Sharkey's Men

The man stopped, standing still, not unlike a statue, as if some sort of spell had just frozen him. He narrowed his eyes as he recognized what was before him, the beast that had already defeated him once: a Warg, as big as a horse and black as the night. It could be any black Warg, especially since the last time it was in the Lone-Lands, miles away... but Ildrand knew it was that Warg. The same size, the same growl, the same eyes.

"Come on, come on! We're in Dunland, already. Few more days, and we'll be there."

Annaliesa stood up, watching as the men with torches scattered with the rest of the raiders, flinging them at the barn and the outbuildings.

This evening 3 to 4 men in hooded cloaks and bearing crossbows fired from the roof of the armory across the town hall at Billium Cutting, Thomas Bristlebrush and Bill Cornman. All the men belong were struck with bolts, Bristlebrush and Cornman died at the scene and Cutting is being treated by a healer at the jail. His injuries are several and one of them very severe, a puncture to the ribs by a bolt.

Five figures stepped into the ruins of the once great tower named Barad Eithel. They entered the ruins of Fornost through the gate waded through small wetlands that had formed just outside of the tower. Four of the visitors were clearly half-orcs by the way they walked and acted. The figure that walked in the middle of the group was shouting commands to them: “Loot the bodies! If you find any rings bring them to me, you can keep the rest as long as you can carry it!” The voice came from none other than Tidhelm, who was now wading through the shallow and murky water.

A low fire burned, concealed within the small grove. The commander of the Blogkun-Hai group shielded his eyes from the others around the flames. We have failed. Not only didn’t we found the rod that we needed to find but our task of keeping secrecy has also been foiled. Only twenty-two remained, meaning that nine were either killed or made a runner. It doesn’t really matter though. Master will punish us, again and again.

“Two days!” Bill was at it again it seems. “For two stinking days we have been standing here!” Captain Harrow looked over towards the crier of bad news. Most of the boys stood around him, listening to Bill’s well thought over arguments. “The green cloaks have only harassed us till now! Yet we will not e breathing for much longer if we stay ‘ere! My life isn’t worth 50 stinking coins and neither are the lives of you all!” About half of the listeners were cheering when Bill finished.

Gurzlum was empty. The once well garrisoned scouting camp had only a few measly defenders left. The Taskmaster looked to the South for a short while and sighed. “All the good boys are either dead or fled to the hills.” None were around to hear the taskmaster’s rumblings as the ones that could still fight, were placed at the gate to prepare for either aid, or their end. Gurzlum has lost their warriors and scouts on the elves and their wretched allies. The Ongbúrz licked their wounds and prepared to let their teeth shine again.

"You need to keep your rest, mister. " The old man looked up at the ceiling while hearing the woman talk. A think blanket covered the elderly man and a wet cloth was laying on his forehead. "I don't think that I have the strength to defy you." His speech was grizzled and showed a glint of the speaker's origin, something that he did not want to let know in normal circumstances. The woman that sat at his bedside took the wet cloth from the forehead of her patient. She drenched the object in a nearby bucket before placing it on the old man's forehead again.