All around were men and women of all races in training, their focus unbroken by the presence of the large half-Orc who walked among them. Impressive acrobatic feats were being attempted by a group of Elves; their steps light as air as they walked up the smooth white walls of the open dome. Across, a group of humans dodged or caught arrows being shot at them in mid-air, bending this way and that to achieve their purpose.
But it was a black scaled Draar who caught Orlogg’s attention. The solitary figure was posted in front of a training dummy, made from a thick trunk of Bakal wood. The Draar struck the target rapidly, and thick chunks of wood flew around him. After a few minutes more there was a loud crack that echoed about the dome as the wood splintered in half and crashed to the ground. The Draar straightened, inspected his knuckles, and turned to the side where an array of dummys had been lain out.
“My friend, a moment, if you would.” Orlogg strode between a set of sparring monks with a hand raised. The Draar paused and looked at the hooded figure approaching him before grabbing another thick piece of wood and hoisting it effortlessly over his shoulder.
“I can see your quite busy with your training, but I was wondering if you’d like to put some of that power to use.”
“You come to a temple to ask me to engage in violence?” The Draar’s reply came through a thick Northern accent, tempered with clipped consonants.
“Surely, there are no finer warriors than those who train such as yourself.” Orlogg watched as the Draar kicked the remnants of the previous trunk off the stone stand.
“And those who train like I do are not weapons of war.”
~Day 8 of posting Weyard snips~