I journeyed north from Trestlebridge until I came to spot torchlight bathing a ruin atop a hill to the northeast. I veered that way, avoiding the foul-looking fields directly north, and came to a small encampment led by a man named Amarion, another of the folk known as rangers. The burden of this haven, Amon Raith, was solely his to bear, and he had grave concerns for its safety and welfare.
It seemed evil forces had invaded the hills of Annundir to the east, driving out good folk who had come here seeking refuge. Supplies were low, however, and they would soon be going hungry. He would entrust the refugees’ safety to no one else but asked if I could hunt some game for them.
It brought tears to my eyes to see a man who cared so dearly for those under his purview, and his plea went straight to my heart. I promised him no one would go hungry while I was around and, after a few days, the needs of these fine folk were met. Amarion was very grateful, and we sat down by the fire, exchanging stories of our battles with the shadow.
I think I will stay around here until things are more settled…