"Convenu. Si vous suiviez mon sodding-" Il a arraché sa mace de ce qui restait de quelques pauvres salauds crâne, un grognement d'effort s'échappant de ses lèvres alors que la mace s'est libérée avec succès d'une éponge. Personne ne saurait même que nous sommes ici. Les humains bruyants, doivent être les longues jambes."
Le fait que ces mineurs (si c'est ce qu'ils étaient, Flint n'était pas positif.) littéralement des rochers de lyrisme poussaient à partir de leurs corps mal nourris et surmenés était plutôt troublant. Flint prodigua le corps d'un de ces cadavres, sa masse échouant à la croûte de pierre terne qu'il mit un peu de poids sur la zone rouge affligée. Comme si prouver cela était en fait le bâtard rouge entaché cousin de lyrum tant de nains ont fait une exploitation minière et de raffinage vivant. Il a jeté un coup d'œil inquiet à son partenaire Erika-l'Inquisition voudrait sans aucun doute en entendre parler.
Diriger le groupe Flint marchait d'une manière qui pouvait être mieux décrite en un grand nombre de mots; aucun d'entre eux n'était silencieux.
"-Et alors il lui dit qu'il dit; je pensais que vous vouliez Moushed Shrooms, pas des Champignons." Il lâchait un éclat de rire. "C'est compris? Compris, n'est-ce pas? Oh-Qu'est-ce que c'est." A peine avait-il terminé encore une autre blague que personne ne comprenait clairement, mais il avait la poignée de membres du parti arrondi un coin dans le système de cavernes, arrivant immédiatement en face d'une grande barricade volumineuse comme la structure - la porte en bois à l'aspect solide étant le seul moyen de traverser.
"Oh si seulement nous pouvions utiliser la magie..." Flint aboyé dans un ton défait assez convaincant de voix.
Name: Flint Cadash
Age: 30
Gender: Male
Appearance: Like most Dwarfs Flint's battle scarred features are kept hidden behind a thick brownish beard that is almost always kept tied in overly elaborate brades, his grumpy pudgy pit bullish face a seemingly constant mask of weariness-the look of a man that has seen far to much of the dark side of life in Thedas. Of all his features the one that stands out most of all is the large black S shaped tattoo on his right cheek, although his crooked nose (clearly having been broken a few times) comes in at a close second. At his full height he stands at a whopping 4'11”, although his stout muscular frame looks much more intimidating while encased in his thick iron plate mail.

Nationality: N/A (Orzamar outcast)
Race: Dwarf
Organization/Occupation: Inquisition/Mercenary
Equipment: Aside from an enchanted wooden Buckler and his average looking mace Flint carries the bare essentials along with a few personal knicknacks, all of which he usually keeps bound to his back in an old leather rucksack.
Specialization: Carta “Training”
History: Born the lowest of the low in a society where position is everything Flint was quick to learn just how important standing up for himself was, a fact that lead him down a path of constant fights and run ins with the law. In his world though the fact of the matter was his family could either starve or eat off the coin he earned doing things many claimed the paragons frowned upon.
Sod the paragons.
The stone had found it fit to give Flint a hard body and soft soul, a fact that clashed with the day to day dealings of his various “jobs”. Nonetheless for eighteen long years Flint begrudgingly locked his conscience away.
After years of hard work, shady dealings, and a fair amount of blood Flint had made his way up to a position of some actual importance-at least it was an important position to the far to numerous casteless that occupied Dust Town. For almost a year things had begun to look up for Flint, serving just underneath a wicked woman named Jarvia had brought him more wealth then he had ever seen up to that point in his life-he had so much money he was even able to afford a fancy looking ring for his younger sister.
All good things must come to an end as they say though, something Flint truly took to heart after the death of Jarvia-an event that created a power vacum unseen in Dust Town for as long as Flint could remember. One thing led to another and before Flint knew it he was taking his first (and hesitant) steps onto the surface, the ensuing blood bath in Dust Town having earned him and a handful of other teary eyed dwarfs a one way ticket above ground.
Amazingly Flint was shocked to find that he took to surface life far better then he would have ever imagined, his mace and shield quickly finding him work as he was drug off on various adventures throughout his years of traveling. And even more impressive was how almost all of those large bumbling humans didn't pay any heed to his permanently tattooed face-to them he was 'just another dwarf.'