What do you do if...

... you spent the last month writing like a 1000 pages of world building for a story that is barely 10 pages long?

Seriously, Virtue of Steel now has country profiles for nations on different CONTINENTS from the main plot. Detailed analysis of races they will never meet. Political intrigue in countries that the party has never visited and likely never will, no less than 9 religious systems, 3 different sets of language notes, over a dozen different cultural notes and innumerable magic system rules.

AND ALL THEY'VE DONE IS MASH SOME GOBLINS!

The muses are not playing fair.

Dear Lady who barged into my office unnanounced when I was with a client

I do not care why you did it. It doesn’t matter. You don’t have a reason good enough to excuse what you just did. How do I know that? Because there ISN’T a good enough reason for barging in unannounced. Not now, not ever. About the only way you could be justified is if you’re a member of the bomb squad and you only have 10 seconds to defuse a bomb that has been attached to my desk by an irate client who is tired of being chewed on by the Hounds.

And the proper response to my telling you to get out is to leave meekly while mumbling apologies and planning to retreat from the world in shame to a convent somewhere. You do not angrily yell "do you know who I am?" when I told her to leave because I was with a client.

No, I don't know who you are. Mad Secretary doesn't know who you are. The Paralegals don't know who you are. Even the Guardians don't know who you are and the reception staff know who everyone is if there is even the slightest potential for gossip. We even got the security tapes out (very wrongly) and had a gathering of all the staff in the office to see if ANYONE knew who you are. Guess what, honey? None of us know who you are. The world not only doesn't revolve around you, it doesn't even know about you. It most certainly doesn't care. Hate to shatter your illusions. Just get out.

And y'know what? I don't care if you're a judge. I don't care if you are Queen Elizabeth with a face lift and that sour expression is because you've rammed a crown up your arse for safe keeping. I don't care if you're the pope in drag. I don't care if you're a member of the Secret Service who wants to relocate me to a hidden prison of their choice. This is my office. I am with a client. Even the Senior Partners (the grand powers that be) wouldn’t barge in like that.

Now the Hounds have been told to bite chunks off this lady if she returns, but I must make sure they have fully updated inoculations first.