What's the meaning when you have a broken whole

The swamplands were nearly untouched by the volcano eruption. At least Eraithus knew that, ever since he had travelled through the South he had come to the decision that perhaps he best prepare himself like all Boreas fighters do. He'd saw what Domari could do to that deer so it got him thinking about himself. Something that drew out the most blood would work for him. He hummed - the roots here and the grass would work perfectly. Though since of his inexperience when it came to crafting he had no idea where to start. What would be sharp and could put on a hold? Not to mention where and how would he attach it to himself.

The male trekked through the swamp, stopping in front of the growing spindles of swamp trees. "You'd think I need a mentor for all this hmm?" he laughed asking himself this. He turned - was a fellow warrior about to stumble upon him? That's what Eraithus was hoping for at least. He sighed, who was he kidding he knew nothing of weapons. Yet he felt like it would be an excellent choice on his behalf. To fuel his addiction it could essentially gain him more of a hand in fights. Ahhh well, perhaps it was a chance to learn something new anyway.