On Sunday of this past Stronghold event, it rained, but only in the morning. It was supposed to rain -- we knew a week out that it would rain. Not even the most intricate carving and incantations and offerings RE the Tree God could ward off this most certain cold rain. But there was a tiny little house on the grounds, and if I stuck my enormous false backside out one of the windows, I fit comfortably. So Fasso joined Jane the Phoole in there, and we hosted a nice rotation of old and new friends while we waited out the downpours.
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