[h3]Martina Stonehammer[/h3]
This felt better.  [i]Much[/i] better.  None of that frilly nonsense anymore, now she was dressed properly.  The weight of chainmail on her shoulders never failed to reassure Martina of just who she really was.  To the other races, dwarfs could be many things; they could be miners, they could be brewers, they could even be merchants.  But every dwarf knew these were only secondary designations.  Every dwarf knew there was only one thing they truly were at heart.

Dwarfs were [i]warriors[/i], tough and rugged to the very last.  At least, that's how Martina saw it, but then she always had an overly-idealized view of what was considered "dwarfen".  Being only half-dwarf, she sometimes tried a little too hard to express this view.  To her, when faced with an enemy, a true dwarf wouldn't bother with such concepts as subtlety; subtlety was an elven concept, after all, and any true dwarf would just casually toss the idea aside as they charged into the fray, screaming a battlecry at the top of their lungs.

So it was [i]probably[/i] a good thing for everyone else's sake that Marianne had swiftly taken care of the guard before she could even tighten the grip on her hammer.

"Hmph, if you ask me we should just charge right in and give that wazzock of a warlock a good hammering," she grumbled, before sighing as reason washed upon her.  Sometimes, it payed to have a human side to temper her dwarfen nature.  "...And I would've done it too, if they weren't holding that Nem hostage like the filthy cowards they are.  Bloody wizards, can't trust the bastards at all." She spat contentiously, even as she readied herself the order to move out.