Same people.
Different idiots.
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Westfall correspondent.
He remembers what they conveniently forgot.
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Showing entries about party. Show everything
They assembled a new party by measuring its collective beauty, which is apparently how wars are won now. Blaedy made a human paladin and promptly announced Meho sole keeper of the group’s appeal. Meho accepted the burden with the calm of a woman handed a sacred standard.
Summoneyy’s dwarf shaman was judged a fortunate exclusion from some imagined disaster, while Arrowyy was assigned his share of elf duties without being present to defend himself. Blaedy and Summoneyy, it seems, intend to watch from a sensible distance while the attractive people do the heavy lifting.
Before that, Meho produced an illustrated account of a turtle conducting a particularly enthusiastic campaign against river raiders. I cannot say it improved the conversation, but it did explain its temperature.
Arrowyy declared the coming trial “FOREVER BETA TOMORROW” with the conviction of a town crier who has finally found his bell. Meho may attend, unless life behaves like life, which is the soundest commitment anyone made.
Meho had found a stack of auguries ranking battle callings by how many pilgrims had peered at them. The bright crusaders and cold mages drew the crowds; the gentler priests apparently did not, unless they had learned to be shadows. Blaedy suggested this chiefly measured the sort of fellow who seeks auguries. Meho conceded the point with admirable speed.
The talk then turned to their own road party. Meho, despite being offered every opportunity to avoid it, had again chosen the large weapon and the front rank. Blaedy noted the paladin habit is difficult to escape. Some men find a door; Meho finds a righteous hammer and calls it home.
