<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/IWP1F5P.jpg)</div>Name: Alric Dorn<br/>Location: Campus Grounds<br/>Tagging: Open<br/><hr/><br/>"Cardassians have no honour." Dorn heard the words and turned to face the Klingon that spoke them. This Klingon was a typical example of the males of the species, and Dorn was not versed in Klingon physiology to sufficiently grasp any features that may have made him unique. The Klingon had a human male to his left, and a Bajoran male to his right. The human male looked somewhat uncomfortable but Dorn deduced that peer pressure was at work; he understood almost instinctively that while the human may not have wanted to be party to what was about to transpire he was there nevertheless because loyalty to the peer group demanded it. The Bajoran's presence required no explanation to anyone with at least a passing understanding of the history of Bajor during the previous few decades.<br/><br/>"They don't even know the meaning of the word. They're all cruel, heartless monsters incapable of compassion or empathy." The Bajoran said with an extremely caustic inflection that seemed entirely unearned. The Bajoran was not old enough to have personally experienced the occupation, only post-occupation propaganda. But it seemed that diet had consisted of many rich meals, and Dorn found that the Bajoran regarded him with a hatred so raw and naked that even he could not fail to see it.<br/><br/>The human shifted his weight uncomfortably, and might have said something, but did not out of fear of censure from his friends. Dorn wrote the human off as a threat. He began to look more closely at the Klingon and Bajoran, and was quickly able to determine that neither were armed. There was a quiet sense of relief at that; he almost expected the Klingon to be carrying at least some sort of dagger. With that fact in mind, Dorn raised himself, puffed out his chest, and threw his shoulders back. The Klingon instinctively understood the body language and responded in kind, but Dorn was taller and several kilograms heavier; though this hardly put things in Dorn's favour as he lacked the peculiar Klingon adaptations towards physical durability.<br/><br/>"Then I am certain that you have come to rectify this failing. Surely you have such honour that you would only approach me like this to make a public instruction on the matter of honour. I cannot imagine that honour would permit any less." Dorn said in a confident voice, staring the Klingon in the eyes as he spoke. "And in public, everyone can be assured of the integrity of your honour! If you had approached me, alone in my quarters, then there might have been a shadow of doubt laid over your honour. Your friends here are no doubt part here so that they too may benefit from this lesson in honour." Dorn continued, and the Klingon shifted uncomfortably as Dorn's point made its way home. Three on one was not honourable, and he was aware that there were eyes upon them due to the public nature of their encounter. The Klingon glowered, and grunted. But it seemed like he was going to back down, the seed of doubt planted and seeming to take root.<br/><br/>But then the Bajoran salted the earth.<br/><br/>"He's using words to confuse you! He's afraid of you, and he's trying to avoid fighting you by trying to make you think it'd be dishonourable to fight!" The Bajoran said in a low hiss, grasping the sleeve of the Klingon's uniform. The Klingon's eyes widened, and his nostrils flared. The Klingon looked at Dorn in a new light as the human dropped his face into his palms.<br/><br/>"You cur!" The Klingon said, and threw a swift left hook that Dorn only barely blocked in time. It was followed by a pair of fast right jabs, and Dorn was on the defensive. The Klingon's fists flew with speed, but it was clear that if any of them hit they had bone-rattling power behind them. Dorn was forced to divide his attention between the Klingon and the Bajoran as the latter kept trying to move into Dorn's blind spot. Dorn knew as soon as he lost sight of the Bajoran, the Bajoran would act. The division of focus soon proved to be Dorn's downfall as a thundering haymaker landed on Dorn's side, knocking the breath from the Cardassian. The loss of breath was soon accompanied by a loss of equilibrium as the Bajoran lashed out with a vicious kick to the back of Dorn's knee, utterly devastating the Cardassian's vertical base and sending him quickly to the grass.<br/><br/>The Klingon spared no time in taking advantage of this, because surely there was nothing more honourable than victory. The Klingon straddled Dorn's chest and began to strike the Cardassian's face unmercifully.<br/><br/>"Yeah! Get the spoonhead!" The Bajoran called out, throwing his fists in the air in triumph. Other students were gathering around to watch the fight, and there were murmurs that someone should alert academy staff but the bystander effect was in full force.<br/><br/>Dorn threw a few punches, but they seemed to have little effect on the raging Klingon; they lacked the full power that they might have had due to Dorn's disadvantageous position. Instead Dorn resorted to striking a nerve cluster. It did not require as much force, only precision. Dorn was not entirely successful, but his efforts did force a roar of agony from the Klingon that saw the fierce male roll away and come up to his knees.<br/><br/>"That's quite enough of that." Came a sharp, authoritative voice. A gold-shirted human, accompanied by several others clad in similar uniforms, had arrived to break things up. The human looked around, taking careful note of the face of every student, many of whom were now wilting and shrinking away. "Now, what brought all this on, hmm?"<br/><br/>"This Cardie provoked my friend with his . . . his Cardassianess!" The Bajoran said, pointing an accusatory finger at Dorn. "You know how they are: so smug, so snake-like."<br/><br/>The goldshirt nodded. "It's true. I've found against Cardassians on several occasions and I've learned all too well how duplicitous and insidious they can be." The goldshirt clasped his hands behind his back. "But they usually don't pick fights they can't win. The typical Cardie M.O. is to attack with overwhelming force; one Cardie against a Klingon and his friends just doesn't seem right." The goldshirt shook his head.<br/><br/>Dorn moved to a sitting position and wiped blood from a broken lip onto his sleeve. He was breathing heavily and didn't say anything in his own defense.<br/><br/>The goldshirt inhaled slowly. "All of you better find something better to do than stand around gawking. Those of you with a profound lack of imagination will be given something to do if you are still standing on my beloved grass by the time I can count to five." He said to the gathered crowd. The students quickly, at least, found sufficient imagination to image themselves being idle somewhere else and cleared out. The Klingon, Bajoran, and human were gathered up and brought before the goldshirt. "As for you three . . . you don't want to cause trouble on the first day. I suggest you go and acquaint yourself with the gym if you've all got so much energy to burn off. Trust me, though, if you've still got enough energy to get into mischief by the time your first week's done I will personally find your instructors and make them double your workload. Now get!" And the three walked off at a decent clip. The Bajoran turned and gave Dorn a look of daggers in parting.<br/><br/>Dorn remained where he was. The goldshirt walked up to the Cardassian, and conspicuously didn't offer a hand to help Dorn up. "As for you . . . try not to be such a damned Cardie." He said with quiet disdain that spoke to the sort of darkness wartime can leave upon the human psyche. Then the goldshirt and his band walked away, leaving Dorn to recover on his lonesome from the beating.