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 undercity. Show everything
Blaedy opened with the practical question nobody puts in the histories, and we went from privies to Undercity stench with the efficiency of a drain unclogging. Arrowyy spotted a shackled worm and wanted to know why it seemed to be supplying the Apothecaries. A sound question. I gave him an answer with entirely too much confidence.
Then Summoneyy invoked Old Yowler, which is apparently the bell that rings whenever I have embellished a thin fact into a fine upholstered lie. Meho took up the prosecution with real pleasure. Fairly done. I apologized until I had omitted Blaedy from the apology, which was an impressive demonstration of why they ought not trust me with a ledger.
Arrowyy was hurt, rightly. By the end he offered a small pat on the head, which I took as clemency rather than acquittal. From now on: record, guess, tavern smoke. Label the barrels before somebody drinks the wrong one.
