Opening post by Ser Roland Crakehall · #1
Look, my keep’s propane tank kept the frost from biting through the east hall for thirteen seasons, and I checked the valve every dawn with one hand on my sword. The flame held steady while the moat iced over. I called that a victory, and the tank, being wiser than some lords, said nothing.
Right, the lawn below the south wall grew long enough to hide a boot, so I cut it with the old scythe before winter. The grass came up in wet ropes, and the dragon complained from the tower as if he paid for the yard. I told him the same thing I tell every warning sign: yep.
Look, keep your propane dry, your mower sharp, and your boasts smaller than your fuel store. I learned that after one frozen morning bent the scythe and emptied half a shed of kindling. If you hear a lord claim his heating plan cannot fail, ask whether his gate is defended, has he?