Like finding the volunteers, first and foremost.
He rolled his shoulders, and his armor plates came out. The metallic bone emerged from his skin and covered his shoulders to prepare for battle. He held his weapon up. The light glistened off the metal blade, and he knew he'd gotten the blade properly treated and sharpened.
On the mat, he took his position. His opponent, Stron, met him in the center, ready to fight.
"Engaging early," Stron said.
Khalzin nodded. "Wanted to get ahead of others." He glanced at the doorway. Others were starting to come into the training room for exercise.
Khalzin wasn’t the only Gol-Vett that used these training rooms. Stron was another, but many males in his generation would come to the training halls and work.
Stron was taller and thinner but incredibly strong. His plates wrapped over his shoulders, the markings curved down his arms.
Khalzin had always thought that Stron's boning pattern was unique. Everyone's metallic bone armor was different, but Khalzin's was simple. Almost plain in comparison.
"You are distracted today," Stron said as he took a swing.
"I have a lot on my mind," Khalzin replied as he blocked two more shots.
"Go see someone. Get frustrations out." Stron’s weapon hooked on Khalzin's. They were locked up for a moment before the twang of metal echoed in the practice room as they pulled apart.
"You are not one to speak," Khalzin said. "Did you or did you not have to--" He swung hard, pushing back against Stron. "--face a tribunal last month?"
"That wasn't my fault. You know that.”
"It was never his fault," another voice from across the room added.
Khalzin grimaced.
The practice floor was filling up with others who were there to work. Part of their daily rituals included practicing with their weapons of choice. Khalzin preferred his curved ju-nak. Others used different weapons. Stron was like him with using his own ju-nak.
Others used spears or swords. The weapons were family heirlooms created by ancestors of old and passed down to surviving members.
"You do know what you speak," Stron said. "My tribunal was not my fault."
Dhomhes came closer, that smile on his face that females tended to swoon over, and that wicked glint in his eyes clued Khalzin in that Dhomhes knew precisely what he was talking about.
"If it wasn't, then why were you at a tribunal at all?"
"Do you have to be such a snake," Khalzin asked.
"He's always a snake," Fiviel said as he stepped next to Dhomhes. "Makes him the most dangerous male in this room."
Stron barked in laughter.
"You don't think I'm dangerous?" Dhomhes asked, stepping closer to Stron. "You might be surprised what I'm able to accomplish."
Stron spun, his ju-nak brought around to Dhomhes. "Shall we go a bit and find out?"
Dhomhes put his hand up. "Fighting you doesn't interest me. You're obviously full of your own strength, with the weapon of your family. Am I armed?"
"Behind your back," Khalzin said.
Dhomhes glanced at him and smiled again. "You seem to know me well." He yanked out a set of knives that glinted in the light.
"What do you want?" Stron asked.
"There's so much that I want," Dhomhes replied. A pain if there ever was one, Dhomhes believed he was always right and liked to let everyone know it.
