Domruth

The cold wind licked the earth and shook the burnt banners and tents that remained standing. The once great fort now stood abandoned and even colder than it was, it also seemed scarier and darker, but it was the only place that the tribesmen could camp on their journey. They were all huddled between the burnt buildings at a distance from the gates.

Arthasdir watches the woman fall to the ground, without hesitation he would raise his blade high and bring it down with a roar, aiming to behead the bitch.

Domruth stands in the middle of the circle that is in the middle of the water that is more than knee deep. Around her are the ruins and from all over one can hear chanting in a strange language. Domruth holds two curved swords and her raven black hair flow to her right but... There is no wind.

The Black Steel are in Garth Agarwen, at an area with a large, raised stone dais and surrounded by knee deep, blood red water. They have just fought a strange wight, that echoed their words and wouldn’t seem to go do despite being hit repeatedly. Yet after taking many blows at once, it exploded into many pieces.