Brigands of Bree

Brush with Justice

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

In the Jail House

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

Concerning Brigandry

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

It was an overcast day, darker clouds lurking in the distance foreboding rain. Townspeople began to trickle into the courtyard in front of the Bree-town Hall, many murmuring amongst themselves. Much of what was said was rumor, little of it cheerful. Finally one man, known to many around town as Tom Barleyshoe (a cobbler by trade), climbed up on a boulder in the lawn. “Good afternoon, fellow Breelanders and travelers alike. We’ve come here today to discuss the problems plaguing our fair land. Some of you may have heard tell of some of these ailments.

Greetings Traveler!

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

He stands on a bridge paved with stone -

With voice of friendly tone-

He requests a tithe, and hints at demise-

A bow and sword - ever at side.

"Come now good fellow, no need to die!" -

The bandit is verbose.

For what  use is coin, when arrow is let fly-

And one can no-longer-boast?

(Another attempt at a silly poem for a picture.  >_< )

Savela Hawthorn - Diary - 'What's going on?...'

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

I've really lost it, a few days ago four brigands broke into my quarters, only to jump out of the window again after father appeared... one of them quickly stabbed me in the side and threw me aside before jumping after his friends. He also made a very light cut to my throat right before that, for no reason at all... he seemed to enjoy it actually.

Home

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Screenshot: General screen

No walls or windows, nor doors of oak.

Yet, a fire is stoked.

He favors these things above-all:

a bedroll, canvas, and the night that falls.

(Bleh, my first attempt at a poem. >_<)

Ceou's "Empty" Journal, "Michael Blackbent and Bree-land"

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

So, where was I? Ah. First day in Bree-land. Well, it was around eleven years ago. I was tired. I had been traveling, fighting, and muling around whatever I could carry for three years. No place to call home, no time to rest. I was wanted in six different towns for robbery. Though, I knew nothing else to do. I was on a long walk. My legs felt more wobbly than a newborn fawn's. I had just walked through the lone-lands and found where grass was actually growing. At least grass means life, even if it was somewhere I had never been before. Night had just fallen, and I could hardly move.

Ceou's "Empty" Journal, "Abandoning the plains"

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary
I finally decided to write out a summary of fourteen years. I'll try to make it brief. Let me see. If you are reading this, then I've most likely given you permission. Otherwise, where this little tale is picking up from, won't make much sense.  Moving on.

The Blackbent Family.

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

This is more-or-less, reference information describing his relatives briefly.

Father: Harold.

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