Excessively quick-footed monk
AC – 31
Fort – 23
Ref – 28
Will – 20
Max HP – 86
Surge/Day – 11
Surge – 21
He is short, even for a halfling, but his topknot stands tall, braided a full 6 inches aboves his head; at the top of the braid his hair streams, first one way then another as he dances back and forth. His simple sash, draped from one shoulder to waist is garish, a vivid bright green that is almost painful to the eye. It is his only garment.
His patners in the dance loom over him for brief instants, reaching, grasping, but never touching.
His serene smile is jarringly out of place. He can be heard to mutter “excuse me. Pardon me. Oh. Sorry. Peace be on you.” as he flings himself through the crowd.
His large feet dance across knees, shoulders, even heads, as pushes through. His sandals, long left behind, lay on the pavement some 30 orcs back.
His dance leaves none untouched. Orcs reel back from the bright, quick halfling. One holds his bleeding… nose? Snout? Face. His bleeding face. Three lie prostrate, struck dumb on the pavement.
Worst of all, some lie dead. The little monk, dancing across his opponents, barehanded til now, suddenly holds a 8 foot spear. It is enormous. More that twice his height, it is ludicrous. Yet it is obviously his. The bright pennant behind the tip is clearly a crude strip torn from the same garish fabric as his robe. With half the spear tucked beneath his arm, the monk spins, and blood flies. His hand flicks, barely visible, and the spear slides out to its full length, caressing the throat of an orc and in the sudden space around him, Stazi spins and the spear is gone.
His dance is deadly. But it is unmistakably a dance.
Orcs charge the space he has cleared and Stazi kneels, one hand on the ground, and pushes. His arms, like the rest of him, exposed by the sash he wears, knot like iron. Lithe muscles bunch, and Stazi shoots upwards, up, over and far past the charge. There is no time for the orcs to stop. The carnage is awful. The crash is deafening.
Stazi has always danced.
He danced as a child til his parents could stand no more. He danced in the monastery, the old monks exasperated and amused. And he danced in battle. Always he danced in battle. First among the initiates, he danced. He danced with the monks for 20 years. And then he walked here to dance again. It is not good to kill, to harm. But it is good to protect. It is good to stand against the tide of blood these orcs bring. It will be good to see Darg when the dance is done. It will be good to answer his call.
It is good to dance. And Stazi is an excellent dancer.