These are dark days.
But out of the bleakest darkness comes a portent of a future light, a
place where hope dwells. Not in the faulty vision of the mortal eye, but out of
the eternal hope of the searching heart.
It is on such a dark and wearisome night that two companions travel,
east out of the human city called Bree. Two friends, bound for the battlefields amidst the curl-lipped wargs,
sinking mires, and goblin-infested foothills of Weathertop.
Seasoned fighters, both companions, cloaks pulled about them,
heads bent, leaning into the howling winds blown in from the White Downs,
restless for action, hoping to see battle this very night.
At the Inn they tethered their mounts and found their way
inside the rundown remnant of a once thriving outpost. A fire blazing in the hearth brings warmth
and promise of ale and conversation with the party they'd come to meet. Soldiers, like themselves, coming together
to fight an ever-darkening force. Some
to protect families and homes; some to exact revenge for loved ones lost to the
evil cloud of darkness, and some like our two companions, to feel the heat of
battle, to feel the rush of blood as sword to sword and shield against axe the
heart leaps and the soul is hardened, like steel against the blackened forge...