Board Thread:Middle Earth Roleplays/@comment-25344655-20151122010838/@comment-26084998-20151128182055

Frohr has stationed him and his men on the flank closest to Kheled Arnin, and as close to the front as possible. However, his mind is not completely on the battle to come. Sure, his brilliant mind for battle is as focused as any one else's, but his coldly analytical side is pondering news that he had received the night before...

"King Frohr! Angmar has made its move! The Orcs have poured through Amon Hen, and into Rohan. Gondor gathers its forces, and Moses leads the Second and Third to aid Rohan. This beast must be slain, and quickly, for this army is far more vast than any Angmar has had before, my king."

"Damn it all to the Nine Hells and back! SCOTIA! QUENCH YOUR BLADES' THIRST FOR DRAGON BLOOD ON THE MORROW! FOR ON MORROW'S EVE, WE MARCH FOR ROHAN! ANGMAR SHALL FALL! Scout, please inform Glosur Darloc of this, as well as his companion, Enderborn. We must be ready to move swiftly. Good work, lad." Turning, Frohr drew Durance and looked at the blade introspectively. It might take a Black Arrow to deliver an immediately fatal wound, but cyrium had never failed to cleave dragonscales before...and soon it would feast on the foul blood of Orcs.