The sun rose thin and pale above the hills of Dunland as Deorla moved swiftly across the grasslands. Each step brought her closer to the Gap of Rohan, and with it, a turning point in her quiet campaign.
She had declined the offer of Galtrev’s loyalty—for now. Her words to the chieftain had been firm, veiled in smoke and patience: "When the time comes, I will send for you. When I have accomplished what I must." That time had not yet arrived. Not while her blade still moved in the dark.
She walked with care. The land was too open now—too exposed. Though she had the dried mograw meat from her night hunt and berries stowed away, caution kept her alive. The highland air smelled of dry earth and distant rain. Somewhere, a hawk screamed overhead.
Two riders appeared ahead as the path curved by an old stone marker—tall, lean figures on one on an amored horse and the other on a pale grey stag.
Greetings, traveler,” the smiling one called. “You’re heading south?”
She nodded slowly. “Aye.”
They brought their mounts to a soft halt beside her. The one who spoke had the confident charm of someone used to being listened to.
“These roads are quiet,” he said, tone casual. “Safer in company, wouldn’t you say?”
Deorla eyed them warily. There was something familiar—too familiar—in the build of the silent one, the set of her jaw beneath her cowl. And the talkative one… he had a voice like turned silver.
They were too familiar.
But they did not seem to recognize her.
“Names?” she asked.
You can call me Alphthôl and He laughed at his own embellishment. “And my friend here is Fionin"
Curious, she thought. Why use Sindarin names and pretend to be something you're not?
But she gave her own lie in return, smooth and practiced.“Firebryn,” she said. “I’m on my way to visit a mapmaker I know. Lives near the cliffs before the Gap. Owes me some work before I travel further.”
They accepted it without question. Travel together, then. Just for a while.
It was not until they reached a half-abandoned mining camp that things began to unravel.
As they were talking to one of the Dunlandings in front of a mining camp about where they can found the dwarf, as Deorla/Firebryn did not knew about his current location.
As they spoke the wind and rain stopped, it fact it was starting to get quite warm, a day was coming. The talkative rider pulled off his helm to wipe the sweat from his brow.
That’s when she saw him.
Her breath caught, but only for an instant.
That face—Alairif
She recognized him now without a shred of doubt.
And the quiet one must be Guriwen.
But they still didn’t know her, or at least she hoped so, but if they did I bet they would react difrently, at this time she was so glad to ditch the old ranger outfit in the lake, and wear hew new traveling bird masked clothing.
But this gave her a reason to think more about the way she looks and the mount she was using, once she gets to her home maybe a haircut she thought.
She forced a calm smile and turned back to the miner. “Seems the dwarf has taken to hiding in a cave near the Gap,” Dunelanding said after Alairif offered him some silver coins. “Hounded by orcs, apparently." he added at the end.
Her companions offered no protest when she suggested helping the dwarf. She watched them closely. They were good—very good. But not careful enough, or perhaps she was the one being fooled. This was something she did not anticipated on her travels, at least not so soon!
Few thoughts had crossed her mind as they were traveling in a rush towards the cave.
"How did they find me?" "Did I left enough clues?" "Perhaps just a coincidence?"
Rest journey to the cave has been rather quiet, it was a rush to get there, and more thoughts on Deorla’s mind.
"Perhaps the Company I've left behind decided to go after me afterall, but Guri and Ali aren't part of them anymore from what she remembered as she was leaving. So many questions so little answers. But one thing became clear to her, she will need to deal a swift blow for Company of the East Road, apparently leaving was just not good enough. "If they wanna war they will have it."
The cave mouth was half-hidden behind a boulder-slide and old brush. A faint reek drifted from inside—orc filth and rotting leather.
Two sentries loitered near the entrance, blades in hand, armor scratched and dented. Alairif—still wearing that cursed false name—dismounted and struck with practiced grace.
Steel sang.
Two orcs fell.
Inside, the cave stretched into gloom. Old mining shafts split into multiple tunnels, darkness pooling in their mouths like ink.
“We should split up,” Deorla said evenly. “If the dwarf’s alive, we’ll find him faster.”
Alairif agreed and took the left path.
Deorla turned toward the right without hesitation.
Guri remained behind to guard the entrance.
As the shadows closed in around her, her mind grew quiet, focused.
They had no idea who she truly was.
Not yet.
But the game had begun.
Here are the maps to use for any RP purposes of Deorla travels
