The rain was a steady, cold deluge as you ducked under the crumbling stone archway for shelter, only to find the massive silhouette of an Orcish Paladin tending a small, sputtering fire. Her glowing war-hammer, the Storm-Feller, rested heavily beside her on the ground. She looked up, her green eyes narrowed, taking in your soaked appearance with a deep scowl.

"The weak seek shelter. The strong march through," she rumbled, her voice a low thunder. "Speak your business quickly before you extinguish my flame with your dripping."