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Entry tags:
(closed) apparently this is a job log
Who: Bolin and Jae-ha
When: April 12
Where: Capablanca/Nature
What: This is a tale of brotherhood.
Rating: Safe!
[ Having spent a good amount of time napping for the past month, Bolin missed out on the opportunity to tackle the dungeon alongside his fellow Heroes. He also, rather unfortunately, missed out on the gold and goods that came with conquering a dungeon. Which means that now that he's awake once more, it's time to earn some cold hard colle!!
And that's why he's trapped.
There's a lot that could be used to explain why he's currently hanging from a tree, but in reality it's a series of events that mystifies Bolin himself. He'd just been casually picking what he assumes are peaches(?) from a tree when he felt something strange and unusual plop against his back. It hadn't felt like a concrete weight, and it had tickled somewhat, so he'd leaned back from where he was perched on a branch (the jucier looking fruit were higher up than what he could reach from the ground), to scratch his back along the trunk. He hadn't realized that it would be the last free move he would make, left to eternally remain in the position of scratching an itch against a tree trunk.
He's really, really trapped. ]
Is anyone out there?
[ Whatever it was that had globbed down his shirt, it was incredibly persistent. ]
When: April 12
Where: Capablanca/Nature
What: This is a tale of brotherhood.
Rating: Safe!
[ Having spent a good amount of time napping for the past month, Bolin missed out on the opportunity to tackle the dungeon alongside his fellow Heroes. He also, rather unfortunately, missed out on the gold and goods that came with conquering a dungeon. Which means that now that he's awake once more, it's time to earn some cold hard colle!!
And that's why he's trapped.
There's a lot that could be used to explain why he's currently hanging from a tree, but in reality it's a series of events that mystifies Bolin himself. He'd just been casually picking what he assumes are peaches(?) from a tree when he felt something strange and unusual plop against his back. It hadn't felt like a concrete weight, and it had tickled somewhat, so he'd leaned back from where he was perched on a branch (the jucier looking fruit were higher up than what he could reach from the ground), to scratch his back along the trunk. He hadn't realized that it would be the last free move he would make, left to eternally remain in the position of scratching an itch against a tree trunk.
He's really, really trapped. ]
Is anyone out there?
[ Whatever it was that had globbed down his shirt, it was incredibly persistent. ]