Audun

“That really all you got-?”

‘Dag…’

I saw a ghost tonight in a manner of speaking, two people that were on the run, then once again showing themselves in a town that never seems to change. The faces, yes they change, but never the ways of the city? No, never. It will put you on the top for a little while and then it will kick you off of your pedestal and make you wish you never came. I met with an old contact several nights ago, Goldgel Ummurrah a rather interesting character from Harad. He's aged nicely, like me. But certainly not my type.

“Who goes there?!”

‘Crack’.

As the winter had set about sweeping its final throes of icy winds across the barren landscape of the Lone-Lands, the withered hills seemed even more desolate than they did usually. Merchants traveling to and fro had allowed their journeys to become more irregular, and, as such, the bandits that would haunt them had returned to their encampments. Those that hadn't were subjected to the cold reality of the passing yuletide.

There was an eerie silence that had befallen the fair village of Towerglan. Nothing out of the ordinary, as the sun followed its usual path, coursing gently below the mountainous horizon as it always did. Lights flickered into being among the occupied houses, gleaming yellow candlelight painting misted windows into beautiful canvases, while their occupants slowly wound down for the evening.

An almost beautiful fog of breath blew out in front of Dagramir's shadowed features. A plume of misty smoke that denoted the season of winter was very much upon the fair town of Bree, if it had not already arrived. He was not one to keep up with the calender, however, he welcomed the new nip to his fingers like an old friend.