You approach the gossiper to learn the latest news from the vast lands of Arda, the old man's face opens into a huge grin as he notes your approach. "Come close my friend, and let me fill your mind with a tale that will certainly chill your blood."

"I have been told a tale of a sinister act in the east, so evil that the Knights of Dol Amroth were crushed at their very own doorstep. I speak no lies m'lord. The great city was beseiged by a group of blue clad warriors together with the cold blooded Sons of Ulfang. Unfortunate citizens of the city fled as the mysterious intruders carved through the peasents with ease, moving through the shadows... It was as if they had appeared from thin air. A deep chant resounded inside the walls of Dol Amroth, throughout the attack terrifying and taunting the very souls of the knights as they scrambled into defence, drowning out the screams of the slaughtered.

"The Knights held their ground well, and drove the evil might out, but only fool would rejoice and claim victory, for evil was merly slowed not stopped. At nightfall the bone-chilling chant resumed although stronger this time as if feeding from the darkness accompanied by a strange howling. Ulfang's finest and the mysterious blue warriors once again delved deep into the city. This time the blue clad warriors fought as if fueled by some hidden fire alongside the berserked Sons of Ulfang, who fought with unrivaled ferocity. Every now and then a wolf was seen tearing flesh. Apparently the blue monks had mercenaries aiding them. The Knights' chivalry was not enough to turn the attackers aside once more, and so they fell to the combined might of the frenzied warriors like stones in the deep blue.

"It is said that a blue mist covered Dol Amroth that night, creeping through every crack and crevice, claiming the city to an unknown force.

"Dead were buried. Not a a single of the Blue clad or the mighty soldiers of Sons of Ulfang had fallen, but the ground was littered with the shredded remains of Dol Amroth's finest.

"These are dark times we live in, are they not young traveller?" the old man finishes.

"Aye" you reply dryly, dropping a few coins into his pocket for his troubles. "

The gossiper then turns his back to you and a note slips out of his back pocket. It reads "A special thanks to the dead and undead Turamarth for their help as well as to Arnie for writing this tale."