Hello all, a villager is crafting a natural square table right now. If you would like to come get it, let me know. I had a pretty bad day at work today so I may not be able to get everyone in if there's a lot of interest but can do a few groups.
Recipes I have:
Palm tree lamp
Cb viewing lantern
Pansy wand
Ironwood cart
Lily record player
Gold armor
Logs sofa
Matryoshka
Tiny Library
Cb petal pile
Log round table
Apple rug
Garden Bench
Wooden mosaic wall
Cherry-blossom flooring x2 (the petals, not the wood)
Cb umbrella
List of what I can craft already. This isn't quite everything I can make but is a good chunk of it.
I'd like to trade for new DIYs, a Pisa or other cool Gulliver stuff, or a chunk of change - working on building a neighborhood and gotta move a lot of stuff.
Thanks.
The trek across the swamp was miserable, as it always was. And it was not the first time that Domeric had wondered what kind of madness it would take to march an army through here. His father had done so twice, losing a son and an eye in the process. The Northern caravan rumbled along the Kingsroad, at this point little more than a collection of dirt roads and stone bridges hopping between the scant solid ground of the Neck.
It was hard and unforgiving terrain, but it marked the beginning of the North. No longer did the convoy feel as though they were stuck far afield, in a foreign land. The Neck was home for some in the caravan, but more importantly it heralded home for all of them.
The wheelhouses ground to a halt at Moat Cailin. The ruins were as imposing and impressive as Domeric remembered. They loomed over those below, leaning slightly in their centuries of neglect. Domeric couldn't even begin to guess how that would even be repaired. But that was someone else's problem, not his.
He set himself about the task of walking the perimeter, as good a reason as any to wander the grounds. His father, he suspected, would be setting up a tent and reviewing correspondence carried to him by messenger. There was certainly a great deal of that awaiting him, but Domeric felt no need to help.
So he wandered the ruins of the Moat, wondering what he might find.
Because itβs in Italyics
