A Dream:

You open your eyes and find yourself in a walled courtyard of some kind. The walls are 20 feet or so high with metal spikes hammered into decorative shapes atop it. Brick walled plastered over in white, spattered with different shades of red and brown on the lower half. The yard is empty, devoid of living things, no plants or animals, only sand filled this space, from one side a series of wooden doors with locks on them, to the front a large gate made of metal bars, you do not see any catch or mechanism or handle on this side. On the other side a single large metal door seems to be the only entrance to what appears to be a house on that side. A long balcony protrudes from the second and third story and covers the entire exterior side of the house at those levels. You hear a series of metallic sounds like latches or locks then the door on the house opens a large man strides through, He is tall and has the build of a warrior, he wears armor and a helmet, he is carrying no weapon only a whip corded to his belt on his right, on his left is a ring of keys. He makes his way to the locked doors and one after the other unlocks them and kicks the door inward, the door swinging hard inward and bashing whatever stops its swing.

After all the doors are unlocked and the doors unceremoniously opened the man turns and walks toward the middle of the sandy yard and tosses the ring of keys up onto the second floor balcony. He turns and shouts angrily towards the doors, soon after creatures begin to step out from those doors. Some humans, some elf, some appear to be larger than men, some smaller both men and women of each ancestry. Each shielding his eyes from the morning sun as they pass through the doorways, struggling to see in this light. You can see that beyond those doors in only darkness, what light spills in from the doors illuminates only a few feet into whatever space these creatures occupied before being brought into this yard. The entrants gather together near the center of the yard and the armored man shouts at them. One or two start moving towards a corner of the yard and some stacked lumber there. Not fast enough apparently, almost instantly the armored man unhooks the whip and lays down several lashes on those near the back of the pack, these welts hurry everyone’s pace significantly. The armored man takes his time curling the whip again into the spiral in which it hung from his belt as each creature struggles to find himself a section of timber. Once they have it they move quickly out of the way so the next may get theirs.

There are pieces of all sizes accounting for the sizes of the denizens of this yard. It appears someone has chosen poorly as the coiled whip quickly stretches out to find first one leg then the back of that particular halfling. The piece of lumber he had chosen goes rolling to the ground. The man at the other end of the whip quickly shouts again, and then finishes with a more definite tone, a warning of some kind. The wound on the halfling’s back unlike the one on his leg has opened slightly and blood begins to trickle down his back as he pulls a larger piece from the stack. The occupants of the yard start to spread out across the whole of the space and they all seem to be waiting for something. There is another shout and more scrambling of latches and a young elf girl comes out of the house, a large bowl of water under one arm and bits of cloth in the other. She makes her way to the bleeding halfling and kneels down and wraps the what are being used as bandages around the creature’s shoulders and once across the chest. She then stands and then moves first to the armored man in the front of the group and lifts up the bowl to him, he takes it and drinks from it, several good long gulps. After he returns it to her she moves from person to person offering them the bowl, each in turn tilts it back and drinks, no one else gulps each only taking one good swallow before handing it back to the elf girl. She doesn’t look up at any of them but instead keeps her eyes focused hard on the ground. She makes her way back around to the halfling whose wound she had bound.

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As she offers him the bowl, you hear the crack of the whip and the elf girl recoils sharply dropping the bowl spilling whatever little water it contained onto the sand that drinks it in just as eagerly as any of those standing there. You see no wound on her and she doesn’t appear to be in any pain. The armored man once again coils the whip in his hand and walks over to the young elf girl, he picks up the bowl and hands it back to her, talking to her as he does. The small amount of broken laughter erupts from the group as ushers the young woman back towards the door. The halfling is not as jovial as some of the others around him. There is nothing but anger spread across his face, a burning hatred. He rushes forward and heaves the piece of timber at the armored man. Seamlessly he steps aside and the hulking piece flies past him. The armored man looks to his left then right then runs hard at the halfling and punches his hard in the face. The smaller creature, no match for the man’s size, crumples to the ground from the impact. He brings his legs up in defense but it doesn’t even slow the onslaught of blows from the large armored man, everyone else has long since stepped back away from the scene some have even taken to kneeling and dropping their own pieces of lumber quickly at their feet. The halfling’s hands are up in defense and while some impacts are deflected slightly it is only a matter of time before those arms go limp and fall to its sides as the man continues his vicious beating. There is a shout from the balcony on the second floor, the armored man’s hands stop mid punch. He turns and bows his head to the person standing there. You look up and see a human standing there, in off white clothes with a red bit of cloth across his chest and tied around his waist. You recognize his face, this is the face of a man you will never be able to forget. The man who’s blade from horseback had once shut your eyes. He shouts angrily to the armored man who bows his head further before answering back and points to the spot where the lumber had landed, to the small elf girl laying on the ground, unmoving, her arm bent into an impossible angle, from a large gash on her head crimson blood pours quickly onto the sand, that drinks it, just as it had drank, with gusto, the water she spilled.