Rohirrim

A few weeks went by before Eofeole had marched into combe at his usual quick pace, his shield upon his back securing his two spears. The sun was setting and had treaded into the Combe & Wattle, thirsty. The air in the tavern was thick with smoke but there was little folk inside at that time. Eofeole walked up to the counter and spoke to the Tavern keep.

Eofeole had been marching carefully through a marsh, where he stepped in puddles every now and then. He had no idea where he was, or where he was heading but that did not bother him. His objective was to make his way out of the bog for that day but he stumbled upon and enemy of his people, a Wildman, Dulanding who was hewing the skull of an Goblin within the Marsh with his axe.

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Awiergan recently had led a small company of the Esquires to the lands known as Eregion. The journey was long and had many obstacles for the small company. Obstacles such as trolls and some other beasts which one would find in the wilds.

The hollow sound of the hooves on the ground echoed as the rider sped through the Wold. Having just left Belfa, Eorran's mind raced to the beloved he left behind. His decision came with a heavy heart, to leave Belfa and join the fight -the real fight- against the enemy of his homeland.

Curse ye foul fiends for the havoc you wreak upon us! Etheswitha cursed bitterly as she in vain tried to keep up with her main group of travelling companions. The wind battered and sieged through the chill cold of Caradhas the Cruel, swatting Etheswitha around endlessly. She smacked her head in her foolishness. This wasn't what she had expected! How was she supposed to survive this weather in nothing but cold armour and a steel Greatsword, whose blade could shatter at any moment?

The time had come. Swords were sharpened, armors were polished, horses were bridled. After two whole weeks of gathering supplies and warriors, the Eored was ready to depart.