Alors que la pluie continuait de rebondir, Eodras suivait lentement les traces de la caravane. Sa capuche recouvrait son visage et son manteau était enveloppé autour de lui, le maintenant légèrement à l'abri de la pluie. Mais il ne pensait qu'à la femme qu'il a rencontrée, son visage et cette voix a été brûlée dans sa mémoire. Il n'avait jamais vu quelqu'un comme elle. Curiosity commençait à s'enfoncer, Eodras voulait savoir qui elle était, il voulait qu'il ne parte pas maintenant.
Le bruit des rires l'a ramené à la réalité, quelques instants plus tard toutes les caravanes sont apparues. Les gens étaient empilés dans les tentes et les chariots, avec quelques personnes assez malchanceuses pour être dehors sous la pluie. Eodras était l'un de ces rares malchanceux. Il traversa le camp et enleva son manteau. En quelques minutes, Eodras avait fait une tente de fortune qui lie son manteau à une branche et au sol à quelques pieds de l'arbre. Il s'appuya contre l'arbre et alla travailler sur la peau des écureuils tout en ayant aussi une insouciance à ce qui se passait dans le camp. Peauter les animaux a toujours été le pire moment où il a commencé à jeter tous les entrailles dans la forêt derrière lui. N'importe qui était le bienvenu à l'un des écureuils mais il doutait que n'importe qui ferait la queue pour un écureuil maigre.
Il n'a pas fallu longtemps pour que la femme revienne dans ses pensées, mais il a dû la sortir de son esprit, il ne la reverrait plus jamais. Eodras commença à siffler tranquillement une chanson alors qu'il continua sa tâche.
Oid, son of Ori.

Age: 67
Gender: Male
Race: Dwarf
Appearance: 4'4, and possessing brown hair and eyes, of a colour so similar people often remark about it. He has soft features except for a jaw so large it makes his beard look just a little odd on him. His hair is in a long unkempt mess though his beard is expertly braided. Unlike most Dwarves his body is devoid of any major scars or tattoos except for some near his mouth from when he once shattered a glass of wine whilst trying to drink it.
Equipment: no professional soldiering armour though his leather armour is thick enough to usually get arrows stuck in it and greatly soften the blows of blunt attacks, although his boots are a thick ornate Dwarven steel. He is armed with a heavy round shield as large as him if not for his clothes, and an ornate poleaxe. He also carries three throwing axes, and a (approx. one and a half handed) pickaxe from his mining days. A single bar of gold from which he takes pieces. Two loaves of bread, a massive flask of wine, and a dried fish.
Personality: He has the gold-lust of most Dwarves though significantly less of it. He is quite oblivious to the world around him, making him a little naive, and too friendly. He can even deal with Elves, only giving them the necessary "up your's git," before engaging in conversation.
Story: to be a "gentle giant," (I know that sounds odd considering his race) generally following others, having his happy views on the world shattered, yet to desperately cling to the happiness and wonder he sees in it and make others do the same.
Bio:
A son of one of Dain's soldiers arriving to the Lonely Mountain, he is the direct descendant of one of it's re-colonizers. He grew up to take a quite normal profession for Dwarves, a miner. He did it well, singing and laughing with the other miners. It all went well until the other Dwarves started accusing him of stealing, of a gold-lust horrid. In truth, he was innocent and perplexed, yet such was the flurry of accusations even his family started hiding their possessions from him.
Soon the subtle suggestions to leave began, and he took the hint. He used what little money he in truth had to get some gear, took a family shield and his pick-axe and set off to wander. Having discovered a Caravan by word of one of his few friends, he instantly joined looking for adventure and to see the world.
His clothes are a treated and extremely thick variant of something like this