[center][color=red] "Halvar" [/Color][/Center]

[Indent] His gruff accent huffed out the words. He was walking a quick pace, but consistently making sure the smaller female kept pace with him. The rain began to pour, the roar of it only deafened by moments of ear-splitting rumbles of thunder. A severe storm, perhaps. Nevertheless, he brought his new companion to a small log cabin on the edge of the woods, right next to the river. He opened the door and quickly ushered her inside, before stepping in and shutting the door behind him. Shaking his head quickly, he rid himself of some of the dripping water in his hair. A heavy sigh followed, as he leaned on the wall beside the door, staring at her for a moment. [/Indent]


[center][color=red] " You must not know me, much less remember me. I was a very different man then... This body, is not who I was then, I did not have this choice. Yet, I've come to terms with it. Regardless, I lived in your village for a few years. My work upon the dark arts often kept me out of the area. I would not risk harm coming to my wife and my daughter. But I remember the day that we were attacked. What I showed you in the forest was my own memories. I do not blame you for the vileness of those creatures. It is not the first time I've lost to them." [/color][/center]


[indent]The was a tint of anger to his voice towards the end of his tirade. His right hand drew his sword, which he slowly lumbered forward and set on the table. From the rather pristine condition of the blade, it appeared rather new. He then pointed to the hilt, in which the metal was slightly etched with little tallies.[/indent]


[center][color=red] "Look closely. Each of these marks represents a vampire I've slain with this blade. I forged this mere weeks ago, and the number is already at fourty-seven. My axe... Heh, let me show you."[/color][/center]

[Indent]He walked across the room and opened a small closet, pulling out a massive battle-axe. Dual-bladed. A large, curved blade holding firm on each side of the axe. At the very bottom of the handle, the axe-shaft was attached to a skull, much like a rounded-off bottom would be attached to an axe from their nation. As he placed the huge weapon down on the table, the skullpiece was entirely riddled in marks. So much so that it appeared physically impossible to either count the number of them, or to even find room for a new row. Hundreds, if not thousands of tiny marks were scratched into the skull.[/indent]

[center][color=red] "This skull came from the first king I killed. Damn vampires are all about their bureaucracy. I've slain many important leaders, yet they always replenish themselves. Annoying worms." [/color][/center]

[Indent] He laughed, obviously amused by the thought of the various battles he'd fought with the creatures. Even when outnumbered, he still outmatched the best of their warriors by such margins that it was almost embarrassing. Using his own necromancy, he'd often kill a contingent of guards, and order them to go attack their own former friends.  It was a hilarious sight, truly. His thoughts then snapped back to the reality before him, aside his bragging. This, long lost leader of that village.. He'd ran across many oddities in his journeys, yet he'd never found anyone from the homelands. It was a huge curiosity what drew her here, and how she'd survived the battle. Yes, a mage.. But surely she wasn't much of a fighter. So he believed although he didn't much care about that, not now anyway. [/indent]

[center][color=red] " You're among your own again, I don't suppose you have questions for me?" [/color][/center]