[Dezza]

Age: 25
Class: Barbarian/Fighter
Race: Human
Align: CG
Deity: 'I am my own man’ some would have heard him say, but 'She who watches over the wild places(Katia)' holds a place for me also.


When I was born atop the peaks of Air, in the lands of the Storm people my father and mother first told me of the lands of our people. They told of the places of the Storm, the flows of the air, the weave of the natural order and most importantly the legacy of the Storm people.

When the scourge of the flow Sinthar Bloodstone walked once again in the world he sent forth his creations, his minions to wreak destruction upon the peoples of the lands. To the Storm Horn he sent the Bleeding Rock Giants, a ferocious race of giants who spilled the blood of the Storm people upon our beloved aeries.

Our people fought hard but were severely outnumbered and though many giants were broken upon the spears and axes of the Storm people it was not enough to halt the raging vengeance of the giants and we were forced from our mountains peaks, from the wild places of our hearts and souls; our beloved mountains.

Both my mother and my father were true Storm warriors in our tribe. They had risked much to bring me back to the place of my people so I could be born of our own lands. In this way my soul could recognise the place of my heritage no matter how far I strayed from it. I loved my father and my mother for the danger they placed themselves in to do that for me. I know when the time comes for me I will take my wife with child willingly on the same journey and share the same risk.

I often look upon the mountains of our homelands and hope that my parents souls are free. For as we of the Storm people believe they must stand upon the lands of our birth and watch with sadness as the giants live in and slowly destroy our wild places; our beloved mountains.

All those remaining, especially the elders of the Storm people would always make sure that all the children knew the stories of the days when the Storm people fought the Bleeding rock giants. The days when we were driven from the lands, ours by blood rite. For the bloodlines of the Storm people can be traced back to the times the Lords of the Air walked upon this world and held council with She who cares for the wild, the one my people turn to to save them. I...I am more of a realist. We cannot rely on a god to do things for us and bring salvation to our people; that is up to us.

Ours is a long and proud history, of unique affinity with the places that touched the sky, where the wild winds and the wild places contained life unfettered. A proud and noble race, we are often mistaken by those of the lower lands of being ignorant or that we consider ourselves better than everyone else. This is not so, they simply cannot understand that our people are alone in the wilderness of the lower lands, a place foreign to us, amongst people foreign to us and what people perceive as foreign or that they do not understand they instinctively become adverse to.

There is no welcome for my people amongst the lowlanders, we cannot return as yet to our beloved lands, we are trapped in a land not of our own. My people’s voices cry out to the Lady of the Mountains revealing their sorrow and their loss. Does she answer? The elders say when it rains it is her tears falling from the skies above to merge with our own as she shares our pain. I...I am a realist. I do what I need to do when it needs to be done for obviously our god cannot act to save us. I bear our god no grudges, I simply see with my own eyes and I act as I see it.

My Mother and Father are gone now, they have returned to watch over our beloved lands. I pray their vigil does not burden them more than they lived with in life. I fear it will however. I look to the future and I see darkness creeping forth threatening to consume all that is wonderful in the world. I swear to the oath of my people, as do all born of the Storm people. We will not rest until the Mountains are restored to us, our wild places, our aeries and our beloved lands. Once that is complete the souls of those watching over those places may rest finally. Then it will be up to those remaining to act to destroy the menace Sinthar Bloodstone and drive him from the world. Only then can our proud race take back once what was ours and free the souls of those of the Storm people killed at the hands of his minions.

Grogan snapped back to the present and shifted his heavy battle axe to his other shoulder and refocused his attention on the perimeter of the campsite. Wood smoke from the cooking fires drifted across his vision for but a moment before the precious wind drew it away from his sight. He looked back at the small community of tents. It was all his people had to live within whenever they moved from place the place trying to avoid the relentless attacks by the Bleeding rock giants that pursued them. Many of them appeared tired and worn but he could see in them that which kept everyone going. The oath to reclaim the heritage. Not one person present was not aware of the oath, not one person present had not taken the oath. It was what kept them together, kept them united, and gave them strength to carry on in the face of all adversity. It was the one thing he truly believed in.

Suddenly he heard several dogs barking from the edge of the camp, the snicker of horses and the jingling of harness. Almost immediately he could smell on the air the scent of the creatures and worse the smell of the men that drove them. Merchants from a nearby city of the lowlanders had come with the supplies his people were forced to pay exorbitant prices for. He scowled as many of his clan stood and moved forward almost eagerly to the wagons that had drawn up. Then he saw the Elders come together in a group to negotiate with the unscrupulous looking lowlanders.

He gripped his axe tightly, a rage within kept in check through force of will. These lowlanders took advantage of his people’s position and the elders let them fearing a battle on two fronts. Methodically he worked his hands up and down the haft of the axe. He remembered when he took it from the dead hands of a giant that had attacked them as they negotiated a narrow pass in the mountains last fall. Since then he had practiced with it every day that he could, learning its balance and exploring its devastating power to cleave giants.

Feeling calmer he glanced over at the apprentice keeper of the wild places, a beautiful woman of the Storm horn clan, lithe, fit and calm. The only thing was she had skin of a pale milky blue,the legacy of the blood of the ancients that flowed in some of his peoples blood and occasionally manifested itself in some form. He could see the same disgust of the lowlanders on her face as he knew he wore on his own..At least someone agreed with him.

When he saw the lust on the faces of the lowlanders seeing the apprectice his blood boiled once more. Luckily this time one of the Eldars saw it as well and sent her and several other of the woman away from the wagons.

Once the lowlanders packed up and left word circulated quickly. The news they had received from the lowlanders was grave indeed. Sinthar Bloodstone had managed to make many advances into the realms of the lowlanders and the giants had been seen roaming the lands of the lowlanders along the base of the Storm Horn mountains...our beloved home. We were to move again.

That night I stood on duty ever watchful for a giant attack in the night. I watched others wander about the camp who could not sleep with the news that in the morning we would move once again.. Several of my friends gathered with me and together we gazed up at the might of the mountains that was our home, stretching far above us and back into the distance, ringed with massive forests at their base and blanketed with firm snow on the greatest peaks. I yearned to return to them, to feel the oneness with our places once again. But it was not to be so. We stood together and shared kinship and resolve, the oath of the Storm Horn Clan holding us together as brethren. It was there and then we resolved each night to make forays into the mountains to seek the giants and slay them wherever encountered. IF we could not rest then neither would they. It was the right thing to do.

We journeyed then for several more days and nights, always staying close to that place which was our rightful home so that we would never forget our oaths. It was in these times that I and a number of my friends under cover of darkness would steel into the foothills of the mountains seeking the enemy. On the third night we found a small group of them, scouts working the lower foothills. If we did not take them out the clan would be discovered. We acted and our weapons tasted the blood of the enemy once more. Little did we know that others returning to the campsite witnessed our attack and set about to bring us undone. In acting for the greater good of the tribe we had unwittingly brought potential disaster upon them.

After we had camped for several days, more lowlanders came, this time they warned of a huge host of giants moving about the lands seeking us. We did not realise but they had been told of foray we made previously. The lowlanders did not tarry long as if fearing to be near us in case the giants appeared and killed them too.

My friends and I approached the Elders...it was time to turn and face the enemy, time to stop running. But the Elders would not listen, would not hear our calls for an end to the nightmares. The safety of the future of the Clan was paramount and so we would run once more. I...I am a realist. I would run no more my friends and I decided to stand and fight against the Elders wishes. We would stay behind and lure the enemy away before engaging and destroying them. The Clan would survive thought we may not.

The clan moved on while we hid until the enemy drew within sight. A score of the lumbering monsters approached searching for signs of the Clan. I looked to either side of me and saw stout allies. A mere seven of us against a score of the enemy. We jested nervously that there was only just enough of them for us to even consider attacking and then they were upon us. We leapt from the coarse bushes and foliage we had chosen ti hide within our axes and spears finding marks as high as we could reach. The battle was short and furious, the giants hampered by the closeness of the terrain and each other while we fought for the Oath,for the future of the Clan and for good. We are realists, we knew we had to fight or we die. If we die so does the clan and so we fought. We fought like madmen, the fury overcame me and all I saw was death, death in the bloodied glittering edge of the axe I wielded. I cut, hacked and slashed until the strength faded from my arms and the rage drained from my vision. I lived. I did not expect to see any of my friends standing but three of us had survived. We were bloodied, bruised and badly beaten but we were alive and the enemy was not. We spoke little, we formed a litter and carried our friends back with us, back to the Clan.

Upon our return the Elders were not happy and the wails of the relatives of those lost were great and weighed heavily on my heart. We each knew the risk if we went and if we did not. I am a realist but it still hurts ot loose a comrade, one who shares the oath with you.

With our news a great worry had fallen over the Storm people and a council was called in which all those of the tribe could attend. It was a long and noisy meeting as the feelings of those amongst the tribe were aired in the council. In the end the Elders called upon the Elder Keeper of the Wild places, Kela Airwalker to ask the Lady of the Mountain what she wished her people to do. Kela was the Keeper of the Wild places and had a remarkable affinity with the bounties of the land and the freedom of the skies.

Kela had looked at everyone at the gathering silently and then left to speak with the lady. She returned just after the world had turned towards the morning. She had told us all that some of the Storm people had to be sent into the world of the lowlanders, to learn their ways, to seek amongst them allies to aid us against the giants. They would be called she said; called to do this task.

The council broke up. The Clan placed much faith in Kela and in the Lady of the Mountain. I..I am a realist. Only we could save ourselves. I had to do what had to be done and I would do it my way.

That night I and others in the clan dreamed of a Golden Dragon...for some reason I was one of those to have been called...I am a realist...I will do what is necessary, my way, for the good of us all. Here was my chance.