As Gratz was about to hand the still beating heart to Vect a voice shouted out in the back, "WEREWOLVES!! WEREWOLVES FROM THE NORTH!!"
The source of the frantic voice was a wild haired male centaur clutching his chest in an attempt to stop the bleeding from the claw Mark's on his chest.
"To arms," roared Gorg as everyone scrambled to their bunks to arm themselves, "we' got a fight on our 'ands!"
Vect saw Gratz stash the heart back into the portal, "sorry we'll finish this after the werewolves are dealt with," and he rushed off to his cabin.
Vect dashed off the stage to get his gear, meeting his friends in their bunk.
"How long do you think we have," asked Carl as he strapped the leather chest piece to him, careful not to trap his wings.
"My guess is until the screaming starts," replied Beverly sarcastically. Her horn was preventing her from donning the helm she had brought from home, so she angrily tossed it onto her bedding and made certain her quiver was secured.
"Time to see if our training has paid off," remarked Lelu, giving a few experimental punches in her custom bracers. They rushed out to reach the smithy to get weapons. The residents of the camp were darting in every direction. Veterans were setting up spiked poles in roads to act as deterrents and funnel them down certain paths.
Vect pulled out the longsword that he had picked out from the supply of proper weapons, not the training weapons and was still surprised at how easy it was for him to lift it up. Truthfully it did unsettle him at times, although it did have its advantages such as easily using it in one hand as one would use a dagger. He grabbed a second longsword from the pile and gave a few experimental swings. Vect was clad in the roughspun clothing from earlier and grabbed a leather chest piece and bracers. Jack, armed with his kopesh, donned a wide iron belt that covered his bare stomach, the large circular clasp acting like a half breastplate. Sara wore full leather gear and had a hand axe in one hand and a warhammer in the other. Lelu wore only cloth and her custom bracers. Carl and Beverly were using bows and leather armor where they could. Once you've been training as a barbarian for 2 years the skin would become tougher almost like leather, but all the first years were given armour to compensate.
A howl could be heard somewhere beyond the camp to the north. "Sounds like they'll be here in 30 minutes at most," remarked the dwarven blacksmith as he donned his plate armour.
"What's with the armour? Aren't barbarians supposed to not need armour after so many years," asked Vect.
The dwarf began to laugh, "I'm not trained from here lad. I'm from the fighters school south. I just came here to work my craft."
Vect smiled, "I'm glad you're here. These feel well balanced," he gave a few swings with the weapons wishing he had some sort of weight to feel, this feather like weight was getting to him. He considered switching to a greatsword, but the same weightlessness might still be there. "You swing those as though they weigh nothing," the blacksmith remarked while stroking him chin.
"Yeah I feel their weight, but it is like holding a feather to me. You still feel it, but just barely."
"It bothers you. I can tell by your swings."
"Yeah...yeah," Vect nodded slowly.
"Come with me. I might have something for you," he led Vect to a door in the back of the forge. "This is where I keep some of the better things I've made over the years. Most I sell to the caravans or to the students and staff. However, some I keep for reasons, one or another. This," he grunted as he struggled to lift up the wrapped object," is one of them." It measured close to 6 feet long and 3 feet wide, not including the 3 foot long hilt. Vect reached out one hand hesitantly and slowly wrapped his hand around the red leather handle. He tried to lift it up and found he had to put more effort into lifting it. Vect smiled wildly as he grabbed it with both hands and began to lift it. His biceps bulging slightly from the effort. To him it felt like it weighed like a sword should, still lighter than it looked like it should be, but he actually felt some kind of weight when he lifted a weapon. "Thank you," he breathed as he held it up.
"Let's put it to use lad."
They stepped out into the camp and hear a satyr on a roof yell, "3 minutes away."