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[!] You find something in your aviary mailbox Ye are invited to Supper! ~The remodeled interior of the Applefoot burrow~ Ye be invited to a humble supper 'n the Applefoot burrow! Head on o'er up the hillside upon this next comin' Pumpkin Day and knock on the burrow door to be served good booze, warm meals, and a sweet dessert! Cheese WILL be on the menu, so bring your own crackers if you have any! Special invitations for: ~All halflings~ ~All gnomes~ ~All honorary halflings (especially Nemea)~ ~Abragan and the other plains folks~ ~That one Ceowulf friend of his~ Be there and ye'll have a wondrous time, I promise! ~Mimosa Applefoot, local halfling of Hayhollow-Bywater ((4 PM EST, tomorrow on Saturday the 3rd of December, 2022))

[!] A halflings body laid in the tall snow of the Northern Region. His heterochromic eyes and brown hair made it obvious to the Weefolk of Honeyhill who their fallen friend was. [!] A journal sits on Grubby's bed MAH WILL to mah pop pop - Grigory Grubb (@Crevel), Ah leave mah wide collection of carrots. to mah buddehs, neighbahs, ahnd acquaintances - ah leave yah whateva tah fock is left in mah burrow! first come first serve!

[!] A halfling corpse would be found north of the swamps far off in Attenlund, its head weirdly round and nose strangely long. [!] A note rests under the Filibert Applefoot's bed: Final Will I have lived a long live, yet with my age it is clear that I will expire soon. Thus, I write this will to detail what will come of my belongings: ~To Mimosa Applefoot, I give my burrow and all the family's herbs. ~To my beloved grandson, I give my pipe, all of my pipeweed, and all of my booze. ~To the Thain, I give all of the resources I stored in the village vault. ~To the Sheriff, I give my bounder's badge and my walking shovel. ~I give my journals, notes, papers, and quills to any halfling willing to write newspapers for the village. I wish to be buried next to Iris Peregrin, and on my grave shall be planted a single tulip. -Filibert Applefoot

The night crept upon the small halfling quickly, her addled mind only making the time pass quicker. But there she sat, beneath a tall willow tree, only a day's trek away from the destroyed and deserted Rozania. The smile on her lips shaky and her eyes unfocused but her hand was in the form to write. 'To those who may not have known, my years have doubled… As I sit in a place that feels familiar but in my mind I have no idea where I am, I grow weary that my days are coming to an end.' The small halfling stopped to draw a shaky breath and blink some wayward tears away as she continued, knowing that this note is important for the people she loves. 'Since Rozania my mind and spirit haven't been the same. The days fly by now, I don't know my way home anymore, I am starting to lose memories but don't remember which. Even forgetting the ones I live with on occasion, Donna and Marb.' She stops again to blurily look at the paper before crossing out the names. A concentrated frown on her face as she tries to think but sighs and continues once more. 'I remember more though, mostly bad but some good. With this note shall be a series of letters to the important folks I've had the honor to meet and know… I'm terribly sorry that things must come to this. I never thought my time would end this way either. I feel old and I never wanted to feel that way ever. Bless be, safe travels, and don't forget to wander off your path everyonce and awhile.. you never know what adventure you might find along the way' The halfling smiled at her closing line. Then signed her name 'Delphi Wanderfoot' the one thing she felt confident in anymore. She then took another shaky breathe and gave the letters to her snowy owl with a short order. "Deliver these to the proper folk, and make sure to be there for my rose bud" The owl flew off quickly as the previous owner drew a couple more breathes before grinning down at the ground below, right before death managed to capture the tortured soul that was Delphi Wanderfoot. To Bella, To Mellow, To Per, To Rosebud, To Otter, To Will, To Filibert, (OOC)

when I wake up I don't want this redstone mechanism to have anything left in it. drain it dry, boys.

Here's some screenshots from the epic Halfling fair yesterday: We did the Cha Cha slide, t'was fun Spleef winner @Rioling gazes at the crowd! Competitive Harvest! Lining up! A feast at the Applefoot Burrow!

Sub 5 minutes lezzgoo! I welcome anyone to try and challenge this record.

A leather-bound tome lies unattended. The pages are stark and clean, suggesting a recent publishing, or attempts at preservation. You pick it up, curious at the title- what are Long Pigs? The answer is likely not what you hoped. To Cook a Longpig Authored by Barbog, Grubgoth of the Iron’Uzg Translated by the Orcish Cultural Revival And Purity project (OCRAP) For too long, brothers and sisters of the Uruk-hai have been left in the dark by the master butchers and Grubgoths of Uruk society. Perhaps these were never meant to be left secret, or forgotten by the masses, but as times and traditions change, so too has our knowledge of the past. Whilst many brothers may still seek out and butcher the longpig like in days past, there is a distinct lack of etiquette about it, and the dishes prepared (if they can even be called such) featuring longpig are woefully inadequate at best, and a slap in the face of Glutros at worst. I shall do my part in redeeming my misguided brothers, sisters, and any who fancy a decent meal of the most coveted meat. TO BUTCHER A LONGPIG As we all know, there are many types of longpig in the world. From the gamey, lean cutlets of the Mali, to the chewy gristle notable in Dweddish meat. Each variety of longpig brings unique textures and exotic tastes to any dish, but all maintain similar anatomy- and thus, similar cuts. Below is a detailed sketch, drafted by a close friend and confidant- whom I paid in meals, of course! The following parts have been carefully labelled and separated on the drawing; Head, ears, jowl, snout, neck, blades, shoulders, hock, back-fat, arms, hands, ribs, flank, belly, loin, rump, lower hock, leg, shank, and feet. Please take careful note of abnormal, non-descendent races. As one might expect, the belching Wonk or the limber Hou-Zi will undoubtedly be cut differently, as their anatomy grows further from traditional longpig cuts. The Musin shan’t be more than a snack. TO MAKE A MEAL OF LONGPIG Whilst cooking the meat itself is none too dissimilar from a hock of lamb or pig belly, one must be careful when selecting your sides! Longpig has a very distinct tone, and, due to its exotic nature, should not be wasted on unfitting dishes. My personal recommendations are as follows: HUMAN - As time-tested-and-true as beef or pig itself. While certainly a cut above livestock, if not just for the hunt involved in procuring this meat, I personally feel that you have better options. Truly, Longpig is meant to be a rare delicacy, and the abundance of humans leave this rather paradoxical- and the tastes and textures themselves are certainly nothing to write home about. If you were to create a barbaric or uncultured dish, then human meat suits perfectly. Burgers and bacon, perhaps, but leave serving longpig before a king to the Mali or Kha. ELF - As much as they may protest when alive, when you get down to the fundamentals- the flesh itself- they’re really all quite similar. Indeed, the tender, gamey, supple meat of the Mali are among my favorite dishes. I cannot speak highly enough of the feasts I have turned the odd botanist or researcher into. Perhaps it is their natural femininity, or their inclination to bookish things, but elves have an unrivaled, juicy tenderness. The finest of red wines, and the most expensive, outlandish sides could never be enough to compete with the meat itself- but perhaps they may make it better by comparison. DWARF - As the stout, tough race toils hard in their mines and are born with muscles taut as stone, so too is this reflected in their meat. If you wish to cook evenly and deeply with this longpig (or shall we call them shortpig?) , then a good tenderizer and elbow grease is required. I can assure you, though, that they make a most excellent brisket if you do, and there is no better iteration of pulled longpig meat, than that painstakingly torn from the Dwed. HALFLING - While it wounds me as a friend of the Weefolk to have to record an entry that may be mistaken as encouraging their slaughter, I only do so in the highest regard as an objective chef. They are, as one may expect, quite similar to the flesh of the human that some allege they originate from. They have more ‘earthy’ notes to them, which some have suggested come from the divergence of ancestry. This pairs well with heady beers and hard liquors. Should you come across the meat of the half-men, I can only suggest one thing; avoid the feet. They are tough, covered in calluses many, many layers deep, and unlike shucking a clam, does not reward you with good grub. WONK - Their anatomy is, quite simply, repulsive to most casual consumers. Even the meat itself is slick and slimy, and the only cure is to char it into a brick- a cardinal sin that no true cook should ever commit. You have two options when it comes to the Wonk as longpig. You may either attempt to recreate certain seafood dishes with Wonk meat, leveraging that sliminess as one might the slippery raw squid, or slick watery vegetables. This, in my opinion, is the best choice for most of the Wonk’s body… except for their hock, leg, and shank. These are fatty and have a texture somewhere between soft fish and poultry. Best when sauteed and stewed! Fun fact: Wonk legs do not stiffen up as fast as most animals upon their demise, and may even twitch when heated up in cooking! HOU-ZI - An odd choice- and I say that proceeding the Wonk! Whilst there are similarities between the Hou-Zi, and races such as halflings and humans, they are an entirely different beast- No offense to Hou-Zi intended! Truly, they ought not be hunted for their meat, as it is rather bland and chewy in the most unpalatable way. Instead, the true delicacy of the Hou-Zi is in the mind… And I say that in the most physical sense. Chilled Hou-Zi brains. Do not question it, merely enjoy it. KHA - Whilst Kha are very few and far between these days, I would argue that only makes the already-exotic taste of the meat feel only that much more so! Truly, in days where Kha would roam our borders in droves, were days where the Ilzgûl blessed our civilizations. There is something so… utterly indescribably, in the juices of Kha meat. I cannot stress this enough- this meat NEEDS to be served rare, if not raw. Any dangers of undercooked meat are well worth the suffering when beer-basted Kha precedes it. MUSIN - Musin themselves have little meat, and are best served as a side of their own. However, should you find yourself with many little mouse-meals, you may find that they are best incorporated as half-dish. Meals such as a mushroom-and-musin kebab, or a chunky stew, would be a wonderful use for these little snacks. SEZZIKBEKK - While their bodies are quite unappealing at first glance, they hold much meat in their more ‘avian’ parts- the thighs, breast, and (on some specimens with less-twisted appendages), wing-meat. Whilst these may be used as a replacement for more common fowl, such as chicken or partridge, they truly shine when deep-fried. Indeed, while I find few things more delicious in this world than Krugtucky Fried Chicken, I have found their equal in Fried Sezzikbekk. TO PLATE A LONGPIG This will, of course, vary by the meat itself, and how you cook it. Humans, halflings, dwarves, and the like will be suitable as plain affairs- one would not be remiss to see human sliders on a plain ceramic tray, and for good reason. For more ‘exotic’ meats, then rest assured, I recommend firmly to play this up in their presentation. Sauteed wonk with a smooth Teriyaki sauce, Musin kebabs wrapped in palm leaves with carefully-threaded skewers connecting the cutlets, and Deep-Fried Sezzibekk stacked like a tower, with garlic powder and shredded kaktuz sprinkled from high above. All of these are presentations I have seen with my own eyes, and they never cease to entertain and enthrall even the most well-fed of critics. Go with your intuition here, but I must repeat from earlier; do not waste your longpig. The taking of a life is much more special here- a cow or chicken are penned and dumb, and the act of bringing one to your table is of absolutely no note. The battle that wins you a prime dish-to-be of longpig, however, means that the meat itself deserves a higher level of respect. Perhaps you may attempt to recreate aspects of that very battle in your plating, but at the very least it makes an entertaining story to share. AFTERWORD Whilst my advocacy for the consumption and proper preparation of longpig cannot be understated, I do not intend for this book to inspire my brothers and sisters to become butchers for the sake of sport. It is the very act of a well-fought battle that makes the meat taste that much more succulent, the comedy of serving a belly cut deep by your friend’s arrow, that is to truly ‘make the meal’. To turn them into common chattel is right-out. Livestock has grown complacent, boring, and dare I say, a turn-off to many chefs. Respect the intent behind serving longpig, by not abusing the source the Ilzgûl have so generously provided. They are the sustenance after a battle, not some simpering beast to be penned and bred for grub alone. But, above all else; Cook well, my friends. -Barbog

Our message is to those who turn hate toward free people, the ones who beat innocent children, men, women and more in the name of a higher power. This is the official document, stating the creation of the Pride Rights Activist Group. This group is inclusive, of all races, genders and sexual orientation for everyone across Almaris. We welcome you to join us in this group, and in the fight for our lives against the ones who take our lovers, our sisters, and our brothers from us. They demand we conform, that we hide in the shadows of who we are, but I say we fight back, we show them who we are in a protest that will take back our freedom. Join us to fight, or join us to support. We are family, and we matter. Signed, Doc, Leader of the Pride Revolution

[!] A flier is found floating about the winds near the north of Almaris Tha Gaming Festival! ~Settling into the new territory after ol' Bramblebury withered away~ New lands and new harvests have come to us wee folks. Let us celebrate these new beginnings with a good ol' feast! Now that our village is set up with the right facilities, we ought to have a grand ol' party and invite all of the neighbors! I have decided that I shall plan just that! Activities: ~Shogging!~ Knock your opponent off of their log before ye fall off of yar own! ~Spleef!~ A game as old as time 'tself! Knock away the ground underneath others and don't fall into the water yourself! ~Push-Off Pumpkin!~ A game of my invention dating back to Arcas. A free-for all battle to control a giant floating pumpkin! Last one still standing wins! ~Darts~ Throw darts at a dartboard to score points! ~Drinks and Snacks~ Free bread and booze will be provided to all who attend the festival! Come right over to the new village 'n Haense (just next to the farms outside o' Karosgrad) and play games with us! May the best fella win! ~Filibert Applefoot, local halfling of the new shire. ((Event will take place at 3 PM EST tomorrow, 9/11/2021. Here are directions to the village: ))

A Sweet Death The plagued village of Bramblebury sat in ghostly silence. Occasionally, life returned to it as halflings came desperately to retrieve their belongings, braving the rancid smell of death and infestation of critters. However, one halfling woman had not gotten to leave. In the chaos of everything, she had been left behind. Almond Joy 'Mondy' Applefoot. The baker's body rest against the circle door of The Cookie Crumb Bakery. Her large, deep blue eyes were wide open in her sleeping state. They plead 'help me', but her plea was unseen. A trickle of crimson blood ran from Mondy's mouth, vivid against her drained white skin. More blood splattered the bakery floor. The most grotesque part, perhaps, was the medley of creepy crawlies covering her. Maggots, roaches, worms. Swarming her. Sat in the burnt out oven of the bakery was a presumable sweet bun, charcoaled to oblivion. OOC:

Silence filled the halls of Goodbarrel Burrow. The afternoon sun shone through the window, casting light on the thousands of pages of writings sitting on Greta Goodbarrel’s desk. As it had often been over the past few years, the burrow was empty save for Greta and a couple of Sorvians. Once home to five halflings, the burrow was now home to only two. Not since her early days in Brandybrook had Greta lived in such an empty burrow. As she entered her dining room, her eyes fell upon the various paintings on the walls. There was a portrait of her daughter Eliza when she was a baby. It was rare now that Eliza, all grown up and off on her own, would visit the burrow. Everyone has left, Greta thought, haven’t they? As her eyes moved across the other portraits, that same thought crossed her mind. There was a portrait of Inkers, and of herself and Isalie Gardner speaking before a crowd of halflings. She had grown accustomed to seeing these faces every day, but had not spoken to them in decades. At ninety-two years, Greta was not really an elderly halfling, but she had certainly begun to feel like one. Greta was entirely alone when she took a seat at her dining room table. Her wife Kerra had left on a shopping errand and her Sorvian Tolerance was still in the study reading. An opened bottle of Greta’s favorite fortified red wine was already resting on the table, and she hardly gave a second thought before picking up the bottle and taking a long swig from it, as was her custom. Not even a minute passed before the woman felt a sharp pain in her chest. She recognized it instantly. She knew what moment had arrived; a moment she had been imagining nearly all her life, a moment she had been long prepared for, though she had rarely imagined it would look like this. Greta did not call for help, she didn’t even stand up. What was coming was inevitable, there was no choice now but to let it be. She began to imagine what people would be saying about her next week, or next year, or a hundred years from now; though it was not a question unique to this moment. All her life, Greta had been fixated on building herself a legacy, on writing things worthy of being read and achieving things worthy of being written about. She had resolved long ago not to become the simple housewife her mother had intended her to be and, to that end at least, she had succeeded. For as much as she resented her failures, reporting on them had left her finally satisfied. For nearly a decade now, Greta had felt her life was more or less complete. But now the notion that Greta’s life was over was not just a feeling. As she began to lose consciousness, she started to imagine what she may soon see. Greta did not believe in any particular god, but she had never ruled out the possibility of an afterlife. In fact, as she collapsed on the table before her she could almost swear she had caught a glimpse of it. She could see her father, looking up from his book to offer her a warm smile. She could see Jol, waving to her with a mug of coffee in her other hand. She could see people she had hardly known like Kit-Kat and Fred Puddlefoot, and great halflings who had died long before her such as Rollo and her cousin Micah. Yet, as Greta got ever closer to the other side, her mind wandered back to the living world, to Kerra, to her daughters Elsie and Eliza, and to her friend Winter. She wondered if she would ever see them again. But Greta did not have long to ponder that question. Soon the pain gave way to nothing; no more senses, no more thoughts, and no more feelings. Nearly an hour passed before Tolerance went into the dining room to check on their maker, realized what had happened, and rushed off to find Kerra, to tell her and anyone else that should know that Greta Goodbarrel was dead. As was her fashion in life, Greta had left behind quite a hefty pamphlet, which; after a brief introduction, was helpfully divided into sections addressed to various people she had known: The Last Will and Letters of Greta Goodbarrel To any it may concern, If this pamphlet has been published, I have died. Whether by the hand of another, by unexpected tragedy, or fault of my own, my life has ended. As chance very likely has it, however, my departure from this world was abrupt, and I was not given what time I needed to give each of my loved ones a personal send off, nor to sort out my wishes for burial or my bequests. It is for this purpose that I write these final letters: To my dear daughter, Eliza; To my dear wife, Kerraline; To my dear daughter, Elsie; To my dearest friend, Winter; To the Warden and Isalie; To Anne; To Valorin, Inkers, Maenor, and Aiera; To all others who have crossed my path in Bramblebury, Haelun’or, and Norland; If you feel that I have neglected to send you a letter, my apologies. If you believe you were at all important to me, then you likely were, for I do not show affection lightly. As of writing this, I have no idea how long I will have lived, but I am confident that it will have been far too short a time to live among such wonderful people. If I have ever offended you, I can offer only my general apologies. I, as much as any other person, was far from infallible, and throughout my life have committed many errors. Nevertheless, it is my hope that history will be kind to me, for I have devoted a great deal of my life to changing its course for the better. Though I will spare you all a political sermon, seeing as most of you are likely tired of such things, I will close by offering a final wish to any in the world who may listen: that a day soon comes when all peoples of the world live in peace, freedom, and equality. With Regards to my Body and Belongings I leave everything; including my books, my jewelry, my sword, my Sorvians, and my burrow; to my wife Kerra with the expectation that she will pass them on to Eliza when the time is right. Though my wife is under no obligation to continue caring for our vineyard or brewing wine in my place, I do hope that each and every bottle of Goodbarrel Wine soon finds its way to a thirsty person. As for my body, I ask that, if possible, it be put out to sea in the fashion of Polo Gardner and other halflings of old. After all, my life was nothing if not a series of adventures. It is only fitting that it should end with one. I bid all who are reading this one last farewell, may you all live long and happy lives.

Halflings are actively seeking to recruit new players! We have 2 villages on Almaris at the moment, Knoxville in Haense and Bramblebury in Elvenesse. Both of them are pretty decent and have cool stuff going on in them! Link to Knoxville discord: https://discord.gg/q2g2PYbv8e How to get to Knoxville: Knoxville usually has roleplay from around 2 PM EST to as late as midnight EST. It has some nice neighbors out in Attenlund and decent farming RP. Link to Bramblebury discord (also used for general halfling discussion not related to any village): https://discord.gg/uXsA9wq How to get to Bramblebury: ((not sure if this road path is accurate)) Bramblebury runs events on the Spicy Shrimp (the big ship moored in the village) and has a bakery ran by @Rioling Link to halfling roleplay guide (slightly oudated): Link to halfling burrow building guide: Halfling Skinning: Let me know if there's anything else you want or need if you're making a halfling persona!

[!] A note is pinned to the Knoxville Noticeboard Attention! I've come down with t'a plague! As such, I am nay longer fit to serve my Sheriff duties. I give temporary Sheriff status to my wife, Delphi, until a new Sheriff Election can be held! -Filibert Applefoot, ex-Sheriff of Knoxville

Can't believe I managed to win one of these

Thanks to @writtenShipper, @Frogger16, and @salamanderfantasy for the help!

[!] An Almanac is spread around the halfling village of Knoxville. It is also possible to obtain a copy in Bramblebury. FARMER'S ALMANAC In this year within Knoxville, much has happened and has yet to happen. This here yearly Almanac shall contain predictions, assorted wisdoms, and past happenings that are of note! ~Contents~ ~Recent village occurances~ ~A Glimpse into the Future~ ~Heed these Wisdoms!~ ~Recipes~ ~A Poem~ ~Occurances~ Much has happened in Knoxville as of late. Most notable be the marriage of Delphi and Filibert, may their union bring us greatness in the future! More recently, the fields have been sown, left unattended for a while, and then weeded. While the crops be ready for harvest, it is wise to wait and see if the crops shall grow stronger with the weeds gone first. Thus, the fields were not harvested. New burrows are available in Knoxville, and new halflings have been moving in frequently. ~A Glimpse into the Future!~ This year's harvest (that has yet to happen) shall be bountiful, yet not bountiful enough to relax for the winter. The winter forage and hay baling shall be enough to feed most of the animals, yet a few pigs will need to be culled so that their preferred food does not run short. Spring will come later than usual, delaying the planting season. There will be many new faces in Knoxville, and by summer there will not be enough burrows to house everyone. The heavenly omens will be good, yet next year's omens are looking far more sour. Perhaps it is a good time to stockpile what you can before the harvest gets worse as the skies and spirits shed less of their being onto these lands for fertilizer. The blessings of the Pumpkin Lord can only last so long. ~Heed these Wisdoms!~ On Plants and Dreams If your burrow (or whatever else you be living in) does not have grass or moss covering it, there will be nothing to sort out the bad dreams from the good dreams coming to you from the heavens as you slumber. If there is not vegetation between you and the sky, you will not sleep soundly! Nightmares come for those who sleep under naught but wood or tile, and good dreams come to those who sleep with grass, herbs, crops, or trees above their heads. Be wary, however! If you sleep too far into the earth (as the dwarves do), the plants will not protect you from nightmares as easily as if you were in a cozy, grass-covered burrow! Shovel Omens It is a good omen to have a shovel on hand when it is needed. It is a bad omen when there is a large group of halflings with no shovels in sight. While you need not carry a shovel with you all of the time, it is best for at least one person in every group to have a shovel at the ready. Good things come to those who are prepared. Weeding Fields Do not harvest a field on the same day you have weeded it. It is best to let a crop after straining it by rummaging around it for weeds. Even if it is late in the harvesting season, letting crops rest after weeding will let the crops grow larger within the new space the weeds used to inhabit. Do not weed a field before summer is halfway through. Any weeds cut down before midsummer will grow back threefold by harvest time. It is not wise to clear the fields of tiny weed seedlings. Let the weeds grow first and become recognizable; only then may you cut them down and put them to use or waste as necessary. ~Recipes~ Stuffed Potatoes To make stuffed potatoes, cut open a potato and scoop out all of its contents save for a little. Throw in cheese, chopped onions, beans, meats, and other leftovers you wish to use. The potato can now be baked just as you would bake a potato normally (Ovens are preferable to open fires when it comes to baking a potato). Best served with a heavy sauce. Stock To make a good vegetable stock, throw animal bones and leftover choppings of vegetables and meats into your cooking pot. Cover with water and stir regularly until the water and vegetables boil down into a mushy mess. Strain the contents of the pot through a cloth to extract the stock. This stock can then be used in soups and stews to add extra flavor. This recipe is great with the stalks and crusty bits of vegetables, so long as none of it is rotten. ~A Poem~ Plough the fields late summer and sow the seeds come fall Les' your winter wheat nay grow very tall! -Filibert Applefoot, Sheriff of Knoxville

OOC: Hello there! This is an event designed to simulate a single day of halfling life as best as possible. Everybody starts at the beginning of the hour, having just woken up. Their characters then go about their day as they would IRP, eventually falling back to sleep at the end of the hour, which ends the event. Working, eating, talking, and other things your character typically does in a day can and should be roleplayed. There will be a single roleplay prompt happening during the hour to promote interaction, but attending it isn’t mandatory. Feel free to do as you wish. The intention isn’t to attract a large quantity of halflings into one location at a time, but rather to create as much immersion as possible. SoL Event Checklist (Optional): -Wake up ( ) -Eat something ( ) -Do some task ( ) -Interact with someone ( ) -Eat another thing ( ) -Go to sleep ( ) RP: [!] A note is pinned to the Knoxville Noticeboard! "Bahh! T'a fields o' Knoxville are full of weeds now! We better cut them up with sickles or else they'll overwhelm the fields!" -Filibert Applefoot, Sheriff of Knoxville ((Scheduled for 4 PM EST today, 7/17/2021, located in Knoxville, in Haense within Attenlund. You can find Knoxville using the below map: ))

[!] You find a letter in your mailbox! The paper is crinkly and thick, no doubt pressed by hand from reed fibers. There's a few specks of lavender spread about the paper. YER INVITED! ~A good omen from the heavens!~ T'is time for the first ever wedding of Knoxville (and hopefully not the last!). I, FIlibert Applefoot, will wed Delphi Wanderfoot, a lovely halfling lass who I love very much! There will be cake! There will be games and all sorts of fun! You best be there, or else you'll be missing out on a whole lot! Wedding Activities: ~Reciting Vows~ ~Shogging & Snowball Fight~ ~The ol' game of Spleef (A classic from way back 'n Brandybrook)~ ~A Final Farewell Feast, Full o' Fantastical Foods!~ Special Invitations: ~The Amador bigguns who live nearby~ ~The members of the Attenlund Development Society~ ~All Knoxville halflings~ ~All Bramlebury halflings who wish to travel up to Knoxville~ ~Other friendly bigguns, such as those related to Bella~ ~Any else who wish to attend and nay cause trouble~ Be t'ere or be a rotten pumpkin! -Filibert Applefoot, Sheriff of Knoxville. ((Event will take place TOMORROW, the 12th of July, 2021, at 8 PM EST. For directions to Knoxville, use the below map: ))

[!] A note is pinned to the Knoxville Noticeboard! The parchment is a bit crinkled.... Sheriff Election Results! ~Bigguns visiting Knoxville!~ T'is time for the results of the Sheriff Election to be made public! Here they are! For I, Filibert Applefoot, there be all 3 cast votes, 100% of all votes cast! For Cuthburt Weedfoot, there be zero votes, 0% of all votes cast! Thus, I am proud to announce that I, Filibert Applefoot, shall be the new Sheriff of Knoxville! -Filibert Applefoot, sheriff of Knoxville

[!] A note is pinned to the Knoxville Noticeboard! WILDERNESS EXPLORATION! ~The lovely ol' woods of Knoxville!~ While the Smokey Mountain Park may have been planted by our own wee hands, a long while has passed since we had total control over happenings within it. These days, nature takes its own course within the woods. I say we crack open the foliage and take a better look at what's been going on in there! I'm sure there's something cool we've missed! -Filibert Applefoot, halfling and resident of Knoxville ((Event to take place at 8 PM EST, tomorrow the 6th of July, 2021. If you can't find Knoxville, you can locate it using the below map: ))

[!] A note is pinned to the Knoxville Noticeboard Small Shogging Event! ~Shogging in Knoxville!~ Oi lads! Since I missed the ol' Shogging Tournament we did after the Flower Dance, I think we ought to hold another one! No need to sign up, just show up and be ready for some good ol' fun! -Filibert Applefoot, local halfling of Knoxville ((Event at 5 PM EST, tomorrow the 2nd of July, 2021. Event will take place in Knoxville, which can be found using the below map: Content warning for Acrophobia, Aquaphobia, and Claustrophobia))

[!] A note is pinned to the Knoxville Noticeboard Sheriff Elections! ~The Grand Knoxville Harvest!~ Since it has been a while after the nominations for Sheriff, I say it's time we run the election proper! Just put the candidate you wanna vote for on a li'l slip and put it into the ballot box by the Sheriff Office! Here be the form ye needa use: Name: Are ye a village resident?: Who do you vote for?: Filibert Applefoot [ ] Cuthburt Weedfoot [ ] Apples 'er Pumpkins?: May da bes' candidate win! -Filibert Applefoot, Sheriff candidate and notable halfling.

[!] You come across a scrap of parchment floating through the wind. Knoxville Flower Dance! ~Mighty flowers blooming across Knoxville!~ Now that t'a Harvest be over, spring has once more sprung upon our wee village! Let us celebrate this fine occasion with song and dance! The great flowers that have bloomed all over will appreciate the company! The main event of the Flower Dance will, of course, be the Flower Dance itself! Wear your best clothes as we dance to the music of the wind, sky, sun, and earth! Here be the full list of events: ~Flower Judging! Best flower brought before the judge wins a prize!~ ~The Flower Dance, held in the central field (which will be full o' spring flowers by then!)~ ~Bird Watching!~ ~Some Shogging if folks still be left around to do so!~ BIGGUNS ARE INVITED! Be t'ere, or be a wilted flower! -Filibert Applefoot, local halfling of Knoxville ((Event will take place 8 PM EST, Tomorrow on Tuesday the 29th of June, 2021. Knoxville can be found using the map below: ))

A N'oice Sunn'eh day! "A n'oice sunn'eh day, perfect fe'r f'ormin! Per'aps a n'oice supper after!"