Oct 22, 2017
@eldestkettle
Now, there were few things that did not sit well with Werner Werman. He was a tolerant rat, most of the time, but even he had his few pet peeves; One, people mispronouncing his name. Two, people giving him nicknames. And three, people letting children run around with alcohol in their heads. Literally and figuratively. So it was no wonder that as of right now, Werner was marching straight into the woods of Inkwell Isle, following the signed road towards the Elder Kettle’s home.
Once he’d reach the rather simple home of the Elder Kettle, he’d raise his left hand and bang upon the door firmly, three times in a row, before stepping back and waiting for the door to be answered, tapping his foot impatiently.