(First of all I'd like to say that this is not a pop at Dúnadain roleplayers in particular; it's great to see so many about at the moment and in some ways we could do with even more of them. What rangers are not, however, is ruthless fighting machines. In this entry I've also drawn attention to some of the similarities between two very different games.)
The Fields of Fornost were grey and bleak. Amidst the fog, a shadowy figure made his way into Deadman’s Dike. He was clad in sombre browns and greens, his face hooded and masked. At his side hung a sword and over his back a strung longbow was slung. His name was Estellon, and he was a ranger. Listening out for the slightest noise he approached Falconer’s Tower. The tower was haunted by the spirits of Oathbreakers, but they were no match for good steel even if they had no physical form. Having banished these tortured souls, Estellon climbed the tower and when he reached the top he could see Orcs moving amongst the ruins of Fornost Erain. With his suspicions confirmed he leapt from the tower. The fall would have killed him were it not for a conveniently placed haystack; a sad reminder of Arnor’s lost glory. Sneezing, the grim-faced ranger dusted himself off and began to walk northwards. Halbarad had told him that Zenbar, a malevolent Black Númenórean and a member of the Order of Carn Dûm, had gone with the Orcs to Fornost. ‘Be careful Estellon,’ he had said. ‘Zenbar is a dangerous man and it seems to me that you overestimate your own abilities.’ Estellon disagreed but he knew better than to question Halbarad’s wisdom; after all, he was his father. Soon Estellon was close to the Norbury Gates. The way was guarded by five Orcs; he almost laughed at how easy it seemed. Before the goblins knew it, he was amongst them, killing the first Orc with a slash to the throat and then dispatching a second with a throwing knife. The two Orcs with bows nocked shafts to their strings but quick as a flash Estellon grabbed the other Uruk and held him in front of him, providing a shield against the arrows. He then stabbed one of the archers in the abdomen before unflinchingly strangling the other with its own bowstring. Hearing the commotion, a huge, fierce warg came rushing around the corner. Instinctively, Estellon readied his bow and nocked an arrow to the string. The shaft hit the warg between the eyes, killing it instantly. Wiping his blade, the ranger walked into Fornost. The place was filled with Orcs yet they could not see him for he was crouching and walking slightly more slowly than usual. Thanks to his excellent eyesight he was able to see Zenbar making plans in a ruined tower, now bereft of its roof and floors. The doorway however was blocked by several Uruks, no trouble for Estellon were it not for the risk that Zenbar might escape in the confusion. He therefore scrambled up the side of a nearby building and, from there, leapt onto the wall of the tower. Seeing Zenbar below he dropped down and sank his dagger into the belly of the Angmarim commander. For some reason the guards didn’t hear the blood-curdling scream and stayed where they were. ‘And now,’ whispered Estellon to the dying man, ‘The Order of Carn Dûm is at an end.’ Zenbar made a gurgling sound and the ranger realised he was laughing.
‘The Order does not end with me,’ he cackled as he choked on his own blood. ‘There is… another.’
‘Who?’ demanded Estellon. When no reply was forthcoming he twisted the dagger, making Zenbar cry out in pain.
‘Halbarad!’ he screamed before laughing as he stared up at the ranger’s horrified face.
