OOC


I was going to have this roleplay on another site, but it seems you can load previous pages in the roleplay now, which is great. So, You may post here, the roleplay is active.

If you would like to see additional Lore about the world, you can go to. http://roleplayvortex.webs.com/

This was the site I had originally set up for the roleplay, and it has some bonus information about the world.

"FOR DWAYNA!" Cast out from the shield a brilliant light strikes out, blinding the enemy. Almost two dozen men charged from the high grasses that are common on the Plains of Duran. Edward, Hohenheim of Light charges the Troll and Goblin caravan. Edward strikes out with his sword slaying a still dazed troll, quickly turning to his left he blocks the small sword of a goblin. He then slams his shield into the small creature throwing it back several feet and knocking it unconscious. Around him, his men fight the evil creatures, killing them. Arrows strike out from both sides, all hoping to find there mark. Two archer's lined up there shot, toward one of his men fighting a troll. "Blessed Dwayna, Save these poor souls!" Light struck out from Edward's sword, slicing off head from body of the two archers. A yelp came from behind Edward, he swung around to see a goblin being crushed by a tauren chained to the wagon. Yells of victory began to sound out as the Vanguard of Dwayna finished of the evil beings and Orc leader. Cheers of his own went out as he layed his hand down on a large chain, binding fifteen Tauren to the large wooden war wagon pulled by a Kodo. (Rino type of animal) "Bless Dwayna the true god, free these troubled creatures from there shackles. The chains broke apart falling away from the now free slaves, who let out cheers of there own, many picking up weapons.


A few hours later the victories soldiers, encumbered by spoils of armor, weapons, and supplies joined with the many tauren and humans waiting at the camp.
Edward joined with his two commanding officers, Captain John Vendrum and a young but wise Tauren Chieften, Bron Halfhorn. "Something is happening in the north, larger and larger raiding parties are coming down from there. They are attacking the wandering tribes and are more coordinated then ever!" Edward said with conviction.
"I'm not arguing that fact. But there are only a few dozen of us, if we head any farther north than we already are we'll be overrun." John stated, being the more sensible one. About to say something else Edward was interrupted by Bron. "Hohenheim, you must let Dwayna speak to you as Melandru speaks with me. A great evil is rising from the ground, pain and suffering will come to all, we must not only unite the Tauren people but all the tribes who dwell upon earth." Sighing Edward relinguished his argument. "Then I will go and pray to Dwayna for insite, John my friend, will you look to the soldiers? "Of course Edward, you may rest easy, I'll make sure not all of them are drunk." He said with a laugh.


~*~


BOOM! Screams of pain could be heard over the sounds of battle. Three troll shadow priest had just finished with a ritual that sent a giant bolt of shadow into the walls of the castle. The Orc commanders yelled out orders as hundreds of Orc and Goblin soldiers rushed into the hole that now existed in the wall. Troll archers fired, raining down destruction on the defenders, and there in the front of the rushing horde, Verminaard, Highlord to the second army rushed forward. As verminaard entered through the hole he slid off his horse, still running he slammed his mace into four Solamnia knights, crushing them and sending a wave of shadow forward. Swinging his mace again a unfortunate spearman was hurled four meters into the air landing in the ranks of Knights and footman. Around Verminaard anxious Orcs rushed in, hoping to impress there Highlord. Arrows and weapons clanged off the Death Knight's armor as he and his army decimated the defenders.

Five long weeks had the Second army encircled the Solamnia castle, waiting and wearing there prey down. The night before the attack a unexpected army of around a thousand had pushed through his lines and allowed for many of the defender's and their family's to escape. Verminaard was unable to give chase while besieging the castle, so he waited. Those left inside to defend it to the death would pay dearly.

Verminaard stalked up to the large wooden door where four Orcs where battering it down. Two dozen other Orcs waited, ready to kill the survivors in the main hall of the castle. A Captain approached the Highlord with a report, "My lord, the few who remain have barricaded themselves inside this castle's great hall. My men are working on bringing the doors down but it may...." Verminaard raised a gauntlet. "Silence, bring in the Oger."

A few moments later the halls had been cleared and the Orcs who where ready to burst through the door stood as far against the stone walls as possible as the Oger approached the door. Raising it's large wooden club it slammed it down on the door three time's till it burst open, Orcs rushed in to the sound of the Knights challenge. "Death to the enemy's of Solamnia!" Both sides clashed fighting tooth and nail, what must have been the highest ranking Knight left rushed forward toward Verminaard. Swinging his sword down in attempt to finish off the Highlord it was smashed to the side by Verminaard's armor plated arm. Bringing his mace to bear the Highlord smashed it into the knights chest, casting him and a bolt of shadow back, crashing into two footman. Seconds later the only sounds where of the Highlords Victorious army looting the dead.

Arden sat in the outskirts of the Army camp. He wore the green and gold-embroided garbs of his elven brothers. It was one of the few remnants of the person he had once been. His once long and flowing white hair had been cut down to the length of his neck, and was now full of dirt and coagulated blood. His face too was stained red with blood, and green with the tattoos of war that had been marked on his face as a sign of his exile when he had left his homeland. And he had lost his left eye... His hand touched the black eye patch solemnly as he wearily leaned back against the tree stem behind the rock on which he was sitting, leaning his spear over his right shoulder and closing his right eye. His body was weary, exhausted from the battle, and his mind slowly slipping towards sleep.

"Why am I here?" He muttered silently to himself as he reached out for a jug of wine, and drank some. His eyes drifted to the human soldiers wandering around the camp, working hard. Unlike him they wore uniforms and heavy armors. He did not belong with them. And yet, he did not belong with his own people either. Did he belong anywhere anymore? Or was he simply a hollow shell completely dedicated to the service of the god of war?

More to the point...why were he there?

Arden Greyhamn had joined the army only weeks earlier, after spending two months tracking a large group of orcs and goblins. At first he had intended to kill them all by himself, but when the group had joined with an army, things had gotten out of hand. Arden had spent a few nights making skirmishes and stealthy attacks into the outskirts of the enemy camps. But then he had come across the human army, and seen a chance to not just kill a few of the wretched creatures, but kill the entire army. He had jumped at the chance, and now, after he had accomplished his goal, he was there, in their camp, waiting for the next chance at blood, while asking himself if he should stay, or go. After all, he was a loner, and preferred to fight his battles by himself.

He drank some more wine. Then, his eye drifted to a small bird sitting on a wooden branch chirping. He smiled slightly, for the first time in many years. He held out a hand wrapped tight in white bandages, more to absorb perspiration in battle, than blood, and made a whistling, melodic sound. It carried itself on the wind, almost like music, and the bird turned its head towards him inquisitively. At first, it seemed to be charmed by the sound, but then, suddenly, it took off and flew away. Arden stared at it as it disappeared in the sky, and then withdrew his hand.

"Tch." The elf let out an annoyed grunt, closed his eye, and leaned back again to try and get some rest. His left hand, unlike the right covered in a claw-like steel gauntlet with sharp finger tips, rather than in bandages, didn't let go of the jug of wine even when he tried to sleep.

"Bah, just like the human and elf folk. Having they Gods hold they hands through battle. Just not seemly for a warrior to fight with something other than his blade or axe." Delrick said as he lifted his great axe over a shoulder. Delrick was wearing a shimmering sheen of blood, all of which was not his. He vividly remembers the battle through his red berserker haze. He had chopped the legs off of orcs, beheaded several goblins, and hew an entire creatures down the middle. He was indeed in a full blood rage. As of now, Delrick was talking to himself rather loudly about the decision of the half-elf that appeared to be in charge to speak to his God.

"I tell ya," Del said, finally finding a mug of alcohol amongst the celebrating army, "Belthazar does not expect one of his warriors to call on him for help, only ta win eternal glory through battle and maybe make tha others cry out for their Gods instead." Del was now pounding the mug back. It had a stout and strong taste, almost like that of a dwarf. In his draught, he eyed another elf in an eye patch who seemed to be trying to rest. Doubtful due to Del's boisterous nature as a Dwarf.

After downing the entire mug in moment, he looked to the elf and belched. "Ain't that right, elf!?" He said, looking for a confirmation about his earlier comment. Without allowing for the elf to respond, if he was, he continued his complaints about 'Tha tall folk', "I tell ya elf, if this army had more dwarves, we needn't even tha slightest plan. All they need do is point us in the right direction and say that they talked bad 'bout our mothers and that there be an endless supply of ale after we were done." Del said with a hearty and low rumbling laugh. The earlier battle seemed to invigorate Del.

He then noticed that the elf was a bit more downtrodden than an elf should be. This did not escape Del either, and he brought the matter up, "Oi elf, What be tha matter with you? You folk are usually singin' and dancin' 'round trees and what not, not quiet and grumpy. Besides, elf, we won the battle, Glory to Belthazar, the day was won! And here ye be, sitting around like a log drinking... Wine? A fragile drink iffin' I ever saw one." Del said, prodding the elf.

Craymen walked through the long grass, he heard voices--particularily a loud dwarf. He peered through a large bush, listening to the dwarf. He smirked, it was talking of elves.
Curse the elves, they never did anything for me in life or death.
Craymen noticed that the elf that the large dwarf was talking to was quite different than other elves. He had strange green marks and an eyepatch. Elves were usually quite graceful, polite, and weak. The death knight spat as he thought of the last word.
Elves may be pretty, but they are weak men and women who are ignorant of war. He studied the white haired man for a moment, but this one seems different.

Arden's slumber was interrupted by the disharmonius sound of - a dwarf. He opened his eye only to hear the short creature rant about humans and their praying for victory to their gods. The elf cared not - his goddess had long since abandoned all faith and hope in him. He was a godless marauder - like the dwarf, perhaps? - who lived only for fighting. Subsequently, he ignored the dwarf, until the annoying man marched up to him and poked him in the side.

"Oi elf, What be tha matter with you? You folk are usually singin' and dancin' 'round trees and what not, not quiet and grumpy. Besides, elf, we won the battle, Glory to Belthazar, the day was won! And here ye be, sitting around like a log drinking... Wine? A fragile drink iffin' I ever saw one."

Arden glared coldly at the dwarf.
"Yeah, and the size of your mother's beard makes you look like a human six year old." He muttered, hearing suppressed chuckles at the insult, stemming from the human soldiers around them.

Craymen's mouth twitched into a slight smile.
This one is different. Perhaps he is good enough to work for me.
The death knight would take his chance when the elf was alone. As powerful as the dead man was, he couldn't stand up to the whole army.

Del stared hard at the elf, failing even to blink. He was deadly silent and his eyes bespoke an air of seriousness. Of course the rough grumblings of the Dwarf's laughter shattered all of that. "Aye, you be right on one thing elf. Me mother is hairier than both of you elves and humans put together. Hell, even your chin looks like a bare baby's arse. Human baby, obiviously. We Dwarves are born with hair on our chins." It was unclear if Del was joking, or if he was completely honest. His facial expression had changed in order to scowl at the men who were laugh. "Oi! Keep on laughin'. I'd hate to have to shave one yer an arms... From ye body... With me axe." At this, it was clear, he was serious.

He turned back to the elf. "One thing elf. Us dwarves take pride in our beards... Actually, we take pride in everything now that I think of it." Del said with a wrinkle of a mouth under his beard. He had never thought of that before. His shook his boulder like head, "Anywho, if you be findin' another dwarf, I'd wouldn't be insultin' 'em as such. Most don't have me sense of humor. Yeah, yeah, I know. A dwarf that doesn't light up like a dry piece of coal? Let me tell you elf. One don't get nuffin' done if he go an' be fightin' all the time." Which was indeed strange from a self-proclaim berserker.

"Oh well elf, get back to ye feelin' sorry for yerself. Prob'bly missin' yer trees and such. Just try and not dull yer razor sharp wit on dem beasties, aye?" Del said and began to walk back to a keg, looking for round two with his mug. He paused for a moment and called back to the elf, "Me name's Delrick The Watcher."

"What are you planning, Verminaard? What are your goals?" Antaanwei stood atop a large hill, having watched Verminaard's small army decimate the castle's meager defences with ease. "They are sctattered, this is true, but why must you take apart the small pickings, and not the much larger?" He pondered the questions for a moment more, then shrugged his delicate shoulders once, before turning around and coming face to face with a small contingent of soldiers. "This should be quite interesting," he muttered quietly.

"You," one of them shouted, "What are you doing here?" Before he could answer the question, another soldier commented, "Look at his weapon. It'd fetch a few bags of gold and steel at least." Antaanwei grinned, and switched his assumption of them being soldiers, to brigands. Standing his full height, he gripped his scythe loosely, and charged the contingent. Startled, the brigands looked confused for a moment, and tried to run. Unfortunately, he was already upon them, swinging his scythe, cutting a line through them.

Everytime his scythe cut into a brigand, a curious thing occured. It was as though their fluids were drained from their bodies, leaving behind only dried husks of flesh and bone. The humans, for they were too clumsy to be any other creature, desparately tried to escape from Antaanwei, calling him a monster from the Abyss, but to no avail.Reaching out with his left hand, he summoned an orb of chaotic red energy, and launched it at one of the men. A large explosion erupted from the human, coloring the hill top crimson with it's blood. "Good times," he whispered softly, dispatching the final human.

Staring out towards the castle, he sighed softly, "Might as well make my presence known." Lifting his scythe upon his shoulders, he slowly trotted towards the castle, and Verminaard's army.

Arden watched silently as the dwarf threatened the laughing soldiers into silence, even after, himself, laughing at the elf's insult of his mother. Then, the dwarf turned back to him, serious.

"One thing elf. Us dwarves take pride in our beards... Actually, we take pride in everything now that I think of it." He seemed lost in contemplation for a moment, until he shook his large bearded head and continued: "Anywho, if you be findin' another dwarf, I'd wouldn't be insultin' 'em as such. Most don't have me sense of humor. Yeah, yeah, I know. A dwarf that doesn't light up like a dry piece of coal? Let me tell you elf. One don't get nuffin' done if he go an' be fightin' all the time." Arden retorted with a snort:

"Not if he's a dwarf, at least. If you haven't noticed, I've been trying to pick a fight with you since the moment you first decided to interrupt my sleep, dwarf. Either draw your axe and battle me, or leave me to my sleep."

"Oh well elf, get back to ye feelin' sorry for yerself. Prob'bly missin' yer trees and such. Just try and not dull yer razor sharp wit on dem beasties, aye?" The dwarf said, before walking back towards a keg to continue drinking. Before leaving, he added: "Me name's Delrick The Watcher."

The elf looked away silently, rejecting the dwarf without introducing himself. Shortly after the dwarf had departed, most of the human soldiers did as well, leaving Arden to his much-desired solace. Had he not been an exile, a war elf, he would have meditated now. But his goddess had rejected him, and meditation would no longer rejuvenate him as it once had. Instead, elves like Arden were forced to rely on the most rudimentary method of rejuvenating - sleeping. And so, the elf closed his eye once more to try and get some sleep before his next battle - and he was itching for another battle.

"One don't get nuffin' done if he go an' be fightin' all the time." The dwarf's words echoed for a second in his mind.

"Tch." He let out an annoyed sound as he forced the words out of his mind.

The room was dark, only a few scattered candles tried to fight back the darkness that surrounded the room. Highlord Verminaard stood over a crystal ball that sat upon a three legged pedestal, whispers could be heard coming from the object as they echoed around the recently captured hall.
"My soul be given to my lord, Abaddon. I have captured the castle and we continue are march south. By the time we reach Cathalon's capital Solamnia will be completely gutted, my Dark Lord." Highlord Verminaard tensed as Abbadon spoke, for he was one of the extreme few that was granted direct audience with the Dark Lord, and it was always a harrowing experience. "You have done welll...Highlord...You have pleased me and the Dragon Lord." The deep, death filled voice echoed out from the crystal. "By your power and will only. Power and glory to you my Lord!" Verimaard spoke.

The crystal darkened as Verminaard finished, "Guards" he yelled out toward the door. The repaired doors open'd to let in his three commanding officers, two of which where orc and one human. As they gather'd around the command table Verminaard began to speak, "Tomorrow we march on toward the capital of Solamnia and kill these pathetic Knights where they breed! Highlord of the Third Army, Grom Doomhammer will be joining us for this assault, which will bring are numbers up to Nine Thousand. Also are great lord Abaddon has promised a gift to be bestowed on us, he is sending two flights of Dragons to be under my rule. Power and Glory to are Dark Lord!"






~*~






As Edward entered his tent he heard the rough sound of a dwarf, The Dwarf... Edward sighed heavily. "I'm not cut out to lead, especially hard headed dwarfs...." Edward grunted as he set his gear along side his bed and sat. "Blessed be Dwayna for are victories. Give me incite as to what I must do, if there truly is evil growing in the north, the lands are to divided to stand against it. Why have you abandoned us in are greatest time of need?" Again sighing he lay his head down and swiftly fell into a deep sleep.

John Vendrum was walking through the camp, going from fire to fire making sure not all the soldiers would get drunk this evening and assigning watch duties. As he did this he muttered to himself, "Damn these bloody Orcs, if they continue to come like this they'll push us all the way to Qualinesti, where I'm sure the damn elevens will finish us off for em." Approaching another campfire he put on a smile and talked with a few tauren's for awhile. Across the camp he could see and hear the rather load dwarf making trouble...again... Excusing himself he began making his way across the camp, again muttering. "Damn him, we only have 18 men and barley over two dozen taurens..at this rate he's going to drive everyone away.." By the time the Captain was close enough to say anything the Dwarf was done ranting and was walking off from the strange elven, so deciding it was best to leave it be he simply diverted and began talking with some men.

Bron Halfhorn also overheard the rather load and angry short man, though deciding it was best to look after his own people rather get into the affairs of men, he gathered a few tauren for a patrol. A few moments later four tauren and the Cheiften left the camp heavily armored and riding Kodo's.


Bron Halfhorn.

Craymen smiled as the soldiers went to their beds and a suspicious party of taurens left. He saw the white haired elf lay back, this was his chance to persuade him.
The Death Knight of Grenth crept from the bush, dual blades at the ready. He sneaked through the grass behind the elf and made a sudden move to grab him by the mouth. He would gag him seconds after.
The war elf will join me in my quest for veangance. He must!

Arden's eyes suddenly crack-opened as an ice-cold, completely unnatural chill crept up his spine. His elven nature, so used to being in sync with Nature, was repulsed by the feeling of wrong over it, but it was an instinctive reaction more by his elven nature than by the elf himself. Even so, he threw himself sideways and forward with a grasp for air, barely avoiding a hand clutching for his mouth. He fell on his back to the ground with a heavy thud that knocked the air out of him, but he quickly recovered and rolled to his feet. Instead of reaching for the spear now lying on the ground between him and the character behind the tree, he quickly unsheathed Ember and Howl, his two elfblades.

Not wishing to draw attention to himself, he let their tips point to the ground, as he spoke with his usual cold, distanced tone:
"Who are you? Speak quickly, for my patience is short and my blades are thirsty."

Craymen was surprised by the sudden reaction.
"Have no fear, elf. I mean peace. I am on a sort of a journey," he paused, "to destroy the men who have killed me."
He realized the "who have killed me" part was a bit strange, so he explained. "I am a death knight." He thought for a moment, "not your enemy." he added with distaste.

Arden relaxed, though only slightly.
"I'll be the judge of that." He replied coldly to the death knight's assurance. "What makes you think an elf would ever want to work with a vile creature like you?" His voice carried no remorse at the harsh words, and he continued: "Why would I want to help you?" Feeling no threat from the creature, he quickly sheathed his elfblades, and reached down for his spear. After retrieving it, he motioned with his head towards the forest, and disappeared into the green oods, though only far enough to get out of sight from the camp, where they could talk undisturbed.

"Talk." He finally said to the death knight. "And talk fast."

Craymen scowled under his cowl at being ordered about, he hesitated, but followed the elf into the forest.
"First of all, I see that you are not like other elves. You aren't too graceful," he guestured at the eyepatch, "you have strange green markings on your face," his crimson eyes flashed in amusement, "and you're not as... polite." He sheathed his blades and brought out his staff. He carefully leaned on it.
"Through your encounter with the dwarf, I saw that you insulted him without hesitation and made a fool of him. I like that, I can see your potential." He paused,
"And I'm tired of undead minions. Being a living man means that you have some more sense than the brainless skeletons."

"How interesting, a legion of orcs." Antaanwei's lips lifted slightly, before settling back into his small frown. He stood in the shadows of the ruined gate, and watched as the orcs milled about several fires. Many had roasting meats over the fires, drinking their swill they call beer, or lounging about precariously. 'I wonder if he's noticed me yet,' he pondered thoughtfully, 'If he hasn't already, he soon will.' Stepping out from the shadows, he strode purposefully towards a large orc, and slammed his right fist into it's left shoulder.

"Too weak," he muttered softly, watching as the orc clutched it's ruined shoulder, screaming in pain. "You really are annoying," he said aloud, and, bringing his scythe up, he silenced the orc forever. A great uproar soon followed, as many of it's companions charged him, swinging their clumsy weapons at his body. "Too slow," he whispered, dodging the blows effortlessly. He swung his scythe in a complete circle about him, and watched as half a dozen orcs crumpled to dust from the power of his scythe.

"Verminaard," Antaanwei called out, "Where are you? I must speak words with you." His left hand began to glow crimson, just as his eyes grew dark. Words began to flow from his mouth, harsh words that burned many ears from those that heard it. He raised his hand above himself, and felt the energy engulf his body. Pain lanced across his form, as the energy pierced his very essence, but he did not care, because he knew it would end soon enough. Once the words slowed, then stopped, he leapt high into the air, more than a mile above the castle. He slowly brought his legs together, crossed them, and sat on empty air.

Delrick sighed as he turned his back on the elf. "Damned cocky bastard," He said in a fit of frustration. "Elf thinkin' he could take a Dwarf. Somethin' be wrong with his spindly head." He said to a random soldier. Of course the soldier seemed as if he wanted anything else, but to talk to the dwarf, yet Del had him in his grips and his chances of escape from the Dwarf's tirade were nonexistent.

"I'd snap 'im like tha dry twig he came from. Elves always be thinkin' they better than tha other races, that's why we don't like 'em. Fool, one don't be go makin' enemies from allies, t'aint right, aye?" Del said before swigging from his mug. The soldier he was talking to just absent mindly nodded, clearly not paying attention to the dwarf. "Now see, ta elf be goin' and puttin' me in a sour mood. A dwarf don't be sour when he drinkin'! Tis not right!" He said with a armored fist banging on the nearest wooden object. This caused the man to jump slightly of course, snapping him back to the Dwarves tirade.

Del shook his head vigorously, causing drops of ale to fly from his beard on to the soldier next to him, who eyed the dwarf with annoyance. "I'm a gonna find that elf and set ta bastard straight. One don't be making light of Delrick, no he doen't. Last one who be tryin' that ended up in a ditch. Damned orcs..." He said and began to march his stout body in the direction of the last sighting of the elf.

He reached the edge of the woods, yet not finding the elf. His nose scrunched up and annoyance and began to step away, but before making it he heard voices inside the woods. "Ah, found ye elf." He said under his breath and marched into the woods. In moments he found the owners of the voices, the elf, and another stranger. A man dressed in black armor and crimson eyes. Del raised and eyebrow at the newcomer and leaned on his axe, more out of curiosity than anything.

"So elf. Be makin' strange friends behind me back I see." He said with a certain air of anger to the elf. He then turned to the man himself and nodded his head, in what would be a curt dwarven bow. "A good night to you stranger. I just be havin' some issues with yer arrogant elven friend here. Pardon my interruption sir, I'll wait me turn." Del said, his cultured manners shining through to the strange man. He hadn't done anything to rouse the dwarf's frustration yet. Del stood, leaning on the butt of his axe, waiting for his turn for words with the elf.

Craymen stared at the dwarf for a moment. His eyes finally flashed in amusement and he almost laughed at the short man.
"Please, you go first. The elf and I have a private conversation."
I don't want a dwarf eavesdropping on my plans.
Craymen stayed leaning on his quarterstaff, silently laughing. The dwarf was one of the most amusing sights that he had ever seen, it brought some joy into the death knight's never-ending life of being dead.

Arden, unlike the death knight, didn't laugh. He let out an annoyed "Tch", and muttered as he glared at the dwarf:

"You really don't know when to give up, do you, dwarf?" His hands landed on his sword hilts, and he contemplated attacking the dwarf on the spot, slaying him and hiding his body in the forest. But the sounds of battle would draw the attention of soldiers from the camp, and only bring trouble to himself, even if he won. It would also prevent him from exploiting his largest opportunity yet to murder masses of his hated enemies. Slowly, he let go of the blades, and instead spoke coldly:

"If you have any brain at all behind that ale-soaked beard, you'll drop the issue and walk away. But as I have never heard of a dwarf with half a brain, I'm going to assume you will not leave until your pride have been satisfied." He looked down at the dwarf with an openly hostile expression on his face as he hissed: "You can feed that pathetic pride to the dogs! I am not interested in your company, nor in your 'issues'. I do not entertain friends, allies or comrades. I fight alone, and only serve with this army as long as they do not get in my way. Talking to you...is a waste of time."

With that, he turned his back on the dwarf, once more rejecting him openly.

Del's rough face lit up red in a fit of anger. As the elf turned his back on the dwarf, he quickly moved behind the elf, dragging his axe behind him. Del the grabbed at the back of the elf's shirt. He would have gone for the the back of the neck, but considering his size, he had to make do with what he had. He grabbed a strong handful of the elf's shirt and forcefully threw him backwards to the ground. Delrick turned with the elf and hefted his axe in both hands and placed the spike in the gap of his axe above the elf's neck.

"Listen here, ye damned fool! If ye even think about gettin' away from me this time, heads will be rolling, aye?" Delrick said with the fiery edge of his dwarven anger. "I am not ye damned enemy, so stop tryin' to make me out to be one!" Del continued his his fit of anger. "If ye think ye can take on the enemy by yerself, then ye have more foolish pride than any dwarf in me family! Aye we are proud, but me family taught me to not be stupid either! Fightin' by yeself is a damned foolish thing to do iffin I ever saw 'un, very much so when ye have people who would fight with ye too! Idiot! I'll tell ye a waste of time! Goin' out there and dyin' fer no good reason at all!" He said tearing the axe back away from the elf and taking a couple of steps backwards, wary of a counter from the elf. Elves, always unpredictable they were.

"Listen here, elf. Ye think ye are the only one with an axe to grind? Ye be damned wrong! They.. The Deldimor took me brother... Tha's why I'm here. Set out from me home from a royal dwarven family, father and eldest brother both too proud to see we were fightin' a losin' war. Aye, I were like that too, until I lost Marl. It opened me eyes, we needed help from tha surfacers, That's why I be fightin' here. If I can help ta end this war faster, than I can bring help to my home sooner. Hell elf, if we thick-headed, half-brained dwarves need help, what chance ye think ye have by yerself?" Del said quite somberly.

"Now ye better yank that stick from yer ass soon, a'fore and pull it out for yer and beat ye with it." He glaring at the elf from behind his beard.


((Sorry if that seemed like god-modding, I didn't mean it that way. I just needed something to set up a dramatic mood.))

Arden felt the dwarf grab him from behind, but that was all he felt before landing on the ground. The short warrior was faster than the elf had anticipated, and soon, he found himself with the axe to his throat. Glaring hatefully at the dwarf, he listened in bitter silence as the warrior talked. His hand sought its way to the ground, and grabbed a handful of dirt, waiting for his opportunity. But before he could launch a counter-attack, the dwarf, clearly an experienced warrior, backed away from him. Arden let go of the dirt, the opportunity passed.

"Listen here, elf. Ye think ye are the only one with an axe to grind? Ye be damned wrong! They.. The Deldimor took me brother... Tha's why I'm here. Set out from me home from a royal dwarven family, father and eldest brother both too proud to see we were fightin' a losin' war. Aye, I were like that too, until I lost Marl. It opened me eyes, we needed help from tha surfacers, That's why I be fightin' here. If I can help ta end this war faster, than I can bring help to my home sooner. Hell elf, if we thick-headed, half-brained dwarves need help, what chance ye think ye have by yerself?" Del said quite somberly.

"Now ye better yank that stick from yer ass soon, a'fore and pull it out for yer and beat ye with it."

Arden laughed out loud at the dwarf's words. It was a cold, dead, joyless and hollow laughter, and it died as quickly as it had appeared.
"Your brother?" He snorted in disdain, growling at the dwarf: "Don't make me laugh! You should be glad they didn't kill your sister too, while they were at it." He stood up, and looked down at the axe-wielding warrior. "I don't care about victory, I don't care about vengeance, and I don't care about this war. The only thing I care about is to keep killing my enemies until there are none left standing. That's what I live for. Other people will only get in my way." He looked down at the dwarf with a cold smile. "And when they do, I cut them down."

He added, words that he thoroughly believed in:
"Allies, and friends, make you weak, and I don't need either. So stay out of my way. The next time you get in my way, I'll kill you." He gritted his teeth hard.

Craymen was angered at the elf's words. If the green marked man didn't want an ally, how was he going to work for a death knight?
The undead Solamnian knight thought this over, he wasn't quite the diplomat, he didn't really have a way with words. The only thing he could do was threaten the elf, that wouldn't work out too well either.

Craymen shrugged, he'd persuade the eye-patched elf some way or another.

"Bah! You mean try to kill me! You wouldn't be tha first to try that elf! You sure as hell won't be tha last yer fool!" The dwarf said, yelling at the elf, hoping some of what he was saying would penetrate. "I see that yer mad as hell, elf. I be a dwarven berserker, I know 'bout anger. I know that it can be a powerful tool. I also be knowing that it can be ye death! I bet we be similar elf, but there be a reason why you be never killin' me." Del said, lift the axe off of the ground and balanced it on his shoulder, just in case the elf tried something.

"My anger, my sorrows, they have a purpose. That purpose drives me axe and hones me blood rage into a finely honed edge. Yer anger, yer pissed off attitude has no purpose. It only serves to blind ye stupid self. Ye only fight to kill, and that be a stupid reason to fight. Ye won't last long wit' an attitude like that. I know, I've seen stone hard Dwarves crack and delve into mindless killing fools. They never last long elf. Neither will you." Del said, spitting to his side.

"Ye think allies and friends hold you back. Ye wrong, they hold ye together. Marl was me brother and friend. He held me in this world, so that I would not delve into tha' mindless frenzy. I held him here too, I like ta think. Fool! Ye don't see what you can do with allies! We killed mountain's worth of our enemies! We were the heroes of our tribe! You want to kill all ye enemies by yerself!? Ye won't kill many! Yet, with friends and a purpose, ye can kill anything. That's why I haven't lost me mind yet. I will save me home. And yer killin' me would run against that, now wouldn'it? That's why ye can't kill me, I have a purpose. You? You aren't even worth the nick ye'd cause on me axe." Del said, spitting to the side once more.

"Now, ye can continue to make ye stupid baseless threats, hoping to intimidate into yer enemy. Or ye can fight this war the right way and kill ye real enemies." Del said. It was clear the stubborn, hard-headed dwarf wasn't going to budge an inch. His fingers flexed on his great axe as the fingers on his other hand rested in on a fold in his armor. He hoped the elf wouldn't try anything stupid.

The elf laughed once more. It was the same cold, dead laughter.

"Well..." He said. "We both certainly have proven our ignorance today, haven't we?" He took notice of the fact many soldiers had begun to wonder what the commotion was about, and were coming their way. It wasn't possible to fight the dwarf now without having to leave the army. Soon, it would draw the attention of the officers, and there would be no more chance to end the argument quietly. It was time to wrap it up - for now, at least.

He looked back to the short warrior:
"Elves have berserkers too, old man, though I'm sure you've never heard of that. We like to keep their existence secret... Unlike dwarves, we don't pride ourselves on them, because they oppose the reason and stoic nature of the elves. So we banish them into exile. Our berserkers don't need an anchor, nor a purpose. Their sole existence becomes that of fighting. And they fight in battle, not with the rage of dwarven berserkers, but under the power of the Detachment. It is not something a dwarf could ever comprehend even the most basic notions behind - few elves, even, can. Which is why they exile us. But there are no greater fighting forces than the war elves of my country. If you wish to test your words against mine, berserker, I will be glad to fight you to the death." He glared at the dwarf, and added:

"When we're alone. Until then, don't get in my way again. Until then, we have nothing left to talk about."

He turned and looked at the death knight.
"You have an offer to make. I would speak of it before those humans get curious enough to come over here and see what the commotion is about. I suggest you talk, and talk fast. And make the offer a good one. I've wasted enough of my time and patience here already. I'm starting to feel the urge to kill something, and while the soldiers wouldn't appreciate my killing one of their allies, I'm not so certain they'd miss a death knight..."