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3.8

"A sword." Clint replies.

She grabs a sword from a rack of an assortment of weapons throwing it in the air. It soars for a moment then smacks the floor skidding to a stop near Clint's foot, hilt first. Clint picks it up testing the weight. It was very front heavy, not very balanced, not like a real sword. The blade is dulled blunt with a few nicks running up the sides from abuse.

"I have a preference for axes." She draws not one, but two hand axes then spins each axe separately in a flourish.

Clint wasn't very impressed and stayed in an almost unguarded stance, sword down at his side pointed down.

The flourishing continued and ramped up and then became more ridged. In a battle cry, Errna gripped her hand axes and dashed forward towards Clint to close the distance.

She raised her hand axes above her head as if to fell the immobile Clint in a series of downward swings.

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Clint though was ready for the telegraphed swings sidestepping with ease. Like his moniker, he lifts his sword and points it towards the turning dwarf's face.

Mid back swing with her hand axes she notices the blade an inch away and she has to stumble back losing momentum and speed.

Clint steps forward and raises the long sword in two hands and brings it down on the flustered dwarf who falls dropping one of the hand axes to catch herself from falling.

The other handaxe is battered away and Clint steps on the other and points again.

Errna looks past Clint at the middle aged man "I thought you said he was a new guy."

"He's new to the house." Willson says sarcastically.

"The fools mouth casts gold and silver, but when it opens only words come out"

"What?"

"Ye daft?" She begins mumbling in Dwarvish "Using me like a guinea pig, Go choke on a plump helmet.."

"That's not very lady-like." Clint comments in Dwarvish.

"Come talk to me again when one of us is drunk." She turns cherry red in frustration. "You owe me a beer later Willson!" She huffs and walks to the changing room.