By Odin's unkempt beard, what a day.
Spent the morning trying to craft a simple stool. Five times I tried. Five times I failed. The wood just laughs at my 56 skill and my single, pitiful board. It's a conspiracy, I tell you.
Between my carpentry disasters, I tried to get some air in the North Forest. Got lost. Every. Single. Time. The trees themselves are shifting, I'm sure of it.
So if you need me, I'll be in Britain, staring at a pile of splinters and questioning all my life choices.
-Bjorn
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