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Hello, my leathery friend. The one sat with me here at my deathbed. As expected, no family, friends doing theirs and me here, bedridden and infirm and only getting out to piss in a bowl next to my bed.. Quite a mess I will leave for others to clean, hah! Oh, I shall not lie, I do enjoy no one seeing me in this wretched state.. coughing phlegm and blood at every turn, but I should get on with this.. will.
Well what have we here little one? A journal of sorts? Perhaps I should not have read this, but it was left lying in a drawer, under your clothing, I can not see why any objection would be raised?
After a long time I decided to visit Bree, I spent a lot of time in the Dawnhall, looking at papers, contracts, money, recruits, archives and many more. I was doing that for a week at least and I was ready to throw all those papers in the fireplace, but, raising my head and seeing the casks I remembered the Prancing Pony... And I got there.
Spending a few hours within the Inn of the Prancing Pony, we met with Taala and two of her friends. Deredan and Denaric. Fiontann decided we should return to the Dawnhall, where the ale flows freely. One was happy to do so, discovering his lute had not been tossed out. Under the twilight sky, stories where shared and music was played amongst good company.
Finally arriving in Bree, one stopped by that of the Dawnhall to find his friends, Fiontann and Basaran. Though still in pain from earlier attacks, one joined his former brethren on a trip to the Inn of the Prancing Pony.