Snow, not the warmest of weather, and may seem unsatisfying, say that to the Longbeard Dwarf/gnome tribe of Vvaelan Mountains.

Tree houses occupied the west, while small and comfortable stone buildings rested on the east. This was only one region of the large world of Armun. Many fables and legends spreaded of gnome and dwarven wars, myths, and advancements.

"Hey, Bulky." Slim the bard said. "Kick it up a notch, will ya?" "Bah, shut up you pest." The dwarf cutting wood had a gruff voice. His name was Orin. "We need some wood, and us gnomes aren't the best woodcutters, eh?" "Yes, I suppose, but you wont need to work with all of your.. Technology. Bah." These two men were at the base of the Emlin, which was the dwarven village. "We need this wood, chop chop. Heh, get it Bulky?" "Yeah, yeah." The alpine eventually fell, and thudded on the icy ground. Orin trudged over to Slim, his boots crunching in the snow with every step.

"Okay, you get 5 pounds for 5 gold a pound.."
"Twenty-five, Bulky? Are you joking?"
"No, and I wont be joking by cutting off your head, either."
Just then, a human soldier galloped by on horseback, halting his chestnut horse by the two. "Do you not know what is happening?!" The soldier asked, eyebrow raised.
"No, what's happening, Giant?"
"Look!" The knight pointed with his sword, as Orin and slim looked, they saw smoke rising from the two villages.
"Let's go, Midnight!" The knight shouted, his horse kicked it into high gear up the pass.
"Best if we follow him, Bulky." Slim stated, starting up the pass.

"The knight is probably at the villages." Orin grunted as the two slowly progressed. Meanwhile...
"Hide the children, hurry!" A dwarven guard shouted, staving off goblins with a guardian axe, which were one handed double-axes with light weight. Baldur, Orin's father, was worried sick inside his cellar while his mother began to heat up the rations in their cellar marble stove..

"Where could Slim be?" Asked the father of Slim, Quick. "He will be upset to find out that his mother was taken away.."

About midway up the pass, Orin and slim passed an unusual mound of snow, with a slightly frozen arm sticking out of it. Blood splatters spilled on the snow like a snow-cone's flavoring. The duo stood over the lump, uncovering it. There lied the knight, with two arrows in his stomach and a gaping hole in his chest. Blood covered his chin as if he threw it up. "They're near here." Orin growled while drawing his woodcutting hatchet. Slim drew his dagger as they progressed further.

The goblins invading the two villages were none other than the Dreg-hul Goblin clan, allied with a few Orcish band, led by Gurlh the Goblin Lord, they were a force to be reckoned with. They normally lived in small caves decorated with limbs of the dead, and kills of animals. Usually you would find an entry, a dormitory like room, a fire room, which was also the temple, and a storage room. Their caves were makeshift, usually raided. What the goblins had was numbers, and the ability to live with thousands, in one cave.

On top of the pass, Orin and Slim looked in awe as buildings began to take fire, and people were slaughtered. A stray goblin caught sight of them, as he let out a cry for help. Orin quickly dispatched him, by opening up his head and skull and nearly splitting his head in half. "Follow my lead, Slim, we are going to stop this raid..."