Fragments Shake

It was still dark outside, with only some minutes before the sun rose and brought the heat of the spring in Chetwood and Hamglen when Fiontann made his way past the gate of the hamlet and towards Chetwood. It was one of the days of the more relaxed training, he would run in Chetwood wearing his normal clothes with only his greatsword on his back. On days of intense training he ran in chain mail with shield and sword on his back.

Somewhere between Breeland and Lone-lands

Leighton Goatleaf tidied up his tools on his workstation and then wiped the table clean with a wet cloth. He leaned the saw against the wall and cleaned the blade thoroughly so as to prevent the formation of any rust on it until the next day and put on his coat.

Bromley woke up and looked at the door of the cage. One of his his cell mates was being dragged out of it violently and when he tried to hold onto the bars the hooded man in charge of the orcs slashed against his wrist making him let go. He looked at Bromley and licked the blood from the blade before sheathing it again and smirked.

Bromley woke up to the stench of vomit and waste. His stomach convulsed violently he instinctively brought his hands over it as the feeling of sick trailed a path from the pits of his stomach to his mouth. He folded and grabbed at his skin with force while his right fist reached his lips I his attempt to keep them sealed. He remained motionless for some moments breathing through his sleeve slowly and deeply.

Kheledul

“You’re back!” the man in the crimson cloak said and pulled down his hood revealing short black hair and wide eyes with dark grey pupils, a grin was formed on his red lips that contrasted his pale skin.

Two small boats approached Tinnudir under the cover of the night with four men boarding in each. They reached the small island and pulled the boats under the trees on the shore. They took their weapons and gear and stood next to the water to listen for one final time to the instructions of the man dressed in a brown cloak, one that they feared.

“You shouldn’t go at this hour,” said Anlaf the Forlorn while giving the other man the supplies that he had prepared.

The man stole in the shadows, minutes before the dawn. He moved carefully and aware of every step that he took in the forest. His purpose was fixed on his target. One that he was following for some days now. He stopped behind two trees that were close enough to each other to cover him and looked ahead. He took all the necessary precautions to remain hidden from his trained enemy.