Fetzen

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The Five Senses

Týfurkh

Týfurkh felt himself hating himself. Could this plan of his have worked out any better if he had done anything better or just planned with a little more intelligence in his head ? The fact that he could probably never give himself an answer to this question kept nagging at the man for just too many resources had been spent on the previous fight: Their last jade candle, the number of soliders who either had died or been wounded because he had been busy strapping his gear back one, the amount of time they had lost on a plan that had worked out for... half a minute maybe ?

He needed to concentrate on here and now even if that meant exposing his mind to what was euphemistically called 'the seed', blatantly ignoring the fact that a seed usually was a good thing while this was nothing but a monstrosity that surpassed pretty much anything even the most unreasonable experimenter could cook up in a laboratory. Except if he or she was with this cult, that was...

He did not want to end up as yet another corpse in this pit, not end up as nourishment for this aberration that sought after ultimate knowledge but had lost any reason on the first mile of its journey already. The small question was: How to stop it now that the level of uglyness and the number of tentacles roaming around had just doubled ?

This was a damn wine cellar! Wine was mostly water, so it didn't burn. Something burning however was what Týfurkh felt they needed. Maybe burning the corpses could starve the thing to death if they could just keep the willing servants away long enough ? Or was there another way to empty the feeding trough ? Having rushed into cover a fair bit away and hoping for everyone else to share this most instinctive reaction for the lack of obvious alternatives, Týfurkh shouted out to the others: "Gonna try and set up an explosion! This will be ugly!"

Easier said than done though for being in cover also meant that the very depth of the pit did not have a direct line of sight with him. He'd have to work his acoustic magic in a very well placed manner and as intensively as possible to have any effect...

SANDSTRIDERS: A Lost Land

Dalani

---

Just like the destructive jaws of a grappler crane, just a lot more miniature and unlike the latter in actual existence, Dalani's clawed fingers hovered over the small area of table all of his attention was focused on. People commonly believed that glass was a very well organized, crystalline miracle with a high degree of order on both the very small and the larger scale, but the truth was that it was chaos just like liquid water that had stopped moving because its internal bonds had become too strong anyway. It made merging the stuff actually easier, at least on the tiny scale of things Dalani could only see by means of magic.

Strictly macrosopically speaking however it was still a daunting task to drop each and every single shard into a position that would preserve the bottle's overall shape. One misaligned piece and none of its successors would fit properly anymore -- and it appeared the tavern was becoming more vibrant by the second. What was going on ?

Dalani raised his head and looked over the boy that was accompanying him towards the counter. The hefty male was hard to overlook, but even more so the crude exclamations from the patrons behind his back were hard to overhear. These primitive people! And then the guards arrived and happily picked up on the overall situation. It was apparent that the big, elderly man's moments in this tavern were already counted, but what Dalani did not expect was for them to end with such a beating quite literally.

"Please go back to your parents for a moment, will you ?" Happily the boy had been sitting with the back towards the worst of the scene, so maybe the child's eyes had been spared some of the bloody spectacle. Dalani did not even want to know at this point however whether the boy's parents had been part of those patrons asking for this. Afraid of the answer ? Probably, yes. But also lucky to have been spared of that sight, too.

The Ayiralite approached the two soldiers who seemed rather confident in having done a good job, something he hoped to change: "My sincere thanks for getting this man out and caring about this place's atmosphere." he introduced himself not trying to tear down the door right away.

"It is important to keep the filth out, but..." His voice remained calm and halfway friendly, but his tongue right now was nowhere near reflecting his real thoughts about what had just happened. "... would you mind turning your eyes towards your most immediate surroundings ?

Dalani's arm reached out as if to embrace all the bloody dirt on the way from his current position to the beaded curtains and beyond and sure he could and maybe even would have taken care of that all for himself, but only if there had not been two disciplined and able-bodied men who'd certainly be willing to listen to someone who was much closer to their beloved Maatrho than their humble human self could ever hope for, right ?

"Do you think it will do any good to this business' income if its customers' feet are denied to tread on these refreshingly cold, beautifully laid glazed tiles with their marvelous red-brown color, but instead have to avoid the occasional tooth that might otherwise punch into their skin and give back the extra bit of grip they might be missing due to all the... blood-red lubrication on the ground ?" More serious than before, he continued: "You think the Maatrho would approve of such a thing impairing the economy of his kingdom when there's such a simple fix available ? I believe it's called 'a rag in your hand'!"

With this being Dalani's last words, he left the guards to their own devices and returned to his table only to scoop up all the glass in the partly reassembled state it was and dump it into his bag a little less carefully than would have been appropriate for that kind of stuff. One last smile to the boy and the Ayiralite shoved aside the beaded curtain quite vigorously so he could start following this tavern's most recent... advertisement... on the ground.

Whether the guards would be sensible enough to try and clean up this mess outside as well ? He had little hope, but it would be fun if they did because he planned to go where any cleaning effort would have to go as well and that was the elderly man who had been treated so miserably.

Rolls

Persuading the two guards

Winds of Fate - A Thieves' Adventure (Semi-Tabletop)

Skarsat

From his position behind the cart, Skarsat had not so much insight into about where the whole cart was heading towards. His vision was blocked by empty containers, jars full of alchemist's fire, barrels serving as wooden wrappers for selfish bandits who had had enough bad luck not only for themselves but for the whole lot of people as well, and two other individuals whose uselessness had already been ascertained in the female and -- fortunately! -- not yet proven or disproven in the male case. Right now both of them made the effort of pushing only more difficult, only feeding Skarsat's desire to leave the job of steering in the hands of those who actually were in control of the pair of wheels that could turn.

Skarsat's ongoing thoughts shattered to pieces as he felt and heard something whizzing right through the gap between his arm and body as if through an almost ridiculously small archway. The barrel it hit, to use less harmful words, structurally failed and revealed its content just as the latter made the ultimate transition from life to death. In the brief moment before their mule's shriek announced the end of their short drive, Skarsat could see into Neh'miah's eyes. They were wide open almost as if the thief had seen that shot coming which, of course, was a thing of impossibility. Maybe the result of one last, uncontrolled stimulus as nerves had been severed and pushed aside by shattered bones ? The grotesque statue the man had been reduced to toppled over and landed on the ground butt-first as the cart veered to the right onto a collision course, the lethal bolt still sticking out at the back of the head and the front of the dislocated jaw.

"Get yer arse down, ye fecking hefty oaf...! Yer gonna get ye fecking head shot off!"

Y'Vanna's heavy accent brought Skarsat's attention back to the fact that difficulties had just begun. Not sitting on the cart had spared him from the worst of the impact, but he was still blatantly exposed indeed! The Tork man's shadow engulfed Y'Vanna for a fraction of a second as he jumped over the cart's remains, landing next to the woman with one massive noise.

"Get your driving skills up!" he snapped back at her, adding "And keep your head away from the cart. These crossbows are strong!" If one of those bolts could punch trough a barrel, it could probably also get quite a bit through the wooden boards in front of them and hit anybody who did not keep some fair bit of air between them and himself.

Skarsat was well aware of his new investment being slung right over his shoulder and just waiting for a first use. Space was quite an issue for a big man big bow combination if one had to remain covered for the sake of staying alive, but even more so would it be an issue for him to try and get to the shit without any of those four trained soldiers hitting him. It had almost worked before already... Perching on the dock's dirt and making his height as insignificant as possible, Skarsat readied his weapon and tried to make an educated guess about one of sheriff's men rough position by sound. He did not dare to raise his head above the cart's frame until he really had to for one quick, final correction of his aim.

And only as he was about to do that he noticed what their crazy madwoman was doing... This Solange dared to search and loot the shit out of their dead comrades while under fire! Now would she at least offer to share the spoils or would she keep everything to herself ? Hell why did he even wonder... However, just as much as Skarsat felt his profound aversion towards her refueled by her actions, he also found them to be quite useful for himself. The Sheriff's bowmen would probably pay less attention to him taking his final aim while looking -- or perferably just shooting at -- Solange's nice butt making a run for it, would they ?

The broadhead arrow cut through the air with a hissing noise. Skarsat really would have preferred to just kill Gerranti and thereby take the head of the snake instead of just cutting away a small slice of its tail, but Gerranti was in cover and one ranged fighter less still improved everyone's odds. So the individual hit was one of those with a crossbow just as the soldier got his hand off the crank. The man's breakfast was to suddenly find a second exit from his guts along with large quantities of blood as the armor had only provided insufficient protection against the broadhead. Gerranti's subordinate collapsed almost instantly and frantically pressed his hands against the disturbingly large arrow and its entry wound, but a few seconds later the cries became fewer and quieter already. So that was one quarter of the most immediate threat eliminated.

Still three quarters left though and they were running out of time as the melee fraction of Gerranti's men would certainly not wait forever until closing in. They had to get away from here and now there were three not only halfway disciplined, but also very angry shooters just waiting for anyone to come out of the cart's cover. The ship was just too far away for a mad dash, it would have to be a lunatic's dash!

That was, unless...

Skarsat's eyes wandered towards one of the cart's wheels that looked a bit dislocated as if its axle had partially cracked. To his delight he noticed that these were not some of those more delicate hub and spoke weels, but made by a much more primitive and heavy-duty design comprised of thick wooden boards bolted to each other in separate layers and ultimately carved into their final, round shape. That could work, at least for one of them! The Tork crawled towards the piece of equipment and did his best to complete the damage, yanking it off the axle's remains and figuring out how to get a good hold on it without exposing his fingers on the other side too much.

That was one very makeshift shield, but still a lot better than nothing and probably sufficient to protect him while moving ducked and someone much smaller than him while running. He'd only need it for one thing before handing it over to Y'Vanna and that was reaching Neh'miah's body. Searching it for the pricey stuff like that vulture called Solange ? Never! There were more speedy options available to extract any of the coins or other valuables the poor man had been carrying, options that even would preserve the chance to give the fellow anything similar to a proper burial at sea. And of course he'd be able to put it between him and the guards as a larger, thicker, softer version of a shield for himself while Y'Vanna used the wheel. Given the mess that Neh'miah's head had been turned into it would take an incrediby bad strike of luck to desecrate it any worse than the city's officials would, would it ?

"Y'Vanna ? Give me cover and tell me when at least some of them are reloading again!"

But... now what! Explosions ? Smoke ? There were too many weird things going off for Skarsat's poor mind to understand simultaneously... Now if he could only wait for the smoke to become the thickest and then get this body...

Rolls/actions

- Attack the guard with the champion's bow and a broadhead arrow: roll for aim (1d20 + 3 archery), roll for damage (1d8 + 3 strength)
- Retrieve one of the cart's wheels as a makeshift shield for further actions later on: no roll

Old Glory: Land of Opportunity (Post Apoc Dungeon Diving)

Torsten

Torsten Gunnarsson | 37 | Barbarian

❖ Summary

---

Torsten's an immigrant from Europe, somewhat disappointed by the new continent but trying to make the best ouf of it. This includes making a virtue out of his inexperience and venturing into things in a more daredevil manner than might be necessary, last but not least because he is on a mission to prove himself towards his family and those few others of his 'kind' he knows.

❖ Ambitions, Failstate, Virtues & Flaws

---

Death might be the ultimate endpoint, but reaching it before time can catch up with oneself in terms of getting old is not the worst thing that can happen. Dying because of a superior enemy or other circumstances one cannot be made responsible for is not inhonorable, but trying to prevent death by avoiding any and every risk life has to offer certainly is. This attitude is not the one Torsten has been living to for the entirity of his past, nor is it the one he plans to go by for every day in the future, but right now it is the one he has and is willing to abide to.

Torsten does not yet know what kind of thing he might encounter in order to prove himself, but that is part of the challenge. Since everybody could just tell a lie about deeds done alone he has to bring back something. The tooth of a giant bear perhaps ? Or maybe some clapped out computer than can only come from an abandoned, irradiated nuclear powerplant control room where aside from sickness only wilderness thrives. Monetary value is not the point, just the fact that he had to overcome his fears, the pain and the punishment.

Of course this is a very stupid task even from the point of view of an observer who is just halfway rationally thinking. Does Torsten care ? Yes he does. He's not crazy in the sense that he'd jump right into the dragon's maw with open eyes and unprepared, but at least he'd seriously consider the chances of slaying the beast by deliberately entering the first stage of its digestive tract and hitting it from the inside while running away and not just run away.

❖ History & Origins

---

Torsten is the second of three children, all raised by his caring parents Gunnar and Revna. He was not actually born on the American continent, but can be seen as the reincarnation of migration from Europe to the US. It was a tough ride across the Atlantic and one of his brethren was lost to the sea, but the 'modern' rebuild of an ancient boat still standing in a half ruined museum proved seaworthy to an acceptable degree.

Unfortunately, due to the lack of high speed and long range communications, there had been no advance warning for them that things were not really better on the new continent than they were on the old one. In fact, with only what little resources they had managed to take with them and with quite a few natives not so happy to see new people walking around on their shorelines, life turned into quite more of a struggle than originally hoped for. It was there when the still rather young Torsten had to use his sharp blades for real for the first time, getting both his own blood shed and that of other people.

Since then Torsten and his family had never really lived a sedentary life, but found it advantageous to keep moving around. They slowly drifted further South where they hoped the overall climate and circumstances would more resemble what they had hoped to find, but certainly held back in terms of the raiding. It's safe to say that Torsten's experience stems from a series of defensive engagements than aggressive moves against the people they encountered.

His family is still alive and well, but it is a tradition of theirs that every male has to prove himself in some way, preferably all on his own, and bring back something that can tell a story about his achievements. At least in that respect America seems to be a great place, offering an almost disturbing variety of ruins, abandoned cities and threats none of their forefathers would ever have seen in their lifetime...

❖ Appearance & Equipment

---

At 5'11" Torsten is not exactly a match for some of the wilder expectations and rumors about those 'giant Norse warriors' that seem to be more rooted in fantasies of days gone than actual truth, but those disappointed by his height can maybe find relief in the fact that still stools creak and horses groan under the weight of his muscle. Aside from that Torsten is neither trying to look overly fierce nor does he so by nature. He likes long hair, but for the sake of preserving his field of vision even in a fight he has cut away a lot of it at the sides. His eyes are of an unconspicuous gray color and accompanied by a rather large nose and thin lips below. The most notable thing about his face probably are the tribal markings, large blue patches spanning over large areas of his skin not only along his head, but over the rest of his body as well.

• Large, one-handed axe
• Spear, suited for both wielding and being thrown
• Skinning knife
• Thick leather armor reinforced with fur and hide to serve the additional purpose of thermal protection as well
• 'Civilian' linen cloth, dyed in primitive green and gray

❖ Occupation & Skills

---

Who'd have thought a Viking's life could be so surprisingly boring ? On average, Torsten has spent only the smallest fraction of his time on actual fighting and still a lot less on training for it than being trained by the daily hardships of life. Moving around and gathering resources has been almost daily routine for him even prior to their arrival on the American continent, so it can't come as a surprise that he's actually faster at gutting a dead animal and hunting for fish in a river than he is in, well, creating carnage amongst his foes. Not that he'd be slow in terms of the latter...

• Wild game hunting
• Fishing
• Fighting with axe and spear
• Sailing, though for anything larger than a boat additional crew is required, of course
• Berserk, the art of going into a deep state of rage to increase one's offensive prowess and mercilessness at the cost of carefulness and overall well-being afterwards. He is still sort of an apprentice though and nowhere near mastering it.

Winds of Fate - A Thieves' Adventure (Semi-Tabletop)

Skarsat

Skarsat had already felt the itch on the back of his hand to clench his fist and to liberate all of the poor air around that was imprisoned in a space without Neh'miah, without any chance to see the marvelous inside of the glorious man's nostrils ever again. It would have been a quick and easy move to ram a breathing hole into the wooden barrel and, while some people around them might have wondered about why he did this, none of them would have had the authority or even just the bare means to stop them due to any kind of upcoming suspicion.

The bar had been raised, however. A lot.

Skarsat was not in the cart with the others, but walked next and halfway behind it and did not care much about the busy market behind him he had already seen inside out. So the sheriff's men approaching them from that direction did go undetected by his attention initially, but either the booze had not yet left Solange's system in sufficient quantity and she was talking utter bullshit, or they had a problem. His gaze turned towards her and maybe she could see that, maybe for the first time ever, he was actually taking her seriously and not as the unscrupulous bitch she was already marked down as in his mind. What she said made just too much sense.

That brief moment of appreciation was likely doomed to remain the only one of its kind this morning however as the Tork man realized that Solange, despite her mouth actually making useful noise for a change, still was yet another ass aside Neh'miah's that did not help move things forward. Skarsat's eyes wandered towards Maréngo and quickly deduced from the man's obvious lack of engagement to get himself going instead of talking that the pirate would not be of much help either. Now could at least that new pet of him take off and help pushing ?

Of course Pyka didn't...

Skarsat considered whether he should spare himself the effort and claim that suddenly going to higher speeds would only shed the spotlight on them while it was not yet ascertained that the sheriff's men were actually looking for Neh'miah and knew he was with them, but it was a false hope. This thief had stolen some important stuff, but even more so he was now stealing all of their neves! And so Skarsat's hands reached for the sides of the cart as he positioned himself right behind it, his body leaning forward more and more and his feet digging into the ground and trying to find some grip on whatever protruding cobblestone he could find. Maybe it was a bit of a start too flamboyant as Y'Vanna's feet now were in serious danger of being rammed into the mule's dirty rear as long as the latter's speed wasn't synchronized with the cart again, but Skarsat could hardly care less.

They were in danger, and so was his chance of proving that he was not the annoying, useless, ludicrously oversized foreigner refusing to endulge himself in the local supply of vine for it now were exactly these properties that seemed to make him the perfect choice for making that thing go faster as requested! Just knowing that those who had tried to screw him would now be screwed without him was such a morale boost...

_{Awareness roll}

SANDSTRIDERS: A Lost Land

Clack. Clack. Clack.

It almost sounded as if the innkeeper had cramped his wine glasses a bit too close together on the narrow shelf, causing them to touch each other and emanate the typical sounds of glass hitting glass whenever there were vibrations coming from the floor above. However it just were the hands of a lonely Ayiralite, or rather the hard tips protruding from their fingers, who made contact with individual items of a whole heap of glass shards. It was not a scattered mess, but a well organized pattern Dalani had laid out on the wooden table in front of him. Every piece had been arranged in a way that correlated with the level of confidence he had about it belonging to those pieces next to it.

Trying to reassemble broken bottles randomly picked up from the dirty streets was a task likely to be considered completely unnecessary and horribly boring by the patrons sitting at the adjacent tables, but for Dalani nothing could have been further away from the truth. He was creating small miracles in the minds of those who could not understand: bottles that clearly showed signs of having been shattered once in their past, but then again fully functional without any treacherous seams only the melting of glass could cause! A good way to earn a few tiny coins and to make people both curious and happy.

More importantly however he was creating a small miracle for himself and that was being able to concentrate on something else than just how wicked this place seemed to be. Maatrho here, Maatrho there, Maatrho everywhere! If this was some sort of delapidated outpost of Tawr, just how bad must things have turned in their heartland since he had been there for the last time ? Couldn't just some bad guy buy a big bat and batter this blue skinned benefactor's beautiful bottom to bits ? And then set fire to the palace, just to vaporize the evidence of an injured god king for good measure. No, really, Dalani had nothing against his own kind, but just how an entire human population of such size as the Tawr could deliberately and effectively enslave themselves and just how a single Ayiralite such as said 'god king' could obviously dare to do nothing against this kind of belief he himself profited the most of was a shame. And yet at the same time there were other people in this world who could certainly use some of the respect for Ayiralites those in Tawr seemed to have in utter excess.

The bottle reassembly thing just helped to take his attention away from his surroundings while he was stuck here, making it a lot easier to ingore those humans around him who were all too eager to make him feel superior while he actually did not want to. Now if he only could find the right piece that matched this oddly shaped breaking pattern...

Bang!

The entirity of Dalani's right arm twitched as he suddenly felt something warm, soft and odd on the back of his head. The large piece of glass still in his hand scraped across the table and sent its fair share of the careful arrangement hurtling towards the ground, multiplying the overall complexity in the process. He twisted his head and upper body so fast it almost didn't seem good for the stool's integrity, only to then look into the wide, brown eyes of a small boy who had crawled onto the table behind him. The young man's hand shook quite a little as he, very slowly, retracted it. No words were exchanged, but Dalani could see the fear and anger written on the faces of those two individuals who sat at the other end of the table their child had just used as a shortcut.

The Ayiralite raised his hand and made a waving gesture, trying to indicate that he was not angered by what had just happened. A small touch just to know how his upper head felt like was a very harmless way to take a sample, no reason to be worried at all. It didn't seem to be of much help however. The couple still just sat there in a rather shocked and frozen manner.

Dalani tried to muster a smile when he said "I think my hands got the same feeling to them as my head. You could touch them a lot if you'd help me to reassemble my little puzzle.". He didn't even have to point at the now completely unordered pile of glass shards down on the floor. Of course he'd pick them up for his skin didn't suffer from cuts that easily, but he really could use some assistance now with holding a few things in place while he worked his magic.

The boy's lips parted, but no words were to be heard. Was he afraid of punishment from his parents for he had sneaked up to and touched one of their 'divines' faster than they had been able to react ? Or were all three of them now anxiously waiting for said divine's verdict ? Dalani couldn't help but let go of a sigh he tried to suppress at the same time. He could see in the boy's eyes that the latter would be all too happy to join the earth man in front of him, then decided that sometimes one had to just force somebody's luck onto them.

Dalani reached for the boy's ankle, dragged him over the remainder of the table gently and let him extend his legs down to the floor again. "Come on, sit down and help me a little." and a chair was pulled out and offered quickly. Those two individuals behind their backs ? Dalani slowly stopped caring for their facial expressions. These two wouldn't intervene against the decision of someone who had descended from the heavens above, would they ? At least sometimes even the most stupid superstition could be good for something...

Old Glory: Land of Opportunity (Post Apoc Dungeon Diving)

@Fetzen@Jarl Coolgruuf@DX3214 Any status on character sheets?

@Arhestoval Welcome aboard! You got any ideas?

@ClocktowerEchos

Mine should be ready this evening :)

SANDSTRIDERS: A Lost Land

Dalani

Dalani

I can see the greed in your eyes to harvest the minerals on my head. You can ask me for advice on how to find some or you can threaten me and pick them up from within your guts. Your choice!

---

___________________________________ P R O F I L E Age 32 Race Ayiralite Sex Male Height 6'1" Weight 245 lbs Alignment Chaotic good Class Archer Level 1 Planar Lineage Earth Health Points 28 ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y - Water flask - Provisions for a day or two (bread, salt meat) - Coin purse (half empty) - Bed roll - A few small, shiny stones probably not worth anything. He picked them up because he liked them. - Large cloak for cold nights - Clothes - Flint & tinder - Primitive robe, suited as a standalone dress but also compatible with his armor ____________________________________ E Q U I P M E N T - His longbow and a quiver full of arrows can be considered his primary means of hurting others. - Said longbow would be less effective just using ordinary arrows. Dalani is not hesitant to add some magical enhancements to his projectiles, making them more deadly or more useful for other applications. - He wears armor on the more exposed parts of his body, trying to achieve a compromise between protection and comfort. It is a strange material: jet black, heavy and more coarse than any steel. Whether its property to shatter into pieces and thereby no longer providing any protection instead of buckling and thus impeding its wearer's movement upon impact of blunt weapons is a blessing or a curse is up to debate, but it's interesting still. Is this an ongoing experiment or an evil looking improvisation only one of his kind could produce ? ____________________________________ A T T R I B U T E S Athletics: 11 (+1) Dexterity: 15 (+2 class, +3) Intelligence: 14 (+2 race, +2) Wisdom: 12 (+2) Charisma: 10 Constitution: 14 (+4) ___________________________________ S K I L L S (A) Strength: 3 (+3) (A) Agility: 2 (+2) (D) Stealth: 0 (D) Acrobatics: 0 (D) Trickery: 0 (I) History: 0 (I) Nature: 1 (+1) (I) Arcana: 4 (+4 race) (I) Religion: 0 (W) Perception: 4 (+4 class) (W) Medicine: 1 (+1) (W) Survival: 1 (+1) (C) Persuasion: 0 (C) Deception: 0 (C) Intimidation: 0 (C) Performance: 0

____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE Dalani could be pestered with saying that he looks like a miniature mountain, but that's not because he'd have such a gigantic physique, but because he'd probably have a very easy time camouflaging right in the open just by leaning against or sitting on a true mountain as long as it is of a gray-ish color. His skin not only looks rather similar with its complexion and extensive network of ridges that follow a pattern far too irregular for having been created in a fight, but it also feels quite tough even without being callhoused. There's no hair on his scalp. Instead it seems more like the bone underneath it has thickened and become overgrown with not just bony, but partly really stone-like material. His chiselled jawbones, eyebrows and nose give his face a quite stern look by default though he is definitely capable of smiling. His eyes are brown with hues of ember breaking through in strong sunlight and their iris lacks the detailed texture of a human's. Rock-like protrusions are not limited to the upper part of Dalani's head, but also occur on many other parts of his body as well such as shoulders, elbows, knees, fingernails and feet. Combined with the fact he still bears some very significant muscle he gives the overall impression of a very dense package. ____________________________________________________________________________ BACKSTORY Dalani was born into a caravan of traders that had formed sort of a loose joint venture that sought to help profits and reduce risks by moving together. It was a quite mixed bag of humans from different origins who prioritized personal wellbeing over the grand scheme of politics, thus allowing Tawr, Esaad and even Baneghoran to work together at least as far as lingering competition allowed for it. The group made stops at pretty much every major settlement of importance, always trying to avoid the depths of the desert even if that meant denying themselves huge shortcuts. Bandits ? Yes, that was one of the threats they were afraid of. Giant scorpions too, maybe. But Jinn ? Yeah maybe they existed, but certainly nowhere near their fancy trade party! They were all wrong and Dalani is the very proof for this. His mother, a large and equally pretty Baneghoran female who had tried to escape the chaos and violence in her homeland by joining other people far away, had no idea that the man she shared her beddings with was anything but a real man at least according to common sense. The jinn had been with the caravan for a substantial time and had taken all the hardship of walking endless days on him so to satisfy his urge to mate. Also, last but not least, he actually loved her. At first there were only very subtle signs that something might be off with the newborn and it seemed that all the jinn's hopes of his child's features being as subtle as his own would work out, but while the jinn blood was sluggish to make itself truly seen, his father continued to enjoy life and helped to give birth to Dalani's brother Odym. It was a lust he might not have succumbed to had he known how things would change one day. Dalani started to develop much stronger signs of not being a human, almost as if the merger of two so different origins was bound to cause creational chaos. Of course then everyone in the caravan knew the truth. It would have been a pretty straightforward affair if their Baneghoran mother had been the only one to have a say in the whole thing, but with Tawr and Esaad people being part of the caravan, too, it became a lot more complicated. Being the key subject of a debate with opinons ranging from 'curse' to 'divine' and a lot in between, Dalani's and Omyr's situation quickly deteriorated into a quite hazardous affair even without the young boys truly being aware of it yet. Nowhere near being old enough to break more than a twig they threatened to tear the joint venture apart by their sheer presence. The leaders took a lot of time to come to some kind of decision, but by the time the decree was made that the three had to go for the sake of the community, someone had already arranged for hard facts. The two boys were gone, abducted by a sub-group of human Tawr people who had not been willing to wait for some kind of higher up decision -- or someone to murder the childs for ideological reasons. It took the two out of the heart of trouble before they became old enough to realize just how screwed up everything was, yet at the same time it also completely destroyed their family. In their efforts the Tawr had taken shortcuts and not been willing to risk abducting a grown Jinn male as well. They had also deemed their Baneghoran mother unworthy and incompatible to the kind of society they had in mind. The two were to be revered and not to live in any lack of materialistic goods, but it still was a very selfish move, driven by yet another ideology and not respecting the jinns self-determination at least to the same degree the decision by the caravan's higher ups would have. Dalani had the advantage in terms of age and was the first to realize that. Maybe biased by the kind of approach of his caretakers which he did not agree with, he perceived Tawr more and more as a cage with golden bars. He liked the training and all, but did not want anybody to lick his feet or to just treat him like a raw egg. It felt like not having been in full control of his own life for many, many years. Dalani wanted to leave, but at the same time did not want to make the same mistake as those around him by forcing his personal decision onto his brother Omyr as well. The Tawr around him were not happy to see him abandoning them, but they also did not dare to start a fight about it. Since then Dalani has become sort of a vagabond. He's not at the very bottom of society, but he has to make his coin on a daily basis just like every commoner -- in his case by offering his skills to those willing to hire him. ____________________________________________________________________________ PERSONALITY Dalani has seen an extremely wide range of attitudes towards his own kind and built a high wall around his inner self to protect against this spectrum. It is as hard as his stone-like skin is tough, but should anyone manage to drill his or her way through all of that said individual might discover that there's a precious gem of friendship at the core. He tries to enjoy life, but he also tries to do that for himself unless you find that gem or are just deceptive enough to tunnel your way through the barrier. The latter is very well possible for Dalani is socially clumsy, partly having fallen victim to the very isolation of his own making. He is too honest and respectful to be a killer and sees that there is no rule dictating that orders are something one is not allowed to have an own thought about. There's also no rule forbidding to make one's own rules if there's nobody there to watch his doings and punish him. Lies usually are bad, but sometimes they can be an acceptable means. There might be a bit of arrogance to him when it comes ot magic, but that is mostly because he has had a very different point of view on things since the very beginning and not a deliberate act. Apart from that however it can be said he's a modest person, except for the occasional overdrinking maybe. Women ? Not a high priority so far, and to his defense one might add he's facing a few additional challenges in that respect as well. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK Asked straightforwarldy, Dalani would probably hesitate and then say that he has no overarching goal in his life currently. He can see the many wrongs about how his kind is treated sometimes, but what should he do ? Try and start a revolution ? The thought has crossed his mind, but he deems himself too humble and too consumed by daily business to do that. ____________________________________________________________________________ MISC ...

SANDSTRIDERS: A Lost Land

I'm almost certain @POOHEAD189 can already predict what kind of character I have been thinking to make for at least quite a while :)