The light from the torch fell softly on the path in front of the cart. Dwarin Thunderhammer was the traveling along the old south to Rohan. He had recently been to the shire and now had to deliver a set of custom armor and a little pipe weed to a friend in rohan. He scratched his beard and took a drink from his water skin. Then something caught his eye it looked like the glint of steel in the pale moonlight. He rubbed the drowsiness fro his eyes to get a clearer view. It looked like a band of the soldiers crossing the road in front of him. Dwarin put out his torch and picked up the speed of his horse. As he got closer to the group he saw that one of the soldiers was slumped in his saddle and it looked like another was about to fall off. As he approached his wheel hit a rock in the road and one of the precious parrels of pipe weed in the back of the cart tipped over with an audible thump. The solders looked over and spotted Dwarin's not so steathly horse cart. Several of them drew their swords and took a stance of battle. "I mean you no harm" Dwarin shouted into the night. Dwarin then spotted the emblem of Rohan on one one of the sheilds. "I see you are soldiers of Rohan, I hold your people in the highest regard. I percieve some of your friends are wounded and even your horses too. May I be of any assistance.?" Dwarin fingered his axe Orc Cleaver as he awaited his answer nervously.
[ October 04, 2001: Message edited by: Dwarin Thunderhammer ]
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