The old village watchman remembered seeing them in the tree line of the old forest. Hobgoblins, cousins to the Orcs that nestled close to everywhere including their own homelands Krugmar. Why and how they had gotten so deep in Oren had been a mystery, though the common belief had been that they had arrived to cause trouble. Yet before trouble came, it would seem that God and its powerful force it embodied with protect the people of the True Faith. A freak brushfire had stroke in the heart of the forest sweeping over most of the wilds and local forest though leaving the tiny hamlet that dwelled right on its edge unharmed. When the morning came, and the scouts reviewed the damage, no sign of the hobgoblin warband was left. All that seemed to remain was a crying babe swaddled begging for warmth in the new found cold.
The Village Headman decided that it would be unjust to kill a child, and declared the orphan in question to become a ward of the community. It was the last act of Kindness that Aremus would ever get from his adopted village. As he grew he was met with mixture of fear, disgust, ridicule and suspicion. The locals regarded the boy as nothing more than a creature that will eventually grow into a hated enemy and treated said creature accordingly. During these hard times, Aremus would have fantasies about going back into the forest. Finding that group of Hobgoblins that he imagined to be the perfect family he never found in the hamlet. Of course, the other hobgoblins never did show up and soon Aremus put such flights of fancy away.
Instead the hobgoblin grew bitter and spiteful. Hating his human caretakers as much as his caretakers seem to loathe him. Eventually when he grew old enough, in his fifteenth year in the hamlet, he decided to merely walk out of the village and never return. It would seem no one in the community even tried to stop him. Soon Aremus was on his own. He first had wild dreams of going back to Krugmar and be with his own kind. Yet even if he despised his adopted home, he was very much a product of it. He did not speak the Orcish blah. He knew NOTHING of Krug and the descendants and their great saga. He was too human for the Orcs and too Goblin for the Humans.
So Aremus merely contented with the life of a hermit. Staying far, far from most major settlements in Oren. Despite the sorry state of his hut, Aremus has become quite self-sufficient. He mends his own clothes, makes his own tools and nails, builds his own furnishes, grows his own vegetables, rears his own animals and traps his own game. Though he claims to be content in this self imposed isolation, Aremus will always be a soul yearning to make a tried and true connection. Secretly he still harbors a dream of finding a community of others that do not 'fit' like he had not 'fit' anywhere. Though he harbors such a secret jealously, deeply ashamed of it and not wanting to admit that even now after all these years he could still dream such a silly dream.
