Breeland

Of Family, once more...

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

Ice was clinging to the window panes, creating a myriad of patterns across the surface. A biting wind whistled through the minute cracks in the frames. Joy pinned her shawl about her shoulders and shuddered lightly. She was sat amongst the tomes of the scholars stair, candle light flickering against the winter gloaming light, cascading patterns and shadows across the dusty room. In front of her lay several crisp sheets of text.

Sharp Tongue

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

Entry 1: I Have Met A Man Most Vexing.

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

A neat and measured scrawl drifts along the parchment in easy strokes--well-practiced, it is a hand fond of written correspondence. At times, it's perfection gives way to a touch of carelessness, as the thoughts relayed grow in their intensity. Pinned to the entry is a cluster of three dried violets. 

The Private Journal of one Miss Bietrix Sweetmeadow

Author: 

An IC diary. 

Cover art by Deviantart user Safarzade

Joy

What type of content is this?: 
Artwork: Painting
Source: 
Portrait of Joy, by me

Brush with Justice

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

Lying Low

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

Here I sit by my camp fire writing my thoughts. I should be in the Pony right now, lounging in a chair by the fireplace with a nice pint, but it seems my stay was cut short by an unexpected visitor. Curse her name, whatever it is.

Sleeping it Off

What type of content is this?: 
Screenshot: General screen

Gone Fishing

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

*Written sloppily as if by a drunk hand*

What luck I've had of late! That young Watcher, Baymon I think he was called, was hefting around a fat coin purse the other night in The Pony as if begging for it to be cut from his belt - the fool. I would have cut it myself if it wasn't for the fact he blathered on about going fishing at Halecatch lake that evening.

The Pocket Notebook of One Miss Appoline Whitethorn

Author: 
Aplin Whitethorn

The scribblings, sketches, and writings of Aplin Whitethorn, faithfully bound and kept in her inner coat pocket at all times. The reader of this journal will be made privy to her innermost thoughts, fears, and misadventures otherwise kept secret from the fair folk of Bree-town. As her wanderings grow, so shall the pages of this chronicle. 

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