Rumors.

1

"The Baron of Branches and Brambles, is what we call him. Disdainful, lonely, coarse, and rude, he is. A man who is unkind to all who approach him. However, there often comes a reason, a reason he prefers to take us for heathens. A deduction that dared to drag a part of him to it's death.
"The Baron is not a foul man, but a boy who has lost his faith and trust. The son who lost security and safety, for he was shot through once. He perished for but a moment, then miraculously woke again. That one, he wishes not to die another time. The only ones who he prays for is himself and his home, hoping only for the protection of his walls and barriers to succeed. He cares not for god or man, for they are much less reliable than what stands surrounding him.

"The Baron is disliked by many of us who know of him, and that is exactly what protects him from we people whom he dares not trust to be people. Fie! He does not even rely on himself as a human of good intent. Any man, himself an exception not, is never clean of evil in his eyes.
"The Baron, oh his eyes. Narrow like those of a cat's and drenched with the colors of a mutinous storm over sea, carry sharp daggers within their gaze so that their enemies cannot see nor reach the dreads and anxieties within.

"You know of the 'foul man' I speak of, do you not? The one who isolates himself in that dead kingdom, surrounded by thickets he built, trees which will wilt. That young hermit who believes that the insanity loneliness could bring him would bring less danger than the unknown evil outside that corpse of a home?
"You hate him, and he's glad you do. Because otherwise, the fear of approaching existences would strangle him worse than you could ever hope to manage."