Sitting on her bedroll, Immalaine thought back on her day. A strange one it had been, she mused to herself, and one that would have ended badly for her if it had not been for her friend Rastellion happening along.
She would not have even come out this way, but she had received a note the day before, from a woman there looking for assistance. Baffled, and ore than a bit curious, Immalaine decided that the best course of action would be to go see for herself what was going on. Besides, after what had transpired between her and Rastellion in the past couple of days, she felt a restless need to get out of Bree.
Shaking her head, she focused on the orcs she had encountered as she innocently explored the surrounding area. She had never seen an orc before, though Rastellion had mentioned how his family farm had been attacked by them. She had thought he was referring to a type of brigand, not some monstrosity. She shuddered, watching the waterfall in the distance, at the images that popped into her head. She didn't think she had ever seen a thing so ugly. And when they spotted her, she thought sure she was done for.
But Rastellion had come along, apparently having returned from a trip to see his family, and happened to spot the foolish young woman wander into danger. He barely got to her just as orc grabbed her arm and, pulling Immalaine away from its grasp, made quick work of dispatching it. Looking behind them, Immalaine noticed a sinister looking bird and nocking her old bow, she aimed and took it down. Not taking any chances that more would come, Rastellion gabbed a hold of the young redhead and dragged her back to town.
Sighing, she lay down, closing her eyes. She and Rastellion had argued back and forth. Eventually they figured out their misunderstandings, agreeing that they should be friends for as long as he remained in Bree. Immalaine showed him the note she had received, and together they went in search of its writer.
Drifting off to sleep, the visions of orcs and the rubble that once was Trestlebridge still fresh in her mind, Immalaine began to dream of another day ...
3 Years Earlier
It was a sunny day, in the middle of harvesting season, and Immalaine's father was home from one of his many trips out to load up the wheat that had been gathered so far to take to town for sale. All the farmhands were busy, and Immalaine went inside to make a pitcher of cold tea for them, humming happily to herself as she worked in the kitchen. Listening to the men banter back and forth, she smiled and shook her head at some of their more bawdy comments.
She was still in the back when she heard her pa come into the house, speaking with some new men that had come by. She pauses, her smile fading, as she listened to the conversation. 'Payment' she heard them say to her father, they wanted him to pay them gold, or else there'd be consequences. 'Brigands," she thought to herself, looking around for something, lest she should need it to defend herself. Grabbing an old kitchen knife, she hid herself as she listened to her father argue with the men, telling them they'd not get a red copper from him and they should just take themselves off. By this point, she could tell that several of the farmhands had joined her father in the house. The men just laughed, saying they would regret their decision and left. After several minutes, making sure they were gone, she took the tea out to the men, pasting on a smile so they'd not know that she had overheard everything. She listened to her pa and the hands talk in low voices, 'idle threats', they said amongst themselves and 'too chicken to return.'
Had that only been true ...
The dream shifted, changing to later that evening, as she was out back cleaning the horse's stalls. In the distance she could hear some birds calling to each other and the sounds of crickets filled the air. Working quickly, so she could find her bed and rest, she was making quick work of the area when she heard the first alarm rise. "Brigands!" they called out from the direction of the house. Terrified, she ran to the entrance of the barn, looking out as she saw them attack, in much greater numbers than previously that day. Immalaine looked around desperately for something to fight with as she heard the screams and smelled the first hints of smoke. "NO!" she cried out, racing towards the house.
As she raced across the field, someone grabbed her from behind and she began kicking. "Child, it's me," said a familiar voice. It was her father's oldest farmhand, and he pulled her to the ground, hiding them both in the tall wheat. "Ye canna go there," he said growling. "Gotta getcha out here child, 'fore those men come this way." Picking her up, he raced back to the stables, grabbing the nearest horse as he threw her on its back.
"But the house! Pa!" Immalaine cried as he mounted behind her.
"Canna risk ye child! Ye have't come first. Yer pa'd kill me otherwise." With that, he spurred the horse into movement, racing away from the farm as she watched in terror, flames rising from the direction of the house ...
