Axesullied – The Mountain of Fathers: Part 3

Welcome back Comdwarves! Let us strike the earth and be merry once again after a short mental break(down) due to illness and onset of Diabloitis.

When we last left our intrepid and stalwart, drunk, dwarves they were attacked by penmonkeys that stole half of their socks (and we stole their innocence) and now we face something much, much worse. Migrants. Oy vey. Let’s get this over with.

A horrible sight.

Mmkay, not bad. Could be worse. Only four migrants arrives (our lack of trade is our saviour this day). Let’s introduce each other, shall we?

(also: yay, fixed Stonesene!)

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Ireland.get()

So, I finally got a job. In Ireland, for HP. It might only be a temporary position; but still. Freaking work!

In ten days I’ll be flying – a rather short flight, Sweden and Ireland isn’t that far apart – over to the land of the Harp and Guinness and start supporting customer like a boss over the phone. I’m not that nervous yet for some reason; I might have got most of the nervousness out off my system when I had the phone interview.

The first interview he had ever done. Bastard.

I’m sure my aloofness will pass. I will most likely get as nervous as a elderly bear flying out from a lazerspaceship wearing makeup and holding a stick of butter in front of an army of hostile Intergalactic Space Cows when I’m standing by the door to the airport. Oh well.

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