A storm was brewing, Torvin could sense it as he put down his fishing rod, picking up a rusty old tool box instead. Off in the distance he could just see those dark clouds approaching steadily. He frowned, he never liked how frequent this seemed to happen, and rain and heavy winds meant the village was at risk without the proper preparations. So he made his way, toolbox in hand, to warn the village of the oncoming storm and to assist in making sure things stayed sturdy enough so the winds would not break apart their homes.

He lived on the outside of the village, never talked much to any others, yet still he felt a sense of duty to the others, he owed the others his help, he owed them the few skills he had to assist the poor folks of Dor-Vah because though he was not much connected to the others he still knew what it was like to just want to survive another day. [i]"A storms approaching, a storms approaching" [/i] Torvin hollered as he entered the center of the walled off village, toolbox in hand, ready to help in the only way he knew how.