• Event • [Moderated Thread] Digging in the ruins: Flora

[Lakia Amaranthine]

Well, the ruins were a complete mess. The first thing she noticed was the moss, the same that had been on the shrines. Well, she was having no part of that, no way. Moss did not grow in perfectly rectangular rectangles, and she trusted the stuff about as far as she could throw Varn. Whether it was dangerous or not didn't matter to her, just that it's properties were unknown and she had people to rescue, companions to keep alive, and Delta to keep safe. Unknown was bad enough right now.

At Delta's question, she grinned slightly. The biqaj navigator was turning irritable, and she was waiting for her to snap at someone. She wanted to see the reactions when the girl they took as a meek slave bit their heads off. Granted, it was just as likely to be Lakia's own head that got bit, but she didn't generally mind Delta's snapping that much. "Depends on how many of the researchers we can save, I suppose." she said, as quietly as Delta had spoken. Then she turned and saw the slave tied to the door, and a low growl escaped her throat. She had seen that kind of treatment, and the fact that she kept a slave herself sent a feeling of self-loathing up her spine.

Giving a sharp exhale, Lakia pushed the thoughts from her mind. Time enough to deal with her personal issues when they weren't on an island that was likely hostile down to the very bedrock. As was becoming a habit of hers now, she raised her hand to the scar she had received at the Ice Caves. Naerrik normally didn't scar, but this one was apparently special, cool to the touch. She had even discovered a few tricks she could do with it that, a fact that worried her a bit. She hoped it didn't react to anything in the ruins.

Still, she was close by Pash as he walked up to the new slave. She stayed a bit back, however, her paranoia getting the better of her. "I have some first aid supplies, if you need them." she said, speaking directly to the slave girl. "Don't worry, we won't let anyone else hurt you." she said, before gesturing at Varn. "Our guard there, he may be a bit off a blockhead, but he's devoted to keeping us, and now you, safe." she said, before turning to Varn and raising an eyebrow, as if daring him to retort to her blockhead comment.

[Padraig]

He wasn't going to be able to give his full attention to this expedition and the inherent dangers if he continued to be strangely fixated on Yolande. And if this was anything like the Ice Caves, or in truth any given romantic outing he attempted to share with Faith, any number of unsavory things were lurking in the shadows, waiting to have their way with the lot of them. Mind over matter, Padraig resolved. Pash made a good point about ship's hulls and barnacles and water lines, of course, except that it probably didn't explain the trees. "It may not explain the abrupt line at the top of the growth," he figured out loud. 'But the placement of it almost suggests that the shrine is acting as some sort of magnet." At the least, there seemed to be some sort of connection.

Under other circumstances, in spite of everyone chiming in don't touch, if taking a sample of the moss would have allowed him to test it on the spot with some tricks he'd brought along from his chemistry kit, he'd have done it anyway. But short term, taking a sample wouldn't give them any immediate answers. So he turned his attention back to the maps. But oh, those hips were nice. One map wasn't much help. But the other? He focused on that, though he couldn't quite shake the sense of being watched. Like an annoying tickling sensation of the back of the neck. This wasn't an unfamiliar sensation for him. But familiarity didn't make it any less bothersome.

More moss, it appeared, and in square patches instead of more expected, ordinary growth. But why? As for Yolande's touch, at once his body responded to it, traitor that it was, but his mind? He really wished she wouldn't and rather than shrug off her touch, he simply shifted enough to make it more difficult for her to maintain the unwanted, yet wanted, contact. "A lightening strike? Maybe," he considered. If it appeared to be recently ruined at least. "Or maybe a quake." Or something other, something not necessarily a quirk of nature. The scorched earth and stone however made lightening a distinct possibility.

The slave, Delta, seemed impatient, irritated. But weren't they all just a little? Padraig opted not to dwell on it, or Lakia's response to that. They couldn't afford to be distracted by moodiness, aloofness or shortness, one with the other. But then there was something to be said for distance, he decided with a curious frown when Pash wandered over and laid hands on, up close and personal, without so much as a by your leave. So much gazing into eyes, up close and personal, close talking...so much touching? Sure, the man was a singer, one of those artsy individuals who tended to be more sensitive...Padraig would think.

Padraig himself wasn't much for touching or gazing into other's eyes for any measurable amount of time. Except with Faith of course but even then...Was this normal for Pash? Surely Faith would have mentioned it before since they worked together? Maybe, considering the strangeness of all this, something had gotten into the man's head and was causing him to behave in a way that was...Well it was damned uncomfortable was what it was. Padraig grew a little tense at the prolonged contact, smiled uncomfortably and stepped back just a little. Meaning the man would have to chase him down to continue.

"Lightening, maybe," he uttered, much as he'd said to Yolande, who's touch he was also avoiding for very different reasons. "But all things considered, if it was that then I suspect it wasn't just nature doing what it tends to do ordinarily. Something else at work maybe."

But afterwards, inside the shrine, the discovery of the poor bound girl delayed any thoughts of exploring the place further. There were others who got to her first and were tending to her, though Padraig offered his own medical kit that also contained a supply of liquid bandage, or skin raft, if it might be of any additional help. Meanwhile, he considered the circumstances, looked around, frowning, and muttered much to himself, "A sacrifice maybe?" But if she'd been bound and left there as a sacrifice to something, well then someone ought to be keeping an eye out for whatever she was being sacrificed to. With that in mind, he kept an eye out, and a hand always close to his sword.

[Pegasus]

20th Ymiden, 717

Cause and effect. That was what was happening in this moment and, much like the intricate tapestries of emotion which Pash was recognising as having been Very Messed With, cause and effect was all in a tangle.

Some bits were simple. For example, Pash felt the unmistakable sensation of having scratched himself till he bled. Really, though, even that was complex. Why he was itching was not clear. Maybe he needed a medic? Certainly, as the itch continued to intensify, there might be an argument, but that was Pash's to decide.

The unfolding situation between Padraig, Pash and Yolande, though? That was much more complex and what the others made of it remained to be seen. However, a number of things happened, depending on one's point of view.

Pash saw it, clearly. There was what Padraig actually felt, what his usual norm was; then there was this. Bright and garish threads, lacking any depth and making up for that by being bright and loud were being gradually interwoven in him. Like a child's painting over a genuine masterpiece, but the problem that Pash could almost see and nearly understand was that they were bleeding, one colour into another. No good could come of that.

So, maintaining contact as long as he could before Padraig got completely weirded out and pulled back (which wasn't long at all), Pash did what he could. And what he could, was the technique known as knotting. There was no way that Pash was going to do more than that without risking some significant overstepping, but that, he did.

Which led to a strange situation for Padraig. What he had been experiencing simply switched off. It had been growing in intensity, but more than that it had started to combine, subconsciously, with the real emotions he felt. Not a lot, just a small amount but as it stopped, he felt it. It was like someone had snuffed out a candle and he was back to himself. The empaths who were messing with his mind were doing so in about as unsubtle way as possible and the extreme reaction he had been feeling coupled with the sudden stopping. Usually, someone wouldn't know, wouldn't recognise that there was something strange. Empathy, after all, is a very subtle magic.

But whoever had put that first set of feelings on him had all the subtlety of a brick. Or, had very limited understanding of the emotion they were trying to impart to him. However, if they intended to unnerve, to distract and to leave with a feeling of vulnerability? Well, in that, they'd succeeded admirably. What it also meant, however, was that when Pash gave Padraig a friendly pat on the back, Padraig felt himself return to normal.

And in truth, that probably passed the others by. Although it must be said, Varn watched the interaction with something resembling confusion. However, all of that interesting intricacy notwithstanding, they made their way as far as they did and then, there was the slave girl. As Pash hesitated but moved towards her, Varn nodded to him. There was no point in overwhelming her, after all.

He glanced at Lakia and grinned, though, at the blockhead comment. "You love it. You can't help yourself, I'm just that damn good looking." The smile he gave was tense, though and he turned his attention back to the unfolding situation with the slave.

Who looked at Pash with wide, terrified eyes and nodded her head. She wasn't going to stop him, or anyone, from doing anything, as Pash moved forward, she held herself arms out so that she helped him. "The archaeologists, Sir? They're down below ground in the ruins." The girl's voice was quiet and, as he got closer Pash saw that her lips were dry and her eyes somewhat sunken. Anyone with any medical knowledge would recognise signs of dehydration. "They have to release the plague, Sir." One might have thought that she couldn't look more afraid, but as she said that, she did.

"Attacked Sir? No Sir," she was quick to answer his questions, "this slave's master tied it here, Sir." For those who knew such things, the way the slave spoke told a lot. "Master has no more use for it, Sir." The cuts on her wrists were unpleasant and had happened over a length of time, the skin was ripped away in a ragged manner. Parts of it were looking infected.

Lakia, Padraig, Delta and Varn all heard the slight sigh which they all put down to having come from one of the others.

"Yolande's got medical training," Varn said, frowning. "Those need looking at. Yolande?"

Except, Yolande just wasn't there any more. She had been just in Lakia and Padraig's peripheral vision mere trill ago. A trill before that, Delta had caught her eye and Yolande had smiled at the biqaj slave. Yet she just wasn't there any more. Lakia could make out her tracks and she was standing in one place and then simply wasn't there. Any shouting or brief sojourns out into the immediate area showed, very clearly that she was nowhere near.

He'd shouted, he'd searched. Now, though, Varn was far too spun out to do anything other than try to take some idea of control back. "Alright, I vote we get her cleaned up best we can, then go find these archaeologists and rescue them, stop them or give them a serious talking to." Varn said, firmly. The man was obviously very, very unnerved. "Unless anyone has a better plan?"

Overhead, thunder rumbled in what could reasonably be assumed to be the beginning of a regular Ymiden storm.

OOC Info

!	Message from: OOC Information!
	I will post again on 7th July No placeholders, please. Please don't control the NPCs, feel free to direct things to them - they'll respond in my next post Please pm me with any questions. This thread is now closed to new players.

NPC

Your archaeologist companion is a female human called Yolande.

► Show Spoiler

She disapoofed!

Your guard is a male Biqaj called Varn

► Show Spoiler

He looks to be mid to late twenties.
He wears two swords, has a bow slung on his back and has knives dotted around his clothes.
He is a talkative, loud and rather brash individual with a booming laugh.
He is new to Scalvoris
He is very fit
He has a tendency to tell un-funny jokes and laugh at them. Loudly
Could reasonably be considered a bit of a chauvinist
He has a temper
He obviously does not approve of slavery
He is passionate about his job

In your next post

Please let me know
1. what you're going to do with the slave
2. what your vote is for Varn's suggestion and any alternative suggestions you might be forwarding.

It is really important that you are explicit in your post about what you're doing.
Thanks!

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Pash had not been thinking about himself as much as he could usually be faulted for, too caught up in the story that was unfolding out of his control, the irritating itch a distraction that had continued to grow in volume and discomfort until he finally could not pretend it was normal.

Nothing here was normal. Nothing.

It was in reaching to unbind the slave that he noticed, having moved his hand to unsheath a dagger and cut the cowering creature free—an act he was aware he may come to regret—there was blood seeping through the sleeve of his shirt. His. A silver stain like so much stardust on sun-faded linen. For a few more bits, he had no choice but to ignore it, cutting through the slave woman’s bindings in hopes of providing relief that was obviously far too late, her wounds enough to cause him to advert his gaze because the seafaring minstrel wasn’t really at all comfortable with unnecessary bloodshed (even the necessary kind tended to turn his stomach no matter how much bravado he could muster).

So, the sight of his own blood was, in all honesty, more than just a simple inconvenience. As everyone else volunteered their first aid kits (which he did not have one of his own), Pash took that as a queue for his exit and he wordlessly backed off from the woman he’d just set loose into their wild, stressful situation, mind still very much preoccupied with where it had been (inside of someone else’s, which was being messed with by someone else who had to be within contact distance … Immortals, who was it?) and what he had seen (all those threads, all that mess) while at the same time trying desperately not to succumb to any more fear over the phrases on the too dry lips of the slave:

They’re gone down below ground in the ruins. If only that phrase had been more encouraging. Instead, it was an anchor heavy with dread.

They have to release the plague, sir. What in all of U’Frek’s wide ocean did that mean?

Master has no more use for it, sir. Great. Just great. As if treating some living, breathing, thinking individual as an object to be tossed away like garbage wasn’t bad enough … whatever was happening right now … Pash couldn’t wrap his head around it. Too much was going on, and he had to quickly prioritize lest he buckle under any more regret.

The tall Biqaj wasn’t sure, now, in the thick of everything coming together like clouds on the horizon before a storm, what was more worrying. He returned his dagger to its place as he stepped away, newly freed hand moving to untuck his bloodied sleeve from his leather bracer, rolling the stained fabric upwards to peer at his tanned, tattooed skin, to investigate the damage he’d done with impatient, unthinking nails. He made no effort to hide what he was doing, although he was aware everyone else would be distracted by the slave and medical attention—

No.

Damn it all, no. Something worse was happening.

Everyone would be distracted by the disappearance of Yolande.

Pash missed it all for a few heartbeats, too busy investigating his own self and fighting down his own rising tide of panic to even see their guide—whom he clearly had his suspicions about—disappear into thin air.

For the second time in a trial, the seafaring minstrel frowned. It was deep and his face was ill-suited for such a sour expression, loaded though it was with fear instead of mere unhappiness. Then he swore some more in his native tongue, though it was perhaps more poetic and colorful than most given his profession, louder than before. He was a somewhat creative swearer when he chose to do so, especially under duress. Horrified, now, on so many different levels, he considered the need to knot away his own fear just to be able to continue whatever course of action they all were forced to decide upon next. Only, he was in no state to concentrate inward with so much going on outwardly, even with his own person.

“Well, I’m all for cleanin’ ‘er up, an’ she may know th’ ruins since clearly she’s been … er … used for somethin’. I don’ think we’ll be doin’ any damn rescuin’, but, um—” Pash ventured, quietly, as if adding himself to the mix would be a huge bother that he didn’t want to bring up but aware that if he didn’t, his usefulness could most likely be questionable at best. He faltered, finding himself struggling to make the necessary words a proper request for help, “—could I, uh, be added to th’ clean up queue? Y’know, b’fore we head off into anythin’ … worse.”

With that, he held up his arm, frown darkening like the rumble that sounded overhead.

[Pegasus]

Uh-Oh!

Whoever gets to look at Pash's arm? And you can all, those who look, see it.

He has a strange, green growth on it. It's like it's a sort of fungus. Until you realise, upon closer inspection, exactly what it is.

......... you don't really need me to tell you it's moss, do you??

Also - any of you who are dealing with either the slave or Pash in ANY way, let me know what your medical knowledge is? Thanks

[Delta]

Ice trickled down every nerve in Delta’s body. It was like being back in Augiery. “This slave… it…”. Delta did not understand all of what the girl was saying, but she knew those words in a number of languages. For a moment, the spun on its axis, and the biqaj was transported back in a hazy swirl of panic to her year of confinement in the cursed naerikk city. For her part, Delta had never referred to herself in the third person. Never had she sunk so low as to lose her identity. Never had the drugs addled her mind, nor the blows to her back cause her humanity to be stripped away to such an extent as this girl before her had… no matter how easy a target she had been.

Lakia had never insisted on how she referenced herself, Immortals, Lakia even went as far as to use her father’s nickname to refer to her on occasion - something that Delta had always bristled at. The slave took a step back, away from the scene, as others began to act. With unfocused eyes, she registered, but did not process, their guide’s soft smile - uncomfortable as everyone apparently felt.

Only half-biqaj (even if she did not know it), her eyes did not display the same emotion that a full-blooded biqaj’s would. Only with her strongest emotions would they fluctuate, and even then they would never dance between shades. Now, however, the capricious slave’s eyes flickered between periwinkle and teal a few times before finally setting on viridian. The guard was talking, the lyrical biqaj was acting, the slave was muttering, but no words really found purchase in her mind. All she heard was the mantra this slave… this slave… this slave… rolling through her head. Layers of the echo which left no room in the already cynical sailor’s head for anything more coherent.

The girl in front of her was a slave, in every sense of the word. Her body and mind had been broken - Delta had seen it, had lived it. Her personality was a mere extension of her master’s - her words were toneless, matter-of-fact. A slave lived as if the master’s words were law, and this one was no exception. There was only a brief glimmer of shame, of hesitation, in Delta’s mind, when she saw the scrapes around the wrists - had the slave tried to free herself of her bonds? Maybe not all hope was lost for her?

But… no… “No, don’t.” Delta replied to both Pash and Varn, just about grasping what they were planning to do. She spoken in a language everyone would understand - her own vote. Instinct - with her limited experience in medicine, had her hands already fumbling for the medicinal kit she had been given. Instead, she found the hilt of the small blade she had been handed at the campsite in her hand. Surprised, Delta paused and stared down at it for trill… and then another. But then she looked up, eyes shining, lip quivering, and her tongue shifted to that of her native. “Kill it. It cannot help us. Its life has a single purpose, and that single purpose has tied it out her and left it to die. It is no use to us.” She meant to speak firmly, but her voice grew higher, breaking on key words.

None of them would understand: they saw something they could use. They thought that if they were kind to the slave, they could buy her loyalty? Was they what they had done earlier; had Varn had been kind to Delta with a hidden agenda? Even if she did want to help them, she would still be, or feel, forced. There was nothing good about this. Delta felt sick. The biqaj slave glanced at her own mistress, a contradictory chasm of unspoken resentment, gratefulness, self-loathing, fury and compassion between them. Then she tore her gaze away, focused in on her quarry, and surged forward. Her hand was shaking as she raised the weapon, she was intent on using it. “Have compassion. She deserves mercy.” No one deserved to live such a pathetic existence, she’d be better off dead.

[Pegasus]

OMG! You Guys!

So - the way that this is going to work is that Delta does that whilst Pash is focused on his arm. Lakia and Padraig you, as you have not yet posted, have an opportunity to respond to Delta.

If you are going to attack Delta / the slave / Varn / Pash / each other (hey, at this point, it might happen) then please just let me know what you are aiming to do and - most importantly - how

Please do not assume success of failure of your actions, just tell me what you're going to do.

However, feel free to include conditionals (ie: "If successful, then he would" or "If that happens, then she will..")

ANY questions, please let me know. Thanks.

[Padraig]

One bit he was lusting after Yolande and wondering why Pash was suddenly so touchy feelie, and the next? It was as if someone had snuffed out a candle and what Padraig had been feeling before, he no longer did. Except for some discomfort where both of his current companions were concerned. For the life of him he couldn't figure what had gotten into him, and what had sorted it out. But he was betting it was something manipulative and unnatural. He just didn't know who to credit for meddling, and who or what to credit for sorting it out. Padraig frowned, his already unsettled mood growing darker. Better all concerned just kept their untoward motives and hands to themselves.

Nothing improved once they entered the ruins. He'd opted to let the others tend to the slave. But no matter that the most of his attention was focused on looking out for any unwanted surprises or pitfalls, he couldn't help to hear the poor girl's words. The plague? Now that was worrisome. But it was what she said next that got to him. Master tied it here. Master has no use for it." Padraig's jaw twitched. It was as easy for him to imagine that it was Faith's voice he was hearing, back when he'd first met her. She'd had far more scrap than this poor wretch did, but the mindset was much the same. Tea kettles. Tea cozies. That's what he heard.

And then? Varn suggested they tend the girl and move on, Pash decided to cut the girl loose and Yolande disappeared. She didn't walk away. She was just gone. Padraig turned around then and shook his head, wondering if there was anything at this point that could possibly make things worse. Well, there was the thunder. And then there was Pash, bleeding quicksilver from a self-inflicted wound....And was that moss on his arm? "Don't touch it," he said, "and don't scratch anywhere else. And for Immortal's sake don't touch anyone else," he said, thinking to reach for his medical kit.

But then? Something the slave girl Delta said caught his attention instead. His grasp of her language was hit and miss, but it was enough for Padraig to believe that her intentions towards the poor wretch of a slave were not charitable ones. In fact they were as far from charitable as it was possible to get. His jaw twitched again, he remembered Faith and he shoved the medical kit into Pash's hands and moved closer to the slave. His now empty hand twitched as the band on his arm, a gift from Qylios warmed beneath his armor, felt as if it was thrumming through him like his own pulse, and glowed.

Padraig was willing it to happen in a sense, but unconsciously until suddenly he realized and he stretched out a hand into the golden light that filtered down through the trees and into the ruins. The trial's light bent, wrapped around his sword hand, collected, shaped itself from bottom to top and stretched as he reached out his free hand to pull the slave behind him, or him at least between her and Delta, the tip of a sword born of golden, thrumming energy and light, leveled at Delta. Killing wasn't Padraig's plan this trial, and he'd rather not. But neither was he going to stand by while another unhinged member of their party murdered an innocent and wounded girl in cold blood.

"No!" Padraig shouted while the sword hummed in his hand. "No one touches this girl. No one." He hoped it was enough. Could things get any worse? Maybe. But what Padraig knew for sure was that if he walked away whole from this particular skirmish, he was doing an about face, walking back to the shore and climbing back aboard the boat for home. Oddly enough, he was beginning to wonder if Varn was the only one left in their party who hadn't completely lost his mind.

[Lakia Amaranthine]

Lakia growled again at the slaves choice of vocabulary. Whoever had owned her had done a number on the girl, and it would take better than she to fix that damage. Varn's comment elicited a slight chuckle, however. "Wouldn't know. Not my type." she said, smiling slightly as she turned her attention back to the matters at hand. Then their guide decided that now would be a good time to pull a bench maneuver. "Oh great, disappearing teammates. Cuz we didn't get enough of that at the Ice Caves. Don't touch the spot where she was standing. It might be a panel, I figured out a way to test at the Ice Caves that might work." she said dryly, her tone showing nothing but exasperation.

Then Lakia told them not to offer aid to the slave and Lakia gave her a curious look, only to switch to resignation as Delta started speaking Rakahi. She didn't understand the language, but the choice was deliberate. It gave Delta a method of defiance, and Delta's defiance was, to Lakia, more precious than all the gold in the world. And then the biqaj girl drew her knife and made to kill the slave, still speaking Rakahi. "Delta-" Lakia sighed, stepping forward only to stop as Padraig pulled a glowing sword out of nowhere and aimed it at Delta.

Lakia's reaction was instantaneous and enraged. She pulled her bow out of her bottomless bag and put an arrow to the string, her aim firmly on Padraig. "Drop it or I'll put an arrow through your damn skull!" she snapped. Then she realized that he was likely acting to protect the slave from Delta and she let out a haggered sigh. "Sorry, knee-jerk reaction." she said, though she didn't lower her bow. "That being said, you've got a sword aimed at quite literally the only person I've ever had anything even close to a positive relationship with, so if you hurt her, I will shoot you." she said, her tone calm but firm.

"Delta, explain please. You're more rational than to act like this without good cause." she said, before she noticed that Pash was apparently growing moss. "Uh...anyone know a way to remove plantlife from people? A heat source maybe? Plants don't usually fare well in heat." she said, before grimacing. She wished Arwel was here, he had done wonders against the ice growths on Amaris. "Anyway, Delta, explain please? Or anyone who knows Rakahi? She's not always great at common." she said, her tone indicating she was trying to keep things from getting worse.

[Pegasus]

PvP Combat Active

Pash looked at his arm, Lakia drew her bow. But in those ruins, in that moment, there were two people whose actions would determine the rest of the trial. Maybe longer.

Delta surged forward, knife in hand and hysteria in her voice. Her aim was simple. Kill the slave. Her reasons why, her feelings around it and why she did that were things which might be discussed later. But in that moment, that split trill between life and death for someone in the group, perhaps, that was what Delta did

Padraig stepped in front of the slave, the glowing light on his arm suddenly much brighter than it had been and a sword of light, the gift of Qylios, in his hand.

Lakia drew a bow and spoke, but there was no time for talking. By the time that Lakia tried to reason with Delta and Padraig, the moment where life and death hung in the balance would be gone.

Varn also acted. He was lifting his own bow in the general direction of Delta / Padraig. But it was all happening so fast. Who had time to know for sure?

In that moment, only two people could act.

In that moment, decisions were made which might impact everyone here for a very long time. Or a very brief one.

!

Message from: Pegasus

Ok guys. Bottom line here is that Delta is charging / surging forward and Padraig is holding a sword to stop her. Lakia, by the time you do what you’ve described, the situation may be very different and Pash, you really don’t have time to do anything in this split second. So. I would like Delta and Padraig to PM me please and let me know what you’re doing. I’d like the following information: Delta what will you do in response to Padraig stepping in front of the girl? If he moves to strike you, what will Delta do? I need to know if you’re going to continue the move even though there’s a physicist with a light sabre in front of you – and whether you are or not, what Delta’s going to do. Padraig what will you do if Delta continues to move? What if she stops? Give me all the conditionals, guys. Thanks. Also. Both Delta and Padraig -please let me know how far, basically, you're prepared to take this - both in terms of killing and dying. Thanks. Once both players have pm’d me. I’ll post again. Please do not post till then. Thank you