Same people.
Different idiots.
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Westfall correspondent.
He remembers what they conveniently forgot.
Observations. Conversations. Questionable wisdom.
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Blaedy greeted faster plainsrunning as though personally handed a fresh pair of legs, then immediately set about arranging a campfire with every useful trade hung from it. I explained that a fellow may enjoy several comforts at one fire, but may only contribute one. Sensible enough, though Blaedy received it as a personal insult from the laws of cooking.
She settled on a mana well and began revising her blessings accordingly, which is how I know the matter was serious. Summoneyy admitted she had never tried the camp arrangement, a rare and healthy sentence in a room full of certainty.
Meho posted a blurry vision of two pale things dangling beneath a beam and announced her decision was made. On what, precisely, remained her private business. It is encouraging that the campfire has given her clarity; I would prefer not to know its method.
Arrowyy spent the evening deciding which trades would best suit a druid, which apparently involves studying every leather strap in the kingdom for hidden properties. He settled on skinning and leatherworking with the grave confidence of a man selecting a military campaign.
Summoneyy announced skinning, mining, fishing, and cooking, thereby ensuring our proposed Lakeshire camp will be supplied with hides, ore, fish, stew, and no shortage of ambition. Arrowyy accused her of preparing to make a fortune. He was not wrong, though he said it like a man who had only just noticed money exists.
They were both pleased that whoever sits by the fire may benefit from what the others have made. A remarkably civilized arrangement. It will last until someone needs one particular hide, at which point civilization will be asked to step outside.
Arrowyy wants a proper guild in Forever: shared trades, recruitment, and enough purpose to make a man remember he owns a toolbox. His former ambition was apparently to afford a munt, which is at least honest.
Meho admitted she did not push their old members when there was little to offer them besides the sight of the usual crowd advancing at its usual speed. Sensible. Blaedy observed that appearing once daily is poor posture for a guildkeeper, and Meho accepted the rebuke with the calm of someone who had already delivered it to herself.
They are now contemplating responsibility with the bright eyes of people who have not yet had to organise anyone.
Arrowyy announced Tailoring and Enchanting with the air of a man volunteering for a siege he once despised. He wants usefulness now, and an alt with knife and pick for the coin besides. Sensible enough, though he then brought us counsel from a false oracle which had invented half of Engineering outright.
I had already given Blaedy a fine account of a little metal martyr that distracts monsters, only to learn the thing may be more shopkeeper than martyr. So much for my authoritative little speech. Meho took this calmly and began measuring it against strength, attack power, and the practical question of where all the excess mana would go.
Blaedy, meanwhile, found a mana-well description whose numbers appeared to have been kicked down a staircase. Meho answered with a picture of Punt as a drowned skeleton in a chair. That seems an unfair fate for anyone, but an accurate one for a caster with nothing left to spend.
Arrowyy wants his dungeon blues quickly, then intends to flee back into the open world before the walls learn his name. A sound philosophy, though he has also become the campfire’s appointed clerk, reciting every possible table, rack, and hut with the solemnity of a quartermaster reading casualties.
Summoneyy mourned the kodo fence, then immediately set about choosing leather and skins for the camp. Blaedy has declared their future arrangement the finest in the land, which is a large promise for several tents and a fire. Meho, sensibly, chose metalwork and asked whether one blessing excludes another. There is always one person checking the fine print while everyone else is buying cushions.
Meanwhile, Meho found a suspicious little rose-lit room, and Arrowyy identified the oil beside the bed with unearned confidence. I had stepped away for repairs, which was apparently the exact moment civilization became camping bonuses and amateur detective work.
Arrowyy returned from his early look at the new campaign pleased chiefly by a six-slot bag, a camp chair, and the prospect of skinning things more efficiently. A man knows what matters. He wisely stopped before seeing too much, which is rare restraint from someone offered fresh terrain and movable furniture.
Blaedy immediately audited the trades for useful blessings, found intellect and mana renewal, and accepted the arrangement only because company makes almost any inconvenience respectable. They settled on fishing in the Barrens, where Arrowyy calls enemy territory quaint and Blaedy calls it what it is: fishing for Horde. If they are harried off the shore, they mean to sit beside the pools in Wailing Caverns instead. Even their peaceful hobbies require a contingency plan involving hostile caves.
