Every island of misfit toys needs its knight, and ours clanks loudly in full armour while carrying a putter.
By day he is a jouster, a mechanic, and an obsessive muscle-builder. By night he is a first-person shooter who apologises to his imaginary victims, a fiddler in steel plate, and a man who can shoot three arrows from horseback before youβve finished tying your shoelaces.
He is a Capricorn (of course he is), with black belts scattered across martial arts like trophies left behind by the gods. His playlist swings between Metallica and Slipknot, though heβll still argue at length that Volbeat does not count as a metal band (unless weβre still living in the β80s and Poison headlines arenas).
And yetβ¦ this same man rides his bicycle through town in chainmail. He plays mini golf with the solemnity of a crusader. And when he shows up at my side, neighbours glance over and whisper, βwhat exactly are we looking at?β
Answer: you are looking at Admonish Metal, our resident contrarian bard of misclassification. He will duel you with riffs, joust you with opinions, and then offer to fix your brakes. All while apologising to the NPCs he just headshotted.
This is what it looks like when the misfit toys form a knightly order.
And then the trees shifted. The mushroom lights dimmed. The windmills of the forest bent like reeds, and out stepped a figure in a robe, humming with the low vibration…
Love in the Forest of Par There are many ways to find yourself in love. Some people fall. Some stumble. Some swipe right. And then some clang. Picture this: a…