let his bomb fly.
|
Severus opened his eyes as soon as he registered the booming voice of Big Blue. He removed the sleep from his eyes before he started flexing his limbs to relieve the aches.
Thereafter, Severus started checking his gear, knowing the day for their use will come.
Severus did not share in the freewheeling banter of the other recruits. He did not want to form any emotional attachments that may stay his hand in the arena.
Samson passed the gnome walking to the living quarters, giving him a passing greeting involving the descriptor small. Zib feeling jovial that particular day drank one of his potions, which doubled his height of 3'5" to about 7'. Zib walked up behind Samson and tapped him on the shoulder, when he turned Zib looked down at him and smiled,"Do I look small to you?"
..."Yes, I think they all being fine competitions. Yes, even women..."
...Karlov batted away Severus's longsword with his manacle. "You must be quick my friend!"He rushed forward and struck him in the gut. Severus froze from the force of the blow. "Also, you must be strong!"
..."I understand it being dangerous. I am not one to avoid challenges, my friend. I am of unstoppable..."
...Covered in gnomes, Karlov continued running up the slope, even while three hung from each arm and one beat on his shins. He marched up the hill with a look of intent. At the top, he roared and shook off the gnomes, who tumbled down to the bottom...
..."Afraid? Why would I be afraid? I have magic to help me win..."
...Karlov smirked as Gwrrr'rrr charged him. With a quick whip of his arms, Karlov had his chains wrapped around him. "Aha!" In an instant, the orc was pinned on the ground...
..."Well, it is magic of body of course! The power of me is most powerful. That is why I am Muscle Wizard!"
...Karlov entered the resting chambers, wearing nothing but his chains. A look of horror flashed onto everyone's faces and the room quickly cleared. "Ha! They are afraid of all my muscles!"
..."Do I believe I can be champion? This is not question, my friend. I know that I already am champion!"
Fold, fold, fold. Lorn was folding his net for two hours every morning. Big Blue made sure he did. Lorn hated it. He hated the net and the folding was even worse. "I'd rather run to my opponent and stab him in the face" he said to Big Blue. A blank stare was all he got and Lorn knew better than to oppose him much more, so he got back to folding. After the folding he got to practice throwing it. While he hated folding, at least he did so alone and others hardly noticed his mistakes. Throwing his net was the opposite. Swinging his net around, succesfully or not, was something others would notice. After practicing on a barrel, Big Blue set him on practicing with the others. He'd have everyone taking turns to charge him with their practice weapons from across the training grounds. Lorn had to charge them too but all Lorn had to stop them was his net. If he fumbled his throw they got to knock him down. If he missed them they got to hit him with their practice weapons. Failing to throw at all would result in Big Blue charging Lorn himself. That was something Lorn would make sure never happened again after the first time. He was sure he'd heard several ribs crack at the impact, a few more when they'd hit the ground.
Lorn didn't hate the net so much as he did before. He didn't like it but saw its potential. He mades sure it wasn't his only weapon, he'd practice with his dagger and he'd try hard not to get hit by the larger weapons, mostly by surprising his opponents with his unexpected agility. You'd think they'd learn but most of them didn't. Such a bulky man wasn't supposed to move that quickly.
... Duroja frowned as she bashed the training dummy repeatedly, tediously... she took a moment and looked thoughtfully around the room...
.. She then returned to her own little corner, chickens lashed by one foot, suspended from the ceiling .. she practiced her bob and weave and shield bash on the swinging squawking chickens... and then the chakram flew from her hand across the room .. severing the head of a terrified chicken she had tied to the wooden dummy ... she then took a moment to "acknowledge the crowd" victorious in a fountain of chicken blood .. as the chakram reappeared in her hand .. "my time .. will come" ..
...Chessna'ra spat on the ground as he squared off with the "Knight in shining armor" figure across him, having gone a full minuet of listening to the man spout about the wickedness of the drow and about how he would bring him to justice. "You are a fool to speak of forces you could not begin to comprehend, oh righteous one" The drow's voice dripped with contempt and disgust as he whipped out a complex series of faints, slashes and chops with is scimitar before he battered Loric into the wall before the fighter had the chance to react. "The title of righteousness is a facade, a self delusion, and a lie even to one's self to one such as you. Even the orcs we combat have more honor and worth than a glory seeking fool such as yourself!" Chess spat the words as the man took the offensive, weaving and spinning between his blows before one clipped him hard on the shoulder...
...Bandy, I work for the glory of my lord. One day all will acknowledge him and his warriors like me as the greatest if I prove myself....
...No, I don't think that the rat has fleas, I've never spoken to it yet...
...Zgyjhu sparred with the training dummy practicing his powerful strikes that helped him defeat the mighty Lorth....
...Gwrrr'rrr bashes Zgyjhu in the shins hard during their spar, Zgyjhu triues his hardest to strength his defense and successfuly blocks the next blow...
...Zgyjhu laughs Ho ho ho as Lorn catches himself in the net during their spar...
...Zgyjhu tells Lorth he has a magnificant mustache. He wishes he could grow one but it never grows that far from his skin...