When he saw the dwarf, O'walu's arm slipped down to Naomi's side, and he took a hold of the healer's hand in a death grip, otherwise he would very well draw his sword and behead the stout man. His hateful focus was so acute on the dwarf, he heard not a word the man of St. Cuthbert spoke, the sound of rage filling his ears like the clashing of the sea over rocks.<br/><br/>It was a hatred deep and unseated, one he could never explain to everyone; he had tried to tell Naomi before, but she simply didn't understand. There were no words to express his disdain for the dwarven people.