[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/f1f21e70-f164-4365-aecc-8ba82a58476c.png[/img][/center] [b][color=265828]Time:[/color][/b] Morning [b][color=265828]Location:[/color][/b] River [b][color=265828]Interactions:[/color][/b] Rowan [@GingerBobOh] [b][color=265828]Mentions:[/color][/b] None [b][color=265828]Equipment:[/color][/b] Longsword and Plate Armor[hr] [color=265828]"Rough."[/color] Barrock replied plainly to the mention of Rowan's participation in the dark elf war. It was the most sympathy he didn't think he'd be giving out to a random stranger, but being one himself, albeit not really participating for any righteous fervor, he knew firsthand life at the other end of a spearpoint. But it was somewhat undercut by him just forgetting Barrock's name just after he just announced it. [color=265828]"Barrock."[/color] He gritted his teeth to conceal his annoyance, but left a very curt response to it. Rowan proceeded to retreat further into the clearing after offering Barrock an opportunity to join his 'warm-up'. The orc's eyebrows perked. Warm-up huh? Was he just offered an opportunity to fight? A reasonable justification? With natural vigour giving rise inside him, Barrock looked at where Rowan had left him. Grabbing the blade near him along with his belongings, the Orc followed the footsteps. The clunky footsteps catching up with the light elf matched his growing skepticism that slowly caught up with his hotheaded desire for combat. The elf wasn't offering a spar, was he? Seeing the elf practicing alone, that seemed quite likely. God damn it... Now that he showed up, he could not simply chicken out now. Barrock kept a bit of composure as he dropped his belongings on the ground with the same energy as a little girl trying hard not to sit on the flower she loved. He did get a bit of calm back after grabbing hold of his blade though. It would simply be a training session, that's all, just with this guy here to watch. The Orc's form was one of might, but at the same time exuberating a great degree of calm and self-control. The long hilted, long bladed sword often came close to a mighty swing that would have sliced through any weak material in its way, but it would stop and switch directions with great agility. Often, as he was yet to get used to having a partner-of-training. Normally he would be a lot more precise.