tazombo

The Ballot: ((MC Name: TAZ0MB0)) Name: Callum Fiddleberry Vote for Proposals: Proposal I (Hal’s Proposal) () Proposal II (Cyris’ Proposal) (X) Neither () [!] A note is scrawled on the bottom of the ballot: Can we stop rewriting this shit? I am getting too old. Thanks. - C.F

JOIN HALFLINGS IF YA KNOW WHATS GOOD FOR U!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

on behalf of the wee folk, we want plains with rolling hills!! grass, lazy rivers & lakes essentially just give us this in minecraft form and we r happy.

why am i not on the list you are so toxic i hate you

can all future plugins plz be horse related thank u

Marigold Fiddleberry prepares herself for knee-breaking maneuvers in the chance that the villain may come for her twin sister's cheese stores next. "Don' yew worreh sis, t'ey'll 'ave'ta kill meh befo'e t'ey take our cheeses..."

why?

Marigold Fiddleberry puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head, "E' ain' even mentioned us in th' announcemen'- even t'ough we founded th' cheesery! At leas' Maggy'll ge' tew trade 'er cheeses... She's awful proud of 'em!"

Marigold Fiddleberry sharpens her shovel, while menacingly kubrick staring out of her burrow window. The bigguns have messed with the wrong people.

Callum Fiddleberry shakes his head in disappointment, "Wot's the worl' come tew... T'ey betteh replace wot they stole!"

In a cozy burrow along the lake shoreline a blond halfling sat hunched over at a sturdy wood desk, the paper he held gripped in his hands obscured from view as his shoulders shook subtly. The old Fiddleberry’s daughter peeked around the corner of the doorway to watch her father as he wept. Mary had seen her father cry many a time before- he could be rather sensitive at times, and he always tried to teach his children that there was nothing wrong with feeling sad or upset every now and then. But this seemed different. A gasping cry would be muffled from the halfling’s body that was curled inward, his whole body seeming to shudder with each sob as he gritted his teeth together. Aside from the moving of his shoulders, he was motionless as he stared blankly at the floor- his stare a blank and empty one despite the physical reaction he was having to this particular news. “Papa?” a small voice would call out from the doorway, the small girl scared and upset from seeing her father this distraught. The sounds of the shifting of a coat and sniffling of a nose filled the tense silence as Callum whipped around to stare at his child, almost not recognizing the little face at the doorway before his expression twisted into a pained and regretful one, reaching up to wipe his nose and hide his face with his free hand, choking back another sob. “Oi’m sorreh, swee’heart… Papa’s foine… we’re…” his lower lip would tremble, before falling into a sob again, unable to hold back his tears as the halfling girl would run up to Callum, wrapping her arms around him as the older lad cried into her shoulder. "It's okey Pa', t'ere's nufin' wrong with feelin' sad..." Mary said as she rubbed his back, her eyebrows furrowed in concern for her beloved father. "Yew'll be okay, Pa'..." - - - - In the days following Callum would rarely exit his room, whenever he did seeming distant and confused, a thick fog seeming to have settled over him, his brain in its grip.

"halfling children are actually of age now and allowed to get married" why dont you take a seat?

Callum sweats nervously in 104-year old single father of two.

Callum Fiddleberry would peer at the missive, holding it up high just out of reach of his daughter Mary who pestered him to allow her a glance as he passed by. "Bigguns an' impropehs facin' 'ardships? T'ey ac' loike t'ey feckin own t'a place, et's us facin' 'ardships ef anehting... can't 'ave a decen' nap withou' some 'uman stompin' aroun' n' makin' t'a earth shake wif t'eir damned boots..." He'd mumble with a disgruntled sigh, shuffling over to an armchair in his burrow's living room. "Ef yeh 'ate bein' an 'alflin' so much jes' leave! No cause in star'in a fuss n' disrespec'in ou' culture in t'a process-" he'd pause, an eyebrow lifting as he spots the Goodbarrel stamp on the pamphlet, looking up and letting out a light chuckle, "Ah- t'ey're Gre'a's relatives. T'at explains et..." The halfling lad would shake his head before holding out the paper to his daughter who hovered over his shoulder, the halfling girl running off with the page to either doodle over or use for paper hats.

[!] A Missive can be seen tacked to the notice board of the weefolk village Honeyhill. [!] A younger Callum, perched atop the Spicy Shrimp in the weefolk's previous home- Bramblebury. Thoughts on the Spicy Shrimp, and a Bitter Denouncement Not long ago a missive has been published by esteemed Head Bounder Alfie Greenholm, sharing his less-than-positive feelings towards the weefolk's vessel the Spicy Shrimp. Although I hold the Mr. Greenholm in high regards, I can yet bear no ill to be spoken of the ship- as what memories I am capable of recalling surrounding her are fond in nature. The weefolk of Honeyhill, I belive, have truly saved my life many a time- providing a stable life and a community which loves and supports one another, as well as true friends who are there to guide me when my troubled mind finds me lost and confused. And present throughout all the time I have spent with these lovely people the Shrimp has been by our side, too- whether it be when she carried us from the barren ruins of Brandybrook to safety, or allowed us to sail away from the sickness which had plagued Bramblebury. The return of our beloved ship feels like a reunion with a sorely missed friend, her aged wooden floors serving as an anchor which grounds my often weak memory. Though the ownership of the Spicy Shrimp has been discussed with Thain Iris, I still feel that I ought to air my opinions nonetheless, as the Greenholm patriarch does so freely at every opportunity. With this being said, Alfie Greenholm's words in his missive have hurt me greatly, and I come to realize that there is something I ought to have done a time ago. I announce my resignation as a Bounder of the NWA. When I first agreed to join the organization I did so out of a desire to protect my family and friends, or perhaps out of a lack of backbone... However, over time- after scandal and scandal again surrounding the NWA I come to fear that the alliance only serves the purpose of enlarging the Head Bounder's ego, and I do not see much good coming from it. As always I wish Mr. Alfie Greenholm all the best, and I do not make this decision out of ill-will. I simply cannot be part of an organization I do not share the ideals of. Sincerely, C. Fiddleberry, Honeyhill Elder and Head Librarian