Brynleigh

Safety

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

Khaki was the colour of Bree-land. Green, the colour for sleep or delusion, and beige yellows, dulled, sedately corrupted passions.

It was the type of place to lull those who stayed too long into a sense of trouble despite their luxury and wellbeing. People invented trouble here, and sometimes willed it into harmful reality. A side-effect of so much peace and, Ryheric figured, boredom.

Hatty's Gallivant

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

Brynleigh was in Bree. She was even in the Prancing Pony, still. Ry knew it, but amusingly, the two seemed to keep missing one another. Sometimes, if word of mouth was to be believed, by mere moments. He knew now that the woman sought him in kind. It was only a matter of time...

Early one morning, just after the sun had risen, he came to the stables, thinking he might find her attending her chores there. Alas, the woman had either been by early, else she was attending horses elsewhere that day, or on some other errand.

Growing Roots

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

Some goodbyes felt like they took ongoing tolls. Long after the person was out of sight. Left behind, or gone away on the horizon. Or simply parted ways from. In bad blood, or in the best of circumstances.

Ryheric knew it was more than just a person, or even two people, or three. It was more than fifty.

It was hundreds. What had happened to the people at the Hamlet was a weight for him to carry. The weight went deeper, and further back. Some memories were not yet safe to revisit.

Paying Tribute to the Lost Horses

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Screenshot: General screen

Winter, Herne. After all that had happened with Ryheric's chestnut colt Boltin in Rohan, and hearing Tarsorel speak about the ill fate of Grace, it occurred to Ryheric that while Boltin received a proper send-off from Brynleigh of Rohan, none of the other horses lost from his company in the last two years had received proper acknowledgment. Going with his gut, he detoured the group off the road and led them to the river. Small floating shrines were made and set adrift.

Sea Flowers and Storms

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Screenshot: General screen

Changes were like seasons. Swift and uncertain. And certain, as well. He sought the brightness of her colour; and sometimes, from behind torrid dark clouds, with a peeking smile framed in gold-silver hair, he would find her there beneath all that had buried her in colours of dark grey. His Mercan. 

The Two Bryns

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Screenshot: General screen

Late Autumn in Breeland. Determined to ensure Brynleigh would not feel isolated after their arrival in Bree, Ryheric gradually introduced the melancholy widow to his friends. The woman seemed shy, startlingly unapproachable at times around groups. A few uncomfortable first impressions were made, to Ryheric's chagrin. He had hoped to see her thrive a little more, back in civilisation. However, Ryheric knew another person who was timid like that, too. Thus, when Brynleigh chanced upon his meeting with Bryn the Gondorian Scholar, he was keen to see how they would interact.

Coral (Brynleigh's Song)

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

Happy Holidays, Laurelin!

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Screenshot: General screen

Old Rohan border

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Artwork: Artscreen
The Old Rohan border.
 
ooc;
The art is made by the artist Serban Gabriel and modified by me. See source link for the original.

Missing: Part Two

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

Hild was thinking hard.

It was not as if she didn’t have enough to do with trying to make her supplies last out. Or with talking to folk in the village about dropping in for a drink and some of her ‘special’ onion and bean pottage. It was never as popular as her mutton stew for some reason, but she had to make the meat last.

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