The hot sun bore down on the green skinned mercenary who called himself<a class="link link--internal" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fblackdahliaroleplaying.com%2Findex.php%3Fthreads%2Fmy-peeps.192%2F%23post-123469&amp;hash=211c6ab52b8827b79bed698b9b929834" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/index.php?threads/my-peeps.192/#post-123469">Martag</a>. The day was typical of summer in Vuldamir, the capital of the human territory on the continent of Jafa in the world of Kalamanjir. Martag had just returned from a contract, one that was unlike any other he had ever encountered, the fight had been brutal, and it was one in which he nearly lost. Still his trusty sledgehammer had come into play well, the laser rifles and other projectiles that the guides had used proved futile and useless against the Dark Elves he had faced. Whatever kind of sorcery was going on they were not typical Dark Elves, he had killed plenty of them in the past, but he had saved the wife of a prominent drug lord, something that brought his coffers to a nice and fat state. It would allow him time to rest and recuperate as he so desired.<br/><br/>Kalamanjir itself was a world about half the size of Earth in diameter, it consisted of two continents, though they were still connected, called Jafa and Tilda, Jafa was to the East and Tilda to the West. While Jafa was more of a rounded land mass resembling a larger version of Austrailia, Tilda was narrow horizontally and appeared stretched vertically. The oceans were raging masses that were treacherous to sail on, and thus outside of minor fishing excursions no transport was done by sea at all. In the early stages of infancy for the planet the Gnomes developed a small cube that had a green-red hue to it, this cube provided power and nearly endless energy. Quickly these cubes powered vehicles, even turning the disposed energy into a liquid form to lubricate necessary parts. They were even weaponized, so that rifles and pistols, at least in form, could shoot endless amounts of energy with no need to reload ever. In total there are eight sentient races: Humans, Orcs, Elves, Dark Elves, Trolls, Ogres, Dwarves, and Gnomes. Each with differing abilities, but after several world wars there has since been an eerie peace for the last 500 years, though skirmishes do still take place major war is forbidden among the races.<br/><br/>Martag, now having successfully delivered the wife to the drug lord, walked among the streets of Vuldamir when he had the feeling he was being watched. That was not something he appreciated, ever, but as he turned and looked around there was nothing odd or out of place. No one paid any particular attention to the half orc half elf who had made the city his home. While Mortag would have preferred the country side for a  residence it was easier to find work in a big city, so he traveled amongst them, each capital, looking for work, and as his riches grew he had homes in each.<br/><br/>Still the feeling persisted that he was being watched, but with nothing evident Martag carried on for now as he headed to his home to catch some sleep until the evening.<br/><br/>----------------------------------------------------------<br/><br/>Darkness fell and the three moons were present, each large with distinct ring patterns, but he understood not which one was which. Teachings of things that belonged in school were of no consequence to Martag, but he appreciated their beauty nonetheless. As he headed out, a white shirt unbuttoned on his top and blue shorts around his waist, he still had the feeling of being watched, and again nothing appeared out of place. "By my hammer I swear if someone is following me it would be wise to show yourself, any surprise will end poorly for you!" He shouted into the night, but as he waited with his right hand stretched back on the hilt of his trusty sledgehammer nothing happened. A silent cool breeze nestled the top of his bald head, and soon Martag just shook the feeling and headed out to his favorite watering hole.<br/><br/>Maria's Tavern was usually empty, he didn't care, but part of it was due to her reputation for not being willing to sleep with clients. Martag had a healthy respect for it, but she also refused to cater to the major brewing companies in favor of importing ales from the Dwarves which many humans seemed to lack a taste for. Martag was not human, and therefore he loved the ale, he also loved the quiet atmosphere. As he approached the blonde who wore a red dress he said, "two pints," no please, none ever came, but he was not rude about it, he just lacked formal manners. Maria understood though, she had a soft spot for the tough brute, but that was likely due to the fact he had quelled more than one fight with his own imposing figure and also taken care of those who harassed her for her practices.<br/><br/>The two pints appeared in metal jugs and Martag took them and quickly headed to the dark far corner of the room to drink away slowly his prized ales for the night.<br/><br/><a class="username" data-user-id="2858" data-username="@Syxanthie" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/2858/">@Syxanthie</a>