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| Lord_Davlamin
Posts: 1,360 Status: Duke Karma: -130 [+1] [-1]   |
Subject: Davlamin | |||||
| Davlamin Davlamin the supposed last of his people are from an ancient warrior race that is all but extinct, they are trained with either axe or sword for melee combat. Also they are trained with using the bow not only for hunting but as a last resort; they are the greatest warriors who will announce their attack no matter what and charge into battle with a blood lust that would frighten even the hardest of veterans. His time began long ago and as he grew up he toke up his people’s usual look which is to grow out their hair and in the front make them into war braids and the back is long so that it doesn’t impede them when they are in battle. His first skirmish was with a rival tribe at the age of about five winters, he wielded a sword wit ha natural grace that was graced by the gods. As he grew into adulthood his ability with the blade only increased and he toke up a second blade to equal out with his original. He was as proficient with his weaker hand that he could fight of groups of men at a time. When his seventeenth winter came he bedded the girl his parents who were now long dead had promised him to. Less than a year later his son Dýri was born, the boy grew up watching his father go to war and come back for many years. Davlamin had acquired a great friendship with a man the same age as him his name was Dufniall, during one of the battle Davlamin charged a group of warriors alone and although he was able to kill them all he paid dearly for the kill with his eye, it was slashed out by the last of the warriors that he tore through with ease from the pain. Dufniall went to Davlamin after that battle and sewed the eye back together with a needle made from a boar’s bone, and used the sinews of the boar to keep it closed. Davlamin returned home to his son Dýri, the boy now five winters old ran to his father and Davlamin hoisted the boy up into the air and caught him on his way back down. The boy laughed and hugged his father tight, Dýri had begun to look like his father had at that age, but instead of being more proficient with a sword like his father, and he had taken his interest in a giant battle axe as tall as he was. The boy asked about his father’s eye and that was where Dufniall told him of his father’s heroics, the boy looked at the man in awe. Many winters passed and Dýri was as large as his father now and sported the look of his people. The three stood side by side watching as the other army advanced upon their tribe, Dýri looked at his father but didn’t say a word. Davlamin and Dufniall were focused and their battle lust was about to begin when that happened, the duo was unstoppable and they knew they had discarded their bows back at the village. Dufniall had a little one back with his wife at home and was looking forward to returning to him to begin his first lessons with the blade. The battle horn toke call from both sides of the battle field and as always the trio of warriors led the charge against an enemy that was double the size of their own army. The men and women of Davlamin’s tribe were not afraid they had faced worse odds and won. Davlamin, his son and Dufniall charged axes and sword raised ready to swing down upon the enemy’s heads. They met little resistance as their charge parted the way for them deep into the enemy’s ranks. The other tribe defended with their spears, their swords, and their shields but nothing would stop the people who were the best at war the best at the game that they deemed as fun. Surrounded on all sides by enemies the trio fought with endurance that even the gods of old would be jealous of, not a single that lay dead were theirs when suddenly the tides had begun to turn on them. They started to feel the first effects of fatigue upon their bodies, they heard chanting in the back of the enemy’s assembled army and they felt fear for the first time in their lives. Still they fought on to glory them, their people and their gods. When the unthinkable struck a spear broke through the undefeatable team and struck straight through Dýri’s chest and out of his back, he went into a frenzy from the blow that should have laid him low and dead but his fury was so great that he snapped the shaft of the spear and slammed his axe through the body of the spearman, his father Davlamin watched with fear and grief when the spear had broken through their defense and into his only son. He cried out and broke into a frenzy of his own he grabbed both Dýri and Dufniall and fought his way through the enemies ranks when Dýri went limp in his hand and he dragged the body when Dufniall just disappeared and he was thrown off balance in weight. The battle still going on around him he fought for all he was worth his blade cutting, slashing and hacking away enemies, with such ease that he felt as if he was the one who was no longer alive. Davlamin made it to the frontlines and he quickly moved back to where the original trio had begun at, he looked around and found his spot and placed his son’s body in the hidden area. After securing his son he charged back into the fray. A war cry erupted from his lips like that not even the Gods had heard. His people were dying on all sides around him calls to their god of wrath “Hodi” He heard the call go up all around him. They were losing the first battle since the beginning of time; their tribe was so powerful no other one had dared anything powerful enough to defeat them. They were falling back trying to push forward but they couldn’t, they fought like wild men hacking but are torn to bits. While fighting Davlamin was completely surrounded and received many cuts across his back and chest and he collapsed after slashing through most of the men killing him he fell from the blood loss. The rest of the tribe was being annihilated but, with only ten soldiers left they fought with such glory that they each toke down ten for their one that they lost till finally none were left to defend their homes. In the back of the enemy lines their wizards worked their magic all throughout the army making them more powerful and faster than some of even the best warriors to set foot on the land. Dufniall was one the ground at some of the wizards feet knocked out by one of the soldiers guarding the wizards he had shackles on his wrist and ankles, he had been taken prisoner. The wizard enhanced cowardly warriors charged at the orders of their General “Go to their village kill all you can from old to young no prisoners, I want all of them dead!” They performed the gruesome task by running through the village slaughtering all in their path and burning all of the buildings by sun rise the next day there was nothing left but many piles of ashes. |
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