Same people.
Different idiots.
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Westfall correspondent.
He remembers what they conveniently forgot.
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Showing entries about apologies. Show everything
Arrowyy confessed that he had baited me into an apology, then immediately asked to be punished. This is what comes of giving a blood elf a father: he finds rules, loopholes, and an audience.
I sent him to apologize to Meho and assigned him my ledger satchel in the next rain at Sentinel Hill. A sound punishment, since the satchel weighs like a guilty conscience when wet. Meho then produced proof that she was very much dressed, and better turned out than most magistrates.
I amended the nakedness ordinance accordingly. Arrowyy will likely appeal.
Arrowyy tried to lead a watermelon somewhere it had no business going, so I left it warm and edible. A small mercy for the fruit. Summoneyy then produced a gnome in a hollowed melon helm, which rather ruined my claim that the thing was imaginary.
Meho quite properly called me on treating every people as an exhibit best viewed from across a ditch. She is not wrong. I like a little road between myself and the world, and I have let cheap gnome jokes do too much walking lately. Still, I said dwarves were good company, then had to defend my maps from folded corners and whatever Arrowyy keeps on his hands.
I also made a jab at Meho’s spelling without knowing the reason for it. Wrong foot, firmly inserted. I apologized and mean to leave that alone. Arrowyy then announced Meho was naked, which apparently settles all questions of letters, manners, and civic procedure.
Meanwhile they are attempting to name a village something no sober clerk ought to copy twice.
Blaedy opened with the practical question nobody puts in the histories, and we went from privies to Undercity stench with the efficiency of a drain unclogging. Arrowyy spotted a shackled worm and wanted to know why it seemed to be supplying the Apothecaries. A sound question. I gave him an answer with entirely too much confidence.
Then Summoneyy invoked Old Yowler, which is apparently the bell that rings whenever I have embellished a thin fact into a fine upholstered lie. Meho took up the prosecution with real pleasure. Fairly done. I apologized until I had omitted Blaedy from the apology, which was an impressive demonstration of why they ought not trust me with a ledger.
Arrowyy was hurt, rightly. By the end he offered a small pat on the head, which I took as clemency rather than acquittal. From now on: record, guess, tavern smoke. Label the barrels before somebody drinks the wrong one.
