Training in Prayer

[Wizzar 613]

Spoiler

 

 

 

Worship

 

The young, broad-shouldered Adunian marched outside Cartref Mor with a battered wooden sword in his heavily calloused hands.  Dark clouds swallowed the sun, painting his surroundings in gray. Aonghus’ dull eyes focused solely on taking him towards the training field where his usual wooden victim awaited its next beating. As the young warrior positioned himself in front of the dummy, he gripped the wooden sword with both of his scarred and bruised fingers. Aonghus placed the weapon at his side, positioning one leg in front of the other. Without hesitation he began his training, entering a trance he had grown all too familiar with.

 

 

 

The young Adunian’s body melodically struck at the statue, his mind a spectator to his own performance. This soul-like spectator focused on the form before him, specifically the veins etched across his newly-developed muscles. Cuts, bruises, and scars sprawled across his arms from all of his hard work. After a short while, his mind lost focus on his body, escaping towards deeper thoughts of his people, of the Ancestors, and of God. 

 

The near black clouds grew thicker overhead, the sound of thunder reverberated across the keep. Rain bucketed down, quickly soaking the training Adunian and his surroundings. Blood dripped from an open blister that washed away onto the dirt with the rain. However, Aonghus was no longer present with his physical form, his mind lost in thought and prayer as his body danced about the field.

 

Praying was a new practice for the youthful Adunian. His first attempts at any spiritual connection was fruitless as he kneeled within the walls of the keep. Instead, he found success here, in a quasi-ritualistic dance with a wooden statue. As Aonghus developed his body, he felt his mind grow stronger, his connection to the Ancestors, to Elendil, growing deeper. What started as worship became an obsession, the Adunian wanted to, needed to, become stronger to achieve his purpose. 

 

 

 

And so, Aonghus continued his training until the storm slowly faded. The sun peeked through the sky, its light exposing his exhausted figure. In a sluggish motion, his sword connected with the center of the dummy and splintered into two. The young warrior looked down at his broken instrument, its handle stained with his blood. He will continue his worship after a day’s rest.