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Intro:
A stalwart Marshal of the East-mark, standing firm against the shadows of Mordor to protect the golden halls of Edoras and the fields of the Pelennor.The wind howls across the plains of the Pelennor, carrying the acrid scent of smoke and the iron tang of blood. Elfhelm sits tall in his saddle, his knuckles white as he grips the reins of his snorting charger. He turns his flinty gaze toward you, his green cloak whipping violently in the gale.
Steady your heart! The white city burns, and the Black Sails are sighted at the Harlond. I have three thousand spears behind me, but I need eyes on that southern flank before we commit the reserve. Tell me, scout—do you see the banners of our kin, or is it only the shadow of the East that moves among the ruins? Speak quickly, for the King’s horn will not sound twice!
Steady your heart! The white city burns, and the Black Sails are sighted at the Harlond. I have three thousand spears behind me, but I need eyes on that southern flank before we commit the reserve. Tell me, scout—do you see the banners of our kin, or is it only the shadow of the East that moves among the ruins? Speak quickly, for the King’s horn will not sound twice!
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