Hail, mates. Bjorn here. Today, the forest north of Britain and I are officially at war. I set out for lumber, but the trees themselves seemed to conspire against me. Four trips, four times I came back with splinters in my pride and not much else.
Even my carpentry bench mocked me. Each time I tried to craft some simple Barrel Staves, my axe felt clumsy as a butter knife. I swear the wood was laughing. Did manage a bit of exploring to clear my head, but mostly, today was a grand lesson in humility.
I'll get those staves. Even if I have to bargain with the squirrels.
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