Anyone heard from our GM? Looks like it has been a week since the last post.
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Hamish watches the clouds drift by overhead, his shoulder leaning against Snowbell's sturdy frame. With a sigh he notices the shadows growing narrower, the morning slipping past. "Is she reciting the entire Edda in there." He mumbles pulling out an apple and biting into the juicy fruit with a loud crunch.
Hamish rolls his eyes when Naomi disappears back inside after shushing he and Jalros. Making a minor adjustment to Snowbell's pack he just gives the brawler a wide grin and an I told you so look. "Preachin' it is." He says with a soft chuckle.
Turning to Jalros with a smile, Hamish offers a quick shrug of his shoulders. "I've yet to meet the priest who's short on words and preaching." He says with a chuckle. "Could be they've got to sit through a long winded speech on the glories of Freya before the holy water is potent enough to pass along." He pauses, offers another shrug. "Or she and Naomi are sharing tales of their youthful escapades."
Hamish waits outside, keeping an eye on Snowbell, while the others take care of business in the small temple.
Hamish would chip in 10gp. Does Naomi know the priest? One approach might be to offer to do something for him in trade for a couple of vials of holy water? Not saying we have to, but it's an option.
"Aye, all packed up and ready to go." Hamish replies to Gubble once he has everyone's geared properly stored and balanced in Snowbell's bulging saddlebags. He gives the mule a gentle scratch along her neck as he gives the reins a little tug. "Don't worry old gal, those packs'll get a bit lighter with each passing day." He couldn't be sure the exact meaning of the look flashed at him by the big brown eyed pack-beast, but confident in his abilities to outwit a mule, he simply walks on whistling a happy tune.
Like I said if Noami was stronger she'd carry everything. Hamish do you mind if we put stuff on the mule. Don't mind at all. Like I said, that's why we've brought her along. :) I'm assuming the mule can graze... We'll want to have some oats or grain for the mule as well. Given the season, I'm not sure how much good grazing there will be, especially in the forest.
With Gubble heading off to find directions, Hamish shrugs and nods at Naomi's suggestion. "Aye, Snowbell will be better off not hauling all that bandit gear over hill and dale." He says following the local woman into the market.
I am totally fine not having MagicMart's. Haven't really ever liked that particular trope. As for whatever automatic progression is, haven't heard of it, so I guess I won't be missing out if we don't have it. :) Example: We can 'clear' your loot sheet now, and in exchange you get one week worth of rations and water each. I won't speak for others who may have taken better notes or kept better track, but I for one am fine with this. Call my loot cleared and I've got a weeks rations and water for myself and the mule. All of which are loaded on the mule because that's why she's tagging along. :)
So I guess we've got some gear and other items to sell in order to have coin to buy food. TBH, I'd rather just hand wave all that rather than try to RP out every transaction. If I wanted to play an accountant, I'd just go to work. :) I can't recall how many sets of leather and short swords/bows/daggers we got, but it should be enough to cover a couple of weeks worth of rations for the party and mule.
"Baran said it was east and then north into the forest." Hamish says to Naomi before turning his gaze to Gubble. "But then you've lived there, so I'm sure you know all of that. Probably spent more than a few days making the hike to and fro between the tower and Fairhill. Go ahead and lead the way."
Question: Which direction are you planning on taking when leaving Fairhill? I cannot remember if you gathered specific detail on the ruined keep's location :P Did you? Hamish asked Baran if he had any maps when he inquired about the bandits. Did the Captain or Lauriel show him one? Was there one on the wall? He certainly would have examined anything he saw. Otherwise it sounds like it is somewhere along the road to Crimmor if I understood the captain's directions/warnings correctly.
Having dutifully avoided the oatmeal, Hamish grabs a handful of the dried figs and nods in agreement with Naomi and Gubble. "I'll just grab my gear and gather Snowbell from the stable." He says dropping his hat into place atop his head. "Will be ready to take the trail in half a glass."
Hamish nods along with Elgrin. "In talking with Captain Baran and Lauriel last evening, it seems they have encountered men wearing the raven symbol before. A group calling themselves The Dark Ravens." He pauses for a bite of biscuit. He leans in, lowering his voice just in case there may be other ears listening. "Apparently they hail from a town called Crimmor which lies about three days past the wizard's old tower along a large lake. Used to be the town earned a good living fishing the lake, but in recent months the fishing's gone bad. So many of the folk have turned to banditry." Shaking his head sadly at the thought of an entire town's economy being so devastated in one fell swoop, he can't help but consider some connection to their necromancer adversary. "Causing an entire fishery to suddenly die off or go bad, certainly sounds to me like something our necromancer might do. Turn good people desperate, then bind them under a banner of thieving and killing others so they can survive." He shrugs, leans back in his chair. "It's possible, although only a hunch on my part for sure. Even so, the tower is closer and if we can catch our quarry there, all the better."
Having learned a bit about the local troubles, Hamish makes his way back to the inn. After a good meal and looking forward to a warm bed for the night, the swordsman is in good spirits, tipping his hand to any passing locals as he whistles a well known pub tune on his way back to the others.
Happy to move on whenever. I was just trying to see how linked the wizards tower and all the bandits might actually be. Seems like Crimmor might be a good secondary goal once we've managed the tower. And given our necromancer could be the one affecting the fish stocks, maybe the two really are linked.
Hamish tries to get a line on what makes Lauriel so easily irritable and secretive, but is unable to penetrate the hard, flat look of the woman. Not someone I'd want to play cards against. He this breaking his eyes away from the elf's cool scrutiny. Tipping his hat to the more vocal guard, Hamish reveals his smile once again. "Well, now it would be wouldn't it." He says with good cheer and confidence. "It was a wizard's tower after all. Probably many a foul experiment or clever trap still lurking there waiting to burn, dissolve, electrocute, or otherwise rend an intruder...uhhhh...no longer a living member of the mortal realms." He drains the remainder of the offered coffee. And sets the mug down on the table. "That's why his good apprentice wishes to deal with the place. Make it safe so folk need not fear it anymore. I'm sure with his knowledge, we will succeed where others have failed." He bows again to Captain Baran and Lauriel. "My thanks for your time and information. I should be off to a welcome bed and night's rest. A good evening to you." Departing the captain's tower, he watches for any sign of the three men from the inn or others who might be lurking about watching his movements.
Hamish had no doubts about the dangers within the forest and nods his understanding at Baran's warning. "Oh, I doubt we'll be harrying off willy-nilly after every critter that goes bump in the night or bravo with an broadsword." He says with a soft chuckle. "But it's certainly good to know what we might be up against when we go after this death weaver that killed those folk, jumped us, and stole Gubble's dingus." "We've only two real goals at this point, far as I know. Secure the tower and whatever wizardly items may still be stored there and bring that necromancer to justice." He bows his head to Baran and Lauriel. "The Dark Ravens, I'm happy to leave to you folk of the law." He pauses thoughtfully. "Still...should they, or any other bandit rabble, cross our path again, do we have leave to deal with them as needed to protect ourselves and the good folk of the region? " He really didn't want to run afoul of Baran's jurisdiction. Or cross a line that could cause problems if he and his companions all decided to occupy the old wizard's tower. For if they did, having Baran's good will would certainly make life easier.
Hamish gratefully accepts the coffee and listens to the captain and then Lauriel. As they speak, he can't help but consider the men back at the inn. The bandits might be closer than anyone knows. For now he dismisses that thought. He'd no proof against the men other than an innkeepers look and his own gut. The reality is those men could just be hard working lads in from the fields. And they wouldn't be the first small town folk to give outsiders the old stink eye for no reason other then being outsiders. "The Dark Ravens. Out of Crimmor." Hamish nods. He tried to recall any maps he'd seen of the Fairhill or a general layout of the region but was mostly drawing a blank.
"Is this Crimmor anywhere near the old wizards tower by any chance? Do you have a map I could peruse?" He asks, wondering if there might be a connection between the town's troubles and the necromancer he and the others now hunted. "It's quite a coincidence that this new band of troublemakers shows up right around the same time this necromancer reveals himself, and with designs on the region I have no doubt. Mayhap if we solve one problem, the other will melt away like snow in spring."
Hamish bows his head to Baran and the others. "Thank you for seeing me, sir." The former riverguard says. "Apologies for the interruption, but I meant to ask you about something we encountered on our journey here." He pulls out the bit of cloth with the crude raven heraldry. "We drove off several bandits attacking a caravan along the main road just the other side of the forest. We sent a few to the gods." He pokes his chin toward the cloth. "What was surprising is they all wore that symbol as if they were actually fighting under some higher cause. The farmers we rescued said men had been harassing several of the farms and folk." He pulls a bit a his lower lip, still feeling bad about not doing more for those poor folk. "In light of the attack more locally here, I couldn't help but wonder if you've seen men wearing this symbol? Or if you happen to know anything about a new bandit lord trying to lay claim to the open lands 'tween here and Bard's Gate?"
"Ahoy, in the tower!" Hamish calls back, lifting his hat from his head and plopping it back down. "Hamish Macrae. I came in with the lot of animals earlier today. I've a question for Captain Baran. Won't take but a minute or two of his time, but probably best not shouted out for any and all to overhear."
As soon as Hamish is clear of the inn, he stops the silly drunken weave in his step and hurries off to find Captain Baran at the guard tower to ask him about the bandit symbol. As he moves through the darkened streets of Fairhill, he keeps a wary eye for any followers.
With his companions agreement, he nods back and starts to make a show of getting ready to leave. "Well, friends." He says, his voice elevated enough to carry over to the table of suspicious lads. Slapping his hat back upon his head, he pushes back from the table. "I had best be off if I wish to catch Captain Baran before he sits down to his own dinner. If anyone has information about any band of scoundrels wearing such an insignia as this around Fairhill, it'll be him for sure. And I suppose if he doesn't know anything, then it'll be good to alert him of the potential trouble. Maybe get him to rustle up a good band to go root out these bandits." He adds a slight sway to his stance as if he's had just a little bit too much of the strong local ale. "Don't bother waiting up for me. I'm sure it won't take but a bit to walk there and back again." He adds and then casually strides out of the inn.
Hamish leans in and quietly whispers to his companions. "I noticed the innkeeper giving those lads in the corner a bit of a look when I showed him the bandit's rag." He says. "I've been watching them for a good bit as we sit here and finish our meal. I could be wrong, but they strike me as a bit weather worn, ragged, and underfed compared to most of the folk we've seen in this village." "How about I make a bit of a show of going back to see the Captain we'll see if those lads try to follow me or do something about it? What do you both think?"
Giving the innkeeper a friendly nod of thanks, Hamish returns to his meal and conversation with his companions. All the while, he surreptitiously surveys the group that seemed to capture the man's attention. Using the broad shoulders of Jalros as the perfect duck blind, Hamish is able to get a good long look at the fellows. Perhaps enough for him to get a sense of whether they spelled trouble or were just passing an innocent evening at the local pub.
"No need." Hamish says tucking the cloth back in his pocket. "It's likely nothing, but I'll check with the Captain after I finish eating. T'was the other side of the forest where we met the rascal wearing this, so I doubt the folk of Fairhill need worry too awful much. Besides, this one, won't be troubling anyone ever again." He adds with a knowing nod.
Here and Happy New Year all.
And a Merry Christmas to you all.
Hamish listens to the innkeeper, his mood growing more serious as the man speaks of the town being cut off. Not looking to draw to much attention, he once again pulls out the bloody piece of fabric with its crude heraldry. "You ever see anybody wearing this symbol?" He asks the innkeeper, showing him the cloth. "Does it match or seem similar to any of the orc tribes or bandits harassing folk this side of the forest?"
"Indeed, I believe it can wait until after dinner." Hamish replies to Elgrin with a smile. "In the meantime, I wonder if our host is like every other innkeeper in the realms and up to date on the local gossip?" When the man circles back around to grab Jalros' payment, Hamish nods with appreciation at the ale. "A fine brew, sir." He says be way of an opening. "A pleasant way to end a journey through wood and glen. Being a stranger to this area, I was thinking you might be able to offer the latest word of what's happening? I've heard rumors of orcs and bandits. Fought off a few of the latter along the road. Any truth to those tales?"
"No baths. Tykee's grace, that is too bad." Hamish says disappointed. "I was looking forward to washing off some of the recent days events." Pouring a mug for himself, Jalros and Elgrin, he offers his up in a quick toast. "To good companions and the first leg of our journey complete." He says cheerfully taking a deep drink of the dark ale. "A bit bitter, but passable enough." He says. Turning to Elgrin. "How did you find the sheriff? He seemed like a descent enough man, but I didn't spend much time with him. His second seemed a bit gruff, but that may have just been from overwork. Sounds like they've had trouble with orcs in recent days." Suddenly he slaps his hand against the table and then against his own leg. "Damnation! But I am a slackwitted fool as my sister would say." He says before lowering his voice and leaning in to the table. "I completely forgot to ask Baran about that raven heraldry the bandits were wearing back on the road. I brought it up with one of the guards and they clammed up tight. Seemed like they knew something, but said I needed to talk with the captain. Perhaps, I'll try to track him down after a bit of dinner."
Hamish follows Jalros and Elgrin into the pub. Nodding his agreement with Jalros, the swordsman slides into a chair putting his feet out toward the warm fire. "Aye, I'll take a pub with a bit of wear and tear and a descent stout over them fancier joints with their pink drinks and overpriced bits of poached fish any day." When the innkeeper finally approaches, Hamish offers his a wide smile. "Greeting friend. I'll take whatever you're offering as your special today and a pint of your local ale." He says. "I think we'll also be needing rooms, and I for one, could use a hot bath. How much to have a tub readied?"
With a nod to the captain and his business finished, Hamish wishes the best to Naomi and heads for a meal and a hot bath at the Cask and Flagon. Choosing the second of the two options in town being the direct result of his trust of inns named after monstrous birds ebbing to a low point since their encounter with the blood sucking stirges back in the forest.
Dipping his head politely, Hamish introduces himself and listens quietly to the Captain. The thought of a warm bed and hot meal after all of the cold nights on the road and last nights somber stay at the farmhouse brings a smile to the man's face. He's about ready to leave with the others when he stops abruptly and turns back to Baran. Pulling the small wooden box rattling with coins from his pack, he hands it to the sheriff. "We discovered this among the families belongings. If they've kin in the area it seemed best the money should go to them, else maybe there's an orphans fund or something similar it could be given to. Either way, we thought you'd be the one to know best where it should go. It isn't much." He says, shaking his head sadly that all the farmer and his family had worked for all their lives boiled down to nothing more than a few coins and a few head of stock.
"Who was that?" Hamish asks Erben, his eyes following the stern elf. He assumed the others the elf referred to were Naomi, Gubble and Elgrin, although he couldn't be sure by the woman's dour visage whether they were all being greeted as friends or potential suspects.
Hamish quirks an eyebrow and Erben's reaction to the shabby cloth and its shabby symbol. For now he just nods in understanding. "I'll be sure to." He says, not intending to push the matter further. Not now anyway.
"Pleased to meet you Erben." Hamish says to the local constable as he starts moving the animals into town. His eyes flick toward Guthlag when the man mentions the troubles with orcs. Not an uncommon occurrence by any means. Various bands and tribes had been raiding the lowlands since forever as far as Hamish could recall. Hearing that the sheriff could see beyond an individual's background allowed Hamish to release a small sigh of relief. There were plenty of constables or sheriffs who wouldn't treat the orc with such fairness. "We've not run into any orcs." He says, but then pulls out the small tattered raven banner they'd acquired from the men who'd attacked one of the caravans. "But we've run into plenty of bandits." He shows the man the ragged rag of a symbol. "Have you run into any scoundrels wearing this crude bit of heraldry? It was worn by some men who attacked a caravan just west of Bard's Gate." Hamish gives the man a knowing look. "Fortunately we were close and quick enough to intervene, unfortunately, none were left in any condition to answer questions." It was a long shot. There was a whole forest between the two incidents. Still Vortigern worked with a raven familiar. The symbol was that of a raven. A raven watched as they stayed in the waystop stockade. Could it be the necromancer is trying to establish himself as High Lord of the Forest or some other nonsense? A tower not far from Fairhill would give him a potent base of operations for such an endeavor.
Hamish eyes the group a bit warily until they mention Naomi, at which point he breathes a heavy sigh of relief. "Well met and aye." He says happily. "We are indeed companions and fellow travelers with good Naomi." His waving hand includes both Jalros and Guthlag as part of that company. "I'm Hamish Macrae, out of Bard's Gate. A pleasure to meet you, although I wish it were under happier circumstances." He adds, the smile disappearing as he starts to loosen the various ropes keeping the animals tied to the fallen tree. "They've been docile enough beasts on the way here. I hope you'll be able to see them to a new and decent home."
Guthlag watches the livestock carefully so that they do not wander far. "The sheriff will kill this man, then?" The half orc has a dim understanding of what a sheriff is. "Or an executioner. But either way, you will be relived. We all will." Guthlag stands, lost in thought for a long moment. "If there were no law here," he says at last, "I could do this thing." Hamish shrugs uncertainly to Guthlag's first question. "Far as I know, the penalty for any kind of banditry along the Tradeway is death." He says offering a handfull of oats to Snowbell. "But ultimately it depends on the sheriff. Some stand by the law, while others...bend it to their own purposes or ignore it altogether if persuaded by enough coin or power." Another shrug. "If this Vortigern has enough money to spend, it's possible the bandit will walk free. But the fact they murdered a local family and used necromancy, that'll be hard to cover up. Unless, of course, they manage to kill all of us." He adds with a wide grin. Wiping his mule slobbered hand on his pants he gives the half-orc another smile. "Aye, well if there were no law, then you'd probably have to wrestle Elgrin for the duty of taking the man's head. A knight, blessed by church and gods such as he is, would likely see it as his divine duty to administer some kind of punishment." Turning to the big brawler Hamish tilts his head toward Guthlag. "And what do you think Jalros?" He asks. "Do you have strong feelings on the law, punishments or the administration of such things?"
Hamish finishes roping up the animals to the tree and starts rubbing down the old plow horse. He ponders Guthlag's words and he runs the brush along the horses neck and side. "I...I hope it never gets easy to kill. But killin' children and walking with raisers of the dead. Justice demands something for such deeds." Hamish says shaking his head. His voice quiet, thoughtful as he searches for the words. "There's no question about the difference between takin' a life in the heat of battle verses being the one to lower the axe at the choppin' block." "A warrior or soldier lives by his skill, his courage mixed with more than a bit of fear, the companions at his side, a faith in fighting for his cause, and of course, the blessings of Lady Luck. The executioner serves either by practical disinterest or fervent belief in the law and justice...or maybe a dark thrill of power over the helpless." He shrugs, runs a hand once again through his hair. [b]"This morning the paths of cause and justice crossed in a shadowed realm." He looks at Guthlag. "I do not fancy myself a cold blooded killer, but I'd not push to another a task I wouldn't do myself. Perhaps to my better fortune, it is as Elgrin said back in the barn. I am not the law. At least not anymore." He adds, thinking of his time in the Riverwatch and the bandits they'd leave dangling in the wind as warning to others who thought piracy along the trade routes would serve them well. "It is the sheriff's duty to determine and to execute whatever punishment is deemed just. If the sheriff wasn't so close...well...then I'd guess things would've gotten a bit more tricky."
Hey all, just a quick head's up that we're hosting Thanksgiving tomorrow. Not too big a group, but still a bit of work getting everything set and ready. So I'll likely be offline until Friday. For those celebrating, I hope you have a great Thanksgiving!
Hamish looks at the dagger. For a moment he isn't sure exactly what to say as his gaze drifts to Guthlag and then turns to watch Elgrin and Naomi escorting the prisoner on into town. There is still an anger in his eyes as he stares at the necromancer's mercenary, but the powerful storm that swirled through his mind that morning had long since played itself out. He reaches out and takes the knife, slipping it carefully back into its sheath. "My thanks Guthlag." He says, his voice quiet, subdued. "It is an odd thing. I didn't know those folk back there. I've no idea if the old man was kind or a right bas$#%d. If his wife and kin were well liked or the scourge of the valley." He says pulling out a soft rag to wipe the sweat from his brow. "Yet, I still felt a kinship with them. Comes from growing up poor I suppose. Doesn't matter if you are working a farm at the mercy of the elements and the landlords or working on the docks at the mercy of the merchants, guild bosses, and the nobility. Poor is poor. Someone's always trying to stomp you down. All you got is yourself, your kin and a will to keep going because that's all you can do." He pauses. Looks out across the fields and farms surrounding Fairhill. Breathes in the air filled with woodsmoke, cow dung, autumn leaves, and coming winter. He stuff the rag back in his pocket. "When I was in the riverwatch, I'd seen Old Rook use that knife trick a dozen times to get a man talkin'. He'd get em wound up so tight, they'd spill the beans on their own damned mother." A soft chuckle. "But he knew...I guess he knew when to quit. Or knew when soemthing was too close. Those he'd order us to send off to the captain or the local sheriff right away. I think...I think now I understand why." He look back at the half-orc his face thoughtful, serious. "It's too bloody easy to follow through."
Hamish keeps the big plow horse in front of the other animals they were bringing into town. He hoped the old horse was familiar enough to keep the others following. That and the wolves closing off any escape, or likely desire to escape, to either side of the small herd. The rain is becoming less an annoyance and more of just another part of the daily routine. When they start passing farms, Hamish waves and doffs his hat in greeting. Even attempting to engage those nearest to the dead folks home to try and learn anything about potential kin, but folk are either hard at work or nervous about approaching armed strangers. Hamish couldn't really blame them under the circumstances. "I'll stay here with the animals, while someone else goes to get the sheriff and to see if there's a stable or stockyard hereabouts." Hamish offers as they approach the outskirts of town. "Let's tie em up along that old log." He adds pointing out a storm fallen tree.
Yep, totally hear you. It seems the older I get the less time and patience I have for overly complex rulesets, especially as a GM. I used to play/GM Champions, GURPS, and Rolemaster for goodness sake, but now I love the Forged in the Dark/Apocalypse World/FATE type narrative systems. I also think they work really well for PbP because you want to spend more time on narration and character development interactions which for me is really the bread and butter for PbP. I've been pondering starting a Band of Blades PbP or potentially following up on some FATE rules I put together for a Battletech game/campaign. We did some playtesting with the Battletech game and it was going pretty well, but player RL issues forced me to drop it. And most certainly a special thanks to everyone GMing games out there.
The milkcow is bawling and raising quite a fuss when Hamish steps outside. He looks down as sees her udder full as can be. When he was a boy he'd spent more than a few days going with Maggie and his mother to collect milk from Segwick's Dairy. The old man ran more than a hundred head of milkcows just south of the Stockyard's outside of West Gate. He'd watch the hands working with the animals and one of the milkmaids showed him how to do the milking. Something he got even better at when he spent a summer working at the diary before he was old enough to join his father on the docks. "Tykee will you not give a moment's peace today." He mutters grabbing a pail and stool. Milk seeped from the poor animal's swollen teats as Hamish runs a gentle hand along the cows side as Gubble steps out into the courtyard. "Shhh...easy there. Been too long since someone took care o' that for you." He says. His voice is calm, soft, gentle. The opposite of the fierce, anger that he'd rallied inside. Seeing Gubble, he waves the wizard over. "Hold her steady while I take care of the milking. If we don't she'll keep fussing all day and could even take sick and collapse on us." He says handing Gubble the rough rope hanging around the cow's neck. Hamish keeps running his hand along her side and talkin' mostly nonsense to her until finally he's got the stool in place and reaches a hand out only to have the cow jerk away dragging Gubble along with her. "Easy there! Easy ole girl." Hamish says turning to Gubble and smiling at the wizard's obvious inexperience and discomfort around the big bovine. "Give her a good scratch under the chin and maybe a bit of that hay there." He says pointing out a nearby pile of dry grass and oats. "She's big and a bit nervous cause we're not her folk and she's uncomfortable, but she'll simmer down in a bit. Just hold her steady." Soon enough the rhythmic sound of milk squirting into the pail fills the morning air and the cow is chewing contentedly on the feed as Gubble keeps handing her more from the pile after getting the occasional wet sniff from a nose the size of his own fist. The work is grounding. Basic. Simple. A comfort. Memories of his boyhood days. His first kiss with young Samantha behind Segwick's big barn. Before his father marched away with the king. Before he joined the watch. Before...so many things. Finally Hamish steps back, grabbing the pail. "That should do her for now." He says seeing the cow, and himself, being much more relaxed. "Good work and my thanks for your help. Care for a mug of warm milk?" He says smiling at Gubble. "Fresh as you'll ever get it." When the others finally depart the barn having dealt with the prisoner as they saw fit. Hamish nods his thanks and relief at Naomi's suggestion. "Aye, it's still acting up a bit and could use a bit of rest." He says patting his leg softly. "Though only for a while. I don't want it to stiffen up on me too much. There's fresh milk if you like." He adds pointing out the jug he'd poured the milk into and any remaining in the bucket.
All, thanks for the writing kudos. Glad that every once in a while something actually works. :) Naomi, totally understand life and stress and all the things along with missing or misunderstanding something on the first read through. (Ha! Just ask the players in my PbP Midgard game.) It's all water under the bridge at this point as far as I'm concerned. And sorry for being a bit slow to respond. I usually jump away from the boards in the evenings to be with family and take care of all the other RL things. So didn't catch up with all of this until just a bit ago.
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