Arden Reede, Son of Gorm Gulthyn

[Khaine]

OOC: These are just snippets in the life and times of Arden Reede, in no particular order.


Gore spattered his armor and fell off his blood-crusted beard as he swung his axe tirelessly amidst the swarm of goblins. The retreat from the greenskin-infested halls had been orderly up until the last of their chiefs made a desperate charge at the small party of three. Roaring at the top of his lungs, Arden prepared himself for the end. Gorm willing, he'd go down under a pile of goblin corpses.

Evidently Gorm had other plans for this dwarf.

[Khaine]

Swamps. He hated them. They were hot, wet and seemingly teeming with an endless supply of miniscule bugs that lusted after the taste of his skin. Complaint was not an option. Dwarf and all.

He travelled with four others: two human men, a female gnome and a rather annoying and endlessly cheerful Hin boy. Even now he was regaling the group about how he once saved a prince from an ogre ambush. Likely story, if half the Hin's feats and exploits were remotely true, he was quite possibly the greatest hero ever to walk the face of Faerun. The boy's chatter abruptly stopped with a strangled squeek.

Lizard folk. A chieftan and his thralls. Chanting indicated a shaman as well. Arden readied his axe and shield and silently thanked Gorm for sending something to shut the Hin up.

[Khaine]

It was his fifty first year and he should be joining the Mirabar militia, scouting the northern territories, battling orc incursions or at least training with his brethren. Instead he was in his father's shop, giving a rather poorly cut amethyst stone another look......for the fifth time.

"Fifteen. No more."

The pudgy dwarf in front of him scowled once more.....for the fifth time.

"That's a finely cut amethyst stone there, straight from Silverymoon!"

The feigned indignation in the dwarf's voice set Arden's blood to boiling. He'd had enough of this cheat and he wasn't about to put up with it a moment longer.

The pudgy dwarf continued, "I'll have your father know abou..." His words vanished in a *crunch* as Arden's fist connected with the pudgy dwarf's face square on.

Oh well, he really wasn't suited for this merchant business anyway.....

[Khaine]

Lips and tongue dry as cotton, like you'd shoveled a fistful of desert sand in your mouth and tried to suck every ounce of moisture out of it. His heart was pounding fit to burst out of his chest. He'd never really known what his first battle would be like, though he'd put it to mind a few times of course. What disturbed him the most was the fact that he wasn't even participating. The ridge overlooking the vast plain before him offered a perfect view of the conflict happening below. Even from this safe distance he could hear the screams and the clash of steel on steel. Gods but it was a spectacle to behold. And though he didn't know the particpiants, it was clearly a battle between human factions.

What seemed like days must have taken place in the span of only an hour or two. Palms sweaty and muscles aching, he remained on that ridge till dusk, watching as the humans spent themselves and finally withdrew, neither side the victor. Is this the fever of war his father spoke of? If so, he wanted more. He found he LIKED this feeling.....nay.....CRAVED it.

Such is the vigor of youth, to glorify what is least virtuous, and disdain the wisdom of yore. Arden Reede would discover both, all in good time.