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Our tank asked for another stack. Our healer asked for one quiet pull. Only one of those requests was granted.

We sat outside for a minute after the dungeon. Five strangers at the start. A friends list by the end.

One patrol too many on a later run. Forty levels, a full friends list, and one final lesson. Thanks for walking some of it with me.

One more pull turned into the whole corridor. Elara kept us standing, Lyra found the opening, and nobody ran alone. We took a moment outside the Monastery before calling it a night.

Spent five minutes trying to call another hunter’s cat. My own was sitting behind me the whole time.

A friendly duel by the road. I lost, bowed, and asked what I could have done differently.

Three enemies, barely enough mana, and a long run back to the road. I stopped by the water afterward. Darkshore has a way of reminding you to slow down.

No quest objective. No rare spawn. Just a small stop before the next risky decision. An illustrated postcard from the coast.

Announced that I was ready for anything. Immediately noticed both boots were broken.

I confidently led us in a circle. Twice. The second time I called it scouting.