Dunlanding

It was a man, a large man with swarthy skin, a thick beard and fierce dark eyes. Gwennol instantly recognized the look from his face to the fur and leathers he wore. He was a man of Dunland, her own kin and so very far north. Quickly she bent to untie the waterlogged rope that bound his arms and she noticed the blood stained wet clothing and a large slash in the tunic. His long hair was matted with mud and lake weeds tangled in the braid and she could see bruises and cuts on his arms and hands.

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.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~