The fateless Wanderers

Resting at Ost Forod, a place where the inhabitants are of doubtful alignment, it suits us one can say, beaten and tired, with half of our supplies lost here and there. I reunited with my companions recently, I had to leave them at the fields of Annundir if I recall its name correct. It's there that we first encountered that tall man who treats the wargs as his children, and they obey...

The company slept during the day, it was a joyful sleep and resting. Yet they had to wake up early, before the night was upon them. The settlement had to be fortified in case that the orcs would attack again. Everyone worked hard, left and right of the bridge they put rocks and sharpened branches to keep the orcs at bay. They set traps all around the settlement and they poured tar all over the rocks and lastly at the bridge. The bridge would burn as a last resort, a desperate attempt to gain some time, if it would come at that... If the ranks would break...

The day started with rain, black clouds covered the sun and the drops were mercilessly falling on the ground and the people. Fiontann returned to the camp from scouting, to his surprise a Dwarf was with the others, his name was Gungur, he claimed that he was there for gold. Fion was amused by him and the company shared their turtle soup with him.

"Sickle-Fly again?! We do we always have to eat the stinking bugs?" Gorb shook his head before smacking that lowly rat of a Hurz back in his place with the stirring spoon. "Because I am the one making the food! If you know how to make this filth into something decent give it a try! Otherwise just hold your tongue and let me do the job!" Hurz scurried of somewhere, most likely to polish those wolf teeth of his. Chieftain said that the maggot used to keep them as pets until the previous cook made them into dinner.

Today we starter our journey, everyone was at the meeting point at the designated hour, we waited for some minutes more for any late arrivals and we started the trip. We moved slowly and carefully, the night was thick and it was cold. The wolves kept us company from inside Far Chetwood, by singing the melodies of the night, yet none dared to attack. It was obvious that they were uneasy. An uneasiness caused from something that I do not know, but I can tell that it wasn't presence to blame.



Two days left before leaving, Rogue, Aeonid, Cisel and

Fiontann sat at the ledge outside the Scholar's Stair and started sharpening his greatsword. The meeting had just ended and everyone was getting ready. He had ordered some provisions, water, whiskey and pipeweed from Barliman and just had to wait for the days to pass. "Three more days in this accursed town and we leave." he thought to himself. "Battles and hardships await, but everything will go well."