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((I've decided to write a story about my Sundren character. I'll post continuations and revisions as I work on them. Feel free to lemme know what u think. Hope you enjoy. Ps. Sorry if they don't come quickly I've got limited time to write and play 
. Please feel free to give it a rating if you see fit))
Making his way noisily through the streets of Sundren Gael was grumbling and cursing the armor merchant he had to purchase his new halfplate from. He’d paid too much, that he knew but unfortunately for him his impatience made the merchant the better bargainer. He had been in the city for barely a day and was already heading to the nearby hills in search of goblin bounty. An urge to find something to sate the hunger for adventure and battle that had led him so far away from his homeland of Citadel Felbarr gave him a more focused resolve and made him pump his short muscular legs even faster and with more determination in each step. Like any dwarf he was very disappointed in Emerus’s recent decision to stop the patrols on the outskirts of their lands. Gael and his crew of Felbarrian boys often went out in search of a quarrel with the evil kin that surrounded the lands of the mighty citadel, but since Emerus’s decree the dwarven patrols, like Gael’s had stopped, leaving many of the battle hardened and anxious dwarves hungering for more than their safe lives in the mines. Gael Ironhide for one, needed more.
****
With a snort and a series of mumbled curses he had finally made up his mind. “Ah to the Hellz with ye!” He shouted as he began to unfasten the many clasps and buckles that held his finely crafted dark steel full plate securely in place. The plates tumbled off one by one until the dwarf stood there in his undergarments, a rather ragged shirt that at least at one time was mostly white, now stained with years of sweat and oils. His pants were a simple black, but with a little extra padding around where the joints of his armor once rode. The big woolen socks he had were proudly displaying most of his bare toes wriggling about in the open air.
The other patrons of the dimly lit dwarven bar all turned their heads to stare at the obviously disturbed dwarf proudly standing with his calloused hands propped up on his hips, seemingly daring anyone to say anything. Ordin stared hard at his friend across the table completely at a loss as to what had just transpired. After a moment of staring he noted that Gael had turned his attention in his direction the dwarfs hazel eyes looking intently at his fellow clansmen. A seemingly long moment passed and then the silence was broken. “Well?, Are ye to be coming along with me or are ye to just be sittn’ there with yer jaw all slack?” Gael puffed. Ordin’s face screwed up in a quizzical manner wondering what in the nine hells his companion was asking of him. Gael noticed his friend’s puzzled expression and couldn’t understand how it wasn’t obvious!
“Bah!” Gael snorted, as he kicked the loose plates away from his mostly exposed feet and stormed out the door. All the while with the eyes of the bar’s many patrons following him, including those of his friend Ordin who still sat there puzzled at what just transpired.
****
The many squeaks and squalls of his new halfplate brought Gael back from his memories of just before leaving the citadel. “Durnd fool should’ve come with me..” he lamented as he threw his shoulder forward out of frustration to reset the hinge of the pauldren that had started to make most of the noise. His mind wandered from thought to thought just wishing he were already out the city’s gate and cleaving goblin skulls with his old war axe which was tucked neatly into a hold he had crafted into the backside of his towershield. His armor was new, but his axe was well known to him and wouldn’t berate him as the mal-fitting armor currently did. He wished then that he had bargained with Emerus to take his fine platemail and shield with him, but he knew it was best to leave the superb Felbarian armor in the place he called home for so many decades.
****
“Whenz we going to be leavingz this place?” The smallest of the three goblins wined dragging his crude shortsword behind him as they wandered along one of the caves many networks on their routinely boring patrol. In response a firm kick to his lower back sent him sprawling to the cold stone of the dimly lit cave with a hard thump. Yebek was quick to roll over and face his attacker yanking hard at his sword to fend off them off, only to find it was well pinned to the ground, held tightly under the foot of a much larger goblin brandishing an exquisite longsword made of fine steel. Yebek squirmed quickly back releasing the futile grasp on his sword trying to slink away from the well known and feared goblin.
“You go when I say you go” the large goblin threatened, holding his sword dangerously close to the lesser goblins throat with a strength and poise not common to goblins. “Yez Helz, yez.. we goes out when u say.” Yebek managed to stammer, his voice quivering in obvious fear. Smirking at his subordinate and always reveling in the fear he struck in the lesser goblins Helz retracted his blade and slid it quickly back to its sheath at his side kicking the whelp in the ribs as he continued by the other two goblins that were held fast, frozen in fear.
Helz was indeed an intimidating goblin by any standards being possessed of a surprisingly muscular build on his four and a half foot frame when most goblins typically stood a foot or more shorter. His skin was mottled and an eerie orange pigment dominated most of his skin instead of the typical sickly yellow that the rest of his tribe bore. His hair was also something uncommon to the goblin kin, standing in a tall row his white mohawk distinguished him even further from the rest of the caves inhabitants. He easily could be considered the chieftain of the couple score of goblin that resided in the same cave, but he had no desire for such a title. He was indeed the leader of the goblins, of bleeding claw but like so many other strange things about Helz he refused to be called a chieftain.
. Please feel free to give it a rating if you see fit))Making his way noisily through the streets of Sundren Gael was grumbling and cursing the armor merchant he had to purchase his new halfplate from. He’d paid too much, that he knew but unfortunately for him his impatience made the merchant the better bargainer. He had been in the city for barely a day and was already heading to the nearby hills in search of goblin bounty. An urge to find something to sate the hunger for adventure and battle that had led him so far away from his homeland of Citadel Felbarr gave him a more focused resolve and made him pump his short muscular legs even faster and with more determination in each step. Like any dwarf he was very disappointed in Emerus’s recent decision to stop the patrols on the outskirts of their lands. Gael and his crew of Felbarrian boys often went out in search of a quarrel with the evil kin that surrounded the lands of the mighty citadel, but since Emerus’s decree the dwarven patrols, like Gael’s had stopped, leaving many of the battle hardened and anxious dwarves hungering for more than their safe lives in the mines. Gael Ironhide for one, needed more.
****
With a snort and a series of mumbled curses he had finally made up his mind. “Ah to the Hellz with ye!” He shouted as he began to unfasten the many clasps and buckles that held his finely crafted dark steel full plate securely in place. The plates tumbled off one by one until the dwarf stood there in his undergarments, a rather ragged shirt that at least at one time was mostly white, now stained with years of sweat and oils. His pants were a simple black, but with a little extra padding around where the joints of his armor once rode. The big woolen socks he had were proudly displaying most of his bare toes wriggling about in the open air.
The other patrons of the dimly lit dwarven bar all turned their heads to stare at the obviously disturbed dwarf proudly standing with his calloused hands propped up on his hips, seemingly daring anyone to say anything. Ordin stared hard at his friend across the table completely at a loss as to what had just transpired. After a moment of staring he noted that Gael had turned his attention in his direction the dwarfs hazel eyes looking intently at his fellow clansmen. A seemingly long moment passed and then the silence was broken. “Well?, Are ye to be coming along with me or are ye to just be sittn’ there with yer jaw all slack?” Gael puffed. Ordin’s face screwed up in a quizzical manner wondering what in the nine hells his companion was asking of him. Gael noticed his friend’s puzzled expression and couldn’t understand how it wasn’t obvious!
“Bah!” Gael snorted, as he kicked the loose plates away from his mostly exposed feet and stormed out the door. All the while with the eyes of the bar’s many patrons following him, including those of his friend Ordin who still sat there puzzled at what just transpired.
****
The many squeaks and squalls of his new halfplate brought Gael back from his memories of just before leaving the citadel. “Durnd fool should’ve come with me..” he lamented as he threw his shoulder forward out of frustration to reset the hinge of the pauldren that had started to make most of the noise. His mind wandered from thought to thought just wishing he were already out the city’s gate and cleaving goblin skulls with his old war axe which was tucked neatly into a hold he had crafted into the backside of his towershield. His armor was new, but his axe was well known to him and wouldn’t berate him as the mal-fitting armor currently did. He wished then that he had bargained with Emerus to take his fine platemail and shield with him, but he knew it was best to leave the superb Felbarian armor in the place he called home for so many decades.
****
“Whenz we going to be leavingz this place?” The smallest of the three goblins wined dragging his crude shortsword behind him as they wandered along one of the caves many networks on their routinely boring patrol. In response a firm kick to his lower back sent him sprawling to the cold stone of the dimly lit cave with a hard thump. Yebek was quick to roll over and face his attacker yanking hard at his sword to fend off them off, only to find it was well pinned to the ground, held tightly under the foot of a much larger goblin brandishing an exquisite longsword made of fine steel. Yebek squirmed quickly back releasing the futile grasp on his sword trying to slink away from the well known and feared goblin.
“You go when I say you go” the large goblin threatened, holding his sword dangerously close to the lesser goblins throat with a strength and poise not common to goblins. “Yez Helz, yez.. we goes out when u say.” Yebek managed to stammer, his voice quivering in obvious fear. Smirking at his subordinate and always reveling in the fear he struck in the lesser goblins Helz retracted his blade and slid it quickly back to its sheath at his side kicking the whelp in the ribs as he continued by the other two goblins that were held fast, frozen in fear.
Helz was indeed an intimidating goblin by any standards being possessed of a surprisingly muscular build on his four and a half foot frame when most goblins typically stood a foot or more shorter. His skin was mottled and an eerie orange pigment dominated most of his skin instead of the typical sickly yellow that the rest of his tribe bore. His hair was also something uncommon to the goblin kin, standing in a tall row his white mohawk distinguished him even further from the rest of the caves inhabitants. He easily could be considered the chieftain of the couple score of goblin that resided in the same cave, but he had no desire for such a title. He was indeed the leader of the goblins, of bleeding claw but like so many other strange things about Helz he refused to be called a chieftain.
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