While strolling through the mountainous ranges of Forlorn Peak, admiring the majesty of the terrain and beginnings of a new settlement, I stumbled upon what looked to a formidable fortress, complete with ramparts, rotunda and satisfying iron gates. My curiosity piqued, I had to investigate.

As I drew nigh, a trove of chests were revealed as well as an impressive collection of crafting stations. I could only surmise this was the vault of some well to do citizen who wanted to protect their spoils of adventuring from the curious and light fingered. I scaled the towers and surveyed the construction from the thick, protective walls. It was a grand spectacle, slightly crooked in some places, but worthy of my admiration.

But admiration quickly faded to jealousy and frustration as I realized this bastion was owned and had been constructed by Alchemister. How dare he!

I shook my fist at the heavens and cursed the green monster of jealousy. How could he have such a marvelous structure and I had nothing of its equal? Where is the justice? Where is the fairness? Where is the mason? This shall not stand. Rather, it will stand, and it will stand on my property!

Despite my best efforts to vandalize and sully his fort, I left with nothing but dashed desired and dented boots. It seems he anticipated my vengeance and fortified his fortification. But I will make amends! I shall not be denied! This savage taunt directed right at me shall not go unanswered! I take up this challenge and throw down the gauntlet. You haven’t heard the last of me!

In truth, he didn’t hear me the first time as he wasn’t home, but he been there, and paying attention, it would have been a different matter entirely.

I have set about enlisting masons, journeymen, blacksmiths and anyone else who can cut granite into the blocks that will make up my own mighty fortress, ready to withstand the siege. It matters not that Alchemister resides in another town, on another continent, completely unaware of what I’m doing, I will make ready the nightmare of war.

I will make my own fortress, I shall entrust it with my own spoils. I may not have any spoils at the moment, other than cheese, but that’s all about to change. I am determined, I am focused, I am at the ready.

The groundwork of my rich encampment has been laid. My walls may be no straighter than those of Alchemister’s, but that is of no consequence as I have to settle for the work that those willing to be paid in ale and fish stew can provide.

Fear not, this is far from over. There will be a massive erection in town, and it will belong to me!


Oh my, what have we here? This looks to be a splendid fortress tucked away and protected by this moat.


Well, not all the walls can be straight, I understand that,  no harm there.


Wait a minute, this belongs to Alchemister? That insufferable cad! How the devil did he get a fortress when I don’t have one? The insult I have received here today will not go unanswered my friend.


What do you mean you won’t work in the rain and the ale is warm? Get to work you peasants! This fortress needs to be finished so I can wage siege! At this rate I will never get to destroy Alchemister. Hello? Anyone?

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

While the governor of Stinging Tree Hollow might be a maniacal despot, I have managed to secure a prime location for my new home within the confines of his town. And it’s a gem of a property, nestled within a natural stone barrier and overlooking a small pond. There is plenty of room out back for a garden, I’ll have a place to sink a well and there is n excellent spot for my outhouse under the shade of a big tree. That’s one room we don’t want overheating and cooking in the sun.

After placing my new abode, Alley discovered something interesting. While there is no direct access, it appears the roof offers a first-rate location for an outdoor bar and sitting area. This would be a grand communal area, if only we could get to it.

Undaunted, Alley took quill to papyrus and began to devise a scheme that would allow us a means of entry. It seemed a simple matter of elevation. While I toured my new home and consequently got lost in the basement, Alley ransacked the decorations merchant.

Being a graduate of the Rube Goldberg School of Crafting and Design, I soon found her amidst an abundance of crates, bookshelves, wall dividers, benches and other assorted furniture. She was, to say the least, a flurry of motion and before you could offer up a carpentry hammer or ask if any boards needed to be milled, a swanky staircase began to take shape.

I stood clear, as this was unquestionably the undertaking of a professional and stared in amazement as stairs sat securely on bookcases with crates nestled securely onto the balcony. Right before my eyes a staircase leapt from the balcony to the roof and soon we were ready to construct the outdoor seating area.

I dashed to the bank and withdrew my good furniture. The antique velvet chair, sofa and ottoman would look smashing up there and would be accented by the dark coffee table and wizard table. The centerpiece would be the gazebo. While Alley did the intricate work, I lifted the heavy things.

Upon my arrival the staircase was complete, adorned with railings and mechanisms to keep the unsteady and unsober from plummeting to a Brobdingnagian head injury. My first test of the stairway was a complete success and within moments I was on the outdoor veranda under the golden rays of the sun.

Since Alley has far more decorating style and flair than myself, I offered that she be the voice of reason as to the placement of accoutrements. Quick as a flash, all was in place and we were able to marvel at the view with a soothing beverage.


Oh my goodness, look at this! The engineering prowess at work here is beyond measure!


Oh, lookie there, bumpers at the corners so I won’t take a terrible plunge and spill my drink. That is darn good thinking, Alley! Safety first!


This space is fantastic! The antique furniture and gazebo will be ideal up here!

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

After discussing my path in life, I was hurled through the Rift and found myself amidst the chaos of a battle. After clearing a path to the gate, I hitched a ride over to Soltown. I took the opportunity to grab a few of my reward items out of the bank with intentions of heading to my own town over in the Hidden Vale. Had I known the problems I would soon face, I would have grabbed a slew of items, like merchants and buildings.

Well, that didn’t work so well. Some pirate miscreants have stolen the ferry outside of Ardoris and in order to get safe passage, you have to make a death defying run through Eastreach Gap. Oh the horror!

As a brand new resident of the realm with no skills to my credit I have to enter a control point where the wolves outrank my abilities by three fold. I even had my companion Woody, but  he wasn’t up to the challenge any more than I was. He was savagely mauled while I ran for cover.

I thought about talking to the Mysterious Mage, but that ratfinkovich charges more ducats than he’s work to get me across this wasteland. And it’s not like I have any coins to spare, or any coins at all.

Consumed with flame, I made a mad dash. It was not a shining moment, but I was eventually able to make it out. From there, I traveled to Brittany and hopped the new ferry. Once in my town I was greeted by nothingness. The Town Crier was nowhere to be seen and after searching high and low, I nipped off to Braemar to grab some buildings so I could at least have a banker.

Finally, after all that was, I placed a lot and was denied. It might own this town, and this might be my lot, but nothing shall be claimed until it’s my turn in the lot selection process. Some may claim this to be fair for all citizens. I claim it to be poppy. Without the ability to claim a lot, I can’t set permissions in the town, which means, no one can claim lots. All Player Owned Tows are effectively cut off and dead until it’s our turn in the rotation. I’m sure there were town owners and residents that loved the way that worked out. That is bad Jujumugumbo if I ever saw it. And I assure you, I have seen plenty of bad Jujumugumbo in my time!

I eventually did find the Town Crier, but he is quite an elusive chap. He’s not going out of his way to make his presence known. Perhaps he could put a tick on the map to show me where he was hiding, or perhaps he could have done the decent thing and just walked to the damnable entrance. Is that too much to ask? It’s not like he’s doing anything down by the water front. He just stands there, alone, sad and neglected. He might seek a life of solitude, I can respect that, but if he were to venture in a little bit, I could put an awning over his head to keep off the sun and rain, perhaps a palm tree to liven up the place, even a seat at the bar would be available if he would just be where I could find him!

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

I don’t necessarily have an eye for color and my skill at the mill leaves a little something to be desired. But good news, the merchants of New Britannia are offering some exciting furniture items to help shake off the look of a shanty.

There are some quality items like a new Wizard’s Inlaid Leather Round Table, a Vintage Blue Velvet Furniture set (and who doesn’t want to sit on blue velvet I ask you), Vintage Cordovan 5 Drawer Curved Dress (and who doesn’t like curves I ask you), Ornate Wooden 2-Tier Oval Display Table, as well as variety of new plants including Palm Trees, Juniper Topiaries, Potted Elder Bush, not to mention the sassy longboat and gondola.

Now, you can go out, find the resources, get the plans and take great satisfaction in putting your very own together, but fear of that whirring blade has me handing over coins to the merchant. I’ve become used to my thumbs and would like to keep them. I think I will have the merchant package up a few and send them over to my banker so I can unwrap them at my leisure.

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

After defeating Oba soundly in a full contact, no holds barred game of checkers, I wrestled the deed to his stable right out of his hands as my compensation. And since I wanted to waste no time in taunting him over my victory I set about erecting it in short order. I had a spot picked out, in the shade of the majestic Yew tree that adorns the Hollow.

In a few shakes of a reindeer tail, the stable was up and I took possession. I neglected to realize that the stable has no floor and thus I would be sleeping on the ground. No matter, it was covered in grass and would be rustic. I also neglected to enclose the reindeer and baby foal in their stalls and animals have a tendency to relieve themselves wherever and whenever the mood strikes. It’s rather shocking how much a baby foal can leave in it’s wake. Such a small animal. I believe that creature is diseased by the aroma of things. I also neglected to take into account that the stable is a single floor dwelling with no upper rooms or loft. Thus, my accommodations would be down with the beasts of burden themselves. And since the entire structure is made of wood, striking a fire to keep warm could set off the whole thing like a tinderbox. Bad luck indeed.

Fear not, I have a bedroll, have slept out amongst the stars and welcome the chance to live a simple, more deliberate life. Regrettably, it occurred to me that I lost the bedroll to Oba earlier in the night and now is demands an outrageous price as compensation. So I shall now make due with securing myself in one of the stalls confident in the notion that the baby llama will cuddle up and keep me warm through the night. Hopefully he is not endangered with the same ailment as the baby foal.

Let this be a lesson – simply because you have beaten Oba at checkers, doesn’t mean you have won.SotA_02-16-16_8-08_1

Well now, this is a lovely structure indeed. It looks so much better on the lot than that monstrosity that came before it. Oba will indeed rue the day he challenged me to a game of checkers!


Come again? Where is the floor? Is there no upper level? Where did you beasts come from? I don’t recall letting you in here. Baby Foal, what the devil have you been eating?

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

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