<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://img682.imageshack.us/img682/5521/narniagoatman.jpg)</div><strong>Rakanishu of the Dransk Vale</strong><br/><br/><strong>Health:</strong>12 / 12 |<strong>Mana:</strong>15 / 15  |<strong>Virtue:</strong>15 / 15<br/><br/><strong>Inventory</strong><br/><div class="floatright">Leather pouch:<br/>Flint and steel<br/>Dagger<br/>Sling<br/>3x Day's rations<br/></div><div class="floatleft">  Equipped:<br/>  Horns<br/>  Heavy steel gauntlets<br/>  Lamellar cullet, Plate faulds with tassets, Mail Chausses, Iron (Goat) Shoes<br/></div><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><hr/><br/>Shoed hooves gave a dull thud on the floor as the next seeker came to the halls of the Labyrinth. The light of a handheld torch flickered in the low draft that flowed around the figure - a tall and rather mean looking goat-headed man, with beady golden eyes and a grimace that never seemed to leave his gnarled jaws. He was dressed in few scraps of mismatched armor, keeping most of his chest and arms free except for his lower arms, and his legs were fully covered in steel and mail alike. He licked his chops as he finished his final meal from outside the Labyrinth itself - a half-roasted rabbit leg - and made his way towards the dread warning hanging from the wall ahead.<br/><br/>For a moment, the beastman's thoughts wandered as he watched the shadows flicking behind the flames. Of the legends that slowly crept even in the wildnerness, first as the story of the unimaginable depths of the dungeon that would lead to either unimaginable punishment on failing to best its challenges... and unimaginable gains should one find its deepest crevices. The legend only grew as more voices added to its mystery: monsters of unimaginable power and ditto depravity lurking in the Labyrinth's depths; acts of unimaginable wickedness in their terrible wake; how some would unimaginably slip out of its recesses... Well, the<em>usual</em>embellishments for any legend, and sadly, ever becoming predictable.<br/><br/>He remembered the night before, how he had spent them drunk of the rich brandy he had stolen from a passing trader daring to cross through the Dransk Vale through his own domain. Sure, he lived to tell the tale, but lost his livelihood, no doubt. Not that the bandit king Rakanishu gave it that much thought - the human trespassed, and paid the price, simple as that. Oh, how he remembered that his ewes could not bring to him the same animalistic lust he so craved, and listened on their rumors. And how he simply left without a word that fateful morn', to cross the Dransk Vale and head to the place of legends.<br/><br/>Perhaps he simply hadn't much to gain anymore, from his usual life of roaming the roads. Perhaps he couldn't be enticed by his ewes. Perhaps he wanted something<em>more</em>. No, scratch that, he<em>knew</em>he wanted something more. Again, Rakanishu licked his chops, a dark chuckle leaving him with a bit of a goat's bleat on his voice. After all, those monsters had to come from somewhere, right? He<em>would</em>conquer the dungeon and its inhabitants, and beat them into submission. This was just an extension of his domain. He'd make his mark. Down to the last and greatest beast bitch of them all.<br/><br/>Every adventure, however, would begin with the table and the dice. Rakanishu approached the table slowly, and studied the various bowls a moment. He remember the words of his peers, among elves and beast alike. '<em>The plunge into the Labyrinth begins with the plunge of one's luck into fate's hands.</em>' Grabbing a pair of knucklebones from a bowl, Rakanishu held his hand high and turned his palm down, rolling the bones across and between his fingers. "Relinquish your own luck," he muttered, "and into fate's hands."<br/><br/>The bones would set into motion his greatest conquest yet... or his utter failing. Rakanishu gave another bleating laugh. This was going to be<em>fun</em>.