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Date Posted: 20:50:04 10/04/03 Sat
Author: Tarog the Throat Slitter
Subject: Enter the Fire-heart pt I

Tarog sat behind the trunk of the tree, breathing quite heavily. Should someone actually be able to view him, they'd find themselves in for a fright to the senses - At about 6'5, he still managed to possess a frame stocky enough to be that of a dwarf. His hairy, gray hide seemed to be tightly wrapped around a picturesque statue of muscular bulges, and adorned over this body was a combination of various armor plates and black, spike studded, leather products. Long, black hair hung down his back, loosely braided and wrapped with an old, oily leather strap... but It was his face that gave away his Redcap nature, beset with small dark eyes that provided a thin filter between the world and the evil rage in his soul, and a massive jaw stretched over rows of razor sharp teeth.

(What's she doing?) He thought to himself, staring through the trees at a large, armored woman. She was the reason he was here... Hell, she was the reason behind most of what he's been doing over the past year. She was the Fireheart, and she had stood in the way of the Dark Hand one too many times. Tarog was sent here with his men to finish her off, once and for all... and now, it seems, that this is the moment for their move.

"NOW!" Tarog shouted as he lept from his hiding spot. Before him, the plan fell into motion as quickly as it was perfect. His trusted Ogre, Krack-pot, had risen from his own hiding place and clasped his arms firmly around the woman from behind - causing her large Greatsword to fall before her onto the ground. (When did she draw that? I didn't see a thing) His other fellows, Aromar - the Satyr archer, and Larz - his favorite Sluagh assassin, were already in place around her. Perfect... (Tarog's throatslitters will be the most respected guild in the whole of the Order!)

Tarog wanted to take it slow - he was savoring this moment. He scanned the scene, taking in the details, and preserving the memory. Krack-pot stood a good 2 feet over the woman, and was at least thrice the mass of Tarog himself. His massive arms looked like trees wrapped around her armored body. The Fireheart herself seemed to be unimpressed, she even seemed to be amused. Tarog was equally amused with her, so he gave it no thought.. .instead, he took this moment to study her up-close, an experience few of his order have had. She was actually quite pretty, in a way. She was tall - even as tall as him, and from the looks of her, the female equivelent of his massiveness. Her face, however, was as feminine as it was exotic: She had light gray skin as well, though with a touch of blue in it that made it look almost off-white.Her body was adourned in what was possibly the most gorgeous set of Full-plate that Tarog had laid eyes upon... it was a deep black, with inlaid engraving covering it that glinted a deep, dark copper color. Her hair was an intense, dark purple, and was tied and pinned up into a bun on the back of her head - leaving only a few whisps to trickle down around her face like small slivers of dark liquid. The sign of her Troll-ness was her horns... though unlike most Trolls, she had thick ram-horns that curled from the sides of her forehead around her ear and point foreward, even with her jawline. As he studied her horns, he noticed she glared at him. Peering into her eyes, Tarog blinked openly... he had suddenly felt the most odd sensation. He was momentarily paralized, her gaze boring a hole through him so definately that he thought it was physically doing so... (what is this? ... By the Dark Gods... it's FEAR.) Tarog, however, was a trained killer and a Redcap. Fear and the like were supposed to be beyond him, so he decided to ignore it, shaking it off... though even as he prepared to speak, the lump in his throat mimicked the scar in his mind - she had terrified him, balls to bone.

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