rohan

The Tale of Eiadric – Part III

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Story
He was shoved violently into the small cell, hitting the opposite stone wall with a slap. The orcs that had taken him to the dungeons spat on the floor and sneered as they turned, happy to be joining the others at their feast. When they were gone Éiadric collapsed on the hard dirt floor and sat motionless for a minute or two. Then he looked around. He noted a wooden bucket in one corner and an old thin grey mattress in the other. It bore a dark, dry stain in the middle that could’ve been one of two things. He decided that he wasn’t going to try to find out what.

The Tale of Eiadric – Part II

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Story

The steeds galloped with heavy strides across the water up the flat bank and reached the horde of uruks with just enough speed to break through the first three ranks, but no more. At once the orcs swamped the Riders, slashing and hacking, and immediately, four of the Riders were unsaddled and pulled screaming to the ground and were stabbed or beaten to death. Hearing the desperate screams of his friends chilled Éiadric to the bone and he cursed the gods that his life would end this way.

The Tale of Eiadric – Part I

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Story

Éiadric felt the familiar rhythm of his horse’s hooves as he rode full speed over the grassy plains of the Westfold. It was dawn and the mist lay like a grey carpet over the rolling hills. He was flanked by the 12 riders of his scout unit at the end of a long pursuit to get to the fleeing orcs before they reached the shallow river, now half a mile or so ahead of them.

Recollection and Reminisce - Fragment, the Second

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Story

“Drink of this...”

A hand pressed against the back of her head, lifting it slightly. The smooth over-used wooden rim of a bowl pushed against her bottom lip.

“Drink it... you will feel better for it.”

Recollection and Reminisce - Fragment, the First.

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Story

Dawn cracked its weary head over yonder clefts, and the pale golden light sifted through long grass and reeds. The serene breeze gently hummed over the plains and whistled amongst ram shackled wood. A thatched house sat pleasantly in the glade; the land surrounding its southern side was expansive and carried on as far as the horizon. Eastwards more farmsteads cropped their heads over a wave of grass and rolling hillock. A half a dozen horses grazed not far from the buildings rear, and towards its front, ran a flurry of chickens in endless circles.

Wanderer of the Stars : Chapter Two

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Story

Part 1 - A Horseman's Welcome

a sorry state of affairs

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary
Me and Gyth, Bawde an' Wulfie got out as far as that Oat's Guruth, past the forsaken inn. A miserable place it is, full o' folk that have no homes. They says that there is shades an' worse a-walkin' about nearby... and there is a great stinking mire.. when the wind blows wrong I can smell it. Faugh! no wonder they all looks so sad. makes me want the open wolds of home, see for miles, green grass and clean clean air. I feels a bit sad for 'em. They aint townfolk, they aint used to livin' all bunched up. Summat must be wrong, for them to run behind the big walls.

men, women and that skinny fellow

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary
...and thats the last I'm seeing o'that elf. Feh... scaring a girl like that. they shouldn't be allowed amongst proper folk. I been staying in the Pony since then mind... wait until its gone far away. Getting to recognise some o' the good-fer-nothing types that hang around the pony.. allus there they are. Particularly that skinny fellow [jairyth], with that mess of a little beard and moust-aches - talks all the time, allus there with his woman out in the back rooms.

Through mist and men

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary
Naught but a few days have come to pass since my first meeting with fellow Riders and already my heart bids me to both stay, and turn away. Some, indeed most of them seem to seek a passage back to Rohan, but to what end will this bring them? There is a time for wrath, and there is a place for laying ruin upon an enemy… But that time I feel has not yet come, and the place, although I know it well, is still I fear overrun with men who would not stop and think before drawing blade or knocking arrow.

Riders of the Mark.

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