<span style="font-size: 120%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="text-decoration: underline">Bodzil Foxe</span></span></span><br/><span style="font-style: italic">The Dwarven Warhammer ripped into his abdpmen, knocking Bodzil backward. His face naturally distorted in a grimace. Oolarger warriors surged forward into the line of Dwarven hammermen. A cloud of dust consumed the melee of battle as the two side fought in contest over the southern coast of Khar, home to the Faltan Dwarves. The Dragon Riders of Malik had descended upon the greedy Dwarves who believed it was their birthright to violate and desecrate the soil at every turn. This desire to consume grated upon the very soul of the Oolarger. They hated the Dwarves who took and hoarded everything of value. What right do they have to take what is not their's?<br/><br/>Bodzil's abdomen shook from the impact of the hammer. His head had ached previously, but inexplicably felt relieved as if someone administered a pain killer. The hammer blow knocked him back onto his buttocks. He lay in the dirt waiting to stand up, but his legs did not move.</span>'Bodzil! Can you hear me? Awaken!' Kwatoko's voice permeated the cloud of his dream.<span style="font-style: italic">The dust settled and a storm cloud moved in. Bodzil found himself laying on a sandy beach. No one was near him. Storm clouds, dark and ominous showered the turbulent ocean and doused Bodzil upon the beach.<br/><br/>He found himself standing. His legs worked again, but he did not know where he was. It appeared to be Khar, but not the Dwarven lands. "Ali'tia?" He spoke aloud to himself. "Were the elves nearby?"<br/><br/>Once again, Kwatoko's voice came through the fog.</span>'It is fine, you have seen much greater battles than this, my friend. But you must awaken now, we are not alone.'<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">The rain came in torrential spurts. It would pour like there was no air for five minutes and then the volume would decrease to a light sprinkle for ten minutes. He heard Kwatoko's voice again. "Kwatoko!" Bodzil yelled into the air. He yelled several more times. 'Kwatoko? Where are you? Who is with us? I appear to be somewhere near Gronberg on the western shore of Swedbourg Bay in southern Ali'tia. The boat is about to take us to Dragon Keep. I've never been here, but for some reason, I know I am here. This is where the Elves sail to the Dragon Keep during the time of the Dragon Moon. How did I get here?</span><br/><br/>His questioning mind seemed to play tricks upon him. [i]Bodzil could feel the heat of Mount Prishtina. He was no longer on the rain drenched beach of Southern Khar, but inside his home in Cekakula. Meda Yazzie embraced him. They kissed, exchanging smiles. Soon, they would fall into a rapt embrace giving way to a session of love-making.<br/><br/>Before he could enjoy the embrace of their passion, Bodzil found himself in a fight with Gordo Lachkin, one of his Oolarger soldiers. This young warrior stood 7' tall and weighed closer to 450 Lbs. The two squared off, exchanging blows. Bodzil was not angry with Gordo. He felt the thrill of battle, but also one of joy, content and confidence. He loved his brother, Gordo and they beat each other while rolling around on the grassy plain. They practiced techniques used in battle when fighting unarmed. Neither had a malicious intent in their heart, merely to practice their martial skills.[//i]<br/><br/>Bodzil enjoyed the dreams in his head, while Kwatoko, the red dragon attempted to communicate with the dragon(kind), Kenman. Bodzil was still content and given no reason to awaken.