Campaign

The man poured himself another cup of uisge beatha and cursed quietly under his breath.

When he agreed on taking more responsibilities, he instantly knew there would be problems. That was a given. On one hand, he was ready for that. The rough life he led made him tough. Tough and stubborn. Quite probably, that was the main reason he did not tie up and gag the wildling girl, when Shemkel assigned him to protect her.

The night was cold, barely lit by a thin crescent of the moon and the few stars that managed to shine through the dense clouds above. Barely any could have been heard. The nature laid silent, aware of unnatural powers gathering nearby. Stones and trees, ground and grass, everything was shrouded in thickening mists. An hour or two more, that was all that was needed for the sun to come up. Still, that was enough to keep the lands in darkness.

Esteldin felt almost empty, with the Dunedains and their allies gathered, preparing for a journey further South. Yes, Grey Company was needed elsewhere, but the North was far from being safe. Many of the Rangers knew that and they left their beloved lands with a heavy heart.

The Wyld Hunt was always there and their allies could always count on the Wolves help, but the Pack was far from numerous. Spread around Eriador and beyond, the Hunt overextended and needed new eyes and teeth themselves.