En dehors de Baalor
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Hazim fixait la mort dans le visage. Une demi-douzaine de lances Elven lui étaient prêtes, battant avec des poumons feints. Le guerrier ne connaissait pas l'aîné-né pour se moquer des morts ou des mourants, mais pour lui il semblait qu'ils faisaient une exception.
"Scum", a crié un. "Combien de morts et pour quoi?"
"Butcherer. Beaucoup de nos semblables se réjouiront dans votre tête sur un pic; lo! le capitaine du fils frénétique d'Eblistan est finalement tombé," a ajouté un autre.
Les six Aînés, avec leurs plaques d'acier immaculées et leurs cheveux blonds coulants, se déplaçaient vers l'avant pour l'écraser comme un porc. Il a voulu que ses membres bougent; pour réagir et se faire une proie pas si facile à tuer, mais il n'a pas pu. Ses entrailles étaient un motif motley de douleur pulsante et de feu crépitant, ayant été traversé par la lame piquante de cet Elf.
"Les femmes," il riait, toussant du sang à travers ses dents blanches. "Vous êtes toutes une bande de femmes arty petsy, au-dessus du sang de la lune."
L'un des elfes semblait s'offenser sérieusement des paroles de Hazim, et il ôta sa grande barre rectangulaire brillante pour révéler un visage impeccable de peau de porcelaine et de lèvres roses. "Faites toutes les prières que vous voulez faire, humain, votre fin est venue," a-t-il dit, ajoutant un indice de ce que Hazim perçu comme étant de la pitié.
"Ah, va te faire foutre", a ronflé Hazim, clignotant un sourire sanglant.
L'elfe a harcelé sa lance.
"Duranar! Duranar! Duranar!"
Les elfes se sont rétractés, se maudits pour avoir été victimes de drames. À travers le chaos de la bataille, un contingent mamelouk s'empara du choc des épées et du brouillage des arcs à cheval; ils firent pour Hazim, frappant n'importe quel vieillard assez insensé pour entrer dans leur chemin. Les elfes qui entourent Hazim ont lu leurs lances, mais une brève grêle de flèches s'est effondrée dans leurs plaques de poitrine non protégées. Deux sont tombés.
"Shoulda a apporté vos boucliers, les femmes," Hazim a gâché.
Les elfes restants savaient qu'ils étaient dépassés; la lance était le némésis du cheval, mais ajouter un guerrier monté à dit cheval armé d'un arc, et soudain la menace a été annulée. Ils se retirèrent, se divisèrent dans diverses directions, demandant à leurs frères de les aider.
L'un des coureurs s'est approché de Hazim et l'a regardé à travers une barre de bronze fendue. -- Mon capitaine, vous avez l'air en forme, dit le cavalier d'une voix branlante.
Hazim hoche la tête, "tout va bien".
« Quoi qu'il en soit, » le coureur s'inclina. "Baalor est attaqué, et le prince a besoin de vous."
Les yeux de Hazim s'élargissent. Une attaque contre Baalor? Est-ce qu'Eblistan avait déjà marché sur la ville?
"Non", le cavalier a grondé, comme s'il lisait l'esprit de Hazim. Quoi qu'ils soient, ils ne sont ni elfes ni nos peuples. Quoi qu'il en soit, nous avons besoin là-bas."
"Mes hommes", a protesté Hazim. "Je peux..."
"Ils vont mourir", a dit froidement le cavalier. "Dans une bataille glorieuse, pas moins."
Incapable de résister en raison de ce qu'il soupçonnait d'être une blessure mortelle, Hazim fut hissé sur la selle, et le groupe de cavaliers s'enfuit; évitant de justesse une grêle entrante de longbow shot.
Seaux de Baalor
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"Nous sommes ici", scruté Jakig, plus que parlé.
Jazeer a été surpris momentanément, "pourquoi le changement de terrain, mon petit ami?"
Ils avaient marché dans une grande chambre, avec des côtés sphériques menant à un gigantesque chasme sans fin pour un toit. L'eau traversait des canaux moulés dans les sols pavés de pierre, et l'odeur de la stagnation était crue aux narines. Bien que l'obscurité ait tenu bon, il y avait une douzaine de torches réparties autour de la vaste étendue, illuminant des taches aléatoires de pierres.
-- Quiet, siffla Jakig, recula.
Jazeer a lâché. Il n'était pas venu si loin pour retourner en arrière, "votre peuple habite ici, n'est-ce pas? Pourquoi as-tu peur?"
Jakig a poussé un doigt tremblant dans les ombres devant eux, et pour la première fois Jazeer a remarqué que les ombres susmentionnées se déplaçaient. Il avait fait un terrible soldat, le prince héritier, et sa maladie l'avait limité à la sécurité des murs de son père pendant la plus grande partie de sa vie. Ne pas voir quelque chose d'aussi évident lui aurait coûté la vie quelques secondes dans une bataille.
"Ce n'est pas ton genre, alors?" Jazeer a demandé curieusement. Il n'avait pas peur, la peur avait été régulièrement battue hors de lui depuis qu'il a été diagnostiqué pour la première fois avec la lèpre, et par les pupilles utilisé pour le traiter depuis.
Le goblin secoua la tête frénétiquement, et se retourna pour fuir. "Run humain, cours!"
"Je ne cours pas, petit ami, je cherche seulement à trouver un but", dit-il, avant de regarder en arrière à la masse approchante de qui sait quoi. "Je suis le prince héritier Jazeer, héritier du trône du Calife. A qui dois-je parler?"
Les ombres stoppèrent leur avance; des murmures éclatèrent parmi eux.
-- Eh bien?
L'une des figures se tenait en avant hors de l'obscurité.
Character Name: Jason Karkeif
Species: Half Dwarf
Species description: Half dwarves aren't in fact as short as their pure origins, often standing just slightly below an average human.They tend to be rather broad and stocky, and are a bit more naturally strong than a human. The bones of a half dwarf are strong and sturdy, able to withstand much more impact without damage, this also goes for their thick skulls. While half dwarves don't grow facial hair at even a fraction of the speed a dwarf does, they still have trouble with keeping it in check, even the females. Due to their solid structure, half dwarves lack the agility gifted to other races. Their appearance is usually similar to the average human. Half dwarves inherit the huge appetites of pure dwarves, able to take on 5-10 times the nourishment that humans can.
Gender: Male
Noteworthy Abilities / Limitations:
-Eating - Jason has a monstrous appetite, even in comparison to dwarves, and he can take on anything you throw at him.
-Trading/Bartering - Jason has a knack for the arts of trading, able to knock down the price of merchandise with a stubborn tongue and a bit of cleverness.
-Strength - Jason is quite strong from repeated hefting and heavy lifting, he's able to carry a good weight around.
-Hand-to-Hand Combat - Due to numerous fights that Jason started in defense of his honor, he's developed quite a skill for hand-to-hand combat.
-Endurance - Jason's body is well-suited for extended physical exertion, and he's able to keep up work for a long period of time.
-Stubborn - Jason's hard-headed and won't stop his efforts until he has what he wants, high will-power and doesn't give up.
Background: Jason's story started long ago, on the day his parents met. His mother was a dwarven trader, who traveled for a living selling her wares. Jason's father was a human soldier at the Eblistan Citadel, brash and unwavering. It was one fateful day in a tiny rundown bar residing in Eblistan that the two met, both of them taking to spirits after a long day of work. The kindred souls were immediately attracted to each other despite their racial differences, and soon developed feelings for each other. Jason's mother stopped her entire caravan purely to get to know the man better, and it only developed from there. It was the day that the dwarf came to tell Jason's father of the child within her when the man was sent deployed in a skirmish against the elves on the borders. Jason's mother waited for day after day for the man's return, but he never came back.
Jason was born nine months later, no complications rather than his broad size. He was a giggling and cheery baby, always off on his own adventures, and this continued throughout his childhood. Jason's mother went back to trading after her husband's death, resulting in the two often travelling, never staying in one place for too long. Jason was often made fun of by other children met across his travels, which often ended with the perpetrators obtaining broken noses and blackened eyes. Jason's life continued like this, which gifted him with a broad view of the world they lived in. Everything was well until the boy reached the tender age of fifteen.
Throughout his life of trading, Jason and his mother made recurring visits to a certain fief out in the Eblistan plains. Jason developed romantic feelings for a girl of the same age that resided on the land, the two often sneaking away to be alone together. Jason often urged his mother to make trips to the land, resulting in her guessing the nature of their relationship. She smiled and laughed at the thought, though warned Jason about the girl's father. He was a greedy and highly racist man, only agreeing to trade with Jason's mother because of the fine wares that could only be obtained from the hands of dwarves. Jason promised to take caution in their relationship, but it wasn't long until the man caught the two sharing a tender kiss in the shade of a tree.
The noble yelled, screaming for Jason to leave the property and never come back. Seeing the man grab the girl by the hair and yank her toward him, Jason flew into a rage and attacked the noble. Getting caught up in his anger, Jason halted to see the man bloodied and beat on the ground, but still living. Jason turned and fled, going to tell his mother of the events that had occurred. The girl's father, vindictive and full of anger at the half dwarf, sent his men to burn and sack their wagon. On their way off the land, the wagon was pillaged and destroyed, along with Jason's mother, who was killed after brandishing a knife and stabbing one of the men. Crushed and ruined after the death of his mother and the destruction of their business, Jason tried to seek comfort from the noble's daughter, ultimately resulting in her decision to agree with her father's wishes.
Jason made his way back to the Eblistan Citadel on foot, weighed down by grief and despair. He felt like giving up, and he almost did, but his stubborn pride was what kept him from it. Pushing past his despair-riddled mind, Jason took out a loan and bought a couple horses and a wagon, deciding to start up his own business to survive. Making his way back to the Dwarven lands, Jason stocked up his wares and started his new life of trading, alone. A new life was before him, and he would make the best of what he had and start anew.
This life lasted another two years, and Jason soon shed the despair that had encircled him. Business was a boom, and Jason had soon accumulated enough funds to pay back his debt and build himself a little house out in the wilderness. Everything was going well, until Jason was unknowingly caught up in trading with a treasonous group set on usurping the powers of the land. When trading with the group, soldiers managed to track them down and capture all participants, including Jason. He was deemed a traitor, and now is in the dungeon awaiting his fate.
Appearance: Short and stocky, Jason stands at a height of 5'4. He's broad and strong, and rather solid. Jason wears his red-orange hair at a medium length that hangs down past his ears. His hair is curly and untamable, always messy and disoriented. Has a rather large nose that looks as if its been broken a few times, resulting in it being quite crooked. Jason has brown eyes. His arms and legs are short, and Jason is long-waisted. Broad-shouldered. His eyes always have a curious, and mischievous glint to them.
Reason for Detainment: Treason