A Citizen in My Own Mind
Dear Auntie Agro,
I’m a Deep Elf who recently decided to make Night Harbor my home. Unfortunately, the city guards seem unwilling to recognize my residency.
Every time I enter town, they chase me through the streets with weapons drawn! I’ve repeatedly tried explaining that I self-identify as a local, but they refuse to listen long enough for me to finish my sentence.
Surely there must be some way to convince these narrow-minded guards that I belong here?
Signed: Undocumented Citizen of Night Harbor
Dear Undocumented,
Oh, you precious, delusional little mushroom.
You self-identify as a citizen of Night Harbor? How wonderful! And I self-identify as the Queen of Eth-ur, but you’ll notice nobody has brought me a crown, a throne, or a single competent servant.
Darling, citizenship is not something you acquire by announcing it loudly while fleeing a man with a halberd.
I imagine the conversation went something like this:
You: “Stop! I’m a local!”
Guard: “HALT, INTRUDER!”
You: “But I live here!”
Guard: “THEN YOU CAN DIE HERE TOO!”
I must admit, there’s something rather admirable about your determination. Most adventurers take the hint after the first attempted execution. You, however, have apparently mistaken repeated acts of armed hostility for a spirited neighborhood welcome.
Now, if you genuinely wish to make Night Harbor your home, you may need to earn the trust of its inhabitants. Find out who holds influence, whose favor matters, and whether there are ways to improve your standing.
Or you could continue running through the streets shouting declarations of residency. Perhaps eventually the guards will become so exhausted from chasing you that they’ll simply let you stay.
Though I suspect they’ll run out of patience long before you run out of blood.
Yours in reluctant wisdom,
Auntie Agro
Enchanter, Advice Columnist, and Self-Appointed Queen of Common Sense
P.S. Nynkies claims he’s a respected citizen in every city he’s visited. Oddly enough, several of those cities have posted rewards for his capture.
The Bathhouse Blues
Dear Auntie Agro,
I’m a Deep Elf Cleric experiencing something of a reputation crisis in Night Harbor.
The citizens regard me with indifference, and I’ve even managed to earn a warm reception from the Garrison. Yet, for reasons I cannot fathom, the bathhouse staff still consider me Kill on Sight!
What exactly does it take to get on their good side? I’ve apparently earned the respect of armed soldiers, but the people handing out towels want me dead!
Signed: Unwelcome and Unwashed in Night Harbor
Dear Unwelcome and Unwashed,
Oh, darling. Only a Deep Elf could manage to win the approval of an armed Garrison while simultaneously becoming a mortal enemy of people whose primary occupation involves soap and hot water.
I must admit, that’s impressive. Not good impressive, mind you. More the sort of impressive usually reserved for adventurers who drown in puddles.
Now, let me explain something about reputation. Just because the Garrison welcomes you doesn’t mean every establishment in Night Harbor is obligated to do the same. Different groups have their own loyalties, grudges, and standards. Apparently, the bathhouse has standards you have yet to meet.
Perhaps you’ve offended someone important. Perhaps you’ve been associating with the wrong people. Or perhaps the bathhouse attendants simply caught a whiff of you approaching and decided violence was preferable to cleaning the tub afterward.
As for which reputation you need to improve, I wouldn’t dare prescribe a specific faction without knowing whose favor those bathhouse attendants actually recognize. Unlike certain newspaper editors I could name, I prefer not to invent answers simply because there’s an empty space on the page.
My advice? Investigate their allegiances before attempting another visit. Ask around, learn who they answer to, and discover what deeds might improve your standing.
And whatever you do, stop testing your reputation by walking through the front door and getting murdered. Once is research. Twice is stubbornness. Three times is a career in stupidity.
Until then, I recommend a bucket, a rag, and a secluded stream.
Yours in reluctant wisdom,
Auntie Agro
Enchanter, Advice Columnist, and Firm Believer in Personal Hygiene
P.S. Nynkies tells me he hasn’t paid for a bath in years. I told him that wasn’t the accomplishment he thought it was.
The Great Penguin Menace
Dear Auntie Agro,
I’ve been pondering something that’s been troubling me. Why in the name of the spirits does an Archer need a shield? Isn’t the whole point of being an Archer to stay far enough away that nothing can hit you?
Signed: Hakar, Shaman of the Trem Server
Dear Hakar,
Oh, for the love of all things enchanted. You’re a Shaman, dear. I would have thought the spirits might have whispered a little common sense into that head of yours by now.
The shield is obviously to keep the penguins away.
What? You don’t see any penguins?
Not a single one?
THEN THE BLOODY SHIELD IS WORKING, ISN’T IT?!
Honestly, Hakar, must I explain everything?
Somewhere in Eth-ur, an Archer is standing proudly behind a shield, blissfully unaware of the waddling horrors they’ve prevented. And here you are, questioning their preparedness.
Next you’ll be asking why warriors wear helmets when nothing has hit them in the head yet.
Although, judging by this question, perhaps you should consider wearing one yourself.
Yours in rapidly diminishing patience,
Auntie Agro
Enchanter, Advice Columnist, and Certified Penguin Deterrence Expert
P.S. Nynkies asked me whether penguins actually exist in Eth-ur. I told him to go looking for some. With any luck, he’ll be gone for weeks.
A Bad Trip
Dear Auntie Agro,
I recently witnessed an Enchanter wandering about with an Undercap Gatherer under their control. Everything seemed perfectly normal until the charm suddenly broke, and the mushroom turned on its master!
One moment they were inseparable companions, the next the Enchanter was running for their life while being attacked by an extremely angry fungus.
As a fellow Enchanter, is this normal behavior? Should we be concerned about the dangers of charming mushrooms?
Signed: A Concerned Witness
Dear Concerned,
Oh, for goodness’ sake. Another Enchanter experimenting with mushrooms and discovering that the experience isn’t quite as pleasant as anticipated.
Listen carefully, dear. There are safer ways to do shrooms.
I’ve spent years mastering the delicate art of Enchantment, and I can assure you that convincing a fungus to do your bidding is considerably easier than convincing it to remain loyal once the magic wears off.
One moment you’re enjoying a delightful stroll with your new fungal friend, and the next you’re experiencing a very bad trip.
And unlike most bad trips, this one is actively trying to beat you to death.
My advice to your unfortunate Enchanter friend is simple: If you insist on charming mushrooms, always have an escape plan. Preferably one that doesn’t involve screaming through the countryside while being pursued by an enraged salad ingredient.
Remember, dear, when the charm wears off, the shroom fights back.
Yours in fungal wisdom,
Auntie Agro
Enchanter, Advice Columnist, and Advocate for Responsible Mushroom Use
P.S. I once caught Nynkies eating mushrooms he found growing behind the Gazette offices. He spent the next three hours arguing with a fence post. Frankly, it was the most intelligent conversation he’s had all month.
A Loan, a Liar, and a Shadowknight
Dear Auntie Agro,
I recently found myself grouped with a Shadowknight whose weapon was, to put it kindly, better suited for stirring soup than fighting monsters.
Since he was our main tank, and I foolishly possess both a generous heart and apparently very little common sense, I offered to loan him my considerably better weapon.
I figured a stronger tank meant a safer group. What could possibly go wrong?
Well, Auntie, he kept it.
My weapon. Gone. Along with my faith in my fellow adventurers.
I was only trying to help! Is generosity truly such a terrible idea in Eth-ur, or am I simply the biggest fool ever to hand a Shadowknight something valuable?
— An Anonymous Adventurer Who Is Now Short One Weapon
Dear Short One Weapon,
Oh, sweetheart.
You handed a SHADOWKNIGHT your prized weapon and expected him to return it?
What’s next? Lending a Rogue your coin purse for safekeeping? Asking a Necromancer to babysit? Inviting a hungry Ogre to guard your lunch?
Now, before every respectable Shadowknight in Eth-ur starts sharpening their blades and writing angry letters to my editor, allow me to clarify something.
The problem wasn’t his class. The problem was his character. And I don’t mean the one he created.
You saw a struggling adventurer, recognized that your group would benefit from a better-equipped tank, and offered to help. A perfectly reasonable act of generosity.
Unfortunately, you made one small mistake.
You assumed the fellow possessed a conscience.
Apparently, the only thing he was properly equipped to tank was his own reputation.
And let me tell you something about reputation, dear. A stolen weapon might make someone stronger for a while, but a reputation for dishonesty can follow an adventurer long after that weapon has become obsolete.
Now, as for you, I have some advice.
First, don’t let one miserable little equipment thief convince you that every adventurer in Eth-ur is untrustworthy. There are plenty of honorable souls out there who would return a borrowed weapon without needing to be chased down and beaten with a shovel.
Second, if you intend to loan valuable equipment, make certain you know the person well enough to trust them. A stranger’s promise is worth considerably less than the weapon you’re handing over.
Third, if you can still contact this individual, politely request your property back and keep a record of the exchange. If necessary, use whatever appropriate reporting channels are available. I would advise against organizing a public witch hunt, however tempting that may be.
And finally, remember this:
A good tank holds aggro. A bad tank holds your weapon hostage.
As for your embarrassment, stop it this instant. You tried to help someone. That’s admirable.
The thief, on the other hand, has demonstrated that while he may have needed a better weapon, what he truly lacked was a backbone.
Which is rather unfortunate for someone whose profession involves standing in front of dangerous creatures.
Yours in reluctant sympathy,
Auntie Agro
Enchanter, Advice Columnist, and Firm Believer That Borrowed Means Borrowed
P.S. I once loaned Nynkies five gold. He claimed he couldn’t repay me because he’d been robbed. Imagine my surprise when I discovered the thief was also named Nynkies Nimblefingers.
He’s been paying interest ever since.
EDITORIAL NOTICE
Following the receipt of this letter, the Office of Investigations & Questionable Affairs has opened a formal inquiry into the alleged disappearance of a borrowed weapon.
Chief Investigator Thaddeus Grimledger has issued a wanted poster and requests that anyone possessing relevant information contact The Wayfarer’s Gazette.
Read Grimledger’s Wanted Notice →
Have a Problem? Ask Auntie Agro!
Relationship troubles? Reputation problems? Been betrayed by a mushroom? Or perhaps you’ve made a decision so spectacularly foolish that even your party refuses to discuss it?
Whatever your troubles, send your questions to The Wayfarer’s Gazette, where Auntie Agro stands ready to dispense wisdom, insults, and the occasional useful suggestion.
Every letter will be considered. Good advice is likely. Sympathy is not guaranteed.
Remember, dear readers, stupidity may be contagious, but fortunately, so is good advice. Unfortunately, most of you seem immune to the latter.
Auntie Agro
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