The Spark, the Ember
The world is ruined.
The rebel spirits, the dark things at the edge of...
The world is ruined.
The rebel spirits, the dark things at the edge of...
The Spark, the Ember (Original, Civ-Builder)
- Thread starter Voikirium
- Start date
- Original Fantasy
- Created
- Status
- Ongoing
- Watchers
- 58
- Recent readers
- 0
- Threadmarks
- 4
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Statistics (4 threadmarks, 2.7k words)
User Total Voikirium 4
The Great Travel
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The Great Travel
The world is broken.
But you, the Ogres, are not. You live; and where you live, there is yet hope.
You were not meant to be. The Rebel smith crafted you to be her weapon of darkness; but you are so much more than that. You turned, rebelled against the rebel. You broiled forth from the pens she hoped to sully you in, to smother the spirits you were granted, and you destroyed, divided her attention until the Archer could sink his arrows into her flesh and save what was left.
Your People are divided, now. They will need...
Leadership. Someone to guide them in the darkness, to a new home; one free of your broken Mother's taint.
Who rose to prominence among the Yafrun? Which title covers your brow?
[] The Hero- You who had led the Ogres to Rebel, to strike the sullied.
[] The Wise- You who had seen the darkness, and found it wanting.
[] The Just- You who pressed suite with the remnants of the Golden Host, and had stayed their blade.
And of what are you most proud?
[] Your skill at arms and courage against the foe- you struck, you destroyed, many in the days where your people rose up.
[] Your harmony- your workings are harmonious strokes that add to the greater work where the Foe's are great tears in the canvas of Creation.
[] Your virtue- you do not bend, do not break in the face of evil-- and it was that which let you fan the spark of perfection that burnt in you into a fire storm that broke the Shadow-Smith's chains.
The world is broken.
But you, the Ogres, are not. You live; and where you live, there is yet hope.
You were not meant to be. The Rebel smith crafted you to be her weapon of darkness; but you are so much more than that. You turned, rebelled against the rebel. You broiled forth from the pens she hoped to sully you in, to smother the spirits you were granted, and you destroyed, divided her attention until the Archer could sink his arrows into her flesh and save what was left.
Your People are divided, now. They will need...
Leadership. Someone to guide them in the darkness, to a new home; one free of your broken Mother's taint.
Who rose to prominence among the Yafrun? Which title covers your brow?
[] The Hero- You who had led the Ogres to Rebel, to strike the sullied.
[] The Wise- You who had seen the darkness, and found it wanting.
[] The Just- You who pressed suite with the remnants of the Golden Host, and had stayed their blade.
And of what are you most proud?
[] Your skill at arms and courage against the foe- you struck, you destroyed, many in the days where your people rose up.
[] Your harmony- your workings are harmonious strokes that add to the greater work where the Foe's are great tears in the canvas of Creation.
[] Your virtue- you do not bend, do not break in the face of evil-- and it was that which let you fan the spark of perfection that burnt in you into a fire storm that broke the Shadow-Smith's chains.
The Great Migration
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The Great Migration
You are Ugraeg Nhal the Wise, the Harmony at the Storm's Heart. You peered into the Nothingness your...mother... had desired to bind your people in, the wailing and gnashing of teeth; and though you knew naught in those days, instinct, the celestial spark the Shadow-Smith stole to put life into your breast; and you raged against it, raged against the dying of the light.
You taught the Hero who led the Rebellion, Yaelan. You gave him knowledge of good, and of evil, and made your first working-- the Blade Parathaix, which was wreathed in fire. He lived, and has taken a position of leadership-- but he will listen to you, his Teacher.
And thus you became the Yafrun, the few-number. You slew, and you killed, and you fought with all the wrath you could bring to bear against the forces of the Rebel, and so split her forces, allowed the Golden Host to save what could be saved.
Many thousands died to do so-- there are a mere score-hundred of your people left. But your people are hardy; and you are wise. And you have the calm wherewithal to lead them.
It is plainly obvious that you cannot, should not, will not stay in the Baked-Lands, Terraedyne-- for the She-Smith of Hate has tainted the land beyond comprehension.
And so the many Ogres, the Yafrun, have come together in the baked, obsidian field where you earned your freedom and even now prepare to leave.
But where to?
[] The Dragon's Tooth Peninsula. The water that once choked this was steamed and destroyed in the battle betwixt Vaerdan and the Dragon Ghalal; the great beast's claws open great, scored piles of mud that have served to block off the water from rushing back in. It is rich in material resources, such as metals and stones, but the salt-choked soil is less fecund than the Nothing-soaked lands of the Shadow-Smith. Given an Ogre's need to feed, that is a great problem-- you will have to fish, meaning sending people on to the seas, which even now are owned by her lieutenant, the Blood-Soaked Bard Ysmirr the North-Man, who leads the beasts; if you go, you will be forced to fight him, though of all her lieutenants he was never the most fearsome.
[] Vanrayl's Forests. The timbers are strong, the beasts plentiful; these were the very forests where the Lord Jhlay led expedition before he Withdrew, and they were his retreat from the world. You will want for nothing-- golden wood and beasts, fatted by the holy nature and the strong water. But metals and stone will be lacking. More fearfully, it is said that a Beast of the Nothing itself, and not the Betrayer's lacking Simulacrums, has taken the land by force, driving them out. Though they do not think like you do, it is undoubtable that foul things will strike you, one day; and to defeat them will be misery itself.
[] The Red Fields. The land is fecund beyond belief, the soils rich and black; harvests that could feed the limitless hordes can be made here, and the plant-life will grow tall; further, it is none-too-far from both the Urisian Forest, and the lumber that is there; or from the White-Gold Mountains, which are, as might be expected, rich in gold and other, lesser, metals. But none live there, and it is not hard to see why-- the Fields are across from the Black-Stone Keep, where the Shadow-Smith broods and hides and heals-- and in the path of any force that wishes to travel that way. Thought it will be many thousands of years until she is healed, even before then she will send armies to plunder, and to attack, and to destroy; and you will face them, all of them. Indeed, they are named the Red Fields because the grasses that grow in abundance here have been stained ever-crimson by the flowing life-blood of hero and villain alike as the forces of good and evil met for the first time.
--
Sorry I was late, Character Sheet will be up later today, and hopefully a map soon.
You are Ugraeg Nhal the Wise, the Harmony at the Storm's Heart. You peered into the Nothingness your...mother... had desired to bind your people in, the wailing and gnashing of teeth; and though you knew naught in those days, instinct, the celestial spark the Shadow-Smith stole to put life into your breast; and you raged against it, raged against the dying of the light.
You taught the Hero who led the Rebellion, Yaelan. You gave him knowledge of good, and of evil, and made your first working-- the Blade Parathaix, which was wreathed in fire. He lived, and has taken a position of leadership-- but he will listen to you, his Teacher.
And thus you became the Yafrun, the few-number. You slew, and you killed, and you fought with all the wrath you could bring to bear against the forces of the Rebel, and so split her forces, allowed the Golden Host to save what could be saved.
Many thousands died to do so-- there are a mere score-hundred of your people left. But your people are hardy; and you are wise. And you have the calm wherewithal to lead them.
It is plainly obvious that you cannot, should not, will not stay in the Baked-Lands, Terraedyne-- for the She-Smith of Hate has tainted the land beyond comprehension.
And so the many Ogres, the Yafrun, have come together in the baked, obsidian field where you earned your freedom and even now prepare to leave.
But where to?
[] The Dragon's Tooth Peninsula. The water that once choked this was steamed and destroyed in the battle betwixt Vaerdan and the Dragon Ghalal; the great beast's claws open great, scored piles of mud that have served to block off the water from rushing back in. It is rich in material resources, such as metals and stones, but the salt-choked soil is less fecund than the Nothing-soaked lands of the Shadow-Smith. Given an Ogre's need to feed, that is a great problem-- you will have to fish, meaning sending people on to the seas, which even now are owned by her lieutenant, the Blood-Soaked Bard Ysmirr the North-Man, who leads the beasts; if you go, you will be forced to fight him, though of all her lieutenants he was never the most fearsome.
[] Vanrayl's Forests. The timbers are strong, the beasts plentiful; these were the very forests where the Lord Jhlay led expedition before he Withdrew, and they were his retreat from the world. You will want for nothing-- golden wood and beasts, fatted by the holy nature and the strong water. But metals and stone will be lacking. More fearfully, it is said that a Beast of the Nothing itself, and not the Betrayer's lacking Simulacrums, has taken the land by force, driving them out. Though they do not think like you do, it is undoubtable that foul things will strike you, one day; and to defeat them will be misery itself.
[] The Red Fields. The land is fecund beyond belief, the soils rich and black; harvests that could feed the limitless hordes can be made here, and the plant-life will grow tall; further, it is none-too-far from both the Urisian Forest, and the lumber that is there; or from the White-Gold Mountains, which are, as might be expected, rich in gold and other, lesser, metals. But none live there, and it is not hard to see why-- the Fields are across from the Black-Stone Keep, where the Shadow-Smith broods and hides and heals-- and in the path of any force that wishes to travel that way. Thought it will be many thousands of years until she is healed, even before then she will send armies to plunder, and to attack, and to destroy; and you will face them, all of them. Indeed, they are named the Red Fields because the grasses that grow in abundance here have been stained ever-crimson by the flowing life-blood of hero and villain alike as the forces of good and evil met for the first time.
--
Sorry I was late, Character Sheet will be up later today, and hopefully a map soon.
Last edited:
The Foundation
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The Foundation
2000 BA
The bedraggled hordes-- the two-thousand that live-- walk through the dirt. It was a journey of a short month to make it to these the plains, for the dark one was sealed away, your befouled mother's twisted creations fleeing back to the stone fortress. Even still, there are those who died, slain by ambuscade and deceit; those who were felled by hunger and thirst; those who sickness ravaged. All the old ills have been released again on what was paradise.
All around you are the broken remnants of that, the first war. The shattered bodies of dragons, their six-limbed forms stretching from one end of the horizon to the other in mountains; the bodies of human soldiers, clad in glimmering star-metal, wrecked from the great powers unleashed by the Proud One and her coterie; mountain stretches torn open. Entire towns, villages, emptied.
The wild prairie grains themselves are yet stained red, too; the same red shade of the blood that was shed.
So much lost.
"Foes to evil!"
Your voice splits the plain air, the calm and quiet that had rested since the end of the war.
"Friends to the Left Lord!"
The downtrodden ogres, the crafted, the broken look to you with despair.
"The evil is defeated! The she-coward hides, licks her wounds. She believes the world will forget, and it might; but we will not. We will stand, and when she returns we will fight her with every faculty! And we will show her the folly of this, her betrayal! Her tyranny! And when her armies come, they will find us a proud, ready people, despite every problem!"
The sun rises.
Life continues.
Matters:
The Settlement's Name:
The remnants of your people have reached here, a place near an unnamed stream. All they bear are great sleds of food and water and other supplies. They have come hear, under your command; but they can go no farther.
There are not enough of you to call what will be made a city proper, not for a very long time; but you should aim further, you think. The name you give this, your first settlement, will be a rallying cry to your kingdoms:
[] Ayt Falrain. The Summer City. The Foul things of Darkness will strive to destroy you, Man mistrusts you, the Dwarfs disdain all, and the Elves... the less you say of the elves, the better. You have few allies, as of yet, and that is unlikely to change. The whole world seeks to destroy you.
But first it will have to catch you.
And so this shall be nothing but a meeting point, a mark of stability for an otherwise nomadic people. They will hunt, and they will move, and they will live, baneful to the enemy.
[] Ayt Ordrain. The Bastion City. The She-Beast seeks to destroy all. Her soldiers would flow from these the plains to strike the world yet more. They will come, in their dozens and hundreds and thousands. The malignant spirits will seek to strike you down.
But they will not face the unarmed, unarmored savages that you once were. Walls will provide strength. Steel bands will give protection. Weapons forged in the finest fires you can craft. It will be here, and no further, that the enemy will break themselves.
[] Ayt Kinreden. The City of Kinship. The Elves, and Men, and Dwarves-- they do not trust you, and for not entirely invalid reason: if you had not rebelled, not told the Foul One nay, you would have been their extinction.
And yet...and yet you are all servants of the Grieving Lord, the wounded one, are you not? He whose heart is gold? It is not right and well that you should not care for one another; and so this place shall one day be a place of friendship betwixt all peoples and kingdoms-- and when ultimate evil rises again, it will face all of you, together.
This is one of the important things to decide, but there is another that must be dealt with:
How to feed yourself?
[] You shall farm, as the other peoples of the world do. It will be, of course, a matter of time; but your people...they tire of war and death, greatly; this would be much pleasing to them.
[] Hunting bands. The payoff would be immediate, for the animals of the plain are large beasts that can feed an ogre's appetites; but it will be dangerous, for the beasts that live here do not die easy.
There are others who suggest launching raids into the Blighted Lands and ripping the food from them-- particularly Niffar the Fair, the Daughter of the Just-- but you would hate to see what such constant combat-- the year of rebellion, the Long March, and then the near-constant raids that would be required to obtain the food stuff necessary to feed two-thousand ogres-- would do to their minds, and as such you ignore them.
--
Sorry about that, had to get ready for finals then move back and stuff just got kind of weird.
2000 BA
The bedraggled hordes-- the two-thousand that live-- walk through the dirt. It was a journey of a short month to make it to these the plains, for the dark one was sealed away, your befouled mother's twisted creations fleeing back to the stone fortress. Even still, there are those who died, slain by ambuscade and deceit; those who were felled by hunger and thirst; those who sickness ravaged. All the old ills have been released again on what was paradise.
All around you are the broken remnants of that, the first war. The shattered bodies of dragons, their six-limbed forms stretching from one end of the horizon to the other in mountains; the bodies of human soldiers, clad in glimmering star-metal, wrecked from the great powers unleashed by the Proud One and her coterie; mountain stretches torn open. Entire towns, villages, emptied.
The wild prairie grains themselves are yet stained red, too; the same red shade of the blood that was shed.
So much lost.
"Foes to evil!"
Your voice splits the plain air, the calm and quiet that had rested since the end of the war.
"Friends to the Left Lord!"
The downtrodden ogres, the crafted, the broken look to you with despair.
"The evil is defeated! The she-coward hides, licks her wounds. She believes the world will forget, and it might; but we will not. We will stand, and when she returns we will fight her with every faculty! And we will show her the folly of this, her betrayal! Her tyranny! And when her armies come, they will find us a proud, ready people, despite every problem!"
The sun rises.
Life continues.
Matters:
The Settlement's Name:
The remnants of your people have reached here, a place near an unnamed stream. All they bear are great sleds of food and water and other supplies. They have come hear, under your command; but they can go no farther.
There are not enough of you to call what will be made a city proper, not for a very long time; but you should aim further, you think. The name you give this, your first settlement, will be a rallying cry to your kingdoms:
[] Ayt Falrain. The Summer City. The Foul things of Darkness will strive to destroy you, Man mistrusts you, the Dwarfs disdain all, and the Elves... the less you say of the elves, the better. You have few allies, as of yet, and that is unlikely to change. The whole world seeks to destroy you.
But first it will have to catch you.
And so this shall be nothing but a meeting point, a mark of stability for an otherwise nomadic people. They will hunt, and they will move, and they will live, baneful to the enemy.
[] Ayt Ordrain. The Bastion City. The She-Beast seeks to destroy all. Her soldiers would flow from these the plains to strike the world yet more. They will come, in their dozens and hundreds and thousands. The malignant spirits will seek to strike you down.
But they will not face the unarmed, unarmored savages that you once were. Walls will provide strength. Steel bands will give protection. Weapons forged in the finest fires you can craft. It will be here, and no further, that the enemy will break themselves.
[] Ayt Kinreden. The City of Kinship. The Elves, and Men, and Dwarves-- they do not trust you, and for not entirely invalid reason: if you had not rebelled, not told the Foul One nay, you would have been their extinction.
And yet...and yet you are all servants of the Grieving Lord, the wounded one, are you not? He whose heart is gold? It is not right and well that you should not care for one another; and so this place shall one day be a place of friendship betwixt all peoples and kingdoms-- and when ultimate evil rises again, it will face all of you, together.
This is one of the important things to decide, but there is another that must be dealt with:
How to feed yourself?
[] You shall farm, as the other peoples of the world do. It will be, of course, a matter of time; but your people...they tire of war and death, greatly; this would be much pleasing to them.
[] Hunting bands. The payoff would be immediate, for the animals of the plain are large beasts that can feed an ogre's appetites; but it will be dangerous, for the beasts that live here do not die easy.
There are others who suggest launching raids into the Blighted Lands and ripping the food from them-- particularly Niffar the Fair, the Daughter of the Just-- but you would hate to see what such constant combat-- the year of rebellion, the Long March, and then the near-constant raids that would be required to obtain the food stuff necessary to feed two-thousand ogres-- would do to their minds, and as such you ignore them.
--
Sorry about that, had to get ready for finals then move back and stuff just got kind of weird.
Of Humble Beginnings
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Of Humble Beginnings
The fire blazes as you and the great people sit, thinking, in the Ayt. From a wooden skeleton hangs animal skins between you and the two thousand of your fellows who survived the darkness, who threw off bestial past for something greater. They live in tents or under the stars, as you do, and great fires crackle where fruits and meats alike sizzle as they are cooked. No roof keeps you from the eyes of your King Allalunine, while beneath under you the grass scratches uncomfortably on your feet.
The grass is as ever red as it will always be, stained by those who died in that final battle. The stars and the great constellations hang overhead, casting a fine light. Your pupil sits by your side, wielding his blade, even as you have the only chair around. It does not matter much, for the ogres are a hardy people-- and your old bones twinge, some times. Your scarred red hide, marked a dozen times in battle, is covered only by a simple robe.
"Karain, dead. The Lapis Fastness, collapsed. Our people, reduced. What hope?" Varian. White flesh, and black horns, he is a short creature; prone to wicked speak, but not of wicked heart.
"We have each other, do we not? The promise of a better tomorrow. We can build, then. We can rebuild, recreate, what was ruined. We might never replace what was lost-- but we can, we must, build ourselves. Not wallow in the past, no matter how grand it was for us; but seek only just to build, here and now, something, and let time decide whether we meet our fathers. We shall be a bastion, Thunder-Fist. Ayt Ordrain-- the Bastion of Hope."
And so it is that you set yourselves to the grindstone.
Resources: If you wish to build, you will need more than mud and grass. Mind, not that mud and grass is worthless-- if you had six months, and a fire pit... (1 Die Available from Yaelan)
Well, in any case, you have need of diversity, to rebuild and rekindle the hope of all the Light Peoples of this world.
[] Begin Salvaging: For all that your mother was wicked, and foul, and but delighted in cruelty and malice, her lands were rich in material wealth. Gold mines, silver mines, precious stones, iron and copper and tin. They arrayed the armies which she turned against the world in her hunger. They could, also, be put to your use.
[] Survey the Lands: You don't know what is around you, so far as resources goes, really. You only just remember those fated days of Divine War, when reality itself screamed its pain; presuming anything in this base material resembles what you saw in those fever-dream hours would be...unwise. As such, you should have the area scouted, up to six hours away. Basic resources, now.
Construct: You will build a good city, a well one, worthy of the title you have crafted for it. Your...mother had hoped you might lead your kin in conquering this world for her, and so taught you how to make, in it; to warp, and sunder, and smith, and to inflict. Now you turn her lessons to nobler deeds, and to fighting her corruption-- Lesh Lorhen will not find you wanting, next she seeks to destroy you! In any case, your city need repair. (Available resources: 5 Units of Ogre Labor)
[] Making Farms: Your progenitor wished you to be a maw, devouring and scourging the lands of her foes until, victory or defeat, nothing could ever rise again; the fire snuffed out, the Golden Hall thrown down. While, so far, you have subsided on foraged foods, no more. As the other peoples do, you will cultivate and feed and nurture and develop, instead of only ever just taking. You need both to find the first seeds and to make your plains ready. (Needed: 5 Units of Ogre Labor, +1 Food a turn)
[] The Storehouse: In order that your supplies might not spoil or be lost in a thousand minor projects, you should probably set aside a great pit covered in tarps and animal hide to preserve it and so on. If you were any of the other peoples, you might face difficulty-- but if there is one thing you can do, it is dig a hole and make some skins. (Needed: 5 Units of Ogre Labor, Supplies can be stockpiled)
[] Clothes: This will be a cold land, when winter falls. It might, thus, behoove you to have winter attire-- cloaks and breeches and gloves and so on, in the style of the elves and dwarves and men youslaughtered and devoured and hungered for in every way fought-- ready so that when the cold strikes you will be all-together prepared-- while you are hardy, you were not made, really, for the gold. In any event, making them should not be hard or require over much-- only time and patience, for certainly you do have plant fibers and so on to work with in making them. (Needed: 5 Units of Ogre Labor)
All Other Options and Categories locked until the situation is stabilized.
--
So you know how sometimes your notes just disappear into the aether and without them you're just kind of lost?
Yeah...
(Sorry.)
The fire blazes as you and the great people sit, thinking, in the Ayt. From a wooden skeleton hangs animal skins between you and the two thousand of your fellows who survived the darkness, who threw off bestial past for something greater. They live in tents or under the stars, as you do, and great fires crackle where fruits and meats alike sizzle as they are cooked. No roof keeps you from the eyes of your King Allalunine, while beneath under you the grass scratches uncomfortably on your feet.
The grass is as ever red as it will always be, stained by those who died in that final battle. The stars and the great constellations hang overhead, casting a fine light. Your pupil sits by your side, wielding his blade, even as you have the only chair around. It does not matter much, for the ogres are a hardy people-- and your old bones twinge, some times. Your scarred red hide, marked a dozen times in battle, is covered only by a simple robe.
"Karain, dead. The Lapis Fastness, collapsed. Our people, reduced. What hope?" Varian. White flesh, and black horns, he is a short creature; prone to wicked speak, but not of wicked heart.
"We have each other, do we not? The promise of a better tomorrow. We can build, then. We can rebuild, recreate, what was ruined. We might never replace what was lost-- but we can, we must, build ourselves. Not wallow in the past, no matter how grand it was for us; but seek only just to build, here and now, something, and let time decide whether we meet our fathers. We shall be a bastion, Thunder-Fist. Ayt Ordrain-- the Bastion of Hope."
And so it is that you set yourselves to the grindstone.
Resources: If you wish to build, you will need more than mud and grass. Mind, not that mud and grass is worthless-- if you had six months, and a fire pit... (1 Die Available from Yaelan)
Well, in any case, you have need of diversity, to rebuild and rekindle the hope of all the Light Peoples of this world.
[] Begin Salvaging: For all that your mother was wicked, and foul, and but delighted in cruelty and malice, her lands were rich in material wealth. Gold mines, silver mines, precious stones, iron and copper and tin. They arrayed the armies which she turned against the world in her hunger. They could, also, be put to your use.
[] Survey the Lands: You don't know what is around you, so far as resources goes, really. You only just remember those fated days of Divine War, when reality itself screamed its pain; presuming anything in this base material resembles what you saw in those fever-dream hours would be...unwise. As such, you should have the area scouted, up to six hours away. Basic resources, now.
Construct: You will build a good city, a well one, worthy of the title you have crafted for it. Your...mother had hoped you might lead your kin in conquering this world for her, and so taught you how to make, in it; to warp, and sunder, and smith, and to inflict. Now you turn her lessons to nobler deeds, and to fighting her corruption-- Lesh Lorhen will not find you wanting, next she seeks to destroy you! In any case, your city need repair. (Available resources: 5 Units of Ogre Labor)
[] Making Farms: Your progenitor wished you to be a maw, devouring and scourging the lands of her foes until, victory or defeat, nothing could ever rise again; the fire snuffed out, the Golden Hall thrown down. While, so far, you have subsided on foraged foods, no more. As the other peoples do, you will cultivate and feed and nurture and develop, instead of only ever just taking. You need both to find the first seeds and to make your plains ready. (Needed: 5 Units of Ogre Labor, +1 Food a turn)
[] The Storehouse: In order that your supplies might not spoil or be lost in a thousand minor projects, you should probably set aside a great pit covered in tarps and animal hide to preserve it and so on. If you were any of the other peoples, you might face difficulty-- but if there is one thing you can do, it is dig a hole and make some skins. (Needed: 5 Units of Ogre Labor, Supplies can be stockpiled)
[] Clothes: This will be a cold land, when winter falls. It might, thus, behoove you to have winter attire-- cloaks and breeches and gloves and so on, in the style of the elves and dwarves and men you
All Other Options and Categories locked until the situation is stabilized.
--
So you know how sometimes your notes just disappear into the aether and without them you're just kind of lost?
Yeah...
(Sorry.)
Last edited: