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Given the number of interests, I say we decide on the players by trial by combat. Or even worse, eating a bowl of nails without the milk.
Interested but my English and Grammar may or may not be up to stuff - neverminding my busy schedule at times. If I do decide to throw my hat into the ring then I got ideas for an extremely-stubborn Dwarf with a heart of gold. So, your go-to generic fantasy Dwarf.
Manzur Iman

Manzur looks at Ashevelen - thinking about that offer. Death, while never managing to take Manzur from the mortal plane, comes closer every year. If war, bloodshed, assassination, and disease cannot kill the Butcher then the passing of time will - Death’s ultimate ender for those who have yet to succumb. Manzur knows well that his body cannot last for much longer at this pace, but retirement is not much of an option either - lest in the traditional sense.

Having decided, Manzur stares at Ashevelen. “You will be my legacy,” Manzur says in a friendly tone - a surprise for a man that does not often give off pleasantries. Either a cruel joke or an odd twist of fate, the Butcher of Bloodied Sands now sees it upon himself to bestow his skills and talents to young Ashevelen. The man renowned for his butchering of Daemonfolk, to now train his former adversary.

“Pursue? Yes,” Manzur says - being aggressive as always. After all, this was the man that cleared out Takiyah and held Zafeera Pass.
I'll let Timemaster take the spotlight. Manzur will just be listening into the conversation idly.
Manzur Iman

Manzur welcomes Cicero’s hand as both men firmly shake hands - letting go after a few seconds. “Demonfolk killed everyone,” Manzur says in a straightway fashion, befitting his stolid mannerisms. Manzur bushes off dust and grime from his spear tip with the leather side of his gauntlet as he mourns the death of his comrades quietly to himself.

After that, Manzur points back to his own watchtower off in the distance. “There, a friend, demonfolk. Been with me for a time,” Manzur quickly fires off, speaking in a broken sentence structure so as to not waste time on his end. Manzur rests his spear on top of his shoulder and relaxes his shield position - looking towards Cicero and then Gwyn for answers of their own.
Manzur Iman

Speaking in his usual gruffed voice, Manzur responds to an old friend. “Good to meet you too.” - having just exchanged pleasantries while stabbing the heads of two walking corpses. Walking over their truly lifeless bodies, Manzur pushes forward with his assault - blocking various strikes and blows from multiple angles.

The melee continues as Manzur does what he knows best, to kill and maim. A job that does not need much of an explanation in its details. A stab there, a shield push forward, a block here, and a jab elsewhere. Aside from the active combat, a few questions are being raised in the mind of Manzur. Who the hell would go to the trouble of turning his former comrades into walking corpses?

A solid question to ask after these damn undead are well…dead.

Manzur Iman

Is that Cicero? It must be. The way he swings his sword, the blocking method, the posture, and the footing. Manzur recognizes that fighting style from anywhere. But what the hell is he doing here? It has been ages ever since Cicero left home for Alvion. Well - best save the questions for later.

Climbing down the watchtower, Manzur makes haste toward the strangers and his former barracks of his. The trek across the sand took little time and effort for Manzur to cross - being used to the way that sand interacts with his feet. Once arrived, the man sizes up the Undeath. Nothing more than a rabble of half-decomposed corpses with equally rusted arms and armor.

Without delay, Manzur approaches the undead with spear and shield in hand. Decades of constant bloodshed and combat had done quite the number to Manzur’s body - scars and wounds occupying various parts and bits. Thankfully, forty years of experience have allowed Manzur to keep his wits and fighting prowess in tip-top shape.

Now, let’s see how these undead fight.

Yes we are! You interested in joining in?

That I am.
There we go - accidentally posted in the character tab.

Are you still taking players?
Oops, wrong place.
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