Bree

Crooked Spine Alley was not listed on any of Bree-town's maps, and for good reason. It was an interstitial space, a geographical wound where the wealthier merchant quarter ended and the neglected, sprawling tenements began. It ran parallel to the main thoroughfare, but its reality was a universe apart: perpetually choked with grey dust or slick with black runoff, depending on the weather. The atmosphere was a heavy blend of damp, cold stone and the smell of human desperation—unwashed clothes, week-old refuse, and the faint, bitter scent of cheap pipe-weed.

Adjusting to Bree-town has proven taxing of late. A man alone with no profession can find himself with too much time on his hands, leading him to dwell upon his darker thoughts. It is for that reason that I have decided to consider my position. My skills in warfare are adequate, but I am not fit to become a soldier. My knowledge of the land is considerable, but I am by no means a protector.

Many years ago, in the wilds of Enedwaith, I was tracking two known thieves by the name of Adaryn and Jairyth, old adversaries of mine whom I was never overly fond.

Since my coming to Eriador I have been met with many obstacles. Given that we are now entering a world of peace, the road from the South proved anything but. Creatures and bandits hounded my every step, but I was able to evade them with relative ease. I travelled light, with very little items of value worthy of a robbery. Nevertheless, I was well-prepared for conflict.