So here it is gents... one of my muses that I've been working on for the past couple of days.
A few notes before you dig in:
1.) No, this is not the outline for an RP. Yes, it does sound a lot like one, but it's actually based on a dream I had awhile back.
2.) Some of you who start reading this may not realize it, but yes, Thero Ricardus is a boy. For those of you who immediately throw a short temper tantrum about how I am a girl and why the hell am I writing a story from the point of view of a boy, my answer to you will calmly be:
I wrote this to widen my experience and practice different styles as a writer.
So yeah that's that. If it seems that some people start taking a shine to this, I'll think about expanding on the concept. Until then, enjoy! (Comments please.)
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Segment 1: Bloodlust Campaign
Day 14
I am a swordsman, and I suck. From the moment my father received the $3,000.00 check into his greedy hands after he had thoughtlessly signed my life away, I’ve been destined for failure. I actually don’t fully understand the reason why I’m still alive today. The rules of the game I’ve been forced to play are quite simple:
1. No automatic weapons.
2. Duelists must be at least 17 years of age.
3. You lose, you die.
So far, I’ve lost every match I’ve had. It’s… rather baffling. There I’ll be, lying half-conscious in a raw concoction of blood, sweat, and wood shavings on the “butcher’s floor” (the nickname given to the battle arena), waiting for the final blow to come and end my experiences in this hell. However, to the disappointment of both myself and the thousands of gore-crazed spectators, every single last one of my opponents has lowered their weapon(s) and whispered to me in a barely audible voice the same seven words: “Your life is not mine to take.” Heh… trust me, you don’t want to know how many duels I’ve struggled through, how many times I’ve heard that phrase echo through the tormented recesses of my mind…
Day 21
I do not know what happens to a swordsman who refuses to kill his opponent. I often wonder what is the fate of those who have held themselves back from killing me. I am sure, though, that I would not like to know. In this secret world of steel, grace and mercy are seen as flaws, and any who exhibit actions that reflect these emotions are singled out and targeted for extermination by the authorities. That’s right… I said authorities. A strictly secret organization of supreme sword masters who birthed this form of gruesome entertainment to delight the masses. Bunch of sick crackheads if you ask me. Surprisingly enough, these dictators have no names, but it’s been rumored that they’ll attend a match from time to time; especially if the match has sparked an interest in the upper circles of the warrior caste. I’ve never seen any of them higher-ups, but like I said, I’d rather not. Around here, it’s best to keep one’s head down if you’d like to keep it till next sunrise.
Day 25
I realized today that I haven’t quite explained my situation as thoroughly as I should. Supposedly, I should start off with a bit of information about myself. My name is Thero Ricardus. I’m 19 years old, and I was sold by my father the day I turned 17 to one of the recruiting officers for the UWA (that’s Underground Weapons Arena.) I used to live in an apartment building in the suburbs of Fiernon. For reasons unknown to me, my mother left our home several weeks after my little sister was born. My father immediately took to drugs and various forms of felony; I was left to take care of my younger sibling alone. To make ends meet I dropped out of school and got a job at a local farmer’s market. Since the memories of my past become muddled after this point, I will end my sad biography with the simple fact that I now have no idea what has become of my poor excuse for a family. Part of me desires to see justice dealt upon my father for what he has done… perhaps the situation he may be in now would appease my anger towards him. No matter. That is all in the past now.
My new life consists of a monotonous routine that runs something like this:
- Wake up call at 5:45 AM. Lateness results in a sound beating by Orkren, the sorry excuse for a man who was appointed disciplinary administrator after the last one got skewered by a hotheaded pikesman.
- All hands to the Boar Hall. Boar Hall is the main gathering area where meals are eaten and business taken care of (“business” meaning if anyone has a dispute against another they duke it out on the mess hall floor.) It’s lovely trying to enjoy the crap they serve here while reminiscing about the pair who killed each other just hours ago in about the same spot you’re sitting right now. Nice.
- “Roll out and fall in.” This is the term given to the 15 minute time period in which each duelist can take a gander at the battle list. The battle list gives the times, names, and locations of each successive duel taking place during the day, This is when you can really see who’s as tough as they seem. Yesterday, a macho-looking guy who wields a pair of scimitars actually broke down in tears when he saw that he was scheduled to fight someone he apparently knew he couldn’t beat. Come to think of it, I didn’t see him in the Hall this morning. Such is the way of things here.
That’s about all of the routine that my life has nowadays. If your name isn’t on the battle list, you’re free to roam the 1500 acre establishment that they got here for the rest of the day. Most guys who don’t get on the list go to watch the battles, but I don’t much care for that. What kind of sick desire would I have if I reveled in the needless loss of life that occurs on the butcher’s floor? And besides, I get enough excitement when my name is on the list.
I suppose I should also describe the characters I’m forced to interact with on a daily basis, but I think I shall save that tidbit for tomorrow. Then again, perhaps I shouldn’t, because who can tell if I will return to my bunk when the curfew is called? Oh well. I’m tired, and I think I will press my luck.
Day 26
I was lucky enough to not be on the battle list today. My relief might be short lived, so I will continue with my descriptions without delay.
First off, I should describe the warrior caste. This caste is divided into three levels, with various sublevels in each general level. Depending on how you perform in your duels, you can level up or down. Of course, these levels are always changing as members find victory or defeat in their battles. The main levels are simple: the highest level is Elite Blade, followed by General Arms and my current level, Warrior’s Apprentice. I’d rather not even get into the sublevels as they’re mostly something made up by those in the Elite Blade class to intimidate the members of the lower sections. For the most part, the parings on the battle list are fair, pitting together only those in the same class. But sometimes, when the mood seizes the authorities, an unlucky duelist is set against someone on a higher level than said duelist. I’ve only seen this happen several times, but even one time is enough to scare those who were spared as they watch their comrade herded towards their death.
And now for those characters I mentioned earlier. To make it easier to write about, I think I will place these men and women in two separate groups: the bullies and the nobodies.
The Bullies:
1. Bully No. 1 – A feisty… woman. (Surprise.) Her name is Vyra Graiden, and she’s got a temper that rivals an angry mother bear. I try to keep my distance from her as much as I can because she seems to have it in for me; fortunately, it’s relatively easy to spot her a mile away, thanks to her fiery red locks. Vyra’s also known for her skills with her twin dirks. It’s a miracle I haven’t fought her yet… most of her opponents go down within the first seconds of battle, transfixed by a knife through their throats.
2. Bully No. 2 – This guy is a total show-off, but he certainly knows what he’s doing. His name is Kerait Quenn, and he’s been known to take advantage of some of the girls in the Warrior’s Apprentice class. Rumor has it that he and Vyra have a bit of an intimate relationship going on as well (pig). Kerait even nicknamed his weapon of choice: the “Claws of Death.” They’re kind of hard to describe, but imagine a pair of gloves with blades for fingers that can shoot out at you and cover a distance of over 30 feet. That’s the idea… oh, and did I mention that those blades are poisoned?
3. Bullies No. 3 & 4– These two big oafs aren’t really even worth wasting words over. They’re easily several feet taller than me and have gargantuan muscles to boot. One, who goes by the name of Dertun Fergus, crushes peoples’ skulls with a pair of clubs, and the other (known as Berdy Wiles) horribly mangles his victims with a cruel spiked ball and chain.
The Nobodies:
1. Nobody No. 1 – A twenty two year old man with quite the head on his shoulders. I met him in Boar Hall one morning at breakfast; well, more like he came up and sat next to me actually. He introduced himself as Robert Bristles, and I suppose we hit it off from there. It wasn’t until several days later that I found out what a genius he was. I asked him about the rapier he always carries at his side, told him it was looking a bit rusty and I teased him for not taking care of his blade. He kinda glanced at the weapon like he just realized it was there and he said, “What, this old thing? Nah. I don’t even use it.” I stared at him open-mouthed until he explained. Robert makes his own bombs; he has already manufactured three different types. He gets the supplies from around the grounds of the facility, mostly the trash receptacles, and he steals whatever other things he needs to finish off his creations from other duelists. I was worried when he got assigned his first battle, but he appeared at breakfast the next morning sure enough. I guess there’s more to Robert than meets the eye.
2. Nobody No. 2 – One of the most self-disciplined fighters I’ve ever met the whole time I’ve been in this hellhole. This kid’s name is Haque Sharlte, and surprisingly enough, he’s two years younger than I am. I first noticed him because he was eating his food with a pair of chopsticks, and because he was eating alone. I felt bad for him, so I plunked my tray down next to him and took a seat. It was then that I realized he wasn’t eating with chopsticks, because the utensils caught and reflected the light from the fluorescent bulbs that illuminate Boar Hall. I sat there awkwardly for a moment while Haque kept on eating, then I ventured a question about his “chopsticks.” I almost regretted opening my mouth. Before I knew what had happened, Haque’s utensils were at my throat, and I realized with horror that the pointy objects were needles. Several warriors at neighboring tables noticed my predicament, and soon the whole hall was caught in the icy grip of anticipated silence. Haque didn’t even spare a glance at his audience. He simply looked me straight in the eye, murmured a quiet greeting, and turned his attention back to his food. I was relieved beyond words, some of the duelists in the hall were peeved because Haque hadn’t cut me to pieces, and ever since then we’ve been friends.
3. Nobody No. 3 – This is the only duelist whom I haven’t met in Boar Hall. I spotted her in the practice fields, wielding her double-bladed staff against a stuffed scarecrow opponent. She whacked at the dummy’s torso, and a whirlwind of straw exploded into her face, causing her to overbalance and fall. I hurried over to help her up, but she waved me away, claiming that she had everything under control. When the scarecrow started to lean over, threatening to topple, I reached out my hand, grabbed her arm, and pulled her to the side. Our eyes met, and she whispered a breathless “thanks.” She proceeded to tell me that her name was Marie Duentin while I quickly released her arm and helped brush off the straw which clung to the back of her burgundy jacket. After we managed to get most of the larger pieces of dried grass off her clothes, she picked her staff up off the ground and glared fiercely at it. “You think I can trade this thing with one of the guys who wants a change of weapon?” she asked me. I blinked, surprised, and then I told her that I thought she should keep the staff. “Really?” she replied. “Then… can you help me make heads or tails out of wielding this overgrown stick?” I tried to convince her that I wasn’t even good at using my own weapon, but she persisted, and we’ve been training together for awhile now. I gotta admit, she’s pretty cool and I suppose I kinda like her… but as a friend. Just a friend.
Well, those are the people I know the most about. I’m not sure how many warriors are stuck here, since people lose their lives in the arena every day and new recruits are always pouring in, too.
The summons bell is ringing… I wonder what it is this time. Last time they rang that old bronze knocker, someone was trying to make a break for it, and the authorities ordered a head count. They got top quality surveillance here 24/7. Can’t let any of us get out and tell the world what kind of set up they got goin’ on down here. I’ll explain more about that tomorrow…
Day 30
Ngh… unfortunately, my name was on the battle list day 27. I got to duke it out with a tough-looking swordsman that day, and he whipped me good. But there were those same seven words again: “Your life is not mine to take.” I lost consciousness several seconds after my opponent whispered those words in my ear, and I woke up here in my room this morning. I wonder why they haven’t saved themselves the trouble and just finished me on the butcher’s floor yet… it’s not the first time I’ve been knocked out in a duel.
I was reading my past entries and was reminded of my promise of an explanation concerning the summons bell and surveillance. The authorities have every dark and forlorn corner of this place covered by a burly guard; cameras dot the facility like Christmas tree lights on a conifer. Remember that rule I mentioned earlier, the one banning automatic weapons? Seems that doesn’t apply to any of the men on the surveillance staff. Each of them comes fully equipped with a wide variety of guns, the likes of which I’ve never seen before. As if that weren’t enough to scare any thoughts of escape from the fighters imprisoned here, let’s see… they also have a whole squad of German shepherds, and I haven’t seen them, but I’ve heard that they have armored cars patrolling the 40 foot barbed wire fence that surrounds this place on all four sides. You’d be either completely mad or suicidal if you even thought of attempting an escape from this place.
My class is switching barracks tomorrow. See, the battles here are on a schedule. Each campaign, which usually lasts about 30 days, is given a title and the results of each battle are chronicled under the campaign (this last escapade was nicknamed the “Bloodlust Campaign.”) At the end of each campaign, the caste members switch barracks according to their level. Unfortunately, the Warrior’s Apprentice class is being forced to move into a different building, to make room for new recruits. I found out that Haque, Robert, and Marie also have to move to comply with the authorities wishes. At least we won’t be separated. It may take awhile to settle in my new quarters, but I’ll write again as soon as possible. Unless I get killed, of course.
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There she blows. Lemme know what you think, mates.
A few notes before you dig in:
1.) No, this is not the outline for an RP. Yes, it does sound a lot like one, but it's actually based on a dream I had awhile back.
2.) Some of you who start reading this may not realize it, but yes, Thero Ricardus is a boy. For those of you who immediately throw a short temper tantrum about how I am a girl and why the hell am I writing a story from the point of view of a boy, my answer to you will calmly be:
I wrote this to widen my experience and practice different styles as a writer.
So yeah that's that. If it seems that some people start taking a shine to this, I'll think about expanding on the concept. Until then, enjoy! (Comments please.)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Underground Weapons Arena: Character Files
Journal of Thero Ricardus
Journal of Thero Ricardus
Segment 1: Bloodlust Campaign
Day 14
I am a swordsman, and I suck. From the moment my father received the $3,000.00 check into his greedy hands after he had thoughtlessly signed my life away, I’ve been destined for failure. I actually don’t fully understand the reason why I’m still alive today. The rules of the game I’ve been forced to play are quite simple:
1. No automatic weapons.
2. Duelists must be at least 17 years of age.
3. You lose, you die.
So far, I’ve lost every match I’ve had. It’s… rather baffling. There I’ll be, lying half-conscious in a raw concoction of blood, sweat, and wood shavings on the “butcher’s floor” (the nickname given to the battle arena), waiting for the final blow to come and end my experiences in this hell. However, to the disappointment of both myself and the thousands of gore-crazed spectators, every single last one of my opponents has lowered their weapon(s) and whispered to me in a barely audible voice the same seven words: “Your life is not mine to take.” Heh… trust me, you don’t want to know how many duels I’ve struggled through, how many times I’ve heard that phrase echo through the tormented recesses of my mind…
Day 21
I do not know what happens to a swordsman who refuses to kill his opponent. I often wonder what is the fate of those who have held themselves back from killing me. I am sure, though, that I would not like to know. In this secret world of steel, grace and mercy are seen as flaws, and any who exhibit actions that reflect these emotions are singled out and targeted for extermination by the authorities. That’s right… I said authorities. A strictly secret organization of supreme sword masters who birthed this form of gruesome entertainment to delight the masses. Bunch of sick crackheads if you ask me. Surprisingly enough, these dictators have no names, but it’s been rumored that they’ll attend a match from time to time; especially if the match has sparked an interest in the upper circles of the warrior caste. I’ve never seen any of them higher-ups, but like I said, I’d rather not. Around here, it’s best to keep one’s head down if you’d like to keep it till next sunrise.
Day 25
I realized today that I haven’t quite explained my situation as thoroughly as I should. Supposedly, I should start off with a bit of information about myself. My name is Thero Ricardus. I’m 19 years old, and I was sold by my father the day I turned 17 to one of the recruiting officers for the UWA (that’s Underground Weapons Arena.) I used to live in an apartment building in the suburbs of Fiernon. For reasons unknown to me, my mother left our home several weeks after my little sister was born. My father immediately took to drugs and various forms of felony; I was left to take care of my younger sibling alone. To make ends meet I dropped out of school and got a job at a local farmer’s market. Since the memories of my past become muddled after this point, I will end my sad biography with the simple fact that I now have no idea what has become of my poor excuse for a family. Part of me desires to see justice dealt upon my father for what he has done… perhaps the situation he may be in now would appease my anger towards him. No matter. That is all in the past now.
My new life consists of a monotonous routine that runs something like this:
- Wake up call at 5:45 AM. Lateness results in a sound beating by Orkren, the sorry excuse for a man who was appointed disciplinary administrator after the last one got skewered by a hotheaded pikesman.
- All hands to the Boar Hall. Boar Hall is the main gathering area where meals are eaten and business taken care of (“business” meaning if anyone has a dispute against another they duke it out on the mess hall floor.) It’s lovely trying to enjoy the crap they serve here while reminiscing about the pair who killed each other just hours ago in about the same spot you’re sitting right now. Nice.
- “Roll out and fall in.” This is the term given to the 15 minute time period in which each duelist can take a gander at the battle list. The battle list gives the times, names, and locations of each successive duel taking place during the day, This is when you can really see who’s as tough as they seem. Yesterday, a macho-looking guy who wields a pair of scimitars actually broke down in tears when he saw that he was scheduled to fight someone he apparently knew he couldn’t beat. Come to think of it, I didn’t see him in the Hall this morning. Such is the way of things here.
That’s about all of the routine that my life has nowadays. If your name isn’t on the battle list, you’re free to roam the 1500 acre establishment that they got here for the rest of the day. Most guys who don’t get on the list go to watch the battles, but I don’t much care for that. What kind of sick desire would I have if I reveled in the needless loss of life that occurs on the butcher’s floor? And besides, I get enough excitement when my name is on the list.
I suppose I should also describe the characters I’m forced to interact with on a daily basis, but I think I shall save that tidbit for tomorrow. Then again, perhaps I shouldn’t, because who can tell if I will return to my bunk when the curfew is called? Oh well. I’m tired, and I think I will press my luck.
Day 26
I was lucky enough to not be on the battle list today. My relief might be short lived, so I will continue with my descriptions without delay.
First off, I should describe the warrior caste. This caste is divided into three levels, with various sublevels in each general level. Depending on how you perform in your duels, you can level up or down. Of course, these levels are always changing as members find victory or defeat in their battles. The main levels are simple: the highest level is Elite Blade, followed by General Arms and my current level, Warrior’s Apprentice. I’d rather not even get into the sublevels as they’re mostly something made up by those in the Elite Blade class to intimidate the members of the lower sections. For the most part, the parings on the battle list are fair, pitting together only those in the same class. But sometimes, when the mood seizes the authorities, an unlucky duelist is set against someone on a higher level than said duelist. I’ve only seen this happen several times, but even one time is enough to scare those who were spared as they watch their comrade herded towards their death.
And now for those characters I mentioned earlier. To make it easier to write about, I think I will place these men and women in two separate groups: the bullies and the nobodies.
The Bullies:
1. Bully No. 1 – A feisty… woman. (Surprise.) Her name is Vyra Graiden, and she’s got a temper that rivals an angry mother bear. I try to keep my distance from her as much as I can because she seems to have it in for me; fortunately, it’s relatively easy to spot her a mile away, thanks to her fiery red locks. Vyra’s also known for her skills with her twin dirks. It’s a miracle I haven’t fought her yet… most of her opponents go down within the first seconds of battle, transfixed by a knife through their throats.
2. Bully No. 2 – This guy is a total show-off, but he certainly knows what he’s doing. His name is Kerait Quenn, and he’s been known to take advantage of some of the girls in the Warrior’s Apprentice class. Rumor has it that he and Vyra have a bit of an intimate relationship going on as well (pig). Kerait even nicknamed his weapon of choice: the “Claws of Death.” They’re kind of hard to describe, but imagine a pair of gloves with blades for fingers that can shoot out at you and cover a distance of over 30 feet. That’s the idea… oh, and did I mention that those blades are poisoned?
3. Bullies No. 3 & 4– These two big oafs aren’t really even worth wasting words over. They’re easily several feet taller than me and have gargantuan muscles to boot. One, who goes by the name of Dertun Fergus, crushes peoples’ skulls with a pair of clubs, and the other (known as Berdy Wiles) horribly mangles his victims with a cruel spiked ball and chain.
The Nobodies:
1. Nobody No. 1 – A twenty two year old man with quite the head on his shoulders. I met him in Boar Hall one morning at breakfast; well, more like he came up and sat next to me actually. He introduced himself as Robert Bristles, and I suppose we hit it off from there. It wasn’t until several days later that I found out what a genius he was. I asked him about the rapier he always carries at his side, told him it was looking a bit rusty and I teased him for not taking care of his blade. He kinda glanced at the weapon like he just realized it was there and he said, “What, this old thing? Nah. I don’t even use it.” I stared at him open-mouthed until he explained. Robert makes his own bombs; he has already manufactured three different types. He gets the supplies from around the grounds of the facility, mostly the trash receptacles, and he steals whatever other things he needs to finish off his creations from other duelists. I was worried when he got assigned his first battle, but he appeared at breakfast the next morning sure enough. I guess there’s more to Robert than meets the eye.
2. Nobody No. 2 – One of the most self-disciplined fighters I’ve ever met the whole time I’ve been in this hellhole. This kid’s name is Haque Sharlte, and surprisingly enough, he’s two years younger than I am. I first noticed him because he was eating his food with a pair of chopsticks, and because he was eating alone. I felt bad for him, so I plunked my tray down next to him and took a seat. It was then that I realized he wasn’t eating with chopsticks, because the utensils caught and reflected the light from the fluorescent bulbs that illuminate Boar Hall. I sat there awkwardly for a moment while Haque kept on eating, then I ventured a question about his “chopsticks.” I almost regretted opening my mouth. Before I knew what had happened, Haque’s utensils were at my throat, and I realized with horror that the pointy objects were needles. Several warriors at neighboring tables noticed my predicament, and soon the whole hall was caught in the icy grip of anticipated silence. Haque didn’t even spare a glance at his audience. He simply looked me straight in the eye, murmured a quiet greeting, and turned his attention back to his food. I was relieved beyond words, some of the duelists in the hall were peeved because Haque hadn’t cut me to pieces, and ever since then we’ve been friends.
3. Nobody No. 3 – This is the only duelist whom I haven’t met in Boar Hall. I spotted her in the practice fields, wielding her double-bladed staff against a stuffed scarecrow opponent. She whacked at the dummy’s torso, and a whirlwind of straw exploded into her face, causing her to overbalance and fall. I hurried over to help her up, but she waved me away, claiming that she had everything under control. When the scarecrow started to lean over, threatening to topple, I reached out my hand, grabbed her arm, and pulled her to the side. Our eyes met, and she whispered a breathless “thanks.” She proceeded to tell me that her name was Marie Duentin while I quickly released her arm and helped brush off the straw which clung to the back of her burgundy jacket. After we managed to get most of the larger pieces of dried grass off her clothes, she picked her staff up off the ground and glared fiercely at it. “You think I can trade this thing with one of the guys who wants a change of weapon?” she asked me. I blinked, surprised, and then I told her that I thought she should keep the staff. “Really?” she replied. “Then… can you help me make heads or tails out of wielding this overgrown stick?” I tried to convince her that I wasn’t even good at using my own weapon, but she persisted, and we’ve been training together for awhile now. I gotta admit, she’s pretty cool and I suppose I kinda like her… but as a friend. Just a friend.
Well, those are the people I know the most about. I’m not sure how many warriors are stuck here, since people lose their lives in the arena every day and new recruits are always pouring in, too.
The summons bell is ringing… I wonder what it is this time. Last time they rang that old bronze knocker, someone was trying to make a break for it, and the authorities ordered a head count. They got top quality surveillance here 24/7. Can’t let any of us get out and tell the world what kind of set up they got goin’ on down here. I’ll explain more about that tomorrow…
Day 30
Ngh… unfortunately, my name was on the battle list day 27. I got to duke it out with a tough-looking swordsman that day, and he whipped me good. But there were those same seven words again: “Your life is not mine to take.” I lost consciousness several seconds after my opponent whispered those words in my ear, and I woke up here in my room this morning. I wonder why they haven’t saved themselves the trouble and just finished me on the butcher’s floor yet… it’s not the first time I’ve been knocked out in a duel.
I was reading my past entries and was reminded of my promise of an explanation concerning the summons bell and surveillance. The authorities have every dark and forlorn corner of this place covered by a burly guard; cameras dot the facility like Christmas tree lights on a conifer. Remember that rule I mentioned earlier, the one banning automatic weapons? Seems that doesn’t apply to any of the men on the surveillance staff. Each of them comes fully equipped with a wide variety of guns, the likes of which I’ve never seen before. As if that weren’t enough to scare any thoughts of escape from the fighters imprisoned here, let’s see… they also have a whole squad of German shepherds, and I haven’t seen them, but I’ve heard that they have armored cars patrolling the 40 foot barbed wire fence that surrounds this place on all four sides. You’d be either completely mad or suicidal if you even thought of attempting an escape from this place.
My class is switching barracks tomorrow. See, the battles here are on a schedule. Each campaign, which usually lasts about 30 days, is given a title and the results of each battle are chronicled under the campaign (this last escapade was nicknamed the “Bloodlust Campaign.”) At the end of each campaign, the caste members switch barracks according to their level. Unfortunately, the Warrior’s Apprentice class is being forced to move into a different building, to make room for new recruits. I found out that Haque, Robert, and Marie also have to move to comply with the authorities wishes. At least we won’t be separated. It may take awhile to settle in my new quarters, but I’ll write again as soon as possible. Unless I get killed, of course.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
There she blows. Lemme know what you think, mates.
