Falling and rolling down a hill in his haste, a man looked behind him  with a great worry lingering in his eyes. He could hear the hounds of pursuit barking and howling as they had no trouble tracking his obvious path along the ground. The man was clearly in a desperate state with an iron collar around his neck with a few links of a chain hanging from it. He wore a loose brown tunic that was ripped and cut in various places as were his pants. He had no shoes to speak of, and his entire body was covered in mud, dirt and other amounts of filth.<br/><br/>â€œThis way boys!â€ The man heard and looked up fearfully.  â€œhis tracks lead down to the bay!â€ Hearing the men behind him the man scrambled back to his feet in a rush as he rushed off again. The manâ€™s name was Balthazar. He didnâ€™t know his last name, he knew nothing about his family other then they were probably dead by now. He had been found as a young boy on the battlefields of Calcern after it had been attacked by the dwarves.<br/><br/>Now, after almost twelve years of servitude he had finally escaped. And he had no intention of going back.<br/><br/>Running down the coastline, his feet digging into the sand with every step he took, it wasnâ€™t long before he heard the barking behind him and looked to see a number of men coming on him fast. They had unleashed the dogs that they had been using to track him. It took the dogs only a moment to catch up to Bal, one of which bit at his ankles narrowly missing. But it had come close enough to make him stumble.  Doing so though, he hastily reached out and grabbed a large sea shell and spun around to smash it into the hounds head, knocking it out cold.  Even though the shell broke, Bal kept a tight grip on one of the pieces that had come off before  he looked at one of the dogs that chose then to leap at him, before driving the piece of a shell into itâ€™s throat, before tossing it aside and turning to run once again.<br/><br/>It was then that  he saw the person standing along the coast looking out into the waters. More importantly though, he saw a dagger at the hip, and maybe a way out of his situation. He just had to hope that the man didnâ€™t put up to much of a fight.<br/><br/>Taking a breath, he picked up his speed ten fold, breaking into a full out sprint as he closed the gap between him and the mysterious person. Coming up behind them, he quickly drew the small dagger from its sheath and put it to the strangerâ€™s throat and pinned their arms to their chest. â€œStruggle and Iâ€™ll slit your throat.â€ He warned. He really didnâ€™t want to, and in truth wasnâ€™t sure he could, but this was his only chance. Turning them around so those chaseing him could see his hostage he began backing up slowly.  â€œIâ€™m not going back, Iâ€™m tired of being a slave!â€ He wanted to make sure they realized he had nothing to lose.