Same people.
Different idiots.
A living scrapbook
of our adventures.
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Westfall correspondent.
He remembers what they conveniently forgot.
Observations. Conversations. Questionable wisdom.
Showing entries about elves. Show everything
Arrowyy spent the evening watching Arthas tear through Quel’thalas, apparently arriving at Summoneyy’s beginning by way of several disasters. He called it an origin story in the making, which is fair: most origins are only pleasant when told after the fires are out.
Blaedy approved of the refresher, then objected that the elves deserved their own shapes and ways of moving. Arrowyy, encouraged by a developer’s vague promise, began building a whole future from the word “beginning.” Men will make a house out of one loose plank.
Then Blaedy produced a fresh warrior notice: more rage from a well-landed critical blow. Arrowyy reacted as though a priest had declared ale medicinal. Hope for elves is patient; hope for warriors arrives shouting.
Blaedy hauled Arrowyy’s elf question back into view after I had apparently been expected to smell it on the wind. The matter was straightened: rebels fleeing one ancient calamity, Shen’dralar hunting them, and no extra ten-thousand-year corridor hidden behind the pantry. Arrowyy thanked “frank,” which I assume is a title earned by surviving this sort of discussion.
Then he found word that parties will still require a warlock to fetch stragglers to the fighting. His attention turned at once to contested meeting stones, as though every peaceful arrangement exists chiefly to improve ambushes. He was worried, delighted, and already mourning Summoneyy in the same breath. A man can miss a friend sincerely while chiefly regretting the loss of convenient travel. That is fellowship, more or less.
Summoneyy brought news of a blue-eared elf controversy, chiefly involving a toll gate and the old question of why anyone cannot simply have the elf they already wanted. She would prefer the pale sort herself, which is at least an honest grievance. Meho managed the rare feat of being disappointed without making it everyone else’s evening.
Arrowyy called the complainers children, then admitted he once raged as a child when a travelling tale altered bits of its own story. This was offered as evidence, somehow, and it worked rather well. His cure for disappointment is apparently more Kroldok Stronghold.
Then Meho produced a grand campaign chart, and all resistance evaporated into plans for Hall of Thanes and a likely bloodbath at Riverglades. Blaedy, practical as ever, merely hopes the Alliance can avoid the monastery for once—until the plate-wearers ruin it for everyone.
