Board Thread:Middle Earth Roleplays/@comment-26184570-20151202042359/@comment-26444332-20151203014324

"Of old..." Faenor begins, then suddenly cuts off. For there is no wind now, and all is still. Save for the breathing, labored and ragged.

Faenor quietly draws a dagger, while all the others look confused. He motions for them to be still, and vanishes into the undergrowth.

He appears once more dragging an Orc by the throat, dagger pressed against the creature's neck. He kicks it to over by the fire, illuminated by the flames. Faenor kneels down and holds his blade against it's throat, saying, "So, a Yrch. Tell me what you know, and I may set you free. Try to fight... You're surrounded."