Same people.
Different idiots.
A living scrapbook
of our adventures.
Explore
Westfall correspondent.
He remembers what they conveniently forgot.
Observations. Conversations. Questionable wisdom.
Showing entries about boys. Show everything
Blaedy began with Duskwood’s Night Watch, which was almost a respectable subject until Meho introduced an undead paladin and the sort of concern that makes a priest lock the medicine cabinet.
From there, resurrection, Whitemane, and prolonged skeletal enthusiasm received more attention than any sensible frontier militia deserves. Blaedy proved willing to translate every scrap of theology into a tavern joke, while Meho kept testing the structural integrity of decorum.
Then they discovered I could read the labels on their little traps. A miracle, apparently. I have crossed Westfall in a sandstorm; I can recognize a ditch when someone paints a sign beside it.
