Dotran the Legend of the Battlefield

PK Wins

Role

Chapter 2

Sitting alone on the cold floor of a dark room in a Galadonian Inn, a young
Svirfneblin man runs a short, calloused finger over the blade of a sharp
wood-splitting axe, to comfort him as he relives his past inside his mind.

"Dotran, did you hear me? It's your turn now." said Krentak, an instructor of
aspiring Svirfneblin magelings. "Er. Yes." he mumbled, almost inaudibly, it was
little more than a cracked whisper. "Well, come on then." Krentak motioned for
him to step behind the white line chalked onto the stone floor. Dotran, a shy
looking Svirfneblin child dressed in ill-fitting old clothes, inched his way
toward the chalk line, sweat trickling down his small, gray forehead. The
other students could be heard snickering quietly.

"Now, move the rock in front of you." Krentak said. Dotran stared down the
this simple exercise, all of Krentak's students have sucessfully completed
this exercise, with the except of young Dotran, who lacked the skill
necessary to create enough force to magically roll the rocks across the ground.
And they were only forced to continue repeating it because of him falling
behind.

Small rocks, big rocks, medium sized rocks. Rocks, rocks, rocks.
"Uhm..." Dotran muttered. "What is it, Dotran?" asked Krentak, a hint of
impatience in his commanding voice. "Uh, which rock exactly?" he whispered.
"I can't hear you Dotran, you need to speak up." "Which rock?" he spoke louder
this time, but no less nervously. Krentak let out a sigh, "Blood upon stones
Dotran! The ONLY one in front of you!" The snickering grew louder and
more frequent.

He quickly darted his head back in the direction of the tunnel, looking for the
stone Krentak spoke of. But he just didn't see it, there were so many, which one
was it? What does he want? The harder he tried to figure it out the more
confused he became. "Which one is that?!" he shouted, almost crying from the
embarrassment.

Roaring laughter.

Krentak walked over to him and snatched him by the wrist, and drug him away
from the training halls. "Go home Dotran. And I don't want to see you again
until you're ready to quit clowning around and take this seriously."
"But I-" Krentak cut him off, "You're a disgrace to your entire family, do you
know that? You're nothing like your parents, and you never will be. Now leave.
I said go!" Krentak hissed.

The young Svirfneblin ran home crying.

Role

Chapter 1

He stopped, and dropped his weight to the ground before reaching his home,
sitting out of sight, still crying his eyes out. He didn't want to go home, he
knew it was true. He was a disgrace, and his Aunt also a talented magician,
would hate him for failing again, for making a fool of himself again. She would
beat him and curse him again, like she always did. And it continued for years
to follow.

His parents were great Magicians, his Mother a Transmuter, and his Father an
Invoker. Dotran used to be a promising student, back when he used to live with
his Mother and Father. But they died when he was very young, were he a human
child, he'd have been about 11 years in age. He overheard that they died in
an accident involving a secret project they had been working on, and it was
also because of this project, which he was told nothing about, that he almost
never got to see his Parents for many months before they died, he was usually
forced to live with his cruel Aunt. He often told his Parents of her cruelty,
and they knew he told the truth, but their devotion to their project
was great enough that they convinced him, and themselves, that he was
over-reacting. During the time he didn't see his parents, he was starting to
fall behind in his training, but when he learned they had died, he just
snapped. Everything he did from there on turned into a miserable failure, he
wouldn't even speak audibly most of the time, he spent most of his time in
his own little word, inside his head.

He became more and more reclusive, developing a sort of social phobia. Feeling
he was hated by what remained of his family for not meeting expectations, he
pushed away those who might have helped him. He grew to hate magic, for it was
magic that took his parents and ruined his childhood. Magic was the reason
everyone he knew thought he was stupid. He resented all mages in his hometown,
everyone he knew thought he was stupid. He resented all mages in his hometown,
to the limits of his sanity by his Aunt, and he stabbed her in her sleep.

The first stab would have did her in, but he stabbed her another twenty times
just for good measure. He then left Upper Cragstone for good, vowing never to
return. He wanted to kill a few of Krentak's students, the ones who laughed at
him, humiliated him, before he left. But he knew Krentak was powerful enough
to track Dotran down and kill him.

But he swore he would train to become a great warrior and kill every mage he
ever crossed paths with, if it was at all possible. He's mostly harmless,
even kind to anyone else. But he bears an insane hatred for mages, that built
up gradually and grew more and more intense throughout the early years of his
life. He blames mages for everything that went wrong in his life, and for that
they shall pay.

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