[Spots]

OOC: Forgive the pun. You'll know it when you see it.

The command to charge was given. Adrenaline pumped, and Spots moved into action. With shield raised, the Dorin advanced. Exhausted, but motivated to fight, Spots began by trying to thrust his shield into the larger opposing force. Blades and spears met shields. Metal clanged, soldiers grunted with the exertion. When the experienced Legionnaires moved too close for him to use his spear, Spots quickly drew his longsword.

The Dorin tried thrusts. He tried slashes of all kinds: vertical, diagonal, horizontal. Everything he could throw at the advancing wall of shields seemed to have no effect. His arm was quickly growing tired from repeatedly striking nothing but opposing shields. However, Spots was encouraged by the fact that he hadn't allowed an attack to hit him either. The Dorin fought on. He was being pushed backwards by the advancing "enemy" force by now. Grunting, he pushed back as hard as he could. For all the effort he exerted, he might as well have been pushing against a wall, but that didn't stop the Dorin.

"Gods be damned, I'ma WIN THIS!" he growled to whomever might be listening, even as he was pushed backwards. Eventually, the exhausted Spots could feel his back pressed against another recruits. Then came the order to halt. Breathing heavily, the Dorin heard the shields plant into the ground. Looking around his own shield, he saw spears still leveled at him. For a very brief moment, he growled at the more experienced Legionnaires as if to dare them to press the attack. Then he remembered it was only an exercise.

The Shield Daekin's next words might have been sung by a bard rather than shouted from his mouth. Rosyun and mess hall meant food. Although he was dog tired, Spots couldn't help his tail from wagging happily as he jogged as quickly as his already sore body would allow. He looked around, trying to find the talkative elf Xavhand. Spots didn't look too hard, though. He was hungry; most of the conversation he would provide would be simple grunts, however he did want to apologize to the elf for ignoring him during formation. Once he entered the mess hall, however, all thoughts of talking ceased.

Spots was ushered through the line, received whatever sort of chow the military deemed fit for consumption and moved to a table as quickly as possible. Spots gave the military chow, which didn't look that good at all, a quick sniff. His nose didn't raise any alarm. With that, the Dorin began to shovel the food into his mouth, chew and swallow as fast as possible. To most, he was sure he looked completely uncivilized. He didn't care either. Legionnaires and recruits alike could think what they wanted of the Dorin; he certainly wasn't going to let any food go to waste and feel as if he were starving until the next meal.

Spots finished his meal well before the allotted time was up. He placed his tray and dishes in the proper place designated to return such items and walked back to the training fields while his body protested his movement. Despite his finishing his meal early, Spots arrived at the training fields around the same time the rest of the recruits did. More yelling ensued as well as more falling into lines.

Once he heard his orders, Spots crouched. As he tried to raise his shield and spear, he found that like running with his gear on, balancing in this sort of position was going to take getting used to as well. At first, the Dorin fell several times as he tried to find the right way to position his weight on his feet. He fell in nearly every direction at least twice before he managed to discover a way to balance while carrying everything. Spots moved slowly at first, tentatively taking crouched steps making sure he kept his balance. After taking about ten paces forward, he tried backwards and sideways as well. Once the Dorin was comfortable with moving in every direction he tried moving faster. Again, he fell. Frustrated, he started over from the beginning.

The process of walking and falling continued for an infuriating amount of time. Eventually, he resigned himself to walking while crouched at a slightly slower pace than he had hoped for. Once he had decided to quit trying to walk faster, Spots began trying to add an occasional thrust of his spear whilst he moved. As he expected, he fell over once again. The learning process seemed to involve a lot of the young Dorin losing his balance. Apparently, that seemed to be what the Legion wanted him to learn: balance. Balance, so it seemed to the Dorin, was one of the most crucial things in combat next to physical conditioning.