Laying out one of her better thread-of-gold gowns and a pair of delicately embroidered slippers on her bed, Lyfrid began dressing herself in front of the horrendous mirror she kept in her private room at the Mercer Manor that sat high on the hillside in Arrowhaven.  The petite woman liked fine clothing, shoes and jewelry and spent a good deal of the coins she earned from reading runes on those things.  It would be fair to say, the Seer liked all the fine, tangible

The yells could be heard echoing through her ears like that roar of a large dragon. The hurried footfalls and clink of armor. She ran through the woodland, her breath labored with each step. The caramel curls streaming across her face as she looked, panic stricken, behind her. 
"Where yah runnin' lassy!" A voice would growl.
"Don't yah wanna play?" Another would bellow.

Dearest one, 
The Thane Theodvan exhibits similar traits to The Lord Emion in many many ways...his rise to power seems quickened like the flames of a wild fire. Engulfing everything around it for what he claims tah be the greater good. I know not of his intentions except tah gather many allies so tha" he is followed. He puts his trust in the nobles he allies 'imself with especially The Lord Gerwolf. I pray he knows wha' he is doin'. I trust the Thane though...

(A sloppily written page that looks to be done while riding)

Tale starts from: Life as a Refugee - Meadowyn's Account I: A Wound​

Excerpts from:

A Treatise on the Situation, Manners, and Inhabitants of Bree-land

As writ by Oddvar of the Blue Mountains and Dalton Willow of Bree, T.A. 3015

It was dusk and Meadowyn could not find her red cloak that she enjoyed to gaze upon. Though it were an insignificant decoration she thought it to be something special, as it was a bit of her home and she grew to treasure such things more as the days passed. She grew frustrated and sought throughout the house to no avail, she doubted that she could have lost it, for she seldom wore it. Then a thought came to her mind.