Company of the East Road

It was on a dusky spring evening, just as the first stars began to blink into the twilight sky above the kin-house, that the Company of the East Road gathered once more. The trees around the hall rustled with a gentle wind, and lanterns flickered in warm tones of gold and amber. Word had gone out from Mervedis—not in haste, but with firm intent. It was time, she said, to speak of what was, and what could be again.

The cave yawned wide before her like the mouth of some slumbering beast. Deorla stepped into its gullet with blade in hand and eyes sharp in the dark. The scent of old fire, unwashed bodies, and rotted meat clung thick to the air. This was no mapmaker’s den. It was a nest.

Orcs. And not few.

OOC - Author's Note:

The following will collect a number of reflections or 'journal' (diary)-type entries by Lonoric, Archivist Third-Class, as he ventures eastward from the Shire out into the big world beyond. So far it has 4 entries, but will be updated periodically. Where other characters are mentioned, they are done so with their author's permission.

Entries so far:

Author’s Note: This piece was shaped with a little help from AI. It provided assistance on things like the structuring, some names, shortening some verbose language/ideas as I'd written, and gave me the odd turn of phrase here and there.

Night fell upon Galtrev like a velvet shroud, and with it came the final flickers of torchlight along the crooked lanes. Deorla stood alone in the high corner of the old hill-fort, the wind teasing strands of her dark hair as she watched the lights blink out, one by one. The meeting had gone as expected.

Rauthan, ever the eager hound of older powers, had spoken boldly beneath the dark wood beams of the chieftain’s hall.

“The clans are ready. They remember the war—remember you. If you give the word, they will rally.”