History of Brothbarrie (Attention, mild spoilers!!)

Welcome to Brothbarrie, make yourself at home! It is a town of great heroic history...

..̸̯̗̗͎̰̲̳̤̥̭̿͗͌̈͆͝ͅ.̷̡̼̮̞̓͛͛̄̀̕.̷̨̬͎̦͔̳̰̻̽a̸͈̟̘͊̒͋͋̃̿̃͛̉͝n̵̡̡͈̬̤̩̫̜̦̈́̒̾͊̃̊d̴͈̙͙̘̲͌̃̒͛͆́̄ ̵̡̛̳̳̟͖̜̫̗͔͔̭̈̓́́́͗́̒̈́͘͝m̸̨̮͖̠͔̻͐̄̽̾̕͜ͅy̴̨͓̩̜̥̋͋s̴̭̪̲̲̜̪͉͈͈̍t̸̢̯͈͇͖͚̔͋͘e̷̡͉͖̟͔̭̭̹̥̩̍̿͊̇̽r̴̺̙͚̮̘͎̟̦̍̓̑̂͐͗͋́̈́̈́̚̚͜ḯ̴̢̛͍͖̙̰̻͆͑̆o̸͈̤̗͓̙̤̳͗̈́̏̉̔̄̊̍̔ͅs̸̨̝̪̫̼͈̩̅ ̵̨̭̼͊̌̆̀̆p̵͚̞̹͉͛͒̇̄͌́a̷̛̳̥̳͕̦̟͈̫̥̮̞̰̓͋͂͌̋̔̔̕̕s̸̢̡͎̖̰͖̻͈̘͚̾͆̈́̀̚͠ͅt̸̰̭̫̜̭̬̫̤̩̹̍̀͗̏͑͘͜.

Join me on this trip back in time, all in order to find out what makes this monotonous and boring city that is known as the epitome of boredom.

Brothbarrie is a province town located in the northwest of England and borders Scotland. It lies on the right bank of the Rot River and occupies an area of 493.3 km², and is located in Saint Lucy Valley The town has a population of just over 1,230, making it the least populated town in the United Kingdom. Brothbarry is managed by local and national authorities.

By virtue of its geographical location, Brothbarrie has fertile arable land and a skilled workforce. Known for growing berries, but also numerous other agricultural crops, the main source of income is production and export.

HISTORY

Y̴̢͎̠̺̹͕͇̾̐̽o̶̹̗̣̐̽̍̽̊̍̑̓͠͝u̸̡̡̻͎͉̰͉̽͗́̉͑̈ ̴̛͈̱̙̯̃̃̈́̉͐̿͜͝͠c̵̡͎̲̪͕͍̠̯̯͗a̸̡̢͓̥͇̻͎̩͋̑̾͐̚͘͠n̴̨̯͉͉̰̆̄'̶̖̘̟̎͗͑̉̏̋t̷̡͔̹̝̥̮̗͂̓̓̈̉͆͘͝ ̵͚̼̫̞̬̈́ĕ̶̙͔͔̭̭͎̱̒̐ͅs̴̖̦̹͗̈c̷̡͔͔̗̓̈́̈́̋̍̍͝a̷̡̜̲͍̬̺͖̼͍̾̋͜p̶͈̅̏̿̾̍̈e̶̳͔͚͕͊͗̂͆͛͑͘ ̷̖̮̟̀̎͘Y̴̟͋͊͋̚o̸̦͓͓̬̾u̷͇͌̓ ̵̡̧̺͉̩͍̫̜̰̇̏c̶̮̻̰͙͈͓̻͇̮̋̈̿̐ã̷̛̖͔͖̱̎̐͊̂̾̈́͋͝n̴̡̛̜͍̦͓̥̭̜̳͎̽̔̅̋̆̀'̸̛̞͉̜͚̋͐̃̌̈́̎̾̈́͜͠t̷̛͎̦̞̳̗͈̩́̍͗̂̆̒̿͘͜ ̵̢̻̟̫͚̠̰͓͚̗̍̃̓̌ẻ̴̛̲̹̹̖̑̑̔̄̌͠s̶̭̖͐͂́̀̔̎̓͠p̷̢͎͇͇̼̗͔̉͜ä̶͍͎̩̖̣͖͉̯̇͝͝ç̷̢͔͚͆̈̀͜e̴͚̦̗̱̩͍̿͐̇͆ ̸̺͛̈͑̓̇̾̿͒̚̚Y̶̝̤̲̣̫̙̣̙͉͐ǫ̶̢̱̞̝̘͈̲̟͗͑̉̓ǘ̸̥͔̭̲̣͉̬̄̀͂̓̄̊̕̚ ̵̪̪̥̰͚͈̪̺͍̠̿͋̈̈́͆͑̓͘ç̵͚͓̱̳͔̿ḁ̴̧̢̖͙̥͉̥͚̈͒͆ͅn̴͆ͅ'̷͉̼̭̩̦̀̀͑̽̚t̶͇͕͕̐̂ ̴̜̠͈̳̦̳̺͆̂̀̏̒̌̒͐͠e̴̩̲͈͚͉̱̣̤͒̉͐s̵͎͔̟̗̫̅̔̓͒͗̇̔̄̐̕č̵͔̱̻̮̟͔̖͛͝ą̴̨̢̮̯͙̺͉̑̓̍̑̄̎̓̃͑͠p̵̣͓̘͚̼̥͕̟͂̈́́͌̐͐̕̕e̷̙͙̜̲̦͑̃̅̃͌͝ͅ ̷̫̺̫̙̬̙̈́͗́̆͂̃́̐͝Ỵ̴̨͓̦̱̗̾̄ŏ̴̧͇͈̥͈͂͗̈́͒͂̄̈́͘ǘ̵̘̙̀͋̈́̇̀̕͜͝ ̷̧̯̹̠̲͉̤̼̲͓̔̀̐c̶̛̜̘̜̰̄̔͐͋͋͌͊͘ͅa̵̮͗͝ņ̷͓͔̭͈̩͗'̵̧͕̝̥̠̺̼̮̟͖̈́̿̈́͌̂t̸̪̱̝̞̂̐͊̿̾͛̓͘̕͜ ̶̡̯̹̠̆̈́̂͠ͅe̷̱̗̗͖̖͔̞͈̮̮̓͝s̷̡̞͈̳͌͠ͅp̴̧̨̞̩̤̤̯̬͈̥͝á̴̻̳̯͚̳͐̂̔͗c̷̫̠̝̳̍̂̈̾͒͝ę̷̨͔̮̗͈̞̀́͝ ̵̭͖̗̲̞̗͙̐̈́̀̎̂̈͆͗Ỳ̷͎̰̯̥͈̫̻̙̟̼̃̐̎̇̋̎̆͝ȍ̸̞͙̹̋͛̆͋̈́̍͝͠u̶̜̦̟̻̣̎̍̈̃̌͜ ̸͙͌͊̒c̸̢͕͎͚̞̮͛̃a̴̧̙̞̥̱̖̽̂̃̀͗͗̔̅n̸̝̺͈̠͗͂̉͆̎̈́͗̀ͅ'̵̛͍̜̫̠̼̗͕̞̰̂͒̄̽̽͑́̚ţ̴̯̣̖̭̝̑̀́ ̷̛̻̱̝̲̱̙̰̈́͂̿͠è̶̡̺͎̽̍̀s̷̛͚̺̮͈̗̝̾̽̈̄̽̿c̸̣̱͓͖͚̼̩̬͗̐͑̽͒̋͜a̷̡̡̛͙̖̼̫̭̪̦͖̾̎̋͒̒̾̓͝p̵̛̛̯͕͊̃̐̓̌̆̓͝ě̶̛͇̫̪̘̝̟̊͊̈́̑̈͜͠ ̸̥̖͕̗̯̱̬̙̫͊̊̈́̂̾̋̀Y̸̢̬̫̪̮̪̯͚͋̓͗̈ͅǒ̶͍̏͊́̉̊̾û̷̙̙̰͖̈́̐͋͋̋͝ ̸̨͕̗͉̝͇̲̲̝͆͐͌̾̓̋̏́̽͝ͅc̸̢̧̩̮̼̘̈́a̸̦̗͂n̸͓̣͍͈̟̟̝͌̓̽̈́͒͂͐͋̇ͅ'̶̦̖̟͂͛̒̎̑̔ṭ̶̥̃̈̏̓͊̾ ̷̛̲̠̹̥͍̩̖̾͌͊̇̋͐͜ë̵̢̟̱̼͇̘̔̿̇̈́s̷̡̨̹͚̲̎̿̿̀͐̅̒̌̅͝p̵̺̫̼̲̹̝̼̱̼͂̄͐̉͋̽͜ḁ̷̪̜͊̄͜c̷̙̰͈͚͇̫̼͝ě̵͈͓̣̼͔͘ ̷̦͆Ý̸̡̞̮̩͎̪̼̿͜ͅo̷̯̳̹̙͓̟̖̰͖͈̅̋ù̶̡̨̯͈͉̭̺͓̪͝ͅ ̵̢͈̱͔̌̉͐́̎͝c̸̛̛̪͇͔̞̪̥̺͎̏̎͌́̀̐̚͠ͅa̶̯̹̝̳̓̋n̸̡͂̏́͐͋̈͘̕͝'̷̧͓̺͕͓̅̂̑͋̎̓͒͆͝ṱ̸̢̙̪̈̀̄̊̈́͜͠͝͠ ̸̖͙̎̓̉͑̒͂ĕ̵̡̙̼̼͊̿̅͂́s̸̨͓̙̬̈́̍̽̃̍̇͜͝c̶͎̲̼̼̩̽͌̉͒á̷͕̰̘̲́̂̑̔͘͜p̵̢̬̬̟̃́͜e̷̛̞̞͙͉̣͔͐̀̇́̈́̾́̑ ̸͍͚̮̖͔̱͐͝Ý̴̠̳̰̙̞̦̘̘̳͖͝͝ó̵̡̦̦̫̙̻͙̿̐̀ù̵̢͈̫̰͇̼͝ ̷̛͖̻̦̺̦̺̻͙̓͗̈́͊̈́̽̂̇̓c̴̲͉͓̪̒̿ͅa̴͓͉̼̣̝̳͂̈́́͆̇͐͗͋́ņ̴̯͖͙͉̙̩̟̾̑͗͒̅̀̕͜͝'̶̢̪̲̗͎͚̝͐͒̉͘͠͝t̵̢̀̊̿̂ ̵̡͔̭͓̺̀͜͠e̴̺͌̋́̇̿s̴̛̳̺̦͎̫̱̭̜͛͆p̸̛͇͂̅̈̆̄͆a̷̧̛͇͕̜̼̬̦͑̀̍͛̇̇͘͘c̶̡̬̯͈̜̙̫̐̂̈̄͛̏̾͛͒ͅę̶̫̠̩̺̗̙̞̼̉̽̐͂͑͆͗̍̀͘͜ ̶̢̳̺͍̬͂̏͒̈̈̕͝Y̸̜̻̗̱̪̍̇̓̒͝ǫ̶̛̗̗̺̺͖͕̩̞̙͛̿̑̒̊̔ṷ̴̡̡̱̮̝͕̓̃̔̇̎̏̈̽́ͅ ̷̞̄̊̃̂̈́͠c̸͖̠̝̓͆̑̈́̐̓͜a̴̭̗͉̼̔ņ̸̢̘͔̩̣̓͗̑̈́̃̃̐͌̍͝'̵̡̛̬͇͖̝̳͓̝̼́͆̓̆̋̄̈̕t̴̞̘̥̼̽̀̿ ̸̮̩̰̺͍͖̲̉͐̏͋̏͐́̑͐̚͜e̵̦̲̋̆̇̌s̵̨͕̳̅̅͊͆͆́͂ͅc̴̲̥͉̿̈́͒̀́̓̈́̅͝͝a̴̢͍̤͇̯̭̱͚̅̄p̴͕̳̝̝͙̱̲̈́̏̂̉̊̑̈́̋e̵̛̝̺̮̩̣̮̯̼̪͌̈́͠ ̵̯͊͋̏̿̔̑̂̿͠Ý̶̢̡͕̟̲̳̙̪̙͜ǫ̵̢̲̣̥͔͍̝̯̅ụ̵͗̾̅͌͂̒̎̾ ̸͉̹͔͙̓̚̚ç̶̨̲̪̞̤̼͇̦̊͑a̸̡̢̖̤͎̳͎̗̝̒̔̒͝͝n̷̢͕̰̜͔̱͒͐͛͊̀̓͋̿͒͠'̴̨̳̖̥̳͇͆̄t̸̗̀̃͑͐́͑͂͗̈́͘ ̸̧̻̞̰̗̼͛̓̐̓͑̎͛͆͠ë̴̤̼̲̆͂͑͜͠s̷̤̫̮̊̓́̊͘ṗ̵̨͋͂́̕͝ä̸̮̫̬̑̐̇̐̕̚͠ç̶͇̖̬̟̭̯̯̼̤̓̉̌͛̾̕͘͝e̴̟̞̞̟͈͈̜͐̓͆͗ͅ ̸͙͚̦̯̖̼̙̖̝̌͑̾̍͘͜Y̸̧͓͍͚͔̯̥̟̒̂̽͘̕͜ͅơ̸͕͋͐͘ũ̵̥͊͆̓͌̄ ̶̢̩̙͎̬̹̀̓c̸̢̛̖̩̩̳͉̿̀͑ạ̴̧̘͍̺͔̋̽̒̍̌͌́̕n̴͈̟̟͔̙̋̀̆̾͘̚͜ͅ'̵̝͔̹̫̼͎̒t̵͖͎̲̍̍̽̔͘ ̷̞̓́ë̵̩͉̰̫̜̜̭͎̖́͆̇̎́̾͐s̴̙̠̉͊̓̈́͒͋̽̚ͅc̵̡̟̲͓̖͎̄̈́͑͋̃͗̇̉͋̑ả̵̩̼͈͕̳͉͇̫̼̐̉̊͋͜p̷̩͂̊̒̋̇̓̈̕e̵͇͕̜̺̩̥̅̉̆̐̈́̐͐̈́̈́ ̸̩̔̃͊Y̸̱̪̋̎̔̆̽͑́̚͝ô̷͈̦͈̭̮͋̈́̓̓́̚͝û̶̥̬̈́͊̒̉̈̃́̕ ̸̨̛͎̙͙̟̱͎̜̦̿̽́̈́͊͘c̴͈̼̠͓̥̫̖͚̘̿̏͆̀̊͆͋͝a̷̛͎̣̯͆̐͛͊̃̌̚̚͘n̵̞͛̆̈́̎̃̀́'̷̨̨̧̛̪̼̿̄͑̔̀͆͝͝ͅt̶͙̱̞̮̮̜̩̖̯͗̑͘͝͝ ̶̡͓̟̗̱̙͙̗̄͊̅͜ȩ̵̛͇͚̖̙͖̈̇̿͜͝s̶̡̫̼͇͠ͅp̵̖̘̝͉̗͚͖̽͐͐͑̓͐̍͠ạ̸͔̠͎̐͗͜c̵̖̗͐̈́̾͐̈́ě̷̱̗͐̿̃̀͒̍̿͠

The history of Brothbarrie goes back to the Middle Ages (11th century to be precise) and two brothers. According to folklore, Aoughus and Baltair Barrie, children of a wealthy goldsmith family, left to find their place in the world when they came of age. In the middle of their journey they found themselves in a thick forest. They were overcome by darkness and decided to spend the night there. They soon started building a house for themselves. It was a small house, just big enough so that they wouldn't sleep under the night sky. Travelers, who would find themselves in the forest, would find rest in the house. Over time, new houses began to sprout in the forest canopy and the brothers were no longer alone.

k̷̡͙͔̪̰͎͉̑̐̓͆͝i̶͍͔͓̝̮̫̠̅l̸̡̲͈̜͇̣͕̩͙̾͌̓̈́̐̔̅̏ḷ̷̢͍̗̿̇̌̉̌͜ͅ ̸̢̹̻̑̌̿̊̔́̄̔ť̴̺͖̩̲̣̣̓̅͌̀̆̆̿ḩ̸̦̈́̂̎́̎͑̅͝͝ḝ̴͇̹̘͕͓̺̭m̸̨͍̗̺͈̪͓̾͛͑̀̾̒͛͐ͅ ̶̡̻̞̝̗̫͖̾̅̒̽͐̄͛̍ả̶͇͚͚͖͐̉̋͒͂͋l̵̲̫̥͍̱͙̲͌͆̌̀̾̍͌̈̈l̶̼͎̦͌̉̿̓̌̔ ̷̢̮̂͑̎̒̈́͐̕͘͝k̶̼͓̻̼̤̀̆̚i̴̧̩̼̗͖̬̲͊͗̉͑͋l̵̫̘͖͔͎͗̈́͛̑̈́͌̀̚͝l̴̳̥̏̒̽͑̽̈́ͅ ̴̗͉̭̞͒t̴̟̄́̀̌͌͑̋͛͘h̴͓̠͖͔͉͙̠̠̖͗̈̈́͑̕͝ë̶̱̟̳̗̻̯̓͆̐̉͐̚͘͜͝m̵͈̻͎̺̘͍̥͆̇̎̆̔͘ ̴̟̈́̄͑͊ȁ̵̠l̵͖̯̬̗̭̃̌͆̂̊̍͝͝ͅl̵̡̡̝̫̲̱̟̽̅̄̈̈́̈́̌͛̕ ̶̡̹͉͒́̽̓͊́͐̀k̶̨͎̮̪̮͈͚̩̓̎̆̇̿͜ĭ̸̛͍̣̣̻͕̏͌̽̔̔͂ḷ̴̈́͆l̴͙̜̼̺̭̬͑ ̵̧̯̦͈̼͉͓̑̄̌̂͠t̵̡̝̮̗͎̬̦̤̓͑͗͌̂̉̓͜h̷̨̩̯̓̅̇̈͠e̶̤̰̘̪̣͖̣̞͆̈́͊̀̑̐̒͗̊m̴̹̭̮̖̣̞̀͗͜ ̷̦͓̘͚̬̗̤̖̻̐̈̃̐͝ạ̴̢̪̰̱̄̾l̷̛̹̫̗̘̹̺̂̊̊͘̕͜l̴̫̟̙̗̜͍̮͖̏̈̈́͘͜ ̷̪͚̘͍͉̰̜̭͕̈́́̔̌͘͠k̵̛̪͓̯̥͇̗̳͒̌̓̑́͜i̴̛̻͚͋̌̀͊͝͠l̵̦̙̮͙̀̑̒͝l̸̦͍̝͚̥̼͖̇̎̾̉̾͗̉͠ ̶̢̛̤̼̲̤̜̽̊̈́͝͝t̵̠̝͕͋̏h̴̢͕͖̦͙̹͉͊̎̐̈́͛̀͛̊͊è̵̬̭̙̹̳͉̋͗̽̀̚͘m̵̝̦̖̲̤̼͍̙̤͂̄ ̵̟̘͍͛̎̉̈́͆̉͊̽͠a̸̡͔̜̥͓̔͑l̵̯̫͙͕̗̣̞̺̭͗͊̒ľ̵̛̺̱̹̽̉͗̐̕̕̚ ̶̧̝͎̱̞͉̮̳̈́́̈́̈́̂̅̎̐H̴̜̹̺̥̗͊̍̾̏̑͗è̶̳̃̅̒̾̕͠͝ͅ'̸̫̪̺͔̳͙̻̹͉̉͒̿̉́̌̑̒̚ṡ̴̢̢̗̫̱̽͋ ̸͍̠̐̍͑a̶͖̽̎ļ̵̱͖̺̺͇̖̩̍̒̋́͘͝ĩ̶̭̺͎͔͉͍̭̜̃̂̔v̸̧̰͚̼̂̾̚͝͝ė̷͈̫̀͛̌̀͑̀̚ ̶̢̩͔̝̫͙̭̇͗̌̍͆̂̈H̴̫̮͈͎̲̋̄͊̏̈́̅̎̈́̕e̷̼̞͓̞̩̺̊̿̈̋̆̒'̴̧̉̑̅͒̚͝͝͝͝s̵̫̬̼̜̃̉ ̴͖̤̲͙̠̀̀̆͋̅̓̎̇a̴̳̮͍̦̻͈̲̾̊͗̒̈́͋̄ͅl̴̺̗͎̘͎̥͖̀̌͒͋̓͆̒͋͠ḯ̴̛̛͖̜̟͙̪͎͋̆͐̈́v̴͕̘̬̠̺͕̗͍̘͛̐̔͋̿̕ȅ̵̖̭̦͉͉̺͖̿̓́͂͘ ̸̧̜̦̱̖̓̃̔͊̑̚H̵̭̬͍̙̆͛̓̈́̿̓̚ȩ̴̲̭̤͔͛̊̚'̶̲̟̥̯̱̍̒͌͑̎͗̏̚͠s̸̳̟̤̬̾̀̈̈́̕͜͜ͅ ̴̧͕͚͓̥̣̝̟̭̂̽̂͘͠ḁ̸̢̧̨̪͍͙͈͑̋̒̊̊̈́̔̃l̷̝̗̫̤̪̫̋̈́͛̚̕͠͠i̴̜̭̹̝̮̞̪̤̋͌͗̏́͂͘v̵̢̺͌͛́e̴̢̪̎ ̵͈̥̘̘̹͊̍̓̓͂͒̐̄͌a̴̭̘͌̂̄̅̈̒̌͆̕l̶̺̼͚͈̱̥̘̹̇ͅl̷͎̗̳̗̯̜̼͎͊́͂͛͌̐̎̅̕ ̵̥̻̘̪̟͚̉̿̎̒̑͜ͅh̴̨̡̧̲̪̞̤͉̐̏̋͂͂̍̈́ǎ̸̛̖͉̬̘̈́̋̇̈́͆̚͘ͅi̷̻̙͓͈̹͖͐̓͆͛͛̂͗̚̕l̴̤̗͆̎͆̀͑̅͛̃̐͜ͅ ̷̭͔̜̦͓͓͖̳͇̈̍͑̒Ȟ̷̥̮̙̫̜͔͎͕͎͆̍̀̄͘i̸̱̬͖̝̲͈̟̙͍̿̽̓̃̎̑̿͋͠m̷̛̮̓͒ ̴̡̧̧͈͎̺͔͌͆̏̈́͑̉̓ȃ̸̡̛̰̲͎̐̐l̶͎̯̖̰̪̼̘̮̎̋͐l̵̼̰̤̭̠̄̄̃ͅ ̴̺͓̞̍̿̄͒́̚͝͠h̵̛͓̖͕͎̙̳̰̰͈́̃̀͑̐͊̾ą̷̰̜͓̥̠̜̮̈̈́́͗͘͜͝į̴̑̓́̓̎͛͜l̸͎͕̺̖̭͈̳̻̗̀͒̍̃́͂͋̓ ̴̨͉͇̬͋̈H̶̨͊͗̉i̵̹͕͚̰͍͉̭͔̊̂̈́̑̓̉̓͘m̴̨̳̱̫͈̐̏̑̂͗͗͠ ̸̺͈͍̩̖̫̈̿ơ̵̛̭̥̎͒͐́ư̴̟͍͓͔̩̊͐̆ŗ̸̪͎͑̇̈͗͒̋̾̔ ̷̧͉̠̮̼̀̈́̉͌́̿̆ś̶̡͖̩̠͎̙̬̿̉͂̂ͅä̴͖̝͍̮͒̀̈́͊͐ͅv̵̘̬̗̊͗̉́͆͐̂͝͠ḯ̴̦̗̜̙͆́͆̌o̴͔͕͐̏́͝r̴̳̣̯̈̀̀̊̓͂͋̈ ̵̣̈́͛̂́o̸̡͇͍̲͎̩̚͜ͅu̵̫͚͈̯̭͚̼̟̻͊͠r̷̡͎̝̹̯͈͊̽͗̓ ̸̧̡̨̬̗̲̥̅͋͑͗̕̚̕̚͝s̴̪̮̬̓̉͜ḁ̷̤̯̮̫͈̘̞͐͒̍̓̿̈͆͐v̴̠̲͎͙̦̥̠̭̓͑i̷̪̜͙̤̮̩͆̇̒̑o̵̻͙̥͑̃̏͝r̴͓̥͓̮̯̆̆͝ ̵̢̛̠͗̅̀͜l̸̤͚͕͌e̵͔̲̣̋͗̿t̷̜͚̘͇̙̮͂̃ ̵͚̘̘̤͖͐͌̒̃̓̀H̵̹̲̗̹̘̳͗͛̉̏̐̈́͜e̵̢̧̛̦͈̠͌̄́̽͜ ̵̡̠͕̰̀l̴̟̰͇̪͕̮̘̀̽͛͆͗̉͂͐͜͝i̴̗̩͚͉̽̄͊̐̔͝͝v̸̡̍̐͑e̴̫͚͇̚š̷̠ ̴̙̤̬͚̤̊̉̾̋H̸̛̥̲̼͍̤̳̪̿́̈́͛̃̍̑͜ḕ̵̡̗̥̳̘̠̌̍̃̌͐̾̚ ̶͔̝̘͉͚̰̀̅̉͌́̃̈͠l̶̢̫̺͋̄̇͐͛̊̄͝i̶̝͓̱̟͖͔̗͈̺͋̀̊͝v̴͈͚̪̩͗̎͋̍́ͅe̸̛͍͌̿̊̿͑s̸̺̙̗͖̈́͘͜ ̸̖͝ş̴̢̨̛̯͕͎͆͗̀͌͘͝͠a̶͙͚̗͚͗̕͝n̵̙̝̈́̂̑̔ḡ̷͈̘̫̲͓͍͛̿̒̒͆͐͜ͅṵ̷͉̟̣̈́̄̎̄͘i̶͖̎̆̂̏̍͑̌s̸̢͓̤̠̤̬͒̾̈́ ̵̧̭̭̼̭̖̍̔̑̑ẗ̶̨̛͔̼̣́̓̔̃ͅͅư̸̮̠͙̖̟̱̣̦̋͐̓̑ǘ̴̼̯̾̆́͛͝s̵̡̠̯̘̯͕͂ ̸̠͇̗̯̮̪̑̈́̕͝i̸̖̟̟̜͍̫̼͗̑n̷̢̼̪̲̪̽͂̀͝ ̶͙̺̗̤̣̼̼̭͒̀̏͌̆̀̋͗̚ͅg̷͕̗̩͉̀̀͌̚l̵͔͈̪̦͔̐̈ơ̸̡̢̛͍̹͒̄̊̈̐͒̆r̵̢͕̼̣̭̙̔̆͊̃̎ḯ̴͚͕̲̰̺̭̎á̸̡̞̥̝̹̹̿͒̓̌̕̚ ̷̹́͜s̵̗̘̈́̓͊̓̚ḁ̵̹̈́͝ň̸̨͓͈̗͖̲͊̕g̷̖̪͆̂̋̑́u̸̩̫̍̒̀͋̚i̷̧̯̮̻̫͇̓͂̂̔̈́́͝s̸̙̅͐̅̍ ̶̟̜͌̀̂̄̎̉͝͝͝ṱ̵̛͉̼̹̼͚̿̕ṵ̸̲̪̰̜̖͇̅̈́͜u̷͔͕͋̃̽͌̈́́s̶̗̘̺͗̄̀̓̃͠ ̵̧̹̝͍̘̯͆̋́̏̄͜i̶̘̠͘ṇ̴̢͖͒̋̌̎ ̷̧̧̼̖̪̮̞̜͕̊̊̀̎g̸̢̛̳̼͔̠̤̖̩̩̋̾͆͒͝l̸̛͇̐͂͊ö̴͕̝̘́̒̈́̆̄̊͑r̶̢̟͎̻͎̟̞̅͜i̷̮̙̻̭̇a̸̪̳̬͝

At the beginning of the 13th century, the small community became a smaller town, which was named Na Bràithrean Barrie, in honor of its founders.

In 1723, the city received the status of a province and the city entered its golden age, which lasted until the end of the 19th century. There is a sudden increase in the population and intensive agricultural production begins. The city is being modernized, with great social inequality emerging where communities are grouped into neighborhoods based on economic status.

At the beginning of the 20th century there was mass displacement in Brothbarry and the town fell into a huge economic crisis. In 1915, the export of goods stopped and many citizens were on the verge of poverty. The city was not affected by the Great War, but the state government was not able to alleviate the consequences of the crisis. After the end of the war (more precisely in 1920), the consequences began to calm down.

I̵̛̦̞̦̋̀͐͂͛n̸̡̛͔̭͕̱̪̥͈̗͈͔͕͇̤̩̓͑̅̅̄̾̍͆̽͌̀̿̕͜͝͠ḟ̵̧̨̝̯͉̩͇̟̲͖̪͙̲̊̑͒͗̿̈́̾̓͑̀̕͝ͅě̶̡̱̼͚̗̝͙́͛̅̈́̌̒́̈́̊́̕̚̕͠͠r̸̡͔̙͚̜̙̱̺̹̤̝̞͚̩̃͂̇̄͋̔̋̂́͒̿͒̏̽̚͝n̴͉̘̻̣̤͈̜̖̆̇̔̎̆̋͛̈́̋͆͗̈́̓͗͝͝ͅȏ̸̡̨̗̰͚̞͍̪̬͖̯͓̦̬͎͉̊̐́̍̀͜ ̶̩̤̣̙̖͖̫̯͔̟̗̞͈̻̫̮̒̑͂͑͛͋̋̕̕͜i̷̯̺̿́́͌̓͋͛͗̍́̽́̚͘n̸̨̛̮̲̯̠͓͉̱̘͈͎̟͍̻̳̯̏̾͛̓́̆̈́͝f̶̧̦̥̣͋̾̐̊́̏͐̂̑̚͜ë̷̪̝͉̝́́̓̓̔̊̓͂̏̾͌͝ṛ̵͓̰̝̣̬̩̩͖͍̺̏̍̂̃̓̌̆ņ̵̧̬͉̰̫̰̲̭̤͙̿̓̓͂̽̂͑̾̈́̅̍́́͘̚͝o̷̗̖̩̓͗͗̅̿̈̀͒̀͝ ̴͚̠̹͖̖̗̳͗̓̑͂̌͒͂í̴̧̜̱̈́̃̽̏̈́̋͑͒͒̏̃́ņ̶͖̼̬̔͗̀͌͐̉̿̌̀͛̍͆͘̕̕͠f̸̜̽̐̎̔̈́̊̑̿̔̍̄̉͠͝ẽ̷̢̡̛̛̖̦͙̰̥͎̠̣͚̹̮̫͓̽̍̂̆͐̊̇͘͠͠ȑ̸̡͖̟̳̠̼̞̦̖̾͒͂̑̓́̓͜͝ṅ̸̨̧̘͇̞̖̥̪̫͗̔̄͂̊͐͌͘̕o̶̡̯͍͉̰̜̜̹͖̞͖͆̈̒̈̇̂̃̈̾̆̍̕͝ ̴̢̨͈̭̜̻̬̤̓k̵̞̤͉̝̹̃̌͆͌̉̀͆̽̍͌̉̿̔̕̕͠͝ͅi̴̢̨̛̛̞̭̬̦͍̮͔̬̍̄̓͋́́̎͛͒̊̾͘l̵̛͔̫͉̤͇̞̋̀̔̂̔̀̊̈͜͝l̷̠̤͕̥͙̖̲̬̜̊͗́̈́̉͜ ̶̛̩̗̌̐͒̀̈́t̷͖͖͕͈̊̀̈́͗ḧ̸̢̜̻̟̮̯̠̖͙̘͖͖̤̰̤́͒̓̅̾͐̋̓̚ȩ̷̢̖̗͉̰̘̗͈̜̖̼̬̙̪͇̂̅̈͘ͅ ̶̯̩̖͓̱͙̬̎͊͛̓́͛̅̓̐̓̉̄̎̔͘ĉ̷̡̨̛̜̭̮͙̱̙̤̤̙͕͓͙̯̌̑͊́͗͑́͐́̀͋͘͜h̴̭̄͆̽̉̋́͋̐̆̋̿̈̾̄̕i̷̟̖͇̐͆̊̾̋̇͝ḷ̴̛͊̽͆̿̍͂͂d̵̹̩͕͎͈̦̤̟̬̼̒̃̾̆͋͛͂̐͠ ̴̳̪̝͙̙͆͂̈̆̄͌̎̒͒̀͌̃̆̌̓̕k̴̢͙͈̝̱̝̎̾̇̇̈́͋͒͗̋͒͠ĭ̶͕̝̞̭̙̠̭̬͇̘͙̑̆̒̀̒́̑͑̉͘͝l̵̳͚͖̙͙͕̤̹̣͙̱͚̺̯̮̈̏͋̚͜l̸̪̼̉̇̆̈́͛̈́̽̈́͊͊ ̴̧̟̞͚̤̤͓͎̰͔͖̇̓̆͛̄̚͠͝ţ̸̛̙͎̰̪̗͔̈͑̔̽͗ẖ̸̓̽̔͗͒̆̔̽̒̇́̒͌̚͝ē̸̡̱̺͓̳̝̮͍̱ͅ ̸̥̟͚͖͚͚͎̥͔̆̀̅̓̑͘͝c̷̠̹̳̫̀́̅̈́̈́̀̈́̿́͋̕̕͘͠͝ͅͅh̶̙͖͙̹̆̽̔͌͝ͅȋ̷̢̼̝̝̦͖̀l̵̢̢̨͔̪̜̺̰̩͉̲̟͚̠̒̃̑̆̐͗̊̋̽̈́̚͝d̸̡̮͍͙̼͙͇̭̱̍͗ͅ ̶̢̨̺̩̝̟͕̩͓̱͇͆̀͝f̵̻̤̲̖̩͉̏́̓̃̄̃͋i̷͓̹̤̮̝͎̘͓̿̈́̅̀̒l̵̡̥̽̽t̵̪͕͔͚̀̀̈́̌̔̈́̈́́̿̒̚͝͠͠h̴̬̯̦͙͉̣͚̬̗̻̓̈̿̈́̈́͋̾̔̿͘y̶̡̻̱̱̒̂̄́͝ ̴̡͎̗͖̞̟̩̩̤̹͇̣̟̑͆͌̓̅̃͑̃̓̓͒͘b̶͉̹͉͉̮͕͈̗̱͈̼͛͂̾̐̉̉͝l̵̨̛̮̼̠̲̮͔̫̃̈́́̑͛̽͋̑͋̑̏̋̑͝ö̴̝̘́̽̿̒̚ȏ̴̡̰̦̦̬̣͇̰̮̟͉̻͍͈ḑ̶͔̺̪͗̉̿̿͊͂̂̈́̀̑̋͌̈́͘͝͠ ̶̢̨̛̙̗̭̜̺̗͇̟̦̝̹̝͙̳̗͂̽̒̌͋͌̈́̓̓̌̎̚͘͝f̸̮̍ȉ̵͓̅̅̌̒̏̇͝͠ḽ̸̡̻͎̭͍̋̆́͐͑̀̌͂͊́͠͝ţ̸̙͆̒͑͋͆͗͆̚͘̚ͅh̴͓̿̔̅͝y̵̢̳̺̮̖̖̠͙̩̰̏̇̓͒̑̾̋̀͐̌̂́͜͝͠ͅ ̶̨̢̢̛̦̣̤̬̪͒͋̈̄͛͑̋͆͝͠b̸̝̖̥̠̯̪͓̜̬̜̏̆̌̐͐͜͝ļ̷̡̛̘͔̺͖̝̯̾̽̀̈͌̐̽̐o̶̧̢̻̱͚͓͚͇̼͓̱̥̼͖̝̠͆́͆̏̐ͅơ̴̲̹̼̓̀̄͂̈́͗̽̃̓͛͝͝͝͝d̶̨̛̥̼͚̩͎͇̗̳̙̳͊̓͌̐̋̂́̽̕͘̚

In the period from 1935 to 1940, the city fell into a civil conflict that began with a ten-day uprising of peasants due to unpaid wages and spread to other parts of society, which came into conflict with their problems. Around 150 lives were lost at the end of the conflict and most of the city has been in ruins ever since.

Lues - The Chaos Demon

We're best friends, right?

Just like every aspect of my stories (let it be stories themselves or characters) character of Lues had also evolved. But unlike all the other characters that always existed albeit in different shapes of sizes, Lues was created during my stay in Zagreb in 2019. Introduced as the main antagonist of the supposedly realized story, he was supposed to be an episodic villain to be defeated by the end of the story.I'd soon realize that he has great potential to be reduced to a mere episodic baddie, and so began Lues' journey.

So about Lues... Character born out of pure boredom in my tiny apartment rather quickly became most important character in my writing. I've always found chaotic characters in movies to be among the most interesting, so it comes as no surprise that Lues became just that - a rather chaotic, somewhat mentally unstable, unpredictable. Being on the younger side, at first he was imperceptibly clumsy, and because of that fact, easily defeatable.

It was set in stone, a changing variable, up until it struck me that the world would have to witness yet another carbon copy of every baddie imaginable (mustache-twirling, tying people to rails, cartoony villain if you want). At that very moment, a spaceship of my mind changed its course, and Lues became layered.

By 2021, Lues had become what it is today. Quickly after that spaceship returned to orbit become of which he was thrown into Bartholomew's (then Peter's) story where he established himself as the main antagonist and polar opposite of Barthol.

Life could be a dream

While "forging" the story for my first novel, tying up all the loose ends, and connecting all the dots as in children's activity books, I started thinking a lot about life and death and fun things like that. And I know what you're all thinking: Irfan, you've reached that stage of life when it's natural for those thoughts to randomly pop into your head, and to that I would just burst out laughing.

"My dude...they never leave"

But aside from overloading my brain, my overthinking has resulted in something positive - a just-written novel aptly titled The Bizarre Art of Living.

Cheers! My name is Irfan, I'm a small-town writer, a local film buff, and a generally kind of (albeit really) boring eighteen-year-old. Welcome to my blog :)

"The Bizarre Art of Life" is an amalgamation of my outlook on life/world and nine years of writing maturity. Five to six years in the making, this story has been evolving and, metaphorically speaking, pouring from glass to glass to finally result in a great 2l bottle of sparkling water.

It all started with a simple, short story written in the style of a letter from Miles T. Johnson to his Alice. Set in World War II, Miles was a sickly Jewish doctor who was later killed by the Nazi army. But alas I never told the whole story. After that the essence of Miles' humble character was carried through the subsequent works in progress. Sometimes later, I believe it was 2019 when I was in Zagreb on summer vacation when the name "Bradberry" was coined. Then Miles T. became Peter Bradbarry-Johnson. In the story I was making up at the time, he was supposed to be a significant figure that set things in motion in the past. And after that, the rest is, as they say, history.

Honestly, the reason none of those stories progressed is pretty simple – I would have lost interest. At one point, a smart decision appeared: Why not write a story about Bradbarry, if all roads lead to him? And then everything just clicked, everything fell into place. While thinking, the Jewish-English doctor became an English-Scottish writer/journalist named Peter Barrie. At the very beginning, the plot was supposed to revolve around the love story of Peter and his girlfriend Gray, and later we would meet the demon Lues.

As I was getting ready for the first day of my sophomore year in high school, the first "Fantastic Beasts" came on the television, which for some reason gave me the idea to create more characters so the story wouldn't be boring. That very thought gave birth to Detective Quentin Clark and the lovely Wanda Proskauer. The young Fritz Proskauer also appeared in the story. Later, Peter became Bartholomew "Barthol" Jones, Grey became Ernestine "Erna" Gambit, and Fritz became Sigmund "Siggy".

The story of "Bizarre Art" became much more focused on life and everything that life is made of. With mystery and supernatural elements thrown into the mix, it truly lived up to the "bizarre" part.