Lightsmith

Ethalon

<Gasoline Fight>

(US) Dalaran

Dwarf Holy Paladin

Lightsmith

Ethalon adjusted his pack upon his back as he looked from the forest into a wide open field that lay before him. He briefly glanced over his shoulder, looking back towards the lands that he had grown up in, the hills and trees that he knew so well. The Monks had supported his decision to set forth on this strange journey, they believed wholeheartedly that one of the gods had chosen him specifically, and had sent him off with a pack full of food and as much gear and supplies as he would accept.

Although wasn’t so sure of himself, but this was what he had longed for, some adventure and excitement, a chance to do good for the world. He mused over these thoughts staring out over the field before him, the furthest he had ever been from home. The wagon path that he was following could be seen winding away over the hills, as Ethalon’s eyes followed the path he caught sight of a caravan approaching. Just as his sight settled on the lead wagon a flash of silver shot across from out of the tall grass and an arrow embedded itself in the wagon. Cloaked figures then appeared on either side of the wagons and ran towards the waggoneers, he could just make out swords in the raised hands of the attackers.

With a deep breath he tightened his grasp on the shaft of the blacksmith hammer he had been carrying, it was time to make a difference. With his shield and hammer raised Ethalon let out a loud cry and charged into the unkown...