C'était si calme dans cette forêt. Il y a eu des moments où elle pensait qu'elle était la seule chose vivante là-bas. C'était donc un peu surprenant, pour le moins, quand elle entendit une voix venir du bord de la clairière. Elle se tenait de son siège rapidement à la première voix, incapable de voir clairement où il était. Qu'est-ce qu'elle devait faire? Elle n'avait parlé à personne depuis deux ans. Maintenant, dans cet endroit, elle a subitement été confrontée à un inconnu. C'était dangereux. C'était une femme, et il n'y avait rien à lui dire. Dès que la pensée eut fini dans son esprit, un autre homme vint en plein jour. En plus, il tenait une épée dans la main.
Elle brouillait, mettant la distance entre elle et l'homme qui est apparu. Il était énorme, comparé à elle. S'il lui a donné ce truc, il n'y avait aucun moyen qu'elle puisse se défendre. Juste en le regardant, elle savait qu'il avait beaucoup plus d'expérience avec une lame qu'elle ne l'a fait. C'était mauvais. Vraiment mauvais. Elle secoua la tête rapidement, reculant de nouveau de l'homme.
"N-Non." Elle a étouffé. Les yeux verts tournaient autour de la clairière. D'un côté, elle avait un inconnu. Elle ne voyait toujours pas l'homme qui avait été le premier à parler, et en ce moment il était un autre sujet de préoccupation que celui qui était devant elle. Mais il pourrait avoir un arc et des flèches, et cela signifiait des attaques de longue portée. Elle ne pouvait pas courir comme ça parce que ça courrait dans un danger inconnu. Au moins avec celle en face d'elle, elle savait quelles armes il avait pour la plupart.
"Je n'ai vu personne d'autre." Elle a expliqué plus loin.
Elle a bien avalé. Derrière elle se trouvait un mur. Il s'avère qu'elle finirait contre l'un des seuls à rester debout dans les ruines. L'escalier entraverait ses mouvements, et si elle les descendait, elle aurait d'abord dû contourner l'homme avec l'épée et puis avoir assez de chance de ne pas voyager comme elle courait. Ce qui n'était pas très probable compte tenu de toute la croissance et les pierres cachées en eux. Plus loin dans le mur, il y avait un trou. Ses yeux sont tombés dessus. Elle pouvait voir à travers ça, ce qui signifiait qu'il menait quelque part ailleurs. Et son petit cadre pourrait s'y adapter même avec son sac de voyage et ses armes. Ce serait sa meilleure chance de s'échapper. Lentement, elle a fait son chemin vers le trou. Il était tout à fait possible que l'homme continue à chercher le voleur. Mais l'autre était encore caché.
Il était tout à fait possible que ni l'un ni l'autre n'essaie de lui faire du mal. Elle ne pouvait pas se fier à ça. Elle pensait que ses parents adoptifs ne lui feraient jamais de mal, et ensuite sa mère a essayé de la tuer. Elle s'arrêta près du trou, ses yeux encore sur l'homme avec les épées et regardant vers la direction de la première voix venait. On ne pouvait pas faire confiance aux gens. Aucun d'eux. Elle l'avait appris à la dure.
Name: Denrig of the Clan Durdar, The common tongue translate of his clan name is Battle-bolt
Age: 48
Race: Dwarf
Inherent Ability: Mettle and Stone
Acquired Abilities:
Strength of the Ancestors- The dwarves are an ancient people who value adherence to tradition and paying homage to great deeds and heroes as a cornerstone of leading an honourable life. All dwarves also aspire to live up to and surpass these great deeds. To earn the respect of their forefathers so that when they fade from this world and their bodies return to the foundation of their mountain homes, they can take their place in the honoured halls of the gods. And their families will vouch for them before the Gates of the next world and be the first to raise a toast in their name when they are ushered inside and offered a place at one of the great tables.
These ancestors are always watching over their descendent. Sometimes giving them subtle guidance and aid in moments of indecision and distress. But when the time calls for truly heroic action, sometimes a truly inspired battle roar can catch the ear and rekindle the flame in a departed warrior's heart even from beyond the mortal world. Or an ancestor is unwilling to see one of his family die an unnecessary death when there is still so much left they need to complete. These Roused souls will lend their abilities to their kin. Granting him the fortitude and strength of that long dead hero of old, for a short time.
But these favours cannot be invoked often. For the Dwarven gods insist that all dwarves must face their trails to the best of 'their' ability. And face hardship with stoicism and courage. Even if that hardship is overwhelming in scale and could lead to that dwarf's death if he fails.
To say nothing of the draining effect it has on the recipient's strength once the ordeal is over. It is not a request that can be made, or given lightly. It is rare that the gods give their blessing for such a boon unless the situation is truly one of grave importance.
Heart of the Mountain- Few things in this world are as tough or stubborn as a dwarf. They have a natural constitution and level of endurance that keeps them remarkably healthy and resistant to all manner of disease and toxins. While allowing them to undertake physical labour or hours on end at a steady, unyielding pace that would have most other races gasping on their knees and groaning at the soreness of their abused joints.
dwarves have also been known to take blows that would wind or completely knock out more frail creatures with not but an angry grunt and buckled knee and a red glob of blood spit back onto the offenders feet.
Runic Lore- Runes are more than just a script for the dwarves. More than just a written language. Certain Runes can have ancient and mystical meanings. Back in the days of magic there were dwarves known as rune-smiths Often venerable people who spent centuries perfecting their craft and were considered paragon's of Dwarven society for being able to understand, impart and carve the flawless symbols of power and protection that can be seen throughout a Dwarven hold. From the impregnable entrance gates of their mountains or lining the edges of their weapons and armour.
Even though the runesmithing of such ancient and powerful magnitude is a nearly lost art to the world. The runes themselves still carry great sentimental meaning to the Dwarven people. And they still often adorn their persons and possessions with such symbols. And while the magic is thought to have been long faded and unable to grant the boons they were once famous for, Some dwarves still swear that imparting runes on their possessions still works. That an axe marked with runes of war is sharper and less likely to brake than one marked without, that marked armour will not buckle as easily or will those with unmarked flesh be as wise or lucky as those who show their honour and support for the heritage of their forbears.
Denrig has several such runes adorning his person. Mostly carved into the leather of his armour but a choice tattoo on his chest, to those very few who might be passingly familiar with the secretive symbols. Would see a small intertwined
Appearance:

Personality: Amongst his own kin, Denrig is as loud and gregarious a character as any good dwarf. Amongst the humans and other races he is far more guarded. He is more than willing to have a good drink or a hearty meal and launch himself into a song or tale. But there isn't enough ale in all the kingdoms that would loosen his lips when it comes to details about the Dwarven strongholds. Where they are, their levels of wealth, etc. The human's unpredictable and often violent tendencies have made the dwarves quite distrustful of them since the days of the purge. And Denrig is loathe to reveal anything that may spur the humans greed and lust for war further.
All in all he is a kind dwarf. He holds himself to high standards of honour as he believes would make his ancestors proud. And his smiles and laughter can easily turn into growls of barely restrained rage towards those that would carelessly lob insults towards those same ancestors or the Dwarven people in general.