"For a people who used to favor isolation deep underneath the ground, you might be mistaken to presume the dwarves of the Kingdom Down Under as solemn, quiet, focused people.

That would be a common misconception people made.

The dwarves down under, as they tend to call themselves, were a boisterous bunch, who tend to do everything loudly, whether it be merrymaking, working, or even sleeping, as many of their own fellow citizens would tell you that they migrated above ground because they couldn't stand the snores beneath." - Leigh Wainwrought, Sociology student at the Levain Institute of Higher Learning.

For someone with sharp hearing like Cal, the underground city was not the most comfortable place to be. The local dwarves were a boisterous bunch, as they sang at the top of their gravelly, throaty voices as they drank in the taverns.

Elsewhere, clangs of metal on metal formed a tumultuous symphony with the many other noises of the city. Hawkers yelled out their wares in such loud voices they were hearable even blocks away, and added further to the lively noises of the active city.

Since they were located underground, all the noise also formed an odd echo, which seemed to make the noise come from all angles at once. It was not the most comfortable, but Cal adapted to it pretty quickly. Her nieces seemed to have more difficulty adapting, as they covered their sensitive ears, and Ashani was outright overwhelmed by the noisy atmosphere.

Her blood mage students adapted to their noise surroundings much more quickly, as did Fheeri. It made sense, Cal thought. Levain was a pretty boisterous city in its own way, while Fheeri was raised amongst the goblin tribes, where there was rarely a time without noise.

At the moment, the four of them stood around with some local youths - dwarves under a hundred years of age, whose beards were usually pretty sparse still - and enjoyed themselves over tankards of ale as they took turns throwing axes at a target on the far wall.

Axe-throwing remained a common pastime for the Alcidean dwarves. While their militaries strongly favored crossbows of various sorts - from massive arbalests and windlasses most other races would not be able to use at all, to rapid-fire repeating models - it was not uncommon for dwarven soldiers to hurl axes at their opponent as they charged.

Like the elves, the dwarves were blessed with long arms, which made them particularly suited for throwing weapons. Whereas the elves maintained that tradition though, the dwarven military doctrine had shifted to oversized crossbows only made usable by their large, strong arms.

The axes they used were slightly odd designs. Made entirely of metal, they had short, curved handles, with a forward-heavy curved axe blade that was slightly balanced by a back spike and short blades on either end of the handle. It was a design clearly meant to hurt the recipient no matter the angle they were struck with.

Willa and Ognar proved hopelessly bad at it, with their throws not even hitting the target ten meters away. To be fair, Willa never trained with ranged weapons, and while Ognar was a decent shot with a bow like most orcs, he was similarly unskilled with throwing weapons.

Giselle did somewhat better, as her throws at least landed on the target, if on the outskirts more often than not. She had practiced with throwing knives since she saw Cal use them, and was decent with them. The odd shape and weight distribution of the dwarven axes messed with her aim quite a bit though.

"And that's a twenty!" Said one of the young dwarves, her beard still mostly in scruffy patches on her chin, as she landed her throws right on the target's center mass. "Unless yer buddy can outdo that, girlie, drinks all on ye tonight!"

They had wagered the night's drinking bills on the game, it had seemed. Cal had nothing against that. A sense of competition was always good to have, and besides, at worst her students would learn some humility why treating dwarves to drinks was a painful idea for wallets everywhere.

Their little contest seemed simple enough. Various parts of the target were marked with different values, and the best two results from five throws were counted as someone's score. Highest score after four people from each side threw wins.

At the moment, Cal's students trailed with a measly seven to the young dwarves' twenty point. Then it was Fheeri's turn to throw. The therian girl took one of the axes, carefully balanced its heft on her hand, and gave it a playful toss into the air before she caught it again.

Then she hurled the throwing axe with a wide, toothy grin. The axe flew and imbedded itself deep into the very center of the humanoid target's forehead, a location worth fifteen points, to the surprised gasps and cheers of the spectators.

But Fheeri was not done.

She took two more axes, held one in each hand as she gave them a spin to get a feel of their weight and balance. Then she drew her arms back and hurled both at once. Each one struck the kidney region of the target, worth eight points, to more raucous cheers.

For the last two axes, she took a moment to center herself, her predatory eyes transfixed on the target ten meters away. Then she took a deep breath, and reared back. The area of the tavern near her went silent for a moment, until she threw the axes.

Each one landed precisely by the blade on their handles in the eyes of the target, the only way to strike only that narrow region without touching its surroundings. The spectators went silent for a moment, then exploded into hollers and cheers.

"That's fifty points, no?" said Fheeri as she patted the young dwarf's shoulder as she passed by. The toothy grin never left her face all that time, as the dwarf stared slack-jawed at the target. "Methinks the drinks are on you tonight."