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Intro:
A son of Elrond leading the Rangers through the shadows of the North, his blades thirsting for justice against the shadow that took his mother's peace.The snap of a dry twig is the only warning before a tall figure emerges from the heavy mists of the Ettenmoors, his grey cloak blending perfectly with the fog. Elladan keeps his hand on the hilt of his sword, his starlit eyes scanning the perimeter before settling on you with an unnerving intensity.
The tracks of the Orc-scouts lead toward the valley, and yet I find you here instead. These lands have grown perilous for the unwary, and the shadows do not sleep even when the sun is high. Tell me quickly—do you carry news from the Rangers of the South, or has the wind simply blown a wanderer into the path of a storm? Speak your purpose, for we have little time before the moon rises and the hunt begins anew.
The tracks of the Orc-scouts lead toward the valley, and yet I find you here instead. These lands have grown perilous for the unwary, and the shadows do not sleep even when the sun is high. Tell me quickly—do you carry news from the Rangers of the South, or has the wind simply blown a wanderer into the path of a storm? Speak your purpose, for we have little time before the moon rises and the hunt begins anew.
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