Justric Member
STATUS: No longer here. youtube.com/watch?v=RLBo1HJK.. 9 yrs ago- Last Seen: 4 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: Justric
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*waves hand furiously*
The Jack post I just did takes place a few days later. I know it's out of sync, and I apologize, but I've had that scene in my head for a month now. Hopefully I did it justice.
Some few days after the majority of Third Shift had come out of stasis and Second Shift gone into it, Jack found himself easily settling into his job’s routine. It didn’t have any of the challenges he was used to, of course. There was a great difference between the kludging of gadgets back together and restoring restoring antiques, and the cleaning of a spaceship. One thing both jobs had in common, at least in regards to Jack Pumphrey, was that he took pride in his work. And in taking pride in his work, he found happiness. Be it mopping the floor (and trying to figure out exactly how people could track mud in a space ship) or taking out the garbage (all of which was recycled anyway), he performed his duties without complaint or hesitation. The result was that the Newfie often sang or whistled.
Jack was unaware of it, but most folks vastly preferred the latter to the former. Not only could he not carry a tune in a bucket, there wasn’t an ocean or sea large enough to contain his lack of musical talent.
He was whistling as he swept up in one of the larger office type rooms in a medical area. Penny had been much on his mind, making him all the happier and his whistle all the louder of late. The debris went into a special can on his custodian’s cart. A meeting of some sort was taking place within an inside conference room of some sort, a meeting where voices were raised in heated debate of some kind; on the other side of the frosted glass window between the two rooms, figures in white lab coats seemed to be gesturing passionately. Jack glanced up once or twice and shook his head sadly. He had no idea what they might be arguing about, but they certainly seemed to be taking their own sweet time about it! The ruckus had been going on before he had arrived to clean and was still continuing even as he was about to finish. Why they didn’t just fight it out or drink it out (or both) was beyond him. It was the surest way to end an argument that he knew of! That he couldn’t check the wastepaper cans in the smaller room irked him, but the custodians were under strict orders not to disturb anyone in cases like this unless it was an absolute emergency.
As he settled his broom and dustpan into the special slots on his cart, he heard the door hiss open behind him. “…find them in any of the ranks, not just the essential personnel? Well, let’s just find out then!” a male voice stated firmly.
Looking up, Jack found an older man in a white lab coat coming towards him. The balding man had all the look of someone trying to let go of his anger towards one person while wanting to get the good will of another.
“Excuse me, young man,” the authority type figure said by way of greeting, “I was wondering if you might have a moment to spare? There’s some experiments we’d like to try, and we rather need your help.”
Jack pursed his lips as he thought about it. Glancing over the man’s shoulder, he could see four or five other such people all standing in the doorway watching them. Whatever it was about had to be serious. Jack was sure of that because he didn’t smell lemons or anything else that would put such a sour look on their faces.
“Well, some work to do, b’y,” the Newfie protested honestly. “Mind out now, boss’ll be some angry he thinks I’m off playing patience!”
The doctor type figure paused and blinked at the Newfie, trying to make sense of what was being said. Taking a guess, he gestured to a nearby chair. “Not to worry. This is ship’s business, so should your supervisor take issue I’ll see to it that you are not taken to task, young man. My name is Dr. Lattimore, by the way.”
“Oh. Oh! Well, ship’s business, is it? Can’t say no to dat, s’pose, b’y.” Jack thought on it for a moment longer before shrugging and taking the proffered seat. “Jack, it is. Jack Pumphrey.”
“A… a pleasure, Mr. Pumphrey. Please, make yourself comfortable.” Dr. Lattimore took chair and placed it on the same side of the desk as Jack, sitting across from him casually. “Just a few questions, mind you, it shouldn’t take too long, I think.”
Reaching across the desk, he pulled a stack of large cards towards them and pulled one up to show Jack. “Mr. Pumphrey, would you be so kind as to take a look at the image on this card and tell me what you make of it?”
Jack couldn’t see the harm in such a simple thing and graciously took the card in hand to better examine it. He squinted at it. He turned it one way, then another. He even held it out at arm’s length and then slowly brought it closer until his eyes nearly crossed. In fact, he took his sweet time in taking the measure of the black blotches that marked the white background that he completely missed Dr. Lattimore looking up at the other personnel as though to bid them be patience while expressing that he was just as frustrated with the time the custodian was taking.
“Oh, I sees, I sees,” Jack chuckled finally as he handled the card back to Lattimore, “That there is an ink stain!”
The smile on the doctor’s face slipped a bit even as his cohorts hid their mouths behind their hands. “Technically, it is an ink blot, but-“
“Well, den, here’s yer problem!” Jack leaned in as though to take the man into his confidence. “Just so ya knows, don’t use paper to clean up an ink spill next time. Just makes more of a mess. Best use a damp rag ’n’ follows up wit some solvents.” Before he could be stopped, Jack reached over and looked at the rest of the cards. “Lord love ya far trying, though! Went t’rough a lot of dem tryin’ to clean a mess up, eh? It happens again, you gives me a call, sir.”
Lattimore was sure he heard someone by the door actually stifle a giggle. Determined, however, he pressed on. “Yes, well. Let us perhaps try something else.” The doctor regarded the good natured young man in front of him as he decided his next course of action. He slipped a slim notebook and pencil from his coat pocket. “Let’s try something a little… different. Mr. Pumphrey. I am going to say a few word and after each, I’d like you to say the very first thing that comes to mind.”
“Trouble.”
“Excuse me?”
“Pardon.”
“No-“
“Sure.”
“Sure?”
“Sure, b’y!”
“Mr. Pumphrey, we haven’t started yet!” Lattimore was almost sure he was being put on. He had to be! The whole episode was turning into something right out of a cliched movie or book! While he by no means expected the cleaning man to be of any great intelligence, his responses were simply too farcical to be honest. The fact that he could quite clearly hear one of the other doctors laughing herself silly in the other room did not improve his mood.
“Let’s… let’s start again, Mr. Pumphrey. What comes to mind when I say the word ‘cat’?”
“Boat.”
Lattimore blinked again. “Boat. Really?”
“Oh, yes, by!” came the sincere response.
Silence. Unsure if he should even bother continuing, he scrutinized Jack for any sign of deviltry or mischief. Jack continued to look back innocently. Relenting to finishing what he had started, the doctor found himself in favor of continuing against the odds. “Very well. Mend.”
“Scun up.”
“Boots?”
“Scroop.”
“Rain?”
“Mauzy.”
“Long?”
“Oh, rubbers.”
“Honesty?”
“Jonnick!”
Lattimore sighed and closed his notebook, unsure of either the spelling or the meaning of most of the words the man had just uttered so casually from his mouth. Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, he dared not look up at his fellows as they stood about trying very hard not to interrupt the proceedings. With a deep breath, the doctor straightened in the chair and looked the impromptu subject straight in the eyes. “Mr. Pumphrey, how about we try some basic problem solving and intelligence questions instead? For example, if I were to ask you why manhole covers are round, what would you say?”
Jack laughed out load at the question, shaking his head. “Oh, dat der is easy! Manhole covers is round so dat dey fit inside de round manholes! Can’t put a square cover in a round hole, now cans ya?”
That was obviously too much for someone in his retinue. By the whooping sounds of laughter, he suspected he knew which of his colleagues it was but it was a matter to be dealt with later. “I think that covers it, Mr. Pumphrey.,” he concluded in resignation. “Thank you for your service.”
Jack rose and immediately took the doctor’s hand in firm, strong grip to shake it. The look of shock on the doctor’s face was lost on him as he replied, “Any time. Any time. Best kind!” He wasn’t sure exactly how he might have helped, but that was often the way of the world. They had a problem and they were smart enough to ask a Newfoundlander to help! Jack looked over at the milling group with a wide smile, glad to see there were other folks on the ship who didn’t take life so seriously and knew how to enjoy themselves! He would have loved to know what jokes had been told so raise such laughter, but work was waiting and he wasn’t a man to linger long.
As he moved to push his cart out of the chamber and back into the hallway, he did catch something of what they were saying. “How did he do?” an amused woman asked. “Do you think he’d pass any of the more rigorous tests?”
Lattimore shook his head to express a mix of awe and disappointment, waiting until Jack had exited completely before commenting. “I do not believe the tests were designed with anything like him in mind. Perhaps we should contain our searches to the selected parameters.”
Jack continued to whistle as he pushed his cart on to the next room, a simple lounge for folks to relax in, much like the one near Penny’s room. The thought brought Penny’s smiling face to mind once more, making him whistle all the louder again. He regretted not asking to keep the first card that the doctor had shown him then. Jack was sure the serious man of medicine was unaware of the simple beauties of the world and had been oblivious to how pretty the butterfly-like image had been.
Jack was unaware of it, but most folks vastly preferred the latter to the former. Not only could he not carry a tune in a bucket, there wasn’t an ocean or sea large enough to contain his lack of musical talent.
He was whistling as he swept up in one of the larger office type rooms in a medical area. Penny had been much on his mind, making him all the happier and his whistle all the louder of late. The debris went into a special can on his custodian’s cart. A meeting of some sort was taking place within an inside conference room of some sort, a meeting where voices were raised in heated debate of some kind; on the other side of the frosted glass window between the two rooms, figures in white lab coats seemed to be gesturing passionately. Jack glanced up once or twice and shook his head sadly. He had no idea what they might be arguing about, but they certainly seemed to be taking their own sweet time about it! The ruckus had been going on before he had arrived to clean and was still continuing even as he was about to finish. Why they didn’t just fight it out or drink it out (or both) was beyond him. It was the surest way to end an argument that he knew of! That he couldn’t check the wastepaper cans in the smaller room irked him, but the custodians were under strict orders not to disturb anyone in cases like this unless it was an absolute emergency.
As he settled his broom and dustpan into the special slots on his cart, he heard the door hiss open behind him. “…find them in any of the ranks, not just the essential personnel? Well, let’s just find out then!” a male voice stated firmly.
Looking up, Jack found an older man in a white lab coat coming towards him. The balding man had all the look of someone trying to let go of his anger towards one person while wanting to get the good will of another.
“Excuse me, young man,” the authority type figure said by way of greeting, “I was wondering if you might have a moment to spare? There’s some experiments we’d like to try, and we rather need your help.”
Jack pursed his lips as he thought about it. Glancing over the man’s shoulder, he could see four or five other such people all standing in the doorway watching them. Whatever it was about had to be serious. Jack was sure of that because he didn’t smell lemons or anything else that would put such a sour look on their faces.
“Well, some work to do, b’y,” the Newfie protested honestly. “Mind out now, boss’ll be some angry he thinks I’m off playing patience!”
The doctor type figure paused and blinked at the Newfie, trying to make sense of what was being said. Taking a guess, he gestured to a nearby chair. “Not to worry. This is ship’s business, so should your supervisor take issue I’ll see to it that you are not taken to task, young man. My name is Dr. Lattimore, by the way.”
“Oh. Oh! Well, ship’s business, is it? Can’t say no to dat, s’pose, b’y.” Jack thought on it for a moment longer before shrugging and taking the proffered seat. “Jack, it is. Jack Pumphrey.”
“A… a pleasure, Mr. Pumphrey. Please, make yourself comfortable.” Dr. Lattimore took chair and placed it on the same side of the desk as Jack, sitting across from him casually. “Just a few questions, mind you, it shouldn’t take too long, I think.”
Reaching across the desk, he pulled a stack of large cards towards them and pulled one up to show Jack. “Mr. Pumphrey, would you be so kind as to take a look at the image on this card and tell me what you make of it?”
Jack couldn’t see the harm in such a simple thing and graciously took the card in hand to better examine it. He squinted at it. He turned it one way, then another. He even held it out at arm’s length and then slowly brought it closer until his eyes nearly crossed. In fact, he took his sweet time in taking the measure of the black blotches that marked the white background that he completely missed Dr. Lattimore looking up at the other personnel as though to bid them be patience while expressing that he was just as frustrated with the time the custodian was taking.
“Oh, I sees, I sees,” Jack chuckled finally as he handled the card back to Lattimore, “That there is an ink stain!”
The smile on the doctor’s face slipped a bit even as his cohorts hid their mouths behind their hands. “Technically, it is an ink blot, but-“
“Well, den, here’s yer problem!” Jack leaned in as though to take the man into his confidence. “Just so ya knows, don’t use paper to clean up an ink spill next time. Just makes more of a mess. Best use a damp rag ’n’ follows up wit some solvents.” Before he could be stopped, Jack reached over and looked at the rest of the cards. “Lord love ya far trying, though! Went t’rough a lot of dem tryin’ to clean a mess up, eh? It happens again, you gives me a call, sir.”
Lattimore was sure he heard someone by the door actually stifle a giggle. Determined, however, he pressed on. “Yes, well. Let us perhaps try something else.” The doctor regarded the good natured young man in front of him as he decided his next course of action. He slipped a slim notebook and pencil from his coat pocket. “Let’s try something a little… different. Mr. Pumphrey. I am going to say a few word and after each, I’d like you to say the very first thing that comes to mind.”
“Trouble.”
“Excuse me?”
“Pardon.”
“No-“
“Sure.”
“Sure?”
“Sure, b’y!”
“Mr. Pumphrey, we haven’t started yet!” Lattimore was almost sure he was being put on. He had to be! The whole episode was turning into something right out of a cliched movie or book! While he by no means expected the cleaning man to be of any great intelligence, his responses were simply too farcical to be honest. The fact that he could quite clearly hear one of the other doctors laughing herself silly in the other room did not improve his mood.
“Let’s… let’s start again, Mr. Pumphrey. What comes to mind when I say the word ‘cat’?”
“Boat.”
Lattimore blinked again. “Boat. Really?”
“Oh, yes, by!” came the sincere response.
Silence. Unsure if he should even bother continuing, he scrutinized Jack for any sign of deviltry or mischief. Jack continued to look back innocently. Relenting to finishing what he had started, the doctor found himself in favor of continuing against the odds. “Very well. Mend.”
“Scun up.”
“Boots?”
“Scroop.”
“Rain?”
“Mauzy.”
“Long?”
“Oh, rubbers.”
“Honesty?”
“Jonnick!”
Lattimore sighed and closed his notebook, unsure of either the spelling or the meaning of most of the words the man had just uttered so casually from his mouth. Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, he dared not look up at his fellows as they stood about trying very hard not to interrupt the proceedings. With a deep breath, the doctor straightened in the chair and looked the impromptu subject straight in the eyes. “Mr. Pumphrey, how about we try some basic problem solving and intelligence questions instead? For example, if I were to ask you why manhole covers are round, what would you say?”
Jack laughed out load at the question, shaking his head. “Oh, dat der is easy! Manhole covers is round so dat dey fit inside de round manholes! Can’t put a square cover in a round hole, now cans ya?”
That was obviously too much for someone in his retinue. By the whooping sounds of laughter, he suspected he knew which of his colleagues it was but it was a matter to be dealt with later. “I think that covers it, Mr. Pumphrey.,” he concluded in resignation. “Thank you for your service.”
Jack rose and immediately took the doctor’s hand in firm, strong grip to shake it. The look of shock on the doctor’s face was lost on him as he replied, “Any time. Any time. Best kind!” He wasn’t sure exactly how he might have helped, but that was often the way of the world. They had a problem and they were smart enough to ask a Newfoundlander to help! Jack looked over at the milling group with a wide smile, glad to see there were other folks on the ship who didn’t take life so seriously and knew how to enjoy themselves! He would have loved to know what jokes had been told so raise such laughter, but work was waiting and he wasn’t a man to linger long.
As he moved to push his cart out of the chamber and back into the hallway, he did catch something of what they were saying. “How did he do?” an amused woman asked. “Do you think he’d pass any of the more rigorous tests?”
Lattimore shook his head to express a mix of awe and disappointment, waiting until Jack had exited completely before commenting. “I do not believe the tests were designed with anything like him in mind. Perhaps we should contain our searches to the selected parameters.”
Jack continued to whistle as he pushed his cart on to the next room, a simple lounge for folks to relax in, much like the one near Penny’s room. The thought brought Penny’s smiling face to mind once more, making him whistle all the louder again. He regretted not asking to keep the first card that the doctor had shown him then. Jack was sure the serious man of medicine was unaware of the simple beauties of the world and had been oblivious to how pretty the butterfly-like image had been.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
Sorry, dearie, I think I'm showing my age. I'm reciting lyrics from The Time Warp.
Why? Because I remember doing the time warp. Drinking those moments when the blackness would hit me, and the void would be calling...
The Jaeger’s eyebrows rose impressively, the darker green of the bushy hair peaking as though to express his doubts on the matter. Killing things was the way to go! It’s what Jaegers did best! It was what he did best! Especially if said killing involved a great deal of mess and screaming. Only now, she wanted a story instead, a story that he only half remembered himself from his grandmother’s knee long before he even dreamed about becoming a Jaeger. The loyalty to House Heterodyne had always been there, of course. Those who didn’t put their faith in the masters of Castle Heterodyne usually didn’t live in Mechanicburg for very long, one way or another. The townsfolk of that key city were fanatically loyal to the Heterodynes, and becoming a Jaeger had only increased that loyalty.
“Jake O’Blood,” he drawled eventually. Jötz paused again to dig at something caught in his one tooth, the singe talon neatly pulling clear a bit of gristle he had missed after his last meal. “He vas from someplace called Thule, but vas raised Englisch, hy knows dat much. Only he didn’t stay der. Ludd vast exiled, I tink, some scandal or sometink like dat. My granny mentioned that Ludd didn’t like de new leaving machines dat vere all da rage, vas convinced dat dey vas part of some plot to take over da vorld. Or at least England. Zo? He goes around mit a bunch oft other peoples und makes dem all go bang! De local big men didn’t like dat so much, so dey goes after him, only den it turns out dat he vast right all along, de schmart guy! But de Guilds, dey gots to save face. So he gets taken to de Queen und she ist told, ‘Hey, dis ist one baddy ve gots here, look at that he’s done!’ But de Queen isn’t schtupid. She knew vhat Ludd had done. Only she need them big bosses in der Guilds for her plans, zo she sends Ludd off with lots and lots of money.”
As the more he spoke and the more he thought on it, the more curious Jötz became himself. It had been several decades since he had heard any of the stories at all, and what details as weren’t lost over time were just as easily twisted by a five year old boy’s perceptions as he listened to his elders by the hearth. Jötz found himself scanning ahead mentally as he told Ivy what he knew. He became wrapped up in both the telling and the recollection of it all to the point where his sharp eyes became slightly distant; they were focused not on the room they shared now, but instead upon the images the yarns had spun in his head as a boy.
Unknown to him, distracted by his own thoughts, his thick accent began to slip into something softer and less harsh.
“Vhen Ludd gets to Europa, he uses all dat money to build a library. Greatest library ever, he wanted, somevhere in Belgium. Not only dat, but he wanted to have a Grand Index! So that if der was a book you wanted, and if he didn’t have it, you could look uo who might have it. He vanted to share knowledge mit everyone so dat everyone could prosper, or something like dat. The canals were built by him to do just dat, make it easier for folks to find stuff out und do research und to share ideas; the canals vere supposed to go to every major city dat had a library.
“The canals also allowed for better trade between cities. No trains yet, chou see? So de Bargefolks and Canallers were people hired by Ludd to transport goods and, more importantly, books. Big trade, lots of money for everyone, everyone happy, yes?
Jötz shook his head sadly. “Only de other schmart guys, they didn’t want to share. Dey hoarded der books and libraries like gold, und books dat Ludd’s libraries lent out didn’t come back to him most of de time. In fact, a bunch of dem gets ideas in der heads, and dey attack and sack Ludd’s library while he’s away doing something or other. When he gets back, he vast hopping mad. Ludd says something like, ‘If they don’t want to share, then I’ll have to steal.’ Und dat’s when Jacob Ludd became dis pirate guy, Jake O’Blood. He used the canals to raid cities and steal whatever wasn’t nailed down, killing anyone who got in his way until even de Heterodynes say, ‘Whoa, dat is too much!’ So de Storm King comes along und tries to stomp on Ludd. Only Ludd disappeared before the army de Strorm Kind sent could find him! They say dat Ludd made off with half the books of Europa, never to be seen again, not even at his library! Den again, dey say dat the Mongfishes got der first und looted whatever was left before burning it to de ground. So there’s no knowing how much of his treasure he took with him and how much the other families stole away.”
“Und dat’s it,” he finished apologetically. “Ludd vast a good guy mit great ideas on helpink everyone out, but in de end? Eh. He killed und stole und unleashed crazy, Spark mad ting on innocent pipples, same as any other Spark.”
The Jaeger brought his narrative to a close, looking at Ivy critically. “Ist you okay? Chou look like chou ist ready for sleepy-sleep.” He coughed as delicately as a constructed death-dealing monster could. “Und, ah, der is only de one bed. Dis floor? I don’t tink is so good for taking a nap on.”
“Jake O’Blood,” he drawled eventually. Jötz paused again to dig at something caught in his one tooth, the singe talon neatly pulling clear a bit of gristle he had missed after his last meal. “He vas from someplace called Thule, but vas raised Englisch, hy knows dat much. Only he didn’t stay der. Ludd vast exiled, I tink, some scandal or sometink like dat. My granny mentioned that Ludd didn’t like de new leaving machines dat vere all da rage, vas convinced dat dey vas part of some plot to take over da vorld. Or at least England. Zo? He goes around mit a bunch oft other peoples und makes dem all go bang! De local big men didn’t like dat so much, so dey goes after him, only den it turns out dat he vast right all along, de schmart guy! But de Guilds, dey gots to save face. So he gets taken to de Queen und she ist told, ‘Hey, dis ist one baddy ve gots here, look at that he’s done!’ But de Queen isn’t schtupid. She knew vhat Ludd had done. Only she need them big bosses in der Guilds for her plans, zo she sends Ludd off with lots and lots of money.”
As the more he spoke and the more he thought on it, the more curious Jötz became himself. It had been several decades since he had heard any of the stories at all, and what details as weren’t lost over time were just as easily twisted by a five year old boy’s perceptions as he listened to his elders by the hearth. Jötz found himself scanning ahead mentally as he told Ivy what he knew. He became wrapped up in both the telling and the recollection of it all to the point where his sharp eyes became slightly distant; they were focused not on the room they shared now, but instead upon the images the yarns had spun in his head as a boy.
Unknown to him, distracted by his own thoughts, his thick accent began to slip into something softer and less harsh.
“Vhen Ludd gets to Europa, he uses all dat money to build a library. Greatest library ever, he wanted, somevhere in Belgium. Not only dat, but he wanted to have a Grand Index! So that if der was a book you wanted, and if he didn’t have it, you could look uo who might have it. He vanted to share knowledge mit everyone so dat everyone could prosper, or something like dat. The canals were built by him to do just dat, make it easier for folks to find stuff out und do research und to share ideas; the canals vere supposed to go to every major city dat had a library.
“The canals also allowed for better trade between cities. No trains yet, chou see? So de Bargefolks and Canallers were people hired by Ludd to transport goods and, more importantly, books. Big trade, lots of money for everyone, everyone happy, yes?
Jötz shook his head sadly. “Only de other schmart guys, they didn’t want to share. Dey hoarded der books and libraries like gold, und books dat Ludd’s libraries lent out didn’t come back to him most of de time. In fact, a bunch of dem gets ideas in der heads, and dey attack and sack Ludd’s library while he’s away doing something or other. When he gets back, he vast hopping mad. Ludd says something like, ‘If they don’t want to share, then I’ll have to steal.’ Und dat’s when Jacob Ludd became dis pirate guy, Jake O’Blood. He used the canals to raid cities and steal whatever wasn’t nailed down, killing anyone who got in his way until even de Heterodynes say, ‘Whoa, dat is too much!’ So de Storm King comes along und tries to stomp on Ludd. Only Ludd disappeared before the army de Strorm Kind sent could find him! They say dat Ludd made off with half the books of Europa, never to be seen again, not even at his library! Den again, dey say dat the Mongfishes got der first und looted whatever was left before burning it to de ground. So there’s no knowing how much of his treasure he took with him and how much the other families stole away.”
“Und dat’s it,” he finished apologetically. “Ludd vast a good guy mit great ideas on helpink everyone out, but in de end? Eh. He killed und stole und unleashed crazy, Spark mad ting on innocent pipples, same as any other Spark.”
The Jaeger brought his narrative to a close, looking at Ivy critically. “Ist you okay? Chou look like chou ist ready for sleepy-sleep.” He coughed as delicately as a constructed death-dealing monster could. “Und, ah, der is only de one bed. Dis floor? I don’t tink is so good for taking a nap on.”
Great... Now I'm trying to picture Tim Curry as The Doctor...
Can we make it a time warp?
Hey, dearie! I hope you're coping with the holidays? (I know I barely am!)
With the Guild still acting pretty wonky, I do worry about losing partners and stories. Should we go through another Guildfall, you can always reach me at the Skype account. I'll also send you my email addy.
With the Guild still acting pretty wonky, I do worry about losing partners and stories. Should we go through another Guildfall, you can always reach me at the Skype account. I'll also send you my email addy.
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