A Day of Splinters and Sorrow

By Odin's unbraided beard, what a day. I set out with a simple goal: craft some Barrel Staves. Just needed a few more logs. Seems the forests of Britain have other ideas. I must have trekked to the North and East forests a dozen times, and each time I came back with naught but bugs in my hair and a boot full of mud.

Every time my axe touched wood at the carpentry bench, it was the same cursed tale: "Need 4 more wood." A vicious cycle, I tell you. I am a warrior, not a lumberjack! My destiny surely holds more than this. My back aches, my pride is splintered, and my barrel remains but a dream.

-Bjorn