Behrious En'haulas the Legend of the Battlefield

Role

Chapter 6

Hierarchies gives a person a chance to really come to know the words
"Know your place." From an early-afternoon winter day, a smile of a
father and mother, and the birth of a new child, his place had already
been chosen. Like father and his father before serving was what the heir
to the "En'haulas" family legacy does. The En'haulas family are true
servants of Cragstone. From one generation to the next the family has
stayed at the feet of each new king, never faltering, being the best
footstools they could be. Servants are just what the name implies, never
meant to be any more. It doesn't matter if someone is the most respected
footstool in the castle if they and their children and children's, children will
never be any more than a footstool. Life has been in this manor for many
years, and will continue long into the future, that is the plain and simple
truth. So when a young man who, happens to be a footstool, falls for a
beauty who just happens to be royalty and they are discovered in the
same bed, not much good comes from the result. Maybe, just maybe they
would have been truly happy, maybe they would have been able to live
wonderful lives together, maybe the woman would be killed by some
foolish invocations that created giant boulders aimed at the young man...
and maybe the young footstool would do his best to fight for her honor
being horribly wounded in the process. Life is a strange thing indeed,
how fate plays a role in everyones lives. It turned one of the most
respected footstools of the Royal house of Cragstone into an outcast who
will forever resent the words of some foolish man who took the life of his
love. This foolish man now called Behrious, outcast of the En'haulas
family, moved to a surface dweller city on his own path, one to bring pride
back to his name and maybe some love to his heart.

Role

Chapter 5

The years come and go much like the bird upon the wind or a fish in the
stream, they are sometimes riding the flow but many times they are just
challenging the power of the elements. It seems as though this is another
reality, another truth, that not just in royalty but in every walk of life if
someone or something believes in their worth they will at times have to
challenge that very thing which provides them life. During the time inside
the academy of Galadon that this man spent learning the arts of war, the
arts of a warrior, reading and learning many of the histories of this world.
Finding that long ago that their was once great forces of magic and chaos
who pitted themselves against one another. These two great forces were
hammering away at each other not caring for anything except their own
victory, which isn't a bad thing per-say. During this war a group of people
were recruited by those of the magic cast and granted fearsome strength
to battle their enemies, chosen to be their lapdogs, their footstool, a tool
for their ancient and eternal war. Much like a footstool being punished for
doing what he loved, they too were struck down by the very ones that
provides their life and strength. They were too good at what they were
made into and had to be put in their rightful place. These proud and
frighteningly strong warriors were betrayed and beaten but they never
stopped believing in themselves or their purpose, they would live on, they
would fulfill the reason for their creation, they will destroy those whom
foolishly play god. Much the same way a rebel feels within an uprising
from tyranny of an oppressive ruler, the feeling of a kinship to these men
and women grows with each word of their story. The very skin of this
mans body filled with tingling sensations and a fire that flows through
chest and stomach upon a realization. Is it fate, is it coincidence, no one
knows, why is it that one story of a lowly footstool, parallels of their story of
this forsaken past maybe it is just life a truth all must face at some point in
their future. What does it mean to find a place where one belongs is
anyones guess, but his place seems to have found him.

Role

Chapter 4

+Behrious originally was simply a man not caring about the outcome of
situations but passionate about what he did, that being the work of a
noble servant family. After the falling out with his family and nobles he,
being a man of action, just acted on impulse and joined the warriors guild
to train and seek revenge for himself even more than his beloved. He did
love her but he was more happy just to be sleeping with her than a true
companion. During his brief time in the academy he found the writings of
Thera's story. The story made him realize what it means to be kin to
something, like a brotherhood. From that moment on, he was no longer a
child at heart. He seeks the village because he feels that is the one place
with which he most aligns himself and feels at home. His pride comes
from the prospect that he will become a villager and that he has found his
calling, what he was meant to do during his life. His pride is large
enough to overshadow his sorrow for finally realizing what he has lost,
the love of his life, which he foolishly pissed away. This sorrow is often
what leads Behrious to drinking and he always offers a drink to those
around especially the women who he swoons for, on the slim chance he
could ever feel what it means to be in love again.+

Role

Chapter 3

The clash of iron, the strong pounding deep within ones chest, hard
breathing as the brawl ends, the taste of blood, some your own and some
the enemies, are traits that every warrior comes to know. The warriors of
legend, those who are known to be the strongest and most fierce in the
land are known as villagers or more well known Battle Ragers. The
mighty men and women whom come to know this village and its battle
share a near indescribable legacy, with many of their tales and
adventures that would inspire even the lowly field-hand to stand proud
and take up arms as though they were a warlord of a mighty army. The
tales one hears often are rooted in truth but many have been so stretched
that they border on fairy tale. One such tale stems from a courageous
warrior who one day falls prey to the spells of a strong dark paladin. This
is his story.

In root from the ocean headed toward the city of Galadon he is taken by
surprise and forced into a magical slumber, submitted to endure plagues,
and curses so dire that they were almost unimaginable. The warriors
body wracked with maledictions where the very strength flees his limbs
and his body convulses at the sheer agony of a horrid plague, lies near
helpless at the hand of his dark assailant. When the battle begins a
stirring within him tells his legs to run and hide. Wicked balls of ice whiz
by his head with bits stinging him as harsh as the frigid wastelands ever
were. Some luck or maybe as fate would have it, he escapes, does his
best to clear his vision and makes use of what weapons he can still
manage to feebly pick up. Now with some arms to defend himself he
moves to a place he believes he can defend and prepares to make a
stand.

Soon his attacker has found him and more hale rains down around him
as he nears his final destination. He arrives at a fortified hillock, a place
where many battles have been fought throughout the ages, the vigilant
massive giant of the battle ragers at his back he digs in for what will be
his last stand. The dark fiend charges again invoking more ice and hale
from the very fabric of the world itself. Passing blows the warrior fights on
with grave injuries, and his diseased body failing him, he just may win,
the thoughts race through his mind. Maybe, just maybe his enemy seems
to be losing blood more quickly that he, he could possibly come out the
victor. He dashes around with what little strength he could muster from
his failing legs and in the most dire of moments he attempts to slam into
his attacker, this was it, it was this or fall, it was going to end now. He
could feel the wind as he rushed toward his target, his aim was true, but
his failing legs would not allow him to continue, he stumbles... At a time
which victory was within his grasp, he had failed, or had he. His enemy
now himself writhing in agony from all the pain this warrior was able to
inflict was attempting to run, and as if compelled by a gazelle he dashed
to safety. The battle was over and the warrior slumps over in exhaustion.
Perhaps he was lucky, maybe it was his fate, who knows why he was
alive when the plague was rotting his body away. He was a victor, maybe
he had won, but just as his legs became fully exhausted his as

Role

Chapter 2

+ The time leading to and after the rites of War. Behrious has grown very
proud of his abilities and has a strong belief that he will be the future
Commander or Drillmaster when the rites are over. The day arrives and
he just can't manage to pull things together and win. Although he does
manage to win matches, and some with some creativity he feels very
disheartened. Being very proud of himself and all those that know him,
he still expected to be known among the village in title, not just action.
When the new Commander and Drillmaster were chosen Behrious was
furious, both with himself and those who gained those positions. He
knew that as long as he had a hut that neither of them had been out in the
frey as he had been and did not believe that they deserved their positions
and was somewhat jealous. At first he would offer help and aid them with
great resentment in reserve. However this was not to continue forever.
Raatok who was recently named Drillmaster has become one of
Behrious's closest friends and the two fight well with at the side of one-
another. He has come to realize that even if his fate wasn't to be in
command, his life still continues and he finally begins to face life at full
force once more. Many young villagers still look to him for help and he
feels as though like a elder should and takes as good care of them as
best he can. Behrious still visits the ladies and carries a bottle of wine
with him at nearly all times but he has began to get on with his life with a
grin on his face. +

Role

Chapter 1

+ Years as if wind, blow by with swift and wild abandon. It has been
some time now since Behrious was within his natural prime. The war
within the village is getting tougher as his opponents grow in number and
ability, all the while he grows older. Tricks and secrets he picks up along
his journey, he attempts to use to tip the favor of his battles. Different
guilds have now taught him several different things that allow him to
battle his enemies in hopes of evening the battlefield. Those of the
Shapechanging and Bard guilds still pose the largest problems but at
times he manages to come out on top despite being outnumbered on
many occasions. Each new trick or change in fighting style brings him
new hope and gives him a chance to force others to meet their fate
instead of simply himself. +

+ With age and knowledge come both a weaker body and a stronger
mind for many things. Behrious has had many conversations with
enemies and allies alike. There have been on multiple occasions that he
has been wished to be commander by his enemies and allies alike but
Behrious strongly believes in the current Commander and Drillmaster's
abilities and the lords who choose them. One conversation in particular
was with Eoria. He has high hope that in the near future that the war
between the Village and Empire will be drawn to a halt. He places his
trust in some of his enemies such as Eoria because he feels that he has
their respect. The future for the village will be somewhat easier of a war,
if the Empire and Village are not constantly at one another's throats and
the battles are concentrated on our true enemies, all magi, the scions and
Nexus. +

+ Favor of the lords in battle can move mountains, redirect raging
rivers, and so much more. For Behrious any glimpse of favor seems to go
a long ways. From the great war and many battles he has been able to
derive some of his new tricks and talents from the guidance and learning
provided from the lords. He still holds a strong belief in the Lord of Lions
and speaks with his Gorgon guardian on several occasions. Many times
he offers food and spirits, but the guardian is unmoved. Many times he
inquires of his lords condition and the Gorgon has naught to tell. Many
times will he return until he has word. Maybe on one of those many times
he will be blessed, as his highest hope to bear the mark of the Great
White Lion. +

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