Year 3014 of the Third Age ((All dialogue in this entry is spoken in the tongue of the Eorlings. In other words, imagine it in Old English. There will be some words written in from the language. ))  

"In war, solitude is seldom found. Do not take heart for long, young rider, for the thunders of battle will not cease for you to rest your weary head." - Baedric of the Ridenna-mearc

The day was dawning as a woman called Tilyh walked along the alley. A red scarf covered her head. A dark-colored cloak was wrapped around her slim body. She was wearing boots because it was early winter in Pelargir.

The Pig and Drum tavern was busier than usual. The hustle and bustle of the summer market had certainly caused a stir in the Dale-land village, drawing common folk from miles around to flaunt their wears and catch up on the goings on in neighbouring settlements. Unfortunately, it was not only farmers and blacksmiths that were drawn in, but those of a more unsavoury variety seeking an opportunity to enact their criminal activities.

Estarfin kicked some loose soil into the dying embers of the fire to smother it. Time to move on.