He longed to return to the mines and cavernous halls of his people, as did all in the cavalry of Jarnsevalle, but with the incursions of the goblinz horde into the foothills and valleys below reaching a terrifying pitch, Jorl Bloodringer was well aware that his force, mounted upon the bears native to his mountain home, were looked to as the first line of defense. Time again, with his personal mount, Beorn Areid, Jorl had lead his fellow cavalrymen against the threats to their kingdom, but looking down the mountainside at the plumes of smoke billowing from the ravaged villages below, he knew this would be their greatest challenge yet. They were all well aware of the savagery of the goblinz and their ilk, but an old threat, thought to have been gone for generations, was rumored to be on the horizon. Tales from his grandsire had chilled him as a lad in bed at night, and though he dare not show a sign of fear to his men, Jorl wondered if today would be the day when he and his steed would face the horrors of the dreaded Orkz.