Blackwood

The days were growing shorter as winter was coming to the Bree-lands. As he made his way inside the mutterings had grown more hushed. People were huddled together in small groups talking to each other and every now and again a glance would be cast at one of the other groups. Newell smirked faintly as he walked through the hall that had more or less turned into a political battlefield. So many of those present were like carrion feeders that were squabbling for a piece of meat.