Guarf has kept me apprised of your many successes of late — that is so wonderful! He also told me you two ate the last of my s’morcs that I was saving for a friend, but no matter. The evening wasn’t harmed by a lack of sticky chocolate. Missing snacks are a trifle: I have more disturbing concerns, and am hoping for your help. If you see my dear Night Elf priest friend, please tell him to come out of the shadows and let me know he’s all right. I broke down in tears tonight while getting an enchant on my bracers, because it wasn’t him or his druid brother doing the enchanting. I convinced my comrade I was crying over the price of maelstrom crystals and volatile air, but don’t think he believed me.
Also, I may be sniffly because I went for a midnight run through Zul’Aman. I’m allergic to troll dander, I think. During an ill-fated dungeon expedition, a blackguard paladin made me so furious, I left abruptly and angrily, but determined to save face in the future. So, I set my horns on tight, and marched back through there, hexing sticks in pocket, ready to scout my way around. And although it is a very dangerous place, Zul’Aman, there is something about it that bewitches me. It was a beautiful night tonight. The air was warm and balmy, the stars kissed the field flowers, and it all smelled of lavender and Queen Anne’s lace. So, B’oso (my baby bear–named for brown sugar and oatmeal) and I went through, stopping only when we saw that some trolls had been reborn to their posts. And although I had a pocketful of lucky charms, I wasn’t fortunate to get Mojo, the kissable frog, but did find an enchanted scroll for you to use in your dungeons (enclosed).
I did this not only for myself, Lupe, but for you–you are growing into a wonderful protector, and knowing your way around is so critical to making those in your party feel safe and secure. I wish all paladins felt as you do–caring, strong, and protective. Alas, they do not. They allow for immaturity and disrespect like fighting, spoiled children.
Well, I must go to sleep–I am stopping in the cathedral to light a prayer candle on my way to the Dwarven District. Or I may just go sleep in a tent somewhere – the flowers and weeds are sometimes more comfortable than those scratchy rugs…and the crickets will sing me to sleep. Drunken dwarfs, although charming, do not soothe like cricket song.
|Not linear. Curvature. Quadratic. Skid Rows.|