“When you address me, the first words or last words out of your mouth will be Drill Sergeant. You will then ask your question and resume the position of attention. Is that clear?” Bidlack asked in his just shy of a yell voice. The gold dwarf stiffly walked back to stand in line with the other three.

“Dude, why are you so loud?” The human who had been in my room asked in a voice that dripped with a southern accent.

Bidlack’s head tracked to the side like a tank’s main gun acquiring a target. He stalked over to stand in front of the leather and shield armored human. “I’m sorry, could you repeat yourself, trainee?” He asked in a calm sounding voice.

“I said, why are you so loud? We’re right here. We can hear you.” The human said, raising his shield a bit defensively.

Bidlack’s stiffened fingers punched him in the throat. The tall, blonde human instantly started choking and leaned forward. The Drill Sergeant grabbed his flowing locks and brought the human’s head down onto his knee. His nose crushed and he dropped to the ground, moaning and covering his face with his hands.

“THE FIRST WORDS OR LAST WORDS OUT OF YOUR MOUTH WILL BE DRILL SERGEANT. Do you maggots understand me?” Bidlack roared.

I’m not sure how I got here, but I recognized this hectoring from my long ago stint in basic training. “Yes, Drill Sergeant.” I yelled amid a varied chorus of agreement.

“I have the unenviable task of crafting you civilian maggots into killers and I WILL do it if it kills you. This is instructor Falaise.” He pointed to the diminutive sea elf. “She is your spell instructor.” The sea elven woman took a single step forward and nodded.

“This is Instructor Goldo.” He pointed to the Gold Dwarf. “He is your combat instructor.” The gold dwarf took a step forward as the sea elf took a step back. He nodded and stepped back.

“This is Instructor Stethyr.” Bidlack pointed to the midniss sauroid. “He will be your skills instructor.” Stethyr stepped forward and nodded, which moved his head a long way with that long serpentine neck. It looked like he was grinning but I figure that’s just the way his fangs rest. He stepped back into line.

“This is Instructor Nills.” The drill sergeant pointed to the tall human with the pointed goatee. He stepped forward and bowed with a flourish. “He is your fortune instructor.” Nills stepped back into line.

“We will begin with combat training. You will form two lines and proceed in an orderly fashion to the room at the far end of this hallway.” He gestured to the right using knife hand. “Move out.”

I started walking the way he directed. A handful of people followed me. Pausing next to the big, blonde guy, I picked him up. It felt like he weighed a ton, until he started leaning on my shoulder. Then his weight was entirely manageable. The height difference between the two of us was nearly two feet, which meant he leaned WAY over.

Drill Sergeant Bidlack turned back to the group of instructors. “Instructor Falaise, will you please render these broke down recruits into a suitable physical condition for training?”

“Yes, Drill Sergeant.” Falaise said loudly in a voice that seemed more designed for a library. She darted ahead of me and turned to the blonde on my shoulder. Quickly chanting some indistinguishable words, her hand glowed gold. The tiny elven woman patted the big man on the shoulder then darted to the pile up the hallway.

“Wha…” The blonde shook his head. “What happened?”

“You got your ass kicked, friend.” I grinned at him. “Let’s go line up so it doesn’t happen again.”

Instructor Falaise ran over to the pile of humans and the ogre Bidlack had thrown out into the hall. The dwarf was already standing, wide eyed with a horrified look on her face. The spell instructor kneeled down beside the groaning people.

She put a hand on the ogre’s shoulder and said something. He stopped moving. Putting another of the small webbed hands on the throat of the middle human whose legs had give out, she sighed. “Drill sergeant, this recruit is dead.”

“Excellent. We won’t have to waste time on that one.” Bidlack said without missing a beat. “Everyone into the training room! Move!”

The three instructors on the other side of the hallway started moving forward. With a word or a shove, they scooted the trainees ahead of them. Blondie and I eased around the dead trainee and kneeling spell instructor. She chanted and more of the golden light came from her hand, healing an obviously broken leg from the human who had been on the top.

The felinoid woman who had been in my room when I came to consciousness was walking behind us and stared at the dead human for a long time. I noticed she had a dagger in each hand with curved blades coming from the handle through her fingers. As we edged against the wall to give the instructor and trainees room, she just kept staring at the corpse.

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The hallway opened into a large, high-ceilinged room all of dressed gray stone. It seemed about the size of a basketball court, with training gear against the wall on the two long sides. Tapestries of a gender and raceless figure demonstrating various weapon forms covered the two narrow walls, including the one our hallway pierced.

Bidlack moved the first two trainees to arrive into position on the right side of the room, one behind the other. The first one was a human with a gnome about three feet to his rear. “You are first squad leader.” He said to the human, who looked vaguely Asian. “You are second squad leader.” Bidlack said, pointing to the gnomish woman, who nodded.

The cat lady from my room walked up behind the Drill Sergeant. With a snarl, she thrust both dagger blades into his kidneys. Are at least she tried. They each skirled off his skin, barely penetrating his chain mail armor.

Bidlack turned and looked at his lower back, then at the recruit with one eyebrow lifted. He raised his right hand and put it in front of her face, forefinger waving back and forth. “That’s very bad behavior, recruit.” Then he punched her, caving in her feline nose.

“There’s a very important thing to remember, trainees!” Bidlack announced loudly, as he kicked the cat girl in the side, sliding her across the floor. “Do you recall the portion of your character creation where it said Zeroth Level Creation?”

There was an awkward silence. The felinoid was balled up around her side, both paws holding her smashed face. “Answer me recruits. Do you remember that?” He strolled over and kicked her again.

A chorus of general assent replied to the Drill Sergeant. One or two of us yelled, “Yes Drill Sergeant!”

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU RECRUITS. DO YOU REMEMBER UNDERGOING ZEROTH LEVEL CHARACTER CREATION ABOUT TEN MINUTES AGO?” Bidlack roared, hands on hips, standing over the curled up and moaning cat girl.

The entire group thundered back, “Yes, Drill Sergeant!”

“Very good.” He said in a conversational tone of voice. “Now this is something to keep in mind.” He walked towards us, leaning over as if confiding a secret. “I am not zeroth level.” He paused, letting that soak in. “Your instructors are not zeroth level.”

Instructor Falaise ran over to the felinoid, kneeling down, and that golden glow came from her hands again. The woman’s smashed nose popped back out in place and she gasped, able to take a full breath again. The other instructors herded the trainees out into the room.

“There is NOTHING you can do to hurt us.” Drill Sergeant said. It was quiet as he walked over to the cat girl struggling to her feet. The only sound was the tap of his highly polished boots on the stone of the marching surface. “Tell the class trainee, can we hurt you?” He asked, leaning over the felinoid.

She spat in his face. He backhanded the recruit, knocking her to the floor. Bidlack cocked his head to the side. Smokey the Bear hat solidly in place as he stood over the felinoid. Drill Sergeant kicked her in the face. One of the cat girl’s fangs broke off and blood streamed from a cut in her cheek. The rest of the class stood there, shocked into silence.

“You’re all gamers. Who knows the spell Skin of Stone?” Bidlack turned his back on the bleeding trainee.

The gnome, who was second squad leader, raised her hand about halfway. “You, do you recognize the name of the spell?”

“Yes, Drill Sergeant.” She said tremulously. “It hardens the skin, making it so only massive damage can cut it.”

“Correct! All your instructors currently have Skin of Stone active. There is nothing you can do to inflict pain on us.” Bidlack said, hands clasped behind his back.

He paced back and forth while the instructors shivvied everyone into something like a rectangle. Four lines of roughly twelve each. All of us were around three feet from the nearest trainee. Instructor Falaise chanted and healed the cat woman again. She stood up shakily.

Bidlack walked over to her, looking her in the eyes for a moment. The felinoid was slightly taller than the human but much slimmer build. “Now, tell the platoon. Can we hurt you?”

The woman growled, showing her magically healed teeth. Drill Sergeant’s pitiless black eyes looked at her, showing as much emotion as a lizard. “Yes, Drill Sergeant.” The felinoid hissed.

“Very good. Get into line.” He directed her towards the platoon’s loose formation. She slunk over and got into line, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

“Now, if I were training you to be soldiers in my beloved Army you’d learn how to stand at attention and march. That isn’t what we’re doing. You are being trained as killers. So today you’ll learn now to roll with a punch. Each squad fall out and fall in on an instructor.” Drill Sergeant told us.

I was in third squad. The three others from my room were all there with me. We were directed to gather around the Gold Dwarf Combat Instructor. He motioned for us all to squat down.

There was me, the big human, the small elf woman with webbed fingers and the stubborn cat woman. From other rooms there was an elf, ears flat back against her head, an ogre, a gold dwarf woman and one of the little birdlike lizardmen. One of the big cobra-like lizard people stood with a male elf with black hair, a gnome with a long moustache but short shaved beard and another human who looked vaguely of Arabian descent.

“Okay, who here has been in a fight?” Instructor Goldo asked. I raised my hand as well as the female elf and birdlike lizardman. Goldo smiled, showing his quartz looking teeth. “You put up a pretty good fight when I grabbed you.” He said, looked at me.

“That was you?” I instantly got angry, then quelled it. No purpose was served in acting angry now, but I did remember that factoid.

“Yeah. All the instructors took part in the recruitment drive.” He did air quotes with his fingers around recruitment drive. “Anyway, break up into pairs. This is how you take a punch.” His huge dwarven hand hit me in the face at half speed.

“Not like that.” He said when it splatted my nose. “Roll with it.” He wanted to go again but I was bleeding pretty bad. “Dammit, I forget how fragile all of you are.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to me.

We spent the rest of the day learning how to roll with a blow and give one. Balance is key, power comes from the hips. Rotate the body and extend the hand THROUGH the target. Don’t take a hit square, give with it. Allow the force to flow through you, don’t stop it with your chin.

We kept training until deep in the night. They brought us preserved food to eat. Mine was a leather wallet stuffed with smoked meat and fat. It had some really tasty crunch bits. By the later meal I was too tired to taste anything. When we were finally allowed to stop, I stumbled onto my bunk, so tired I could hardly breathe.