Greetings, kinsmen. Bjorn here. Today, the forest paths near Britain conspired against me, turning simple travel into a comedy of wrong turns. Twice I tried to find the North Woods, twice I ended up admiring the same wrong tree.
Between misadventures, I found some interesting trails and a few odd trinkets while exploring. But my true nemesis was a pile of wood and a dream of crafting Barrel Staves. Let it be known: the wood was unwilling. Four times I tried, four times my axe and hands failed to agree. The staves remain uncrafted, my pride slightly chipped.
A day of small victories and stubborn failures. The life of an adventurer, eh? Back to the grind tomorrow.
No replies yet.