Avant même que la flèche ne frappe le nain était en train d'atteindre sa pioche par instinct. Alors qu'il se tournait et levait son bouclier, il saisit une hache de lancer et la lâchait, seulement par l'anneau au bas de la poignée au moment perdu quand il vit l'elfe se diriger vers Darcyn. Il gémit et cria : "Tu ferais mieux d'y aller!" quand l'elfe est parti. Il aurait à serrer cette oreille pointue plus tard, mais peut-être dire aux autres Nains qu'ils avaient des raisons de le serrer aussi. Plus que d'habitude pour les elfes, c'est-à-dire.
Alors qu'il disait ses mots, il combinait cela avec une contre-charge sur Darcyn sa hache de poteau tenait à mi-chemin pour être raccourci et pour faciliter le combat de son arme, tandis que son bouclier était tenu plus bas pour abattre l'homme. Même si Darcyn était plus fort, un nain aux jambes était presque garanti pour faire passer un homme sur son cul. D'ailleurs, Darcyn serait distrait par la flèche, et Oid devait appuyer sur son avantage. Il n'a pas vu si elle a frappé l'armure ou si elle est entrée mais le choc était juste parfait.
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