
It had been raining for four days and nights straight in the Varenka Hills. Exiled from his home, the great forge foundries of Barak Varr, Hulen had at first found it difficult to get his barrings so use was he to fighting the goblins and orcs of the deep roads. There life was simple, up was home and down was work. Here on the surface though he was able to go in any direction he wished and so far they had all led him to cold miserable, wet rain. Never was it like this in the great drinking halls.
As he wandered what he took for a road he could hear horses approaching from behind him.......
[spoiler=ooc]From this point on the story is yours to unfold.....[/spoiler]