Board Thread:Middle Earth Roleplays/@comment-26453572-20160222224745/@comment-26041296-20160226041434

Meanwhile, the Orcs from Moria have been jogging for many a cold hour. They are tracking the fellowship's scent (due to an item in a particular bag, or whatever you want LoMM).

Turatamo stops the fellowship temporarily. Putting his head to the ground, he hears the noise of iron shod feet. "They are nearly upon us! we must make for the trees!"