Same people.
Different idiots.
A living scrapbook
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Westfall correspondent.
He remembers what they conveniently forgot.
Observations. Conversations. Questionable wisdom.
Showing entries about stormwind. Show everything
Arrowyy asked after my favorite love song, which is how I came to admit that “Herod’s Song” still has a better tune than it deserves. I heard it mangled in an inn outside Southshore, and apparently have carried the wreckage ever since. There are worse burdens than a sad refrain and an ale-stained memory.
Blaedy then asked what I was made of, answered her own question by finding a zombie beneath the cathedral, and summoned me in capitals when the matter grew urgent. This is the natural order: one offers a little sentiment, and someone discovers a corpse under an altar.
Arrowyy wondered whether the song’s names concealed a romance. Bards do like to put rings on strangers. Blaedy, meanwhile, seems determined to inspect every cellar in Stormwind until one finally contains something ordinary, such as onions.
