Nethrida

(Includes a death. The following story takes place mostly in the year TA3012)

Orcs... There were orcs swarming all over the camp. They had come seemingly out of nowhere, the detachment had gone from calmly setting up their camp to fighting for their very lives, with Neth barking out orders in the thick of battle

"Form up! Form up and close ranks! They're just Orcs! We've fought them off before!"

It had been close to five years since Nethrida was last in the White City, a city she, only a few months ago thought would never see again. She found herself wandering the ring where most craftsmen plied their trade, the sound of smith's hammers striking anvils the hissing of blades being quenched, and of course the numerous merchants advertising the results of their handiwork, from weapons, baubles and everything in between, it really wasnt all that different to the markets of Bree, only more grandiose.

Nethrida smiled to her friends as she parted ways with them, following after her brother from the fountain, heading towards the docks. She walked a few paces behind her brother, Revion, a sorrowful look in her eyes, her lips pursed and her head tilted down and it isint untill the siblings arrive to the stairs leading down to the docks when she finds her voice, hollow as it was to speak

"How... Did the others react...? Do you know how long it took them to notice I was... Missing?" 

Peering over the low stone fence while keeping herself well-hidden, Xanderian of Belfalas noted two men, each heavily armed. The larger of the two was loading supplies onto a wagon, his face brutish and rough, two ill-kept horses pulling nervously at their bridles. The smaller man, with a cruel gleam in his eye, leaned back against the wall of the ramshackle cottage, observing the labor as well as keeping a sharp eye on the road beyond. A naked sword was already in his hand.