orcs

It was sunset when two Riders arrived at the gates of Harwick, a man and a woman hailing of Snowbourn. They were tall in stature and mighty, but their faces were weary. When they were halted at the gate they swiftly claimed that they came to speak with Reeve Aldor Harding, sharing news. 

An arrow sang,reaping it's first victim. Then another joined the symphony,landing on the back of an isolated Orc,unaware of the dangers that roam the Greenway.

Then,a mysterious figure stood tall and approached the corpse of the foul creature. Recovering the arrow from the body,he then turned and extended his gaze to look at the landscape in the dark Greenway. One could even see,far away,the Deadman's Dike,fraught with danger and dread,and it's fields,with ghostly trees and burned ground.

Redwick stood at the stables checking the quiver of arrows that was strapped onto Goldwine, it held a little over ten arrows and this fared well for Redwick, for he had another quiver strapped to his back.

Thraingrim paused at the top of the valley, and sniffed the air uneasily. Smelled like elves, sure enough. “Those confounded Rangers,” he thought testily. “Good fellows, it seems, and tough… but asking me to come here?” And he started the long hike down into Rivendell, carrying a desperate request from the men back at the lake, looking for the Ranger’s Captain said to be stopping there.

Mordonis gracefully stepped between the trees, the twisted briars of bramble seemed to unfurl and part before her only to return to their twisted tangled form on her passing. The trees themselves seemed to almost lean as she passed like a compassionate guard of honour.