Gilreg was breathing hard. His wounded ribs hurt, and his arms were shaking from fatigue. It’s been ages since he trained with Zaploc. The old warrior had his hut and training space higher up in the mountains, where the air was thinner and colder. His place overlooked the entire village and afforded a clear view of the path that led out toward the Wastelands.
Right now, the grizzled old goblin was swinging a two-handed club at Gilreg. The younger goblin raised his shield and absorbed the attack. His arm shook and became numb. The heavy blow nearly knocked the warrior to his knees as he stumbled. A second blow from a different angle immediately followed. This time Gilreg feebly attempted to raise his shield but was too late. The attack struck a glancing blow across his right shoulder, and he fell to the floor.
“No, no, no! Don’t absorb the blows with the shield. Catch and deflect, then attack!” Zaploc exclaimed.
The shield was round and could easily cover one-half of Gilreg’s body. It was flat, except at its center was a round metal boss that protruded a few centimeters from the surface. The handle was a long piece of wood that ran along the middle of the back of the shield. Gilreg’s gripping hand was protected by the metal boss. Currently, his hand holding the shield was numb and weak from the hours of training.
“This is not a strap-on shield that some ridiculously armored adventurers carry. Where they just absorb blows,” the old warrior explained as he extended his hand to help Gilreg to his feet.
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“This shield allows you to deflect attacks by bending your wrist. You can also align it along your forearm and strike with the edge by punching,” Zaploc continued.
“My arm is tired!” Gilreg whined, which awarded him a thump on the back of his head. A reminder of the long grueling days of training he had with the old master during his younger days.
Jogging up the steep mountain path to Zaploc’s compound were a dozen young goblins. All of them were breathing hard from the climb. The largest barely coming to Gilreg’s shoulder. Seeing them brought a moment of joyful sadness to the warrior as he recalled his days of being that same young warrior with Shannoc and Tulnok. Gilreg painfully rose to his feet and started to walk off the dirt and rock training yard.
“Where do you think you are going?” Zaploc snarled.
Gilreg paused with a questioning look at his old instructor.
“FORM UP!” Zaploc roared, and the young goblins moved into ranks. Gilreg stood confused.
“You heard me, you pile of Grubsnot! I said FORM UP!” Zaploc screamed at Gilreg. The warrior immediately complied, falling in line with the others.
Inwardly, Gilreg groaned in misery, but he dared not show it. He had already spent the entire early morning training the shield. Now he will have to do a whole second session with the younglings? Zaploc ordered them to begin their morning calisthenics. Gilreg fell into the routine as if he never stopped it. It came quickly to him, and as his muscles ached and his lungs burned, the sad memory of his recent loss faded away.