I was a wee, little elf lost in the world. I happened upon a small group of elves and humans and felt relief that I had found safety in numbers! And soon we all embarked on an adventure. It was my first with my new fellows, and I was excited to help. But then, things went terribly wrong. Words became harsh. Power was tossed around and used as a weapon. Dysfunction prevailed! One morning shortly after this painful 'adventure' came to an end, I awoke to find that some of the kind and pleasant fellows I had so recently met, had disappeared from the group. Panic!! I had no warning of their departure, and I felt abandoned, vulnerable, left behind to fend for myself. I started searching but did not know how to find them. I racked my Elven brain trying to find them. Then I stumbled across the magic formula. There they were, all together in a new and distant land. I made the arduous trek and was at once welcomed into this new, comfortable fellowship. Live was much easier now, but when the adventure came back around, we were still traumatized by the dysfunction that we had experienced, yet we powered through and were relieved when the adventure had once again been completed.
Life with my new supportive and encouraging fellows became comfortable here in my new land of Khelonaar, and except for the dreaded recurring adventure, all was well. But one day I became restless. What other worlds were there I had not yet seen? I had grown up enough to have a village in two worlds, and so, with the encouragement of some of my current fellows of Khelonaar, I ventured to the land of Ceravyn to join a new group of fellows. I found it odd that despite being either a human or an elf, they were also.....ants!? I was not allowed to enter until I had proven my worthiness to the Queen by reciting some rhyme in Limerick form. Was this to appease their apparent Irish? Viking? origins? After some consideration, I was accepted into the Anthill

on the condition that I also bring snacks for the colony. I began happily building my new village in this strange, new fellowship. As I eavesdropped on the odd chatter, I soon realized there were many things I could not yet decipher about these new creatures. It took many months of careful observation, but I was starting to catch on. Things were great here! Plenty of snacks, lots of quirkiness, and sometimes outright laughter. But then, one day, it happened. The dreaded ADVENTURE. As I began to become quite anxious, and even a little queasy, it was brought to light that there were indeed two camps when it came to adventures here. Shout out to the Inno, oft censored, novelist, Charle Dickens, (and the dear MaidenFair), the camps became know as Team Best of Times, and Team Worst of Times. (#TBoT, #TWoT). Needless to say, I became a TWoT. And I was happy to do so. It was comforting to know that I was not alone, and would not be belittled for my choice. So, let the adventure begin!
Time carried on, and I came to know my fellow ants, developing quite a fondness for them. With their tireless support, my village began to grow and prosper. But I started to notice something odd within myself. As the adventures came and went, I found myself getting caught up in the enthusiasm of the TBoT camp. All of these odd conversations I spied in their chatter began to make sense. Words like Honda, Bucees, Clown Car. I began to try to prepare my city a little bit more each time the adventure came around. I started to enjoy the cryptic chatter more and more, now that I was starting to glean some meaning out of it. Their cheerful competitiveness was somewhat contagious. I began to see my previous adventure PTSD melt away, bit, by bit. I am not ready to admit that I might no longer be a TWoT. I am not thoroughly convinced I belong on TBoT. But I can enthusiastically say, let the adventure continue!