Ettenmoors

A great flash lit up the sky and blinded the surrounding area for an instant, followed immediately by an immense roar.

In her recent quest to find something to do other than moping over her misfortunes and wander like a haunted soul the paths of Imladris, Carniquesse decided to go somewhere she had never gone to before, despite it being practically next door the hidden valley.

The orcs rushed out of their base camp, scurrying away from the whips of their masters. Their slow-witted brains reacted only to the most basic things: desire for food, fear, pain, hatred and rage. And now they had a little of each, for they had been under the command of harsh and ruthless commanders for days.

                Dinengel ducked aside as the large beast bounded towards him.  He struck the ground hard, and staggered back to his feet only to see the warg turning around for a second attack. The Ranger flourished his knife quickly in the warg’s face, causing the animal to hesitate, but only for a moment. Digging it’s hind legs further into the dirt, the warg pushed off with its pointed claws and teeth extended towards the fatigued man.

                In the dark the rustling of bushes could be heard as Dinengel dashed through the forest. Heavily panting as the air passed through his scarred throat, Dinengel dodged around trees trunks and hurtled over shrubs. Some distance off the weighty cantering of heavy paws could be heard amongst a deep menacing growl.

          The dark was quickly approaching as Dinengel rode swiftly through the forested hillside. He had been riding for nearly four hours since his encounter with the Trev Duvardain tribesmen, and was now beginning to falter from his fatigue. He had managed to dress his wounded shoulder in an effective but crude fashion, though he was not sure how long it would last. Surely there would be a search party sent after him, and he had lost his sword in the scuffle at their camp.

Zorzimril's eyes blazed as she shouted at her men to stop the ranger, she knew it was one of the loathed Dunedain. He was tall and dressed in the colors of the forest, masked and hooded. The wargs snarled on their chains as the horses stomped and whinnied as one of them lost his tether and was stolen by the ranger.