Alors que Thuran était sur le point de s'éloigner de lui-même, le bruit de nombreux pas se déplaçant à travers la boue de derrière est entré dans ses oreilles. En se tournant rapidement, il interrogea le groupe qui s'approchait alors que leurs questions commençaient à tomber sur lui. Ses yeux ont d'abord sauté sur le visage du Siren qui a répondu sarcastiquement à sa déclaration antérieure. Il l'a trahi pendant une seconde en regardant le masque que portait le Siren. Mais ils se sont rapidement fléchés vers un homme elfique, qui posait une question d'une manière qui ôtait tout doute quant à son importance. Ils sont finalement tombés sur une femme digne d'une tanière de plaisir, et non d'une terre déchirée par la guerre. Dans son esprit, il plaisantait de sa chance.
Un endroit chaud et sec pour se reposer serait un luxe bienvenu à partir de cela. Mais je crains qu'un tel luxe ne soit, comment dites-vous, un piège.Il l'accent a trahi, et il a signé un soupir de soulagement a échappé à ses lèvres dès qu'il a trouvé ses mots. Même après toutes ces années, il a toujours eu des problèmes avec les langues orientales, les simples différences dans les prononciations de mots mais les différences massives dans les significations. Tuer son corps pour faire face à la Sirène une fois de plus, cette fois les yeux sous contrôle, il s'adressa directement à elle.--Mais si un piège chaud et sec est ce qu'il faudra pour entendre les chants doux de la Sirène une fois dans ma vie alors un piège chaud et sec il sera.---Il a fini comme il a donné un léger arc. Les légendes des Sirènes étaient communes dans son pays d'origine, bien qu'elles n'aient pas la réputation effrayante qu'elles avaient ici. Dans sa maison, les légendes des Sirènes étaient plus une promesse à un soldat vieillissant ou à un vieil homme. Il a souvent entendu beaucoup d'hommes parler de voyager à l'est pour être emmenés sur le trône de leur dieu par les chants de la Sirène. Même s'il est devenu plus sage par rapport aux intentions originelles des Sirènes alors qu'il passait du temps à l'Est, au moins celles auxquelles les gens du commun croient. Il n'en a pas moins donné à la Sirène une vraie Curtsy.
Mais je pense que c'est moi que tu cherches, l'homme elfique. J'ai été chargé de scruter pour notre gracieuse Général.Il a dit comme il a laissé sortir un petit peu de rire. J'ai rencontré ce village un peu avant l'arrivée du corps principal, mais quelque chose s'est effondré. Il y a encore des vêtements suspendus sur les lignes de séchage, même si la pluie tombe du ciel en haut.Il a ensuite mouvementé pour qu'ils regardent les rues autour des maisons, en soulignant les places du marché entre autres. Personne ne marche dans les rues, personne ne retire les vêtements des lignes de séchage, et aucun signe de vie ne doit être vu ici. Demande la question, où sont les gens?= Pauser alors qu'il se blottit les épaules. S'ils fuyaient le Roi Fou, pourquoi ne pas prendre leurs vêtements? ─ Il a commencé à faire son chemin vers le village. Pas après pas, il sentait que quelque chose n'allait pas. On lui a appris à toujours faire confiance en tant qu'assassin. Si quelque chose se sentait mal, il reporterait tout simplement le sort de ses cibles à un autre jour. Mais il n'avait plus la courtoisie du luxe, le roi fou lui l'a volé.
Mais qu'est-ce que je sais? Je ne suis qu'un simple mot de vente.Son tête tourna autour de ceux qui suivirent, quelques dix en nombre, y compris quelques ajouts de dernière minute au groupe. Ils semblaient être des gens simples qui s'étaient joints à la dernière minute. Il supposait qu'ils décidaient seulement de combattre le Roi Fou afin qu'ils puissent dire à leurs petits-enfants qu'ils ont combattu aux côtés du Grand Roi Baelnorn dans son triomphe final. Il savait qu'ils ne parleraient pas quand il a posé sa question suivante, ils étaient déjà assez vaincus pour qu'ils mentionnent leurs noms.
-- Mais qui êtes-vous que notre gracieuse Général ait cru bon d'envoyer en scoutisme? Il a demandé alors qu'il regardait de retour au village, cette fois les yeux scrutant soigneusement les ombres.
Name:
Dor Thuran vas Deliganda
Gender:
Male
Age:
31
Race:
Lithleeth
Appearance:

Personality:
Thuran often is the type of man who prefers his own company, though he is naturally curious about the cultures of the Eastern people. In most, if not all, of his travels east of the Great Sands, he played the role of the oblivious outsider; unfamiliar with the laws and customs of the many cities and countries, often finding himself at the mercy of the locals when he strayed too far from accepted norms. Though while he may appear an introvert in nature, once Thruan establishes himself a few accomplices among a group will he switch roles and become quite the extroverted Lithleeth.
Though many will never guess that this is all a facade. Beneath the skin Thruan is a man tormented by the demons of his past. Faces of those he was forced to kill haunt his dreams most night, especially the face of his former lover. To him, true happiness is something that is reserved for those that can afford the luxury of never having to get your hands dirty. Though he hopes that his part in the removal of the cancerous Mad King will help his conscious a little.
History:
Dor Thuran vas Deliganda was born in the Lithleeth city of Deliganda to a family of ill-repute. His father was a gambler by day while a drunk by night, and his mother was a prostitute during all hours of the day. He was an unlucky child according to his parents, an accident that might happen in his mothers line of works. His father made sure to remind him of this every chance he got, from his stern words to the heel of his boot every time Thuran stepped out of line.
His father's debt with some very unsavory people eventually caught up with him. Thuran does not know what happened that night, only that he awoke to his mothers screams that shook the foundations of their small hut. In bed next to her lay the lifeless corpse of her husband, knife stuck through is heart with a small message attached.
“A debt is repaid ~ Dor”
With his father out of the picture, and without a mother willing to care for her son, Thuran was forced onto the streets at the meager age of five years old. Age six, Thuran had learned how to survive on his own; though he does owe credit to the other children for showing him how. The city of Deliganda was a rather large city in its own right, especially when compared to the cities of the Firen and Lavas people, so stealing food and running from the authorities was something that came easy to the street children. The roof's of the buildings were as good an ally as they were a teacher. Many children were destined to fail on the streets, as was evident by the number that died trying to jump across the tops of their 'teachers'.
But not Thuran.
Despite his genetic predisposition, he was a very athletic kid. Able to run faster and longer than any other kid on the streets. He became a natural at crawling down on a rope, snatching up a few loaves of bread, before climbing back up and running until he was not followed anymore. Yet, despite how easy this was for him, the older he got the more ruthless in nature he became. If a stray drunkard would stumble into an alleyway underneath the building he occupied, he would drop down and rob them, after he beat them down of course.
But when the Great Famine struck the Lithleeth people, he too suffered. With no food on the streets for him to steal, he too grew hungry. With the pains of hunger rumbling strong in his stomach, he drew more desperate. More muggings, more coin yet much less food would follow. Eventually desperation set in, and he targeted the wrong group. He was only fourteen years old, prowling from the rooftops, when he spotted the wrong group of people to try and mug.
Thuran was blinded by hunger, and he never noticed the telltale signs of the group these four individuals belonged to. But he struck out none the less. First he lashed out by throwing a small gunpowder bomb into the middle of the group. This bomb was very small, not enough for it to kill those in the group but large enough for the bang and the sudden appearance of a bright light to disorientate them. As they recovered from the shock, Thuran sprung into action. Rushed did he into the middle of their group, and before one could blink an eye he had grabbed three coin purses and was on the verge of escaping up the side of a building when he felt a hand on his boot, before his face met the ground below and before his side met the tip of the man's boot.
The kick threw him against the side of the building. While the group was ready to plunge a sword into his stomach and be done with the good for nothing vagrant, a single voice spoke in his defense.
“This one shows promise.”
Is all the man said. In a cruel twist of fate, the men he tried to rob were the same men whom had taken his fathers life; those assassins of Dor. Quickly, and much against his will, he was taken under their wing. Each day and night for the next few months his spirit was broken by day and his training commenced by night. Eventually, after many years and training sessions passed, he was fully trained as a an assassin of Dor and was given his first assignment. The next five years passed much the same. He would kill many people, he would hone his skills, and he would forget about his past as best he could.
One day a woman walked into his life and everything changed. She was a simple merchants daughter, slaving away trying to make a living for her and her family. They struck up a conversation and an illegal romance soon blossomed. Thuran and the woman, named Skia, spent the next seven months meeting in private and talking about the future. Eventually they talked about escaping towards the great countries in the east, where food and home were plentiful and where they could escape the cold grasps of both the Assassin of Dor and the unjust laws of their countries. After months of planning, the duo were finally finished planning and were set to make their getaway.
The Assassins of Dor had other plans, however. As he slept in their compound for one last night, the other Assassins woke him from his sleep. He was being summoned by their leader to the execution compound. From what they said there was a woman who had violated the Leithleethian law by choosing her own lover, to which the sentence was death. He had been chosen at random, and he grabbed his scimitar ready to sentence death to the law breaker. But as he walked into the compound, and his eyes fell upon Skia, he knew she was made. The question that pressed in his mind was whether or not was he. He proceeded with the execution as per usual. He read out aloud her crime, asked for a confession, and when he did not get one he looked her in the eyes as he held back tears.
“With or without a confession, your sentence is all the same in the eyes of the law. We were tasked with your death by the Council of Elders, who speak for our Lord Ashun.” Thuran said as he raised his scimitar above his head. “Any last words?” He asked.
“Find the man I love and tell him to proceed with our plans without me.” She said as she closed her eyes one last time, and his scimitar fell fast upon her neck.
His brothers congratulated as per usual. A kill is a kill for their god and anytime you take a life you shall be rewarded in kind. But Thuran was not happy, he was not pleased, he was angry. He knew that the others had found out about his affair and were trying to teach him a lesson. He spoke with the others for a while before, when no one was watching, he made his great escape.
After many months of rough and dangerous travels did he arrive in the west. Many years have passed since then. Not even one mention of those dreaded Assassins of Dor being sighted. He now serves as a sell sword for whomever pays the highest, as well as those who serve the most righteous cause.
Equipment:
-Two handed scimitar- Thuran call's it Skia in memory of his former lover.
-Lilthleeth clothing
-Simple leather armor
-Large coin purse
-Massive, cured camel bladder Canteen strapped to his horse.
-Large bag of food strapped to his horse.