At Brill Town Hall

Customs laid down by ghosts.  I follow them out of honor or laziness or a little of both.  The Hall is quieter than it was.  Sometimes I smile at that, sometimes I…don’t.  We’ve shed many lunatics, but too many friends were casualties as well.

The Founders are gone, but the Faithful—and the Hand—remain.

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((Here’s to two years—Happy Birthday Hand of the Dark Queen!))

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What dat?  Oh yeah, me write much better’n me talk.  Me can *clears throat* speak correctly, using proper diction and turns of phrase…but me figger why do dat, most days?  Long’s me can be unnerstood, dat’s all dat matters.  But if’n me write stuff down, me takes a long time to do it up right.  Plus, poetry ya gots ta work on.  Me not sure if dat is poetry dere, but it sounds like it…mebbe a super-hi-koo or sumpin.

Sad?  Yeah, sometimes.  But damned proud dat we’s still around.  Me seen too many fall by da wayside.  We ain’t da oldest…but we’s close.  Me remember lotsa big, uberguilds dat Ev’buddy Wanted ta Be In…dem is all gone mostly from da early days.  Even family guilds done fell.  Not us.  Not so long as we remember why we’s here.  Who we is.  Why we get up inna morning.

Frens…more’n dat, family.  We help people…we make da world better by bein’ nice and not greedy and stupid.  We shows dat even if dem humans tink we’s monsters, we ain’t.  We prove it every day.  We ain’t da biggest.  We ain’t da flashiest.  But we’s one of da bestest.

Pass da jerky wouldja?  Party starts in a couple hours