Basic Forms (open to all who want it)

The only thing that kept Ibram from falling over in a heap was his spear. He clutched to it, his sinews standing out white.

"You've all done very well today. This is the end of the lesson, but that doesn't mean that you're masters yet. However, as far as I can see you all are proficient enough to practice on your own. Make sure that you do so."

No doubt that. Ibram tried to stand up more rigidly and forced himself to breathe when the instructor passed him. Although his lungs were screaming pain. He wanted to pant.

"You all have potential. I don't know if I'll personally be teaching you another class, so good luck in the days ahead. You're all dismissed."

"Tree's lu...luck to you...Master T-Talavin." Only now Ibram noticed how dry his throat was, it seemed to him. Looking at the gal and the one she'd parried, he thought he wasn't that much worse off than those two.

Collecting himself and his spear, he dragged himself off, sleep in mind. Instead, he marched off to the canteen, his growling belly in mind. The sun was still shining, and to Ibram it seemed that the shadows hadn't even lengthened that much.

No surprising...