Akura

Human Male

[]

People ask me why a human would found an alliance that believes heavily in dwarven philosphies, including those of elf-torture, magma baths, and things of a very Fun nature. Well, the answer is simple, really. When I was younger, I was part of a band of siegers sent by my civilization to raid a lone, dwarven fortress called Twinkledcellar. As my luck would have it, as I led my compainions into the front entrance of the fortress, I stepped upon a device that immediately dropped a cage upon me. Most of my compatriates were likewise snared, though a few made it past the cage traps, and on to the weapon traps. Seeing men on the receiving end of a quintet of +steel large, serrated discs+ and a similar number of *steel spiked balls* is a way to gain some skill levels in Butchery, or at least Small Animal Dissection. Unfortunately for me, my vision was clouded by a sudden red mist obstructing my view of the traps, and so I was denied the skill gains.

My new dwarven hosts took me to a pit, stripped my of my weapons and accouterments, and placed me in a cage in a corridor leading to what appeared to be an arena. In my cage, and in other cages nearby, there were a host of other races; humans, elves, goblins, even a pair of sneaky looking kobolds, as well a veritable menagirie of fantastic beasts; such as elephants, cougars, a giant eagle, bears of all varieties, even... carp. Yes, woe unto whoever was to encounter the dreaded carp. Clearly, the setup was so that we, the prisoners, would do battle against one another for the enjoyment of the dwarves. The popularity of the fights was such that, whence the combatants were released, any dwarf walking by would immediately stop whatever task they were pursuing, and run about the fortress screaming and yelling and hollerin' about that a goblin lasher and an elephant were engaged in mortal combat. In fact, there were so many dwarves running and screaming that few actually stopped to watch the spectacle. Upon conclusion of the battle, a floodgate would open, leading to a corridor that would find its way into the fortress proper, if not for a mechanism that re-caged the combatants, whereupon they were transfered to the holding pit to be readied for the next combat, 'ere they let loose in the fortress and, still crazed with bloodlust and adrenalin assuredly, do harm upon its citizens.

And so it was thus, for several years, that I took part in some spectacular displays of martial prowess(in spite of the overall aforementioned lack of audiences). In some battles, we were given weapons to fight with, wooden ones - the specialty of the elves and elven soldiers, they say. Dwarves, however, settle for nothing less than iron, and greatly prefer to use fine steel. From this, I became a Talented Swordsman, an Accomplished Thrower, a Skilled Thrower, a High Master Dodger, a Competent Shield-User, and Novice Plant Processor. Ye, I know not where the last on came from. The wooden weapons were too weak to deal any real damage to the steel-clad dwarven guardsmen, but gave us an edge over the elephants and giant eagle. Surely, these were blunted by dwarven quartermasters, as elven leaders would certainly not field a force equipped with swords that cannot cut, spears that cannot pierce, and shields that quickly and easily become !!shields!!. At least, that is what my elven fellows assured me. Along with combats against man, elf, and beast, once in an occasion, they wouldst drop a dwarf of nobility. On such occasion, the procedure was such that, the nobledwarf would issue a mandate for something of adamantine, horn silver, crystal glass, or other such fine contruction, to which the response was to bite the noble's left eye. When my turn came to perform the ritual, I fear that I did not know which "left" they meant, his actual left, or the left from my point of view, which was his right. And so confused, I bit one eye, and gouged the other out with my bare hands. If the applause from the crowd - these events, in stark contrast, were often packed with spectators - is any indication, it was not an incorrect action.

During these years of combat, I learned many things, much about the dwarves ways of life. And death. Ye, mostly death. I met many individuals, often battling them later. None, however, were more important to me than dear Lene. Lene Methilavafice! O Lene Charmeddrink! Love of my life! How wonderful that elven beauty was! The nights together in a cage cramped with other warriors... What a sight in battle, she killed the carp! The carp! And only lost her right third toe, and broke her left false rib in the duel! An amazing woman. But sadly, the romance was fated to end in tragedy, for we were forced to engage in a battle to the death. Skilled as she was, I overcame her in the end, as a record of the battle shows thusly:

Lene Methilavafice, Elven Archer attacks Akura, Human Swordsman, with a +pine wooden spear+!
Akura, Human Swordsman jumps away!
Akura, Human Swordsman takes hold of the +pine wooden spear+ with his right hand!
Akura, Human Swordsman takes hold of Lene Mthilavafice's head with his left upper arm!
Akura, Human Swordsman takes down Lene Mithilavafice by the head!
Akura, Human Swordsman takes possession of the +pine wooden spear+.
Lene Methilavafice, Elven Archer, stands up.
Akura, Human Swordsman strikes Lene Methilavafice in the right eye with the +pine wooden spear+!
The weapon is lodged firmly in the wound!
Akura, Human Swordsman, twists the weapon in the wound.
Lene Methilavafice gives into pain.
Lene Methilavafice falls over.
Akura, Human Swordsman pulls the +pine wooden spear+ from Lene Methilavafice's right eye.
Akura, Human Swordsman throws a +pine wooden spear+ at Stâsost Ngerxungungunst, Goblin Lasher!
The spinning +pine wooden spear+ hits Stâsost Ngerxungungunst in the head!
It is pierced all the way through!
Stâsost Ngerxungungunst has been struck down.
Lene Methilavafice has bled to death.

And so it was, my heart broken. Metaphorically, of course, since even the greenest Recruit, and most Dabbling doctor knows that no physical wound can actually break the heart. The brain, however, is another tale entirely.

After many years in the dwarves arena, I found a means of escape through misfortune of my short-and-stout friends. A bronze colossus came to destroy the fortress. At the same time, a mining expedition dug up a forgotten beast, made of microline, beware its vomit breath! Whilst both nigh-indestructable fiends rampaged about, one of the dwarven soldiers, distraught at the loss of one of his companions, fell into insanity, and went berserk. During which, he began wrenching all the levers he could find, and as luck would have it, he hit the cage release. Marksdwarves took up positions around the pit, presumably to protect us, now that we were free of our protective caging. The colossus came near, and one of the marksdwarves dodged into the pit. At this moment, one of the few remaining prisoners - I should note that, due to living mostly underground, dwarves do not have a good grasp on ranged weaponry - came upon me, believing perhaps it was another arena combat. The prisoner, a goblin pikeman, had somehow procured a +steel battle-axe+, but before he could use it, the marksdwarf who had fallen into the pit bashed him upon the head with his crossbow, breaking the goblin's brain. The goblin fell unconscious, and bled to death shortly. Seeing my savior had exausted his supply of bolts, else he would not have cudgeled the goblin with his crossbow. I picked up one from the ground, and I had intended to throw it to him, but I misaimed my throw, and it lodged firmly in his throat. He too, bled to death shortly.

Saddened, but with no time for tears, I fled. Both creatures of destruction had locked eyes upon each other, and began what would have