Drunn was born in Dunland, up in the mountains within the falcon clan of his people. His father and mother taught him their crafts, their skills, their lives and in return their eager son took their lessons to his heart, never forgetting them. Throughout the years of offerings and thanks to the spirits that he and his kin believed to live amongst them he realized that endless days of obedience and work was not his way, he wished to be with the hunters, he wished to drink of his prays blood, he wished to please the great hunter by sending him the many spirits of his prey. His father, being a spirited and open man took upon his sons wish and created a spear man of great skill to the men of Dunland, indeed he reached his goal, and the Great Hunter was pleased. Or so he would say at least. Upon reaching the ripe age of twenty Drunn was starting to become aware of his tribes ideals and deeds, most of which unsettled him. He heard talk of the white wizard, of a reaching hand that was slowly and greedily placing its palm over the whole of Dunland. His opinions were kept to himself, less he not be respected, though there was always one he voiced his opinions to, the woman who became his wife in time. Hisvil, Hisvil Farrows as known after their marriage. She quickly became pregnant after their marriage at the age of twenty-one. They took a home away from the tribe on the country side to bring safety to them and their children, and so they had it for a few years with their two sons. Then the fire came, then the screams rose to the sky, then the tears fell to earth, and there a vow was taken. There, began his story.  

          The galloping of hooves echoed through the night as a pitch black horse carried it's earthly looking rider towards a fire in the distance, the riders heart sank as the surrounding area looked familiar. The green shaggy bushes, the towering oaks, the waving sea of grass that of late had become a more tannish color than a happy green. Drunn pulled on his horses reins, the black beast rearing up before it's hooves plummeted back to the earth, a hammer striking the ground. Drunn drew his spear as a look of dismay covered his eyes, a small shack of grass, mud and stone was crumbling infront of him, the sound of the cackling laughter of the fire jeering at him. Frantically he looked left and right, looking for his kin though all he saw was a few torches in the distance and thus the black beast charged after them, a shadow in the night. A scream broke the gentle silence of the night, followed by a thud as one of the torch wielding men had been struck through the spine with a javelin, his fellows looking back in alarm to see the shadow of a beast and it's rider charging at them. But before they could do much more than draw their swords another fell to the earth, leaving the world. In a panic the leader gave a whistle of retreat, galloping into the night. Drunn squinted towards the banner they carried, was it red? No, it was yellow. Maybe blue? He payed no heed to the fallen torch bearers as he leaped from his horse, running at first towards the large tree that stood beacon in the middle of the wood. Though something made his feet slow before they bucked and he was upon his knees, starring up to the thirty toes that dangled freely in the air, their bearers absent.

          Slowly did the earthly colored man walk away from the blazing fire, his javelins standing as remembrance to his family and the vow he had given himself. He was no longer resting, until he found the man who did this.