[center][h2][b]Barbarossa[/b][/h2][/center]

Darin had fallen in with a group headed to Barak Varr. They climbed the road, making their way around the rocks to enter the hold. It was the same architecture he had grown accustomed to in every other Dawi city; one complacency denied him appreciation. It was Dawi, something he had grown accustomed to throughout his life; familiar and bland. He needed excitement in his life. Everything around him was bland.

Upon entering the hold, the group split up with Darin heading to seek out Malgrim Copperbeard. It had been a few years since he’d stepped foot in the Dwarven stronghold, but he remembered the way. He made his way through the vast cavern within Barak Varr, remarking the merchants and store fronts. They were fascinating. He heard the familiar din of hammers working at the forge, accompanied by the usual hiss of hot steel being cooled in water. Eventually, Darin found other Dawi preceded him to the the merchant thane, propped upon a throne with his reddish blonde beard. A beard he admired giving off a copper colored hue.

Upon inspection of the other adventurers who arrived ahead of him, Darin felt self-conscious about his own attire. The others were more immaculate in appearance. Their armor was beautiful, well maintained and brilliantly adorned. Darin’s was spotted with mud. His feet were covered in dust from the road. Places remained in disrepair from an attack along the road. But he was here to fulfill his quest to the Slayers of Karak Kadrin.

When it was Darin’s turn to speak he stepped in front of the Thane of Barak Varr known as Copperbeard. Darin also wore red hair, but much darker than Copperbeard. It was a fiery red that would normally be wild and crazy representing his personality, but today held tightly in four braids descending down over his shoulders. His dusty and worn banded armor made of leather with iron bands and studs spoke of someone who has spent much time in the [i]field[/i]. His banded leather and iron armor covered his chest, legs, shins and arms. Even covered in armor, the sinews of his overworked body were rippled and evident. He wore a steel helm adorned with horns, he removed before stepping in front of the Thane of Barak Varr. Upon his back was strapped the two-and-a-half-foot battle axe, yet to be named. It had been blooded but remained nameless for the time being. Strapped to his belt were a hand axe and dagger. Around his neck he wore a necklace in honor of Grungni and a clasp pinned to his cloak in honor of Grungni’s brother, Grimnir.

Darin bowed when he stopped in front of the Thane, “I am known as [i]Barbarossa[/i] of Clan Holzheim of Karak Kadrin, me lord. I am also known as Darin Torblad, son of Doldrun, son of Londrec, son of Fodrunn, son of Thurrik currently setting on the mining council of elders at Karak Kadrin. I have made a personal vow to the Slayers. This quest to the lost hold of Ekrund is me personal quest before taking th’ next step and swearing me pilgrimage to the Shrine of Grimnir. Consider meeself an apprentice Slayer, me lord.”