Zoradin Fel

Zoradin dismounted his mare, a black horse with a white stripe on her nose he had name Daien. She was a beautiful creature. Zoradin left the horse with the stable master. His gait was slow.  As always, he was exhausted, but not nearly as much as he usually was. Last night he succumbed to his exhaustion. He had slept a few hours before he had started screaming.  It was never enough. 

A message from the new M'Hael had sent him on this trip. He had been stationed in Arafel, and was planning on investigating a fortress there. The whole thing stank, but when the M'Hael got through to him, he was ordered to immediately head or Shienar.  The situation was dire. 20,000 Andoran swords were on their way. That spoke of the dangers itself.  He was probably here to help hold the line, perhaps heal some wounds - if they weren't too bad.

He headed to the officers to report in. "Zoradin Fel, Asha'man," he said.

The officer scoffed. "I need an army and I get a single Asha'man that can barely stand," he sighed. "You can fight can't you?"

The Asha'man nodded. "I can hold my own with the blade and one power."

He looked at Zoradin incredulously. "Well - we'll need it. Need to hold until reinforcements arrive. We should have time if you need to rest for your trip."

"I'll be fine, Sir," he said. 

There was some more back and forth as Zoradin got more on the situation. He was led to a barracks so he could drop off his gear and he headed to the line. They had to hold until Andor arrived. That was his only goal.