Bree

This evening 3 to 4 men in hooded cloaks and bearing crossbows fired from the roof of the armory across the town hall at Billium Cutting, Thomas Bristlebrush and Bill Cornman. All the men belong were struck with bolts, Bristlebrush and Cornman died at the scene and Cutting is being treated by a healer at the jail. His injuries are several and one of them very severe, a puncture to the ribs by a bolt.

Diary,

I went out on an expedition, riding East to the Forsaken Inn and then Ost Guruth, looking for this 'Nighthawk' woman as she calls herself. 

- 3 years, 7 months and 3 days since my departure from Harad.-

My decision to remain here has been sealed. Meeting properly with a few of this town called Bree instead of stalking them, did teach me quite a bit and made me wonder about many things. 

Time: Late Afternoon

Gorlen slowed down as they reached the gates. Some children played in the dirty streets, filled with soot and grime. Women and men walked about, sat around fires and boiling pots. Most of them disgraced and discarded, faces sour and wrinkled from hardship and life on the streets, hunger-starved and sad in their destitution. 

He collected his pay for the week, wiping at the sweat on his furrowed brow, his skin reddened from that sun. The chestnut colt cantered around in the corral, Aldfryd pausing to watch him. He spoke to his boss, his voice deep and soft, "That one's nervous, but he's coming along. Needs a bit more time than the others."

The young woman crouched, her forearms resting on her thighs, her murky blue eyes taking in the gruesome scene. A dagger dangled from one hand, still wet with blood as she had the kindness in her stone heart to finish off one man who was dying too slowly. He had been impaled on a broken tree limb, in a rather vulnerable if not fatal place on his body. She spat at the roots of the old oak and turned at the sound of foot steps. 

Diary,