<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/mSPVFrX.gif)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Roran<br/><strong>Race:</strong>Centos<br/><strong>Players Nearby:</strong>Bastet<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Outside Haas-Thuban<br/><hr/><br/>Heavy footsteps fell on the hard, cracked, dry ground.  The tip of his boots scraped across the ground almost every time he lifted his foot and dragged it forward for another step.  Almost stumbling here and there, the individual would have fallen now had it not been for his balance and determination.  Roran's stamina was not measured by his body like most men, but by his will power as he pressed on in the scorching heat as the unforgiving sun beamed down upon him from above.  As a Centos from Mastif he was not use to this intense heat, and even though he wore a hooded cloak around his body for the sake of avoid getting burned, it seemed contradicting to the tourist as the dark cloak seemed to suffocate him with heat as well.<br/><br/>Regardless, he would not give up now, he had come to far and to turn back would surely mark his demise.  Roran was on a personal quest, much like he had been for the past nine years when he first received the cursed scar on his back.  Even now it stung as he walk, threatening to bring him down with pain from the strain he was putting on his body.  Always was this Centos pushing himself to the limit, to reach new heights and better himself.  He had a thirst for strength, for testing his potential as he fought to defeat himself.  This is why he had traveled to Duumar, to test himself once again and go above and beyond what he was capable of now.  With the heat and the possible training the Duumar could provide he hoped to strengthen his body to the next level or at the very least condition it for such temperature.<br/><br/>It had almost been like a godsend when he came across a small oasis of trees providing shade along with other vegetation that lined the bank of a stream.  Fresh water and his throat had never been so parched.  The inexperienced Centos had drank all that he had brought already, not rationing it out as well as he hoped.  As he neared the stream he peeled off his cloak and tossed it on a large rock.  Next he set down his bow along with his arrows, war hammer, axe and dagger.  It felt good to relinquish all the extra weight.  Next he untied and slipped off his leather torso, chaps and vambraces leaving only his under shirt and trousers.<br/><br/>Walking toward the stream he kicked off his boots, his feet wading into the cooling water as he groaned with delight as it soothed his aching soles.  Squatting down he scooped up some water in his cupped hands and took a thirsty gulp before getting another handful and splashing it over his face.  Pulling his shirt off and then slipping out of his trousers, he tossed them at the rock with the rest of his stuff as he entered into the deepest part of the stream which was only between three to four feet at best from where he had crossed into it.  Slipping down into the water he tried to cool off as well as submerge the large diagonal scar across his back to soothe the prickling sensation that it gave off.