Blood, violence and death.
These are the topics I've all too often heard spoken between those gathered in the local Inn and tavern of Bree-town and the more I have listened the more I've learned what the nature of Men has turned to. It terrifies me.
While I have lingered in town I've come to hear many stories spoken among the patrons of The Prancing Pony, the more popular tavern of Bree-town, and the surrounding area. I had expected some merriment, bardic tales and odd jests- I instead find myself listening to cruel and barbaric tales, both men and women boasting of their kills.
They will take pride in their work, they will speak of it often, they will have men and women alike know how many they have slaughtered in their time and speak as if it they were just crushing a spider that came too close to their bowl of stew. They call themselves heroes to justify their actions but I can only name them murderers.
How can anyone have such a blind moral of their doings? To look at their slaughter without even a hint of regret, to know they have taken lives upon lives. Brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, husband and wife. Have they no concern for the lives of these people they so eagerly cut down? Is their heart and moral so cold they cannot feel regret or even shame of taking away another life?
It was not long ago I heard of one man who boasted of his ventures into the hills, its sole purpose to hunt down brigand camps that hide in the hills and murder all he came across. For the good of Bree-land, he would say, to justify his actions and people applaud him, they thanked him. Even as I recall this and write I can feel my stomach turn in disgust.
These who hunt the brigands as if they were simple game- do they murder the women as well, the children? I have seen these people who have sought the hills out of desperation, people who have lost their homes, people who have never had homes. Bree-town can only hold so many and it cannot house all the foreign people fleeing from the south. Where are they to turn? I've seen families huddled in these camps doing all they can to survive.
The people have made brigands into a foul villain that should be slain on sight, a person or rather a creature unworthy of its life. Simple farmers whose luck has turned against them and they have little but a butter knife to defend themselves. They use the tactic of scare and bullying to get what they wish and more often than not these people will flee if there is risk of conflict. Have these people earned death, to be another kill for a man or woman to pride themselves in their taverns?
No pity but instead a cause for pride, and grounds to boast.
I question this but I know if I would ever speak of it outloud then it would all be turned against me. They would try and justify their killing and those around would take under, my words would mean nothing.
There are even claims that the Watch of Bree-town has turned corrupted and cruel, bullying people by the use of their so claimed power. I do not wish to believe lawmen of this town to have turned to such means. Then again after hearing about the self claimed Lawmen of Evendim I begin to question this.
I was forced, for the first time, to take a life recently and it still haunts me, even if it was a half-orc. I know there was no other way, I know there was no reasoning but I feel no sense of pride or even victory instead my heart is heavy and I feel grief. My hand forced out of necessity.
Is there no longer mercy within the race of Men? No kindness? No decency or moral? Have they grown so blood thirsty? When did act of murder become something to glorify?
Far in the south a war wages to decide the fade of this world.
The Age of Orc or Men?
As things are I can see no difference.
