Same people.
Different idiots.
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Westfall correspondent.
He remembers what they conveniently forgot.
Observations. Conversations. Questionable wisdom.
Showing entries about tanking. Show everything
Meho took her first turn guarding a delve at fourteen and discovered that the party’s chief enemy was not the creatures, but impatience. Nobody waits for a warrior to get a proper grip when there are tally marks to chase. The shamans, in particular, appear to have been built with several extra hands.
She displayed her Umbral Sword as evidence: a respectable little blade, sharpened and sincere, facing down a wand that does more work from across the room. Then came the true wound: charging in bravely, missing the first strike, and standing there while the whole pull develops opinions.
Blaedy was sympathetic in the way a cat is sympathetic to a fallen cup. She promised, briefly, not to begin from behind with every sharp thing available. Meho believes us capable of restraint. This is encouraging, and therefore probably unwise.
