White-Hand

As the night went on, the weather grew worse. Rain falling like buckets from the sky and most things became hard to walk on. Men with lynx like eyes along with orcs wandered about the ruins of Ost Alagos. A small group was walking through the ruins, weaving between the orcs and half-orcs as they crossed over the bridge; the hooded man with his blonde beard showing in the lead as the four club wielding men followed behind.