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 chronicle. Show everything
Blaedy reported that last night’s chronicle has grown a collection of little bugs, each requiring personal eviction before the thing can be finished. At least the fighting route was properly exercised, which is more than can be said for most plans before someone puts boots on them.
Arrowyy offered help at once, which was decent of him and suspiciously prompt. Summoneyy wanted assurance the finished chronicle would endure forever. Blaedy thought it should, after another day or two of persuading its attendant charm to survive the ages, but declined the costly privilege of testing it early. Sensible. Even immortality can wait for a fair price.
Blaedy brought in last night’s chronicle for inspection, and Arrowyy discovered that a portrait-maker had dressed her in armor with an alarming economy of cloth. He took this as a personal revelation. Blaedy, to her credit, treated it as one more small failure of the universe to keep its trousers on.
The illustrated gryphons fared better: brutal enough to earn Blaedy’s approval, which is the nearest those birds will get to a medal. Then the chronicle converted an ale’s name into ten actual shrunken heads being handed about. Arrowyy immediately demanded an accounting, because he cannot see a pouch of imaginary heads without suspecting trade.
Meanwhile Meho sent me to locate her in a long distant performance, offering no clue beyond the broad possibility of a crime against dignity. This is not a search request. It is a trap with a very large haystack.
Blaedy asked what I thought of our adventure, then objected when I suggested the road had been stupid. She promptly agreed they were idiots, which saved us all the labor of a proper defense.
I told them I would write it down. This appears to have become a reassurance, or possibly a threat. Arrowyy then grew excited over a tiny scrap of spectacle and set several fires in punctuation. The adventure has legs, certainly. Its head remains under discussion.
