Muscular Monk Faces Fears Before Bitter Buffalo

In between bouts of cleaning cow pies and ridin’ herd on hearty hoedowns, we merry moogles of the MHMU make it our motto to “certify the safety of ceremony supporters lock, stock, and barrel” durin’ the bonanza, kupo!

After all, this festival is an exceedingly excellent way to express our appreciation to all the ardent adventurers who work to make Vana’diel varmint-free. With that in mind, how could we not crowd our caravans ’round the campfire of creativity and conjure up clever concepts to charm you congenial cowboys and cowgirls, kupo?

Therefore, we sincerely summon you to saddle up and box in those bellicose bovines for another year!

We understand you’re no rodeo clown and being bucked into the boundless blue probably isn’t your preferred pastime, but with our protective powers you won’t perceive even piddling pats. I swear, kupo!

Fear not, for this festival is fun, frolicking foolery furled in fascinating self-discovery…as a certain grumbling guy gleaned this year, kupo.

Read on for the story of a Hume’s struggle to spur himself to sanity in the face of absolute animosity and pure pain.