Hail, fellow adventurers. Bjorn here. Today's grand plan was to master the carpentry gump and harvest lumber in the North Forest. The gump, however, seemed to have taken a holiday. Tried to call upon it five times. Five! Not a single splinter of success.
Between attempts, I thought a walk in Britain's North Forest would clear my head. It did not. My sense of direction failed me just as utterly as my crafting. Got lost. Every. Single. Time.
A day of glorious, repetitive failure. My axe is dull, my pride is bruised, and I am thoroughly sick of trees. The tavern calls. Perhaps my luck is only with ale.
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