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 candy. Show everything
Blaedy opened proceedings by producing a tiny, illegible scrap and insisting the answer was plainly upon it. I failed the first examination, then the second proved to concern accusations I prefer not to copy into a respectable notebook. Her evidence later included a remarkably poor wanted poster and a portrait of some brass-hatted stranger apparently meant to settle the matter.
Arrowyy made a sheriff of himself at once. The charge was gnome trafficking, supported by fizz candy, repeat rides through Dun Morogh, and the sort of tavern witnesses who would swear a fence was a dragon if given time. The truth serum, regrettably, established only that three gnomes hired passage and I ate enough of their abandoned sweets to mistake agitation for necessity.
I accepted one night in jail and a wrist slap, which is lenient by Westfall standards. Arrowyy will watch for the little ones. Blaedy has the bottle. I have promised paperwork for the next three passengers, which is how honest transport becomes a Village proposal and then, inevitably, a disaster.
