Wrecca

“Cease your bids for murder, you wretch,” she hisses, letting loose a stone across the ground. The heavy thunk where it sinks into the dirt sends a cry of alarm into the air as one crow takes flight; following it are many others, joining in the cacophony of piercing screams as they take into the night sky. The absence of the crows milling around offers her little comfort where she sits, by a cold hearth, acting as the lone warden to a dead man.

It was The Oathsworn's first day in Cliving, they'd been appointed a space in which they might stay. Which in truth, put many in the company at edge. Seeing as the high ground rested above them. Yet they figured it was nothing more than their own paranoia. All of the company had seen blood-shed, and knew well what the low ground entailed.

Orduins opponent crawled from the ground, rising to face the man once again. That scraggly, bandit looking chest-nut haired fellow so keen to harm a man he knew not. With anger and frustration of his previous failure did he swing once more at Orduins stomach. It landed its mark, and cut open Orduins midriff. Blood surely but slowly leaking from his flesh.

Long and lonesome can the road to Edoras be, but I do enjoy my own company and rarely have the need to be among many.