Closed Only the Strength of his Arm

[Whimsy]

Timestamp to be decided by the player.

For one with such pride in his race and his people, Garron Strongarm dwelled apart from the rest of the Strongarm family. Occupied within his own private residence, his family could not reach nor trouble him here, not without taking a special detour to visit one of the younger of his family. But that was rare, and his hearth was quiet, and in a brief respite from the gruelling training of the Coglias, Garron rested. It was near the nineteenth bell. The night would be creeping out over Kalea. Inside the mountains of the Isur, it was always Time: not night, nor day, just a series of bells that clanged resoundingly through the caverns.

The Isur was still young for his age: just joined the city guard, with a fierce devotion to his people and his temple of his body, the Isur had a strong will and was focused on his training. His family dwelled apart, following their own paths. And yet the pride of the family was his elder brother, having joined the Hammers years ago. Garron may have had ambitions to do the same, but ambitions were never as concrete as success.

On that night, in his sunrise years, Garron would hear a strong rapping at the door. An Isur could knock with his iron fist loud enough to raise the dead. When Garron should open it, an unusual sight would greet him.

Two of his peers from the city guard stood outside his door, both from Coglias clan, both his somewhat friends. Marros and Vertir they were called, both with their own ambitions to rise in the ranks and protect their cities. Both quivering with excitement at the men who stood beside them. Flanking the two stood two men, unknown to Garron, but instantly recognisable, with their leather breastplates and their crest, a hammer imprinted on the material. Two of Izurdin's Hammer stood outside Garron's doorway.

"Garron Strongarm," the Hammer on the left would say, before Garron could speak. His voice was deep, low, gravelly. "We have spoken to the city guard and heard you are a young Isur of discipline, hard work, and most importantly, strength. Would you agree?" They would remain silent waiting for a response. His two friends from the guards practically buzzing with excitement. The Hammers standing strong and still and silent.
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[Garron Strongarm Coglias]

23rd of Fall, 503 AV When Garron was at rest, he was not simply idle. It was understandable after such training conditions the Strongarms put themselves through that many if not most would just want to collapse and remain that way for bells, reveling simply in the feeling of nothingness that came along with not having to exercise anymore. Garron was similar, he did not spend even more time wasting what energy he had left, but he was not truly idle. In between bouts of extreme activity, the young Isur would go in the opposite direction: try hard to do nothing at all save breathe. Meditate. He sat on his small bed, facing away from the wall, and breathed deeply. His eyes were closed, his legs were crossed in a comfortable yet compact position, and his arms were resting in his lap. Slowly, his chest rose as his lungs filled with air, then fell just as slowly as he exhaled. Each time he breathed he tried to empty his mind of all thoughts except one. Whether it was Izurdin’s glory or his dream of being a Hammer or another god to whom he dedicated parts of his life to, he tried to forget all but one, if only for a moment. Casting his thoughts from his head was hard, and when he pushed one out another popped into his head. He tried to visualize physically pushing the thoughts away, using his strength to clear his head, but that only brought up memories of training and exercise. He tried focusing on divinity, Izurdin’s glory as a god, but he could not help his mind from wandering towards the other gods to whom he prayed that he may better protect Izurdin’s representation among the Isur. He tried tapping into his driving conviction to protect his people, think of nothing but that urge to defend all, but that led to him elaborating on his people, their architecture and tools, the engineering and smithing, their magic and wrestling. Every time he thought he was making progress that thought just brought in many more. Perhaps this was a waste of time. After all, what could one achieve while thinking of nothing? Garron had no answer to that question when his brother Venos asked it, but he still believed that some good could come of being able to focus one’s mind on a sole purpose. Even though he himself has his drive to protect his people, he could not draw upon that as well with a bunch of other worries and questions tugging at his consciousness. Not to mention that in the heat of battle it was incredibly advantageous that one be able to drown out distractions if need be. Above all though, he felt that being able to quiet all other thoughts while dedicating prayers and feats to the divine would somehow increase his connection with them, as if they would be able to hear him louder. It was completely unfounded, but the sensation remained. Now that he had thought about Venos, he just had to think about Venos some more. Garron sighed, leaning back against the stone wall of his little unit. About twenty years his senior, Venos was like Garron except all grown up and developed. The incredibly bulky Isur that was Garron’s older brother was twice as strong as anyone else from the other clans, proven several times in wrestling matches and arm wars, and was at the literal height of their race’s development, standing at the full five feet record. It was understandable that the younger Garron was slightly shorter, after all he still had a lot of physical development to go through, but it was clear who the superior between them was. Not that Venos mistreated his younger brother or Garron had any reason to dislike his older brother, but it was the dream of the youngest Strongarm to be a part of Izurdin’s Hammer for decades, something that Venos had achieved a few years back. Envy was not the correct word, simply a stronger longing now that his brother had achieved such a high name, just like their mother. Garron, on the other hand, was seeing more of their father, a prominent member of the guard. He’d been with them for a while, which was an understatement, and was quite respected among those who knew of him. The young Isur was pleased to be a part of those protecting the Coglias clan and was happy to see his father more often, but when held against the Hammers it just didn’t compare as well. Never mind that Garron was still incredibly young by a lot of Isurian standards, all that was important was that he wasn’t yet able to join Izurdin’s Hammer, which in his mind made him inadequate to fulfill what he felt was his goal in life. There was a loud knock on the door. Happy to be pulled from his thoughts, Garron almost jumped up and began moving towards the door. He paused before he got there though, remembering to go over to the table to pick up the Strongarm Gauntlets, named for his family. They were part of a full set of armor, four pieces plus a sword and shield that had been passed down from generation to generation within the Strongarms. Family legend told of an ancestor long ago that was actually of clan Terras before marrying into clan Coglias to her husband. Before then she had crafted her greatest life’s work: a complete set of armor with a sword and shield, capable of being used by various sizes. At the moment, each Strongarm had one piece of that complete set, and Garron received the gauntlets for whatever reason. Even though they might not have been the most impressive part of the suit, he was still proud when he slipped them on, the Isurian steel teeth giving off a menacing appearance. He pulled open the door inward, yanking on the solid metal handle, wondering who would be asking for him at this bell. There was no way he could anticipate what he saw. Initially his reaction was to smile and greet his compatriots in the guard. He didn’t know Marros and Vertir very personally, but he knew them fairly well and they were friendly enough when they talked. Before he could say anything however, one of two larger imposing men addressed him, both bearing the mark of the Hammer on their chest and donning the familiar uniform. He didn’t know how he was supposed to react, whether to be excited that he had earned their attention or afraid that they deemed it necessary to come to his doorstep. What he could react to was the words spoken and the question posed. “Yes, I would agree,” Garron answered honestly. He was not a boastful person, but humility was not the same as modesty. There was no such thing as a modest Isur. Looking between his excited comrades and the solemn Hammers, he was unsure of the purpose of this visit. The thought crossed his mind to ask why they wanted to know, but he kept quiet. These two were superior to him and would ask what and however many questions they deemed necessary, and it was not his place to even appear to second guess them. Perhaps it didn’t display much initiative, but there were other ways to display that than asking a Hammer his business.

[Whimsy]

The Hammer on the right smiled slightly at Garron's answer, perhaps a little mockingly, perhaps even judging him for being so assured of his own abilities, but the one who had spoken made no reaction. He simply nodded, his expression as neutral as ever, though perhaps Garron would be able to see that he seemed a little pleased by his answer.

"It is good to know what you are capable of." The pause that followed this seemed as long as the ages, and as deep as the rocks of the Isur. Marros and Vertir still had ridiculous grins plastered over their faces, for a reason that Garron would find out very soon, he supposed. But the Hammer took his time. He was in no rush. The members of the Guard could wait for him to speak. The Hammer on the right, Talos was his name, seemed bored and impatient.

"I am Jarren. My colleague here is called Talos. We've heard briefly of you before, Garron." Another pause. This was an Isur who liked to think on his words carefully, making sure that each sentence he spoke was understandable and to the point. No superfluous words. "Your mother and your brother are both very much respected in the Hammer. You are well aware of their skills in combat, and Venos' aptitude with the new recruits. When Talos and I were tasked with finding members of the Coglias city guard for this mission, your brother recommended you. When we spoke to the city guard, along with your two colleagues here, they said you were a stout-hearted Isur who strove to improve. Yes?" This time, he did not pause, he continued to speak. Jarren was like a slow wind that turned into a tornado: barely there at first, until he steamrolled through.

"There is a caravan set to travel to one of the outlying posts in the Isurian Kingdom. We are to collect lumber and resources for the Kingdom. It will be an easy task, and this is why we are not using up Hammer numbers with this. A proficient member of the guard will do as well." Suddenly, the well dried up. Talos, for the first time, began to speak. His voice was far more nasally than Jarren, and there seemed to be a slight jeer underlying his every word.

"Seeing as the task will be unbelievably simple, you'll do fine, along with these two. Your brother may have mentioned to us your high-climbing ambitions. We may as well get to know you. After all, you need someone to recommend you." The sneer on his face seemed to indicate he did not see much to recommend thus far. Jarren shot Talos a disapproving look, before taking over his leadership role, once again.

"Marros and Vertir have already accepted. Would you like to accompany us?"
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[Garron Strongarm Coglias]

Garron watched the two Hammers react to his answer, disregarding his two guard comrades who still had the same stupidly wide grins plastered to their faces. On the right, the reaction was one of amusement – no, a little too hard-faced for something as gentle as that. Perhaps mockery or superiority? It was of little consequence at the moment, there was nothing that the sickly smiling Isur had said or done worth reacting to. The Hammer who asked the question, to Garron’s left, simply nodded without giving any real expression of positive or negative feedback. As was to be expected, after all they were concerned with much more important things than some guard’s feelings. The silence that stretched out after the Hammer’s sentence might have been felt as uncomfortable to onlookers, but there was nothing uncomfortable about it. Garron nodded his appreciation for the words, and that was all that needed to be done. It was clear the Hammer was collecting his thoughts, and so the passage of time without words was normal. There was nothing for Garron or Marros or Vertir to say, as they were simply guards in the presence of the Kingdom’s defenders, and the Hammer on the right was clearly not the man in charge of… whatever this was. Words would be exchanged when ready, and Garron was patient enough to not fidget or cast his gaze around while waiting, remaining transfixed on the ranking Hammer as was polite and proper. When the Hammer introduced himself and his compatriot, Garron nodded respectfully at being given their names. It surprised him that they had heard his name before, but as Jarren continued after putting his thoughts together the reason became clearer and more obvious. Of course his family would put in a good word for him among their superiors and peers, that was what family should do and that was what any Strongarm would do for any other. Since Yviran was often too busy in her own assignments to find time to talk or stay in Coglias, it made more sense that Venos be the one to mention the youngest Strongarm. Though the extra effort that these Hammers seemed to put into validating his worthiness seemed unnecessary at first, it was soon made clear why they wanted good warriors and were standing on his doorstep. The Strongarm was about to answer that he did indeed strive to improve as had been heard, but then he was cut off by Jarren’s actual request and the reason why they were here. It was not standard procedure to send city guards out on assignments away from the cities, in fact Garron had never heard of the practice before as Izurdin’s Hammer usually took care of it, but he was not one to question their judgment. If they required aid from the cities, then Coglias was the cavern to go to. A caravan headed towards one of the Isurian lumber outposts sounded simple enough, trees weren’t exactly rare and the settlements were often quite close to the citadel entrances. With Hammers patrolling the very borders, Garron could see why the Kingdom’s defenders would not want to pull out troops for something as trivial as this. However, Talos seemed less welcoming than his superior. His words were a mixed bag of sorts, partially saying that they would have no trouble but also partially implying that the reason would be because of the simplicity of the task. Not that Garron minded what was being said, it was not his place to judge or question Izurdin’s Hammer or its members, so he let the potential slights pass and only acknowledged Talos’ closing statement with a nod of agreement, keeping his face expressionless as he returned his attention to Jarren. So that was why Marros and Vertir were so damned excited, they’d already been selected to be Hammer substitutes. Of course, Garron too was quite proud to have been selected personally, as being a substitute Hammer was likely the first step towards becoming a real one. Still, the reason for wanting to go was just as much the obligation to his people and Kingdom as an actual desire to prove himself. The needs of Izurdin and the Isur came above his personal ambition, and that was why he nodded his confirmation. “I will do what is required of me by Izurdin’s Hammer and the Kingdom,” Garron answered, crossing his gauntleted right hand over his chest in a mark of respect that he’d seen his family do every once in a while. He was unsure whether other warriors did it, but it was not so much the gesture that mattered as the meaning behind it. “Thank you for the honor and opportunity, Hammer Jarren.”

[Whimsy]

Hammer Jarren did not smile or nod at Garron's acceptance. His eyes were carefully focused on Garron's expression as he spoke, and the show of respect as he brought his Isurian arm across his broad chest. There were no outward signs of approval, but nor was there any to suggest disapproval.

"I am glad you have accepted," Jarren said, his voice as slow and as deep as the mountains themselves. "It will be good experience for you." His dark eyes looked sideways to his sneering companion, and it was unspoken in the air: it would be an opportunity for the Hammers, as well. After what Garron's brother had mentioned in passing, it only made sense that they would ask this aspiring Coglias to join them.

Talos sighed, the air whistling through his lips. "Very well, then," he said, finally accepting his superior's decision. "Meet us at the Gates of the Highway in two days. We'll travel through the mountain, before we meet up with the caravan at the edges of the forests. From there, we'll move to the outpost. It will perhaps be five days work in total." Jarren spoke once more.

"Bring with you anything you feel you would need for this outing. In two days." Nodding, Jarren brought his hand across his chest as Garron had done earlier, a strange display for one who commanded a higher station than Garron did in life, but one that displayed humility and decency. Turning without another word, he and Talos plodded away, walking from Garron's house back into the Isurian kingdom. Talos looked over his shoulder at the three city guards who still stood at Garron's doorway. Shaking his head, the two disappeared into the Coglias streets.

"Garron!" Finally, Marros spoke. He was six years younger than Garron, and the immaturity showed. "Can you believe they picked us?!" Vertrir stood beside his peers, merely grinning. "I'm going to rush home, start packing tonight. In two days, brother!" Dashing off, Marros and Vertrir left Garron alone.

OOCYou can write Garron in the interim and waiting at the Highway. I will pick the events up from there.
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[Garron Strongarm Coglias]

The young Strongarm was unsure of whether he had pleased Jarren or not, as the esteemed warrior made no reaction to his response. A lack of social history outside his two closest friends meant that Garron didn't have the gift to pinpoint moods and feelings, but a vague instinct told him the Hammer was at the least accepting of Garron's choice. Or so he hoped. Whatever Venos had said to his fellow Hammers, Garron hoped he could live up to it, maybe even surpass it if were possible. As Hammer Talos explained the details of the excursion, Garron remained silent and looked earnestly at the superior warrior, moving only to nod when he had finished. The Hammer's disapproval was clear, but there was nothing Garron could do but hope to prove him wrong in the coming task. When Jarren saluting signaling an end to the conversation, Garron returned the gesture. The two proud warriors then left for whatever duties they had left to perform, just as his two fellows rushed in to fill the gap. Smiling at both Marros and Vertrir as the former had his spurt of energy, the Strongarm only nodded, saying nothing as there was nothing that needed saying. The younger Isur's energy was boundless it seemed, and as they dashed off Garron simply chuckled before returning to his room, where he quickly slid off his gauntlets and replaced them on the table. There was still some weight lifting he could be doing. ----- 25th of Fall, 503AV Standing as still as the mountains themselves, the youngest Strongarm waited patiently at the end of the Stalwart Highway for the rest of the small party that had been assigned the same task. He'd woken up a couple bells earlier that morning to allow enough time to get his training regimen in early before heading off towards Sultros and, beyond that, the Highway. Slung over his shoulder was a small pack filled with enough provisions to last him the entire journey, as well as a couple small and simple weights with which he could practice with during the journey. While they wouldn't offer the same growth to his muscles that his machines would, they would at least help him maintain his current physical state. Syna just began to crest over the top of the Shield now, the stone gateway the only barrier left between Garron and the outside. The day after Jarren and Talos arrived to make the offer, Garron had explained it to his father Mendelir, who wished him goodwill and promised to take care of things with the guards in his absence. Then, that morning, the youngest Strongarm had jogged all the way from his home in Coglias to the city of Sultros and the entire length of the Stalwart Highway, eager to be punctual for the task. If he wanted to set a good impression, he would have to display more than just his strength. In the meantime, he had taken the weights out of his sack and was now using them to keep himself occupied while he waited, lifting them before him to keep up the muscle memory in his arms. The Hammers guarding the Shield left him alone after he explained himself, so now all that was left was to wait for the four others who would be accompanying him.

[Whimsy]

The two Hammers Jarren and Talos had arrived at the Shield long before the keen early-riser, Garron had. They stood in the shadows, behind their brothers in arms who guarded their sacred city from the dangers of the outside world. The Hammers guarding the Shield stayed silent, watching the road silently and with intent. They would do anything for their city. That is what being a Hammer meant: total devotion. Jarren nodded imperceptibly in approval when the young city guard jogged up to the shield, the pack full on his back, before he pulled out his weights and continued to train and stretch his body. Talos sent his superior a sideways glance before shaking his head.

"A city guard, Jarren? Really? If he were one of the Hammers, surely he would have already been accepted into our fold. His brother, after all, is one of us." Jarren looked carefully at Talos, the other Isur's face twisted nastily into a grimace. It was clear that Hammer Talos had a sense of inflated superiority.

"The boy is still young. He has time to train and improve. And his brother spoke incredibly highly of him, as does his mother. This is a chance for us to see him in action. You know that." Talos scowled and looked away from the older Isur. They stayed silent in the shadows, still unseen by Garron as he worked his muscles, and waited for the two city guards. The silence was tense between the two of them.

Not long after, the two younger excitable city guards ran quickly through the Stalwart Highway and, spotting Garron, sprinted towards him. "Garron!!" Vertir cried, he and Marros wearing identical grins. "What did you bring? Are you all packed? Did you have trouble securing your time away with the Guards? As soon as I mentioned the Hammers, they let me go like that!" Marros nodded his head enthusiastically beside him. The two were almost embarrassing, though they were undoubtedly good guards: diligent in their work, taking pride in what they did. Perhaps Garron could excuse their excitability.

Finally, Hammer Jarren and Talos stepped from the shadows, Jarren nodding his head respectfully to the younger Isur, while Talos wore his trademark disdainful expression. "You were all prompt. Very good." Jarren forewent the greeting, getting right into business. "We will be setting off very soon, as soon as the caravan makes its way up the Highway. We're bringing food supplies to a trading post, as well as bringing lumber back to Sultros afterwards. Marros and Vertir, I hope you brought some weights with you?" The two younger Isur nodded bashfully, intimidated in the presence of the warrior. Jarren did not bother asking Garron. He had seen them already.

"While we wait for the caravan," Talos took over, "strap the weights to your legs and arms. You'll be wearing them as a part of your training and development while accompanying the caravan through the mountains. Just because you're on an excursion with the Hammers, doesn't mean you get out of work." While the younger members did so, getting used to the weights, Jarren asked another question.

"Did you have any questions, about the mission or anything we might be doing on this trip?"
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[Garron Strongarm Coglias]

Unaware of his superiors watching from the shadows and conversing about his current state of capability, Garron continued lifting the weights in his hands until Vertir and Marros came running up from the entrance to the Stalwart Highway, continuing to condition his body even as he smiled and listened to them. Both were good young men, very young compared to the majority of the city guards, and their energy was only an expression of their unbridled enthusiasm for their work. Granted, it might have been slightly immature, but immaturity mattered little on the field of battle or on the job even. Only integrity, duty, and honor were important when assigned a task - strength and patience - and both possessed these traits despite their youth. "I brought nothing but supplies to keep me fed and watered," Garron answered, his words thought out and clear in their answer. He did not speak slowly for he was not a slow thinker, but he tended to remain silent until he had an adequate answer, deliberate. Not that the two guards minded, both grinning hugely at him. They were nearly inseparable, which seemed to work well as Marros hardly talked but Vertir talked enough for both. It was just like him to fire off three questions instead of just one, providing his own story for his last while Garron thought out his answers. "Of course I am all packed, I would not have journeyed here were I not prepared. My father made the arrangements for my leave of absence, though there was no argument to the fact I was asked by the Hammers." Looking between the two of them, Garron could sense their bursting energy. They were incredibly excited about this excursion obviously, but also ill-prepared for what that would actually entail. "It is an honor that we of all our brothers and sisters were chosen to accompany Hammers Jarren and Talos on this assignment," Garron began to explain, "but this will not be much different from our usual task. Instead of our city, we will be guarding a caravan that is much more exposed and vulnerable. There is also a good deal more danger out here on the surface than in our home, with winged raiders ready to take advantage of any inadequately protected groups." The young Strongarm breathed deeply, thinking of how to end with a positive - or at least neutral - tone. "Just keep in mind that this is not some pleasure trip. We are performing a serious duty in the service of our people." "Oh we know brother," Vertir replied, nodding vigorously. "We know, it's just so incredibly exciting that we were chosen for this honor. It is bound to look very impressive when we return!" As his head bobbed up and down, Marros' did too, the two Isur in unison almost. So long as they were told, Garron could do no more than hope that they truly understood. His mother spoke of the winged raiders he'd mentioned, called Zith, who would swoop in from the sky and swarm their targets until one was isolated enough to completely surround and tear apart. When his brother joined in telling these stories the tone would often get a lot lighter, but both agreed that while the chance of death for a single Hammer was low there was almost a guarantee that someone would not make it whenever the Zith attacked. They were not meant to be stories to scare away, they were meant to be warnings so that Garron could comprehend better what his future role would be like. The youngest Strongarm was thankful, because he was using those lessons a lot sooner than he thought he would. It was at that time that both Jarren and Talos stepped forward, approaching from the direction of the Shield. Garron finally stopped the exercising of his arms and returned the nod, his head lowering a bit more than Jarren's as a sign of deference. Standing straight and attentively, he listened to all that the Hammer had to say about their mission, the details and the general mission. The question directed at the two younger Coglias excluded Garron, probably because of the fact he was still holding his own weights. At Talos' command, he pulled at the sashes and tied them around his biceps, then pulled out another, smaller set for just this purpose and tied those around his forearms. With all his preparations complete, he looked up at the Hammers, remaining silent at the last prompt for questions since he had none. Vertir did though of course. "How long will it take? When will we be back? Will we stop by any other outposts on the way? When do we start?"

[Whimsy]

Marros and Vertir listened attentively to Garron, as he spoke methodically and intelligently to the pair of them. The two Isur had learned their place well: while perhaps they were more chatty than a great deal of their partners in the City Guard, they knew their place and afforded proper deference to their elders. While Garron was only a few years older than the two of them, it did not mean that they would not listen. With age came experience, and with experience came lessons to be imparted and to grow from. Their visages wore expressions of twin attentiveness, speaking only when Garron had finished.

Marros and Vertir became even more attentive when the two Hammers stepped forth from the shadows; guardians of old they seemed to the two younger city guard, something stepped out of the myths and legends their fathers had told them beside a fire. Garron, perhaps, was less moved by their mythical aura, having two in his family already a part of the Hammers, but that did not affect the awe of the two younger cityguard.

Jarren seemed to almost smile a little, though to Garron that may have just seemed to be a shadow, the idea of a smile rather than a smile itself. So the boy was really very dedicated to training and improvement, as evidenced when he brought out even more weights than before. The constant need for improvement of strength and determination was essential for one of the Hammers. Talos looked less impressed, but the younger Isur were getting used to that by now; focusing mainly on Jarren as the object of their awe.

Vertir, of course, had questions. Jarren was slightly disappointed that Garron did not, one of the more promising of the bunch. His gaze lingered on Garron Strongarm for a moment, before turning to survey the group. "We start, of course, right now. The caravan is lying in the forest just beyond the Shield, not ten chimes walk from here. I cannot say when we will be back, nor precisely how long we will take: if all goes well, perhaps five days in total. The outpost is not far. We will not be stopping by any other outposts." Jarren looked briefly at his compatriot, but when Talos did not seem to indicate a need for any further statements, he pressed on, his voice deepening, imparting something of greater importance.

"I do not know if any of you have ever ventured out onto the surface, but it is an entirely different world to what you are used to. Everything is much brighter, much more exposed. The ground feels different beneath your feet, the air smells different, you hold your body strangely. It is something to be used to, but essential for anyone who wishes to protect our city. For our kingdom is not just sustained underground, but above it, too." He spoke slowly, methodically, emphasising his words. He knew Garron would listen attentively, but he was worried about the two younger Isur. They seemed perhaps a little scatterbrained. Talos stepped forward.

"Very well. Your training continues, you're not getting out of that. We will be jogging to the caravan, and you are to continue your weights exercises while we do so. Follow us." Barely giving the younger Isur a moment to collect their packs and string them onto their back, Talos and Jarren turned and began their jog, their calves flexing as they passed the Shield.

Sunlight streamed overhead. Slowly, stone turned to grass, much spongier beneath their feet. The air was cleaner, colder, less dank: and much, much thinner. Without the fires of the Isur, everything seemed much more bitter, much colder, biting bitterly into their skin, penetrating their bones. Their running would have been affected by the cold, by the changed atmosphere. Winter on the world above was an entirely different affair to the world below.

They jogged in unison, Jarren's eye kept squarely on the three Isur to watch them stretch their arms and chests, the weights strapped to their bodies. Vertir and Marros did not talk, too focused on the rhythmic movement of their running, too affected by the biting cold to be cheery just yet. Ten chimes passed, as promised, the ground barely at an incline - yet - passing under the canopies of forest, before they finally emerged into a clearing. And in this clearing lay an empty caravan, the back uncovered and empty, and two horses strapped to the wood: to lug their cargo back to them.

Taking a moment to regain their breath in the thin air of the mountains, Jarren spoke. "You'll be running and walking alongside the caravan, not riding in it. We want to see how you cope with endurance. You may put your packs in the caravan, though, and keep your weights on. Are you ready to leave?" Silence reigned while the Hammer waited for an answer.

OOCPlease try not to control the NPCs too much. I do, in fact, have plans for them and have certain responses I want them to have. I don't mind you throwing a curveball or two, but try not to control their reactions too much. Thanks! And once again, I am really sorry for this delay.

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[Garron Strongarm Coglias]

As Jarren gave them more information, Garron nodded in understanding and acceptance. While he did not deplore or decry Vertir’s curiosity, the eldest guard’s viewed such questions as unnecessary. In the guards of the city it was always good to know as much as one could before diving into a situation, but that was in the setting of a city. This was much different. They were no longer city guards, or at least not for their immediate purposes: they were soldiers, and soldiers did not question. Only obey. This was the reason behind Garron’s silence. It was not that he did not wish to know more, it was that he did not need to know more. Whether this made him loyal or stupid was irrelevant, he would follow his orders to the letter no matter what that letter was. The Hammer’s warning of the world outside was paid especial attention to by Garron. Having two family members who frequently patrolled and were stationed in the world above, the youngest Strongarm had heard many stories of the place. Stuff called dirt that clung to your feet and shoes, was loose and had green called grass growing from it. He’d seen illustrations of trees and forests in his sister’s books and caught glimpses of wood that they used to build and carve brought to the crafters. The summers were hot and draining, while the winters were cold and biting. Garron had noticed the drop in temperature along the highway, and especially standing here beside the Shield he'd already begun to feel the effects of - what was the word? - weather. There were several curiosities that dug into jim, but he ignored them at the present time. For the task ahead, all he had to know was what to expect and not jow it worked. That would be for later, if he had the time and inclination to inquire further. Going aboveground may not have been a big deal to Garron, at least outwardly, but Marros and Vertir could barely contain their excitement and interest. They would have to reign it in though, as Talos stepped forward and gave them their instructions for the jog to the caravan. Garron had the foresight to prepare while the Hammer was talking, picking up his sack and tying it around his waist and shoulders, so when Talos took off Garron was not caught unprepared and jogged after, finishing up the last knot of his pack before quickly catching up and falling in line behind the Hammer. He swung his arms in time with his steps, wide arcing circles that wld stretch his muscles and burn off the carbs he had eaten some bells before. The Strongarm's legs were brought up to his hips with each step, the common high-knee running drill that was nonetheless effective for strengthening his body. Taking deep breaths and finding a good consistent rhythm, Garron settled into a routine as he jogged towards the caravan. Soon after they left the Shield, the conditions that Hammer Jarren warned of began to take effect. Garron's bare skin felt colder, much greater than what he had felt on the highway. Instinctively he looked to the sky, which he had only just seen in small snippets along the highway, as if contemplating in the clouds the reason for the cold. So vast, so expansive. Far bigger than anything that he had ever seen before, larger than the largest cavern than the Isur could ever dream of building. Wonder filled the Strongarm, and his mouth nearly dropped as his eyes searched the great blue. Everything that his kind did was so structured and planned to grandeur, but the sky... it was just bigger than that. Bigger than any of the planning of the Isur. In its own way, it was magnificent and awe-inspiring. Breaths came quicker as well in this place, Garron for some reason needing to take the extra wind. It wasn’t tiring, but it meant he wasn’t going as fast or as powerfully as he would have liked. This would take some getting used to. Like his younger fellows, Garron did not speak during the exercise, focusing fully on maintaining his strength and fitness. After the ten chimes had elapsed and they drew up alongside the cart, Garron stood and stretched while Jarren spoke, even in rest making sure to push his body. The Strongarm nodded once, eager to get underway and see more of this surface world. Though he was still adjusting, there was so much more to see. He may have been a soldier at that moment, but even a soldier could be interested in the lands he was traveling through.