Cerriel

It had been an interesting past few months for Cerriel. It started out with a bit of partying and causing havoc in the Prancing Pony. What later came out was an inside job to stop Lorgorim and the Network from hunting some Dunlending, named Pren. What Jerick, the man that offered her the job after a night of fun, didn’t know was that Cerriel was an enforcing in the Network. With her newly gained information and several pouches of coin, she was off to make sure the dwarf knew what trouble lied ahead for him.

The day was full to say the least: wandering in an extremely hot hall, observing some of the people that were in there. I even saw a couple of ‘followers’. There are mortals even here? Strange…well, it did not surprise me too much. Not all of those strange people followed my kind around like wolves; some remained for a bit, and then vanished. They were their own people; they were not pets. I guess that seems to have changed, many ages later…

She laid awake in her cot. It was the middle of the night and a whistling noise was keeping her up. It was not the wind that was bothering her, in fact, it wasn't wind at all. The Forsaken Inn was just doing what she knows it to do best. It kept her from sleeping and she wanted to sleep. It had been a very long day.

They had returned and now he was alone in a dark corner of the Prancing Pony in Bree, contemplating all that have happened those days. Him and Cerriel, along with Dovirien had reached the borders of Angmar and he found the forest he saw in his visions. The three of them managed to avoid many needless fights were free to investigate those woods that still had the burnmarks of what happened six months ago. Fiontann was searching for anything that could help him and found some blood and a broken blade, clues that something had happened, somethign he didn't know about, yet he saw.

Images of wargs attacking him filled his mind and brought a him strong headache, Cerriel look at him in curiosity and asked him what it was. Both were glad to not be the wargs' feast but now Morthwyl felt as one... An hour earlier they were hunted by a pack of wargs, they got lucky to cross the bridge before the farmhouses, the wargs did not dare to step on it. Now both sat at the  farmhouses Northeast of Trestlebridge resting, Cerriel had taken a bath at the lake behind the house and Fion went hunting so that they'd eat something after a day's trip.