To celebrate the holy day of the Goddess of birth and renewal, people everywhere are called upon to show their children the way forward and share the day with them, teaching them, connecting with them.

The priests’ intention was a day of family bonding and learning for the next generation.

What they got was Bring-Your-Child-To-Work-Day for a fantasy setting. -- Tergon

[AN: Fun fact about Alfarell, the god of rebirth and sometimes fertility is Aurorus - the Dawn Lord...]

Some call the festival Icebreak. Some call it New Dawn. Some know it simply as Floodsfont. Nevertheless, the first day of spring is celebrated as the Dawn Lord's Holy Day. That's when the sun really gets down to business and getting on with what it's expected to do.

In the theme of new beginnings, people take up new hobbies, start good habits, or attempt to make amends with those they had wronged. This year, the temple of the dawn offered classes for those wishing to learn a new skill, with stalls in the festival space that had starter lessons for the curious.

Devotees of Aurorus were welcome to bring their families to the inevitable fair. The bishops of the temple forgot one simple thing...

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I shall be allegedly focussing on the daily tale and the stream moderation.

As for my lovelies, I do believe they are off in Brizvegas scooping up the last of the remaining nonsense over there. I hope it all gets sorted in time.

It's Beloved's Outaversary and once again, I can't get her anything special because all my energy is focussed on bills and food. Le Sigh.

At some point today, I hope to cook myself some porridge, Centaur style. I'll make enough for everyone, just in case they wish to try it. And if they don't? Well. I can baggie some servings and freeze those for later porridge needs.

Or scoff it myself. I don't mind.

Onwards to the nonsense.

Justice (the paladin) getting to know Mercy -- Weirdlet

[AN: Calls back to Made With Feeling ]

A wandering Paladin is not entirely commonplace, but they are a possibility. Usually before they adopt a pack of Adventurers for reasons that quickly become obvious, the more you know about Adventurers. The same holds true for a wandering Hellkin.

A wandering Hellkin Paladin asks and answers a lot of questions. One that remains unanswered to many is, Why would a god welcome a Hellkin as their Paladin?

That question is twice as baffling when the Hellkin Paladin is sworn to Tyr, the god of law.

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My lovelies are off in Brizvegas finishing up the unfuckening of the old base of operations. As I understand things, this Monday is the last day.

I have misunderstood things before.

I should learn not to put entire-family plans down on this blog. They inevitably fizzle.

My PLNs can do that, too. But at least I can say why the hell that happened.

The Promptcast has already done their thing, so today's PLN is basically story, and carbs. Because carbs are the pln to clear my lung block.

Onwards.

Scramble learns his time magic allows him to 'see' briefly through time. It's allowed them to avoid a lot of trouble. -- BKF

It took months to spot it, on their way from one place to another, because it was very subtle. And it's terribly difficult to spy other time magic when time magic is already employed. In the case of Scramble, it was reacting to situations slightly before they unfolded.

The gap between reaction and stimulus was getting lighter by fractions of a second.

Wraithvine could try to curse hirself for missing it for so long, but then ze asked, "How did you do that?"

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I'm dealing with some asthma shenanigans and a Cyclone Headache. I have no idea on what my lovelies are doing besides cleaning up their old base in Brizvegas, and I might be spending a majority of today horizontal in a dark room because MY FACE HURTS.

Yes, I have taken painkillers. I am waiting for them to kick in.

Onwards to the daily nonsense.

You made a huge mistake. You hurt master Twii's young charge. He WILL be coming to talk to you. Firmly. -- BKF

There's always someone like the type in the Edge Territories. Someone's brat whose parents believe can do no wrong. The kind of kid who is endless torment to everyone in their general vicinity. The troublemaker, the prankster, the hangman... or the bully. Or any of the above, depending on their mood. The kind of kid who the N'Ozzies refer to as, "a little shit," and not in an affectionate way.

Sometimes, they form gangs. In the worst case scenario, they form governments.

Tiny had heard Master Twii say that they were there to stop that kind of government from happening. Master Twii said their method was, "eliminating the victim pool." It sounded scary, so ze avoided the classes for a healthy space of time. Or... unhealthy, depending on the point of view.

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I spent practically all of yesterday working on the Promptcast thing. There are now FIVE fucking WIPs directly related to the Promptcast's shenanigans.

Powers know when any of them are going to be firkin done, but they will reach that point eventually. Or a point where there's just missing bits to slot in and I am in another editing cycle, huzzah.

I want to finish up ADT before I get into any of those shenanigans. Which is kind of dependent on the reading group, and one of the members has been having mental issues. Fun times. She's readjusting to her meds if you really need to know, and glad that she has them.

It's looking like ADT is going to be a lot bigger than it is, since the adventuring crew need building as characters. Backstories of their own, even if it's just a sketch. I have the sketch, we need to figure out which ones goeth where.

I might have to subscribe to Campfire Blaze or a reasonable substitute for that particular thing. Just so my crew and I can shuffle chapters appropriately.

I shall be investigating that at a later date.

Today, I am attempting to focus on my output so that I'm ready for a night out at the local trivia competition.

Onwards to making up stories.

I am done. I've been a hired killer for over 20 standard years. I don't want to do it anymore. I'm tired of it. -- BKF

To quote classic literature: I am the best at what I do, and what I do ain't pretty. Not that I've read the works of Lee Kirby, I've just had it said to me by the people who have. Those sorts who can afford to learn how to read. When you grow up fighting for your life, it's a short journey to killing for a living. All you have to do is put some extra dedication into the 'fight' part and focus on making a killing.

Or several, as the case may be.

Name's Corbi, though I haven't used it a lot in my career. They like to give me code-names like Jaguar, the Beast, or Pit-bull[1]. They can call me anything they please so long as there's dinero at the other end of it. As for those who try to stiff me on the bill? Let's just say I have a very direct method of extracting my pound of flesh, and they let me into their secure location.

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• I have one less day to work on the Promptcast entry because of timing shenanigans last week
• Beloved will be renting a van to finish up working on Adorable's ex-house
• Which means I will have the use of my car for three days
• Which, in turn, means that I can go on a run to MeMum's for tech support, taxi duties, and stuff delivery. Huzzah.

Mum? Write your agenda now. Further bulletins as events warrant.

Because of all that jazz, I am working on the Promptcast thing in one sitting, I might even have the time to get it edited today. Hoping to have time tomorrow if I don't have time today.

Getting a rattle on.

You're alive. How... unfortunate. -- Luna

Earl Valiant Stormwight Hallowfine Whitekeep was in the best place in his world. Respected by his Barons, absolute authority in his realm, and everyone in his power obeyed his every word. Everyone in his castle bent to his whims. His favoured son was just like him, even if the boy did run off to take the Grand Tour without Valiant's express permission.

The situation was still controllable. He had mercenaries on the case to track Spitebane down and bring the boy back alive and whole.

Valiant needed his chosen heir by his side. It was of vital import to the realm. A state secret that could mean life and death for the entire world. A secret only he knew, and dared not write nor speak aloud. A secret best kept secure inside his own head.

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Noted on the e-Census:

• No space for Jews in the religion section
• Birth sex and gender identity are noted, as is sexuality
• Birth sex is mandatory
• They're really interested in how you get to work. There's tons of options including "Work from home"

We're getting it done early so that we're not victim to the inevitable DOS happening when everyone and their kid brother's dog does it in the evening. We don't have any plans to go anywhere and do anything, anyway.

[Pause to help with keeping the damn app online, and get everyone's info co-ordinated] Today's PLN is the daily tale and trying to get the rest of my shit together.

I need all the luck today. It's already half-past one.

Due to a dryad's curse, an estate staff must tend the gardens with flamethrowers, lest the manor be overrun with foliage... -- Deathshead419

If there is a universal truth to society, it is that those with a lot of money and power simply have to show it off. Only the well off and the highest strata of the world could get away with building things just to look at. Artificial ruins of an imagined lost civilisation. False caves or hermit huts, replete with a hermit hired for the purpose.

And vast swathes of perfectly-maintained lawn.

The lands surrounding the Palace of Archduke Tirerrava Iossophine Cavennys Rezlynraung were constantly spewing smoke. The castle itself was pitch black and possessed few windows. As for the gardens, they were repeatedly tended by fire mages and fire-breathing folk, spending most of their waking hours turning the grounds into smouldering cinders. Anyone unfamiliar with the Rezlynraung history would conclude that the reigning forces were evil. Or at least, up to no good.

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And I get to take Adorable's Mum [I think I'll go with AM for short henceforth] out on my circuit to see where I hunt out the bargains. Which promises to be a fun experience even if it will wipe me out by the time I'm done.

Today's story will be happening after my post-shopping nap, belike.

I can try to get it done beforehand, but I also have comics to catalogue. Which I'm getting underway now.

No more villainry -- Luna

Master of the Shadow Arts, Bai Niyurufanthur, had joined many other citizens of Wolklippenstadt in the circus' audience. It was a rather excellent show. Bai lingered for the sideshows and games, seeking some games to reveal as fraudulent or rigged.

A Master of the Martialist Art of Shadows could not fail at a carnival game unless it was truly rigged.

He never got to try them, since he found a scene that distracted him entirely. One very small Halfbred Elven girl was facing five of the young local louts. Bai recognised the bullies as sons of Wolklippenstadt's important people, and therefore immune to the usual consequences.

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