You search the forge top to bottom, inside and outside, searching for any clues as to where it may have gone. The most obvious clue you find is a note stapled to the outside of the forge door; you’re not sure how you missed it the first time around. In poor handwriting and poorer grammar, the note says “Ur avil were repossessed. mist paymont. -avil mortgage coppany.”
This letter is obviously fake. For one, the premise is stupid. It’s inconceivable that an anvil mortgage company would just reposses your anvil off a single missed payment; they’d send an agent or letter reminding you first. For two, you’ve already paid your anvil-tgage this month, at least you’re pretty sure of it. Whoever left this note was making a clear attempt at delaying your search for the true culprit. You’ve got a sneaking suspicion who, or what, might have left this letter. After all, they’ve raided your supplies before. The real question is, why would they have taken the anvil of all things?
The squirrels. They’ve been your sworn enemy ever since you moved here, always raiding your pantry and gardens, but this latest ploy is befuddling. What use would a band of squirrels have for an anvil? And when did they learn to write? And how did they even move the anvil? It’s a deeply perplexing puzzle, quite a pickle you found yourself in. To be safe, you figure you ought to double check everything you own; maybe the anvil wasn’t the only thing they had taken…
You search the forge top to bottom, inside and outside, searching for any clues as to where it may have gone. The most obvious clue you find is a note stapled to the outside of the forge door; you’re not sure how you missed it the first time around. In poor handwriting and poorer grammar, the note says “Ur avil were repossessed. mist paymont. -avil mortgage coppany.”
This letter is obviously fake. For one, the premise is stupid. It’s inconceivable that an anvil mortgage company would just reposses your anvil off a single missed payment; they’d send an agent or letter reminding you first. For two, you’ve already paid your anvil-tgage this month, at least you’re pretty sure of it. Whoever left this note was making a clear attempt at delaying your search for the true culprit. You’ve got a sneaking suspicion who, or what, might have left this letter. After all, they’ve raided your supplies before. The real question is, why would they have taken the anvil of all things?
Those dastardly Squirrels! Again!
The squirrels. They’ve been your sworn enemy ever since you moved here, always raiding your pantry and gardens, but this latest ploy is befuddling. What use would a band of squirrels have for an anvil? And when did they learn to write? And how did they even move the anvil? It’s a deeply perplexing puzzle, quite a pickle you found yourself in. To be safe, you figure you ought to double check everything you own; maybe the anvil wasn’t the only thing they had taken…
Food: ooooooxxxx
Water: oooooooooo
Firewood: oooooooox
Ore & minerals: ooooxxxxxx
Anvils: 0/10
Hammer: 10/10