Ahmo

The screams formed into a guttural voice as a fell spirit rose up out of the tokens and the shards of the blade. "FINALLLLLLYYY!!! It took you WORMS long enough!!!!

Xanderian woke slowly, from dreams of darkness and anxiety. Strange flowing blends of dread and an almost erotic anticipation that left her unsettled in a myriad of ways. As her eyes opened, she heard voices nearby at the map table, and rose up on her elbows in the silken sheets for a better view.

Eduwiges of Faldham rode in through a small side gate on the massive oval wall of Minas Tirith. The detritus of battle engraved on her from helm to boots. Weariness darkened her face like a starless night weighed down by gravity. Normally graceful in her movements she clambered down off of Oenone and staggered as her legs took the weight of her body. Eduwiges stepped forward and wrapped her adrenaline weakened arms around her steed’s neck in love and gratitude.

Eduwiges of Faldham listened to the grunts and clanging of men at battle. The shield-maiden smelled sweat, leather, grimy carpet and shame as it wafted across the giant room being used as a training hall in Minas Tirith. Eduwiges was amazed. In her eyes, a place to train was outside a fort on the plains of the Norcroft or under the trees of Imladris and flets of the Golden Wood; not in this huge palace hall with giant chandeliers and dangling tapestries.

Peering over the low stone fence while keeping herself well-hidden, Xanderian of Belfalas noted two men, each heavily armed. The larger of the two was loading supplies onto a wagon, his face brutish and rough, two ill-kept horses pulling nervously at their bridles. The smaller man, with a cruel gleam in his eye, leaned back against the wall of the ramshackle cottage, observing the labor as well as keeping a sharp eye on the road beyond. A naked sword was already in his hand.