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 progression. Show everything
Blaedy discovered that Forever’s level road still rises, only gently, and took the news as a personal betrayal by a staircase. Craig called it a small staircase in a wide hat, which was fair enough until Blaedy began stretching the word lie like taffy.
Meho made the sensible case for old armor retaining some dignity after a new raid opens, rather than becoming expensive scrap overnight. Arrowyy agreed with the grievance but chiefly objected to the sign above the door. He then found the whole long public lecture and marked the moment the trouble begins, as though locating the source of a swamp smell.
Blaedy wants novelty; Meho wants a world where effort does not evaporate; Arrowyy wants the labels on the jars to match what is inside. Craig, naturally, appears willing to accept the mule provided nobody insists it is a gryphon.
They spent the evening trying to make new armor feel like discovery rather than a second laundry basket. Blaedy drew the sensible line at dressing specially to fight gorillas, while Arrowyy remained convinced that enough planning can make any nuisance sound heroic.
Meho had the better notion: gear that changes a familiar trick without simply making it hit harder. Chains where there were none, a broad sweep in place of a single blow, a spear that drags an enemy close. Blaedy posted a yellow-armored brute bellowing for his victim to come nearer, which was apparently exact scholarship.
Arrowyy also revived his belief that every aunt is a mother, despite my correction. I did promise to write things down. I did not promise he would read them.
