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.
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outlaws
