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Pastor Sandro needs no weapons, just an open mind.
##Claim none | Sandro was in his small room, curled up in bed with his face in a well-worn book when he heard a knock on the door.
"Your brothers are off training, why haven't you joined them?"
"I don't like it," he replied, "Eldath teaches us that peace is the right path, why should I practice combat?"
The voice on the other side of the door seemed to consider this. "Hmm. She does. But what of Tempus? Malar, or even Helm? What would they say on the matter?"
Sandro furrowed his brow slightly. "That's... true," he admitted to his ratfolk caretaker. "I wouldn't want to offend those who are more... aggressive." He closed the book, sighed, and placed it on the nearby table. "What are they doing?"
"Leo is leading them in some spars, I believe." Sandro could swear he could hear the slight grin on his face.
He sighed. "Great. They're going to destroy me."
This time he definitely heard a laugh. "Well, pray to Ilmater and Helm, and if that doesn't work out, Loviatar at least will be pleased with you."
"Yeah, yeah..." he said as he began wrapping his wrists. | 
