Name: Domar Drakecleaver
[FONT=verdana]Home: Karak-a-Karak[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]Personality: A complex person who is Very well spoken and calm, with a temper that could shock a khornite cultist. Fierce, intelligent warrior that seeks a glorious death from a worthy foe. Highly skilled warrior with a very specific motivation (the Mighty Doom) and have devoted the rest of his life to making sure that his end restores glory to his family and is told in the halls for centuries.[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]Background: Place of birth and raised in Karak-a-Karak. Domar was a natural with two handed weapons. As a young lad he showed great promise consistently besting his peers in training. As he grew to his full height and steadily broader and stronger Domar became a warrior in many greenskin and Skaven wars. Domar's ferocity was match by his loyalty. His skill and many victories became noticed. One fateful night during a battle with a horde of Skaven. Domar lead his unit of warriors charging Warplock Jezzails. Quickly killing the Jezzails Domar flanked and charged the Skaven Warlord. Screaming a ferocious battlecry Domar attacked the Warlord taking its head clean off with a single mighty sweep of his great axe.[/FONT]
[FONT=verdana]Soon after the Skaven battle Domar's mother was very proud when her youngest son was selected as a Hammerer for King Thorgrim Grudgebearer. After many years of faithful service the dreadful happened. Soon after Domar traveled to the Shrine of Grimnir at Karak Kadrin and took the slayer oath.[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]Companions: 3 Companions. 1 GiantSlayer and 2 Troll Slayers. Each with slayer axes.[/FONT]
[FONT=verdana]GiantSlayer: Skofur Srainsson[/FONT]
[FONT=verdana]TrollSlayer: Pjerond Sourhop[/FONT]
[FONT=verdana]TrollSlayer: Helga Pakkisdottir (female) Domar's wife's niece. Stylish mohawk of three rows died red. As red goes better with green than orange does.[/FONT]

Known Friends:
[FONT=verdana]Sevign of Artois – Bretonnian Questing Knight – Elk Antler Heraldry.[/FONT]
[FONT=verdana]Volthic – Dwarf Deamon Slayer[/FONT]

Blue - Dwarf
Black - Bretonnian
Italic - Thoughts

[FONT=verdana]Morning after a Bretonnian battle against undead with great losses on both sides. The main Bretonnian tent for the nobels has been setup for breakfast and after wards for talks of what is next. Many of the Knights from Bretonnia, the Empire, a group of High Elves, and Dwarfs of various backgrounds are inside. This is where I met Domar and his small group of slayers. This is where I begin recording his deeds.[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]Helga tilts her head to one shoulder and briskly tilting back to the other shoulder. Her stylish red Mohawk of three spiking rows echos the movement with an eye catching wave as she enters the tent. The morning light finding it way into the tent winks on her green curvy thin dragon scale blouse. Hips swinging with a modest strut in her large black leather boots. Helga enters the tent.[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]Heads turn from the knights of the Empire and Bretonnia. A very brief moment of silence as most of the men are in a shallow thought. Been a long time since being with a woman.[/FONT][FONT=verdana] Seemingly most if not all the human knights have the same thought No[/FONT][FONT=verdana] as normalicy returns to the breakfast.[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]Helga looks around the tent giving a smile to a dashing bretonnian nobel then notices a group of dwarfs by the food. A growling comes from her belly as she makes her way to the food.[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]Goodmorning Domar. I see you like the ham.[/FONT][FONT=verdana]Helga chuckles. You clean up real nice Domar. [/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]You tought me well Helga[/FONT][FONT=verdana] Domar says smileing. [/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]Its the least I could do. Im no longer a student studying in libraries and reading books. I never would be able to fulfill my oath without your mentoring.[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]Gravey squirts from Domars mouth Aye your glory will not be at the hands of a gobo. When yoru done, Grimnir himself will open the gates for you[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]Domar loads his plate with more ham, gravey, and chicken. Helga lets litsten in on the discussion. This fight may not be over yet.[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]Skofer peered through the tent opening obviously looking for someone. Trying not to be obvious and drawing attention to himself Skofer waits for the right moment. Daintily waving his large Dwarvish hand to catch Domars attention. Domar get ye nos out of ye plat! Helga you in mi way.[/FONT][FONT=verdana] Skofer thinking to himself. [/FONT]
[FONT=verdana].....[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]Talking the ears off the dwarfs around her Helga holds her chicken leg like a Bloodbowl trophy and loudly claims with a mouth full of chicken how this is the best chicken she’s ever tasted. Just at that moment a piece of chicken bone gets stuck in her throat. [/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]A few moments of silence from Helga caused Domar to stop chewing. Cheeks bulging with food and head down towards his plate Domar peers up through heavy bushy orange eyebrows waiting for her to complete the sentence. Helga holds her mouth open pointing, and waving at her throat. Getting worried she grabs Domar by the nose and with the other hand points to her throat. Wanting to scream but unable to . This can not be. I would be the first slayer to die of a chicken bone.[/FONT][FONT=verdana] Now really getting worried and felling faint Helga is worried to forever shame her family. [/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]"Out with it now"[/FONT][FONT=verdana] says Volthic and proceeds to give Helga a hearty slap on her back causing her to launch a chicken bone which passes though the spikes in Domars Mohwak. [/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]Volthic says "Tell us. How many gobos does it take?"[/FONT] Seeminly Volthic was thinking the same as Domar or just wiser and overlooking the moment to spare Helga a brief embarrsment.

[FONT=verdana]Domar notices Skofers Mohawk over Helgas shoulder. Domar straightens his back and raises his head. Neck muscles stiffen. Broad muscular shoulders raise as he straightens his back. Domar excuses himself from the dwarfs and makes his way to Skofer. [/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]Skofer gives a single head nod to the South East toward the dwarf camp. Without hesitation and no need to say a word Domar and Skofer make haste toward the dwarf camp. [/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]"DragonSlayer!" came a young deep voice from a grand knight with the heraldry of Elk Antlers. Sevign is tall for a Bretonnian and his Elk Antler helm crest makes him look like a giant. [/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]"May your axe continue to bring glory to the lady!" Sevign boldly states.[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]Domar and Skofer slow their hurried pace to a slow crawl. Simultaneously turning their heads and begin approaching the bretonnian. Domar gruffly barks sounding like an old grizzlied bear. "If you are as good at drinking as you are with a sword, I will have met my match!" Laughing as two great warriors both Sevign and Domar clasp hands.[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]"Asaght fer sar eyes." Skofer said. "Waur the lavvy! Err umm Sairy my braghtin is waek." Realizing what he said Skofer lightly laughs bouncing his beard off his chest and flapping a great long mustach briefly permitting the light of the sun to shine off his beer glossed lips.[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]“Ah hae a keg ay bugmans brew.” Skofers face puckers with the thought someone overheared him. “Dornt gie tae excited. Whieest. It a secrit. Ye invited tae bevy.” [/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]Domar taps his foot. His Mohawk gently sways giving away he is slightly bouncing with anxiousness. Nose pointing toward Sevign but his eyes and head tilted toward the dwarf camp.[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]“Fur th’ lady” says Skofer smiling big and lifting his fist high. Repeating how he first met Sevign. Sevign knows this and considers Skofers offer.[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]The three met during the recent battle. Sevign a Knight riding his thoroughbred warhorse and followng his unit. Through thick fog.he became separated and lost. Suddenly finding himself alone and surrounded with the sounds of war. Sevign lighly tapped his heals on the warhourse’s sides urging to move slowly through the fog and a thin cops of trees. He tried desperately to find his unit until Sevign became lost and alone. Fear creapt through his body telling him to flee. Death is all around. The distant sounds of trumpets echoed in the hills, screams of the dieing, sounds of the undead penetrated the fog. Seconds seemed like eons as a feeling of vertigo took hold of Sevign’s mind. The sound of a nearby hord of undead cast doubt in his very existence and purpose. Evil magic grabed Sevign body and soul. An evil voice entered his mind. Why Live at all? Everything is Hopeless, Die Fool![/FONT][FONT=verdana] A dwarven battle cry boomed in the mist. A second. Then a couple more as living met the living dead. [/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]A feeling of hope danced in the deepest part of Sevign’s mind. Struggling for sanity he tried desperately to hold on to the distant feeling. Slowly he pulled. Fearfull of loosing he cried out “The Lady!” His hand tightend grasping a lance. Lungs drew a deep breath. Sevign’s straighten his back, and raised his head. Elk Antlers on his helm towered with the presence of bravery. “Something is different. Something is….” Sevign muttered to himself. Do my ears deceive. So few war cries, so many undead.[/FONT][FONT=verdana] Courage, and hope grew inside his heart. Realizing who he is. Bretonnian! The Lady. The Lady![/FONT][FONT=verdana] “For the Lady!” Sevign shouts. “For the Lady![/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]Sevign urged his horse forward toward the war cries of the dwarfs. Moving faster as distance shortened. A tree jumped out of the fog and narrowly missed Sevign. His horse bread for power, trained for battle snorted an ornery protest to fear. His horse reached full stride, and lance lowered. Sevign entered the battle shouting “For the Lady!”. He charged deep into the ranks of the undead and broken lance. Drew his sword and shield “For the Lady!” Sevign shouted above the war cries of the dwarfs. “For the Lady!” Fighting as a tempest and rage never before felt. He repeated with each kill a shout “For the Lady!”.[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]The Bretonnian hourse pounded its way through a sea of undead. Every swing of the sword returned the dead back to where it belonged. Undead arms stretched toward the knight with hands seeking its prey. They walking dead pulled the armor on his foot and leg and tried to bring the warrior off his mount. His horse moving and shifting keeping Sevign balanced and mounted. [/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]He saw in the fog two axes that swirled impossibly fast and moved in strange arcs. Sevigns right flank was cleared. A strange muscular dwarf with a tall orange Mohawk stoped spinning and twirling. The odd looking dwarf looked up at the bretonnian and flexed an impressive array of muscles. The wild looking dwarf lifted his two axes above his head and into his Mohawk then and shouted “Fer da dame!” A few more voices in the fog returned the shout “For the Lady!” The strange short fellow disappeared into the fog. Sevign realized he had been shouting for the lady maybe a hundred times or more. The dwarfs must have heard him and in their own odd way returned the shout.[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]The sun rose, the fog lifted and the battle was over. Sevign exhausted droped his shield, sword. He removed his helm and long blond hair draped over his eyes and ears. Sevign knelt to one knee, placed his helm by his feat and lowered his head. Thoughts entered his tired mind. The Lady. The Lady touched me. Must have been. I could feel her blessings and strength.[/FONT][FONT=verdana] For hours Sevign nelt in prayer to the lady. [/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]“Today I lay aside the lance, follow in the footsteps of Lois the Rash. My duty is to the Lady.” Sevign confidently said.[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]“Will he ever gie up?”[/FONT]
[FONT=verdana]“Leave him be! He prays to the lady.”[/FONT][FONT=verdana] Helga tolled Skofer.[/FONT]
[FONT=verdana]“Eye, a warrior. “ [/FONT][FONT=verdana]from Domar's inquisitive low growling bearish voice. “Where he come from?”[/FONT]

[FONT=verdana]Sevign considers drinking Bugmans with the dwarfs but experience tells him he better not try the dwarf beer.[/FONT]
[FONT=verdana]“Eye Skofer and Domar, I will have that drink. I bring a some bretonnian wine.” The three make their way toward the dwarf camp.[/FONT]