Not bad

I admit, going to Anvilmar I was ready for quite a bit of pig-grazing and floor-sweeping. I can't do anything besides some basic mechanic things that go “boom” and waving wooden sword frantically. But as I always knew, the less you expect the better you feel afterwards.

There were not almost any training per se, but people in charge saw that I'm not a baby who can't stand her ground. I told them about my... distrust for purely intellectual exercises, so they got me a job that has thicken my muscles and steadied my hands. Daggers I hold are no more valuable by itself but rather are instruments like my spanner or pick.

I slashed wolfs, I eviscerated boars and troggs, I stroke until my body ached. But I am no clumsy pretty gnome any more. I hold my balance, I see weaknesses in my opponents, I have got tools to exploit these weaknesses. Far from perfect, of course — I need strength to put in my strikes, I need fair constitution to hold longer against my enemy, I need expertise to hit more reliably. I need to use «I» less.

Anyway, in that time, like 2 months, I outgrew boar-hunting. I'm sent to Lock Modan now where troggs and cobolds are much more a threat than trolls of Dun Morogh who just need a major kick in the nuts besides occasional rogue thining out their ranks.

Cya.