Okay gang, this will be the official announcement/discussion thread for the tutorial campaign. If anyone's salvaged stuff from the old thread, here's the place to post it. I don't see any problems with posting writeups and After Action Reports (AARs) in other threads if you'd rather work on creating your own little gamefic.

And to kick things off with an official announcement: We will be playing on Sunday the 21st, as of 11pm on Thursday.

If anyone who won't be attending could be a dear and remind me of that, I'd appreciate it. I think Ella said she's going to be out, so I'm thinking she can run off to get help at the start of the fight if she doesn't want anyone else to play the character.

That's my dad's birthday...

OK, I'm going to post my character stuff up here in a mo, and I'll just post the link to the original thread for reference for anyone else.

Name: Narluèn
Race/Class: Grey-Elf Wizard
Age: 144
Height: 5'5''
Weight: 130lb
Appearance: Silver Hair, amber eyes, skinny.

[i:118531b915]Personal History:[/i:118531b915]
Narluèn Naraskedel was born as the only child of his elderly cleric parents in the mountain halls where all his forefathers had lived. As his parents’ activity level fell they rarely bothered to test him physically, but much preferred to test his mind, which they did at every opportunity. Due to this and his natural aptitude, he had a vast knowledge of elven history by the age of 7.

He usually preferred to spend time in the family library than to go out and play. In particular he enjoyed studying in the Arcane magic section, and would read anything he could find on this subject. His parents knew little of the specific practice of magic outside of that known by all elves. They valued knowledge above all things and had built the biggest private library in the village. When Narluèn inquired about the magical books, his parents would dismiss his questions and would direct him to other, more clerical books. It was clear that they wanted him to follow in their footsteps; in fact, they could barely imagine any other path for their young son.

Narluèn was 30 before he dared attempt to cast one of the many spells he had read about over the years, a levitation spell. It did not prove easy. It took 10 years (and the patience of his kind) before Narluen was even able to levitate pebbles. By the age of 90 he knew by heart the theory of many common spells, but his practice of them was still poor at best. His parents still wanted him to become a cleric like themselves, and persisted in teaching him the way of dedication and prayer. After some soul-searching, Narluen realized that his parents would never help him to follow his own wishes, but would always want him to do things their way. Therefore, he decided that if he was to become a wizard, he would need to leave the village of his childhood and find a teacher. Narluèn worked on his own to prepare some potions that he thought might help him, and then embarked on the journey to the other side of the mountain range.

It was an arduous trek, and on many occasions Narluen thought he would be killed – if not by the creatures he hid from in fear, then by the elements themselves. When he reached the other side of the mountains after many days’ journey, it was with tired relief that he walked into the settlement that he found there.

He was greeted by an elderly grey-elf wizard, who, unbeknownst to Narluen, had been magically calling him after becoming aware of the presence of another magic-user in the area. The old elf’s name was Tirral, and he was happy to take the younger elf under his wing. Narluen gratefully accepted the offer to become Tirral’s apprentice, and he stayed with him there in the village. Gradually, he learnt how to use the spells that he had long ago copied into a rudimentary spellbook. He also learnt that the potions he had made before leaving home were useless, but his tutor educated him in the basics of alchemy, so that he learned to brew potions with real magical power. After several years, the time finally came when the elderly wizard told him that he should leave; he could only learn more now by applying his skills in the world.

Narluen decided it was time to journey back home to see his family again. When he arrived at the village gate, several elves stopped him at the gatehouse.

“Halt! Who goes there?” they said,
“I am Narluèn Naraskedel, I was born here and have now returned.”
“Enter Narluèn, but we should warn you that your parents are no longer at the peak of their health.”

Narluèn found that his parents were now bedridden and ill. After some time, he realised that he had left one of his potions behind and it had contaminated their drink. The best elven healers said that they might only last another 20 years without a cure. Narluen determined that he would go out into the world to find a cure. He would not return home again without the means to save his parents’ lives.

[i:118531b915]Personal Philosophies:[/i:118531b915]
Follow your own path, not somebody else's
Make your own decisions
Atone for your mistakes
Always look to improve
Don't harm a friend

[i:118531b915]Grey-elven Culture:[/i:118531b915]
Grey-elves are more aloof than normal elves. Their naturally high intelligence leads them to believe that they are above all other creatures. Grey-elves are happiest among their own kind.

[i:118531b915]Wants:[/i:118531b915]
To find the antidote
To become a great Wizard
To be recognised as a wizard by his parents.

[i:118531b915]Fears:[/i:118531b915]
That his parents will die before he can find a cure
To be forced to do the will of someone else
That he will lose his magical abilities
That he will not see another grey-elf again

Thanks, Ben. Here's mine:

Name: Azgrim Helzak
Race: Dwarf
Age: 44
Height: 4’3”
Weight: 140lb
Appearance: Black eyes, coppery-brown hair, tanned/ruddy skin, muscular.

[i:aeb3f5b35d]Personal history:[/i:aeb3f5b35d]
Azgrim grew up in the heart of the Darain clanhold, in the dwarven city of Antek. He was named for his great-grandfather, Azgrim Delten, a cleric of Moradin, the dwarven “Allfather”, forger of souls. His parents were not surprised, therefore, when Azgrim showed an early interest in the dwarf lore he learned at the temple.

From the tender age of ten, Azgrim would go to the temple for lessons and smithing practise (although he was little more than a baby), as well as the combat training he later received, like all the other young dwarves. Azgrim would also help his father, a weapon- and armour-smith of some renown, in the forge.

Azgrim began training in earnest to become a cleric of Moradin at the young age of 30, as the temple’s clerics felt he showed great promise. He worked hard in the temple, as well as studying the dwarf lore and learning the ways of prayer and divine magic. A very devout young dwarf, he maintained a deeply-held belief in parts of the lore that even the other clerics felt were somewhat... apocryphal.

One night, at the age of 43, not long after his investiture, Azgrim had a dream about the legend of the Iron Clan and the great temple of King Albin, which had been sacked by orcs – and of the Holy Anvil of that temple, which was sundered and its pieces scattered. Azgrim dreamt that a dwarf with skin like bronze, and with hair and beard of black smoke, walked out of the temple ruins and spoke to him, giving him a quest from Moradin himself: to find the pieces of the Holy Anvil of Albin and to rebuild it.

When he relayed this dream to the other clergy, they called a gathering of the clan elders. Some were sceptical, as this anvil was the stuff of legend. But the clerics insisted that all their divination affirmed that Azgrim’s dream was genuine. So the elders agreed to help equip the young cleric for his quest.

His mother exhorted him to bring honour to his family’s name. His father helped to forge the maul that Azgrim crafted as his weapon against deadly foes, and made the armour that he would wear, bearing the sign of Moradin on his breastplate. A great feast was held for the young dwarf, and many blessing songs sung for him as he embarked on his journey, listening for the word of Moradin to guide him.

--------------------------------------

The following are notes that I have made to help me understand the character and know how he would behave in different roleplaying situations. This will help me make decisions that are in-character, and really act Azgrim’s part properly.

[i:aeb3f5b35d]Personal philosophies:[/i:aeb3f5b35d]
The strong must protect the weak.
In unity is strength.
I walk in the footsteps of my ancestors – I am crafted of the same stuff and was born of the same fire.
Suffering is the fire that refines the gold of our souls.
Where I have a duty, it must be fulfilled.
Fearlessness in the face of futility is the proving of the soul.
In community, every dwarf is the sum of all.
Nothing that is made of dwarven hand is stronger than the rock on which we stand.
A promise the price of a dwarf’s honour.
Do not lean your weight on fissured rock.

[i:aeb3f5b35d]Dwarven culture:[/i:aeb3f5b35d]
Being a traditional dwarf means he demonstrates; reserve, discipline, maintenance of mental personal space, stoicism, lack of ego boundaries in terms of community.
He believes dwarves greatest creations of the Allfather; therefore, while he might not approve of a non-dwarf’s behaviour, he would expect no more of them.
In a dwarven community, you [i:aeb3f5b35d]must[/i:aeb3f5b35d] be able to rely on another member to do as they should – therefore he believes community needs come before individual needs.
He believes the ruling of law is final – it must be accepted without grudge in order to keep the peace.
When necessary, he would lay down life for other members of the group. He believes there is nothing to fear in death; and when faced with peril or ignominy, there is no option but to fight.
He expects people to respect elders and to cherish children.
He is content with routine and simple things.
He believes one must be diligent and thorough in all things – in all you do, you should strive for perfection.
He believes in taking joy in community and celebrating individuals as a community.
You should not tell others what to do if it is not your place, but do the right thing yourself.

[i:aeb3f5b35d]Roleplaying notes:[/i:aeb3f5b35d]
Since he believes a group is greater than an individual, he thinks it’s better to be in a group than on your own.
Beliefs above mean he thinks you should: never break a promise; always protect your friends; always carry out your duty; never shirk a fight; honour your family name; show no fear.
At all times remember that we are nothing without Moradin’s blessing.

[i:aeb3f5b35d]Social:[/i:aeb3f5b35d]
He keeps his thoughts to himself.
He does not expect as much of a non-dwarf as of a dwarf.
He obeys the law of the land.
He helps the needy (unless they contravene his moral code).
He keeps his word.
He doesn’t always get jokes.
He is disciplined.
He is not good at distinguishing self desires, as opposed to group desires.

[i:aeb3f5b35d]Wants:[/i:aeb3f5b35d]
To find the pieces of the Holy Anvil of Albin, and rebuild it, thereby completing his quest.
To protect his friends.
To heal sick people.
To kill orcs and other evildoers.
To fulfil his responsibilities.
To bring honour to his family.
To glorify the name of Moradin.
To return home.

[i:aeb3f5b35d]Fears:[/i:aeb3f5b35d]
Failing to fulfil his quest.
Loneliness.
A friend or weak person being killed when he was around to prevent it.
Moradin laying him aside.
Being unable to keep his word.
Bringing dishonour to his family.
Never returning home.
Being thought a coward.
Giving in.

[i:aeb3f5b35d]Overall aspirations:[/i:aeb3f5b35d]
To fulfil the will of Moradin and bring honour to his family.
To be stalwart as a rock.

Name: Arnthé Aparain (Jacobus Custorias)
Race: Half-elf
Age: 29
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 140 lbs.
Appearance: Blond hair, green eyes

Personal History
He is the bastard son of a disgraced Elven diplomat and a young human prostitute. The Elven diplomat was unaware of the pregnancy and therefore he has never met his father. His mother was killed in a street robbery when he was just a baby. She named him Jacobus. The watchmen who found her took Jacobus with them and he was soon taken in by the captain of the watch and his family. He was mostly happy here, although he tended to isolate himself because he never truly accepted his adoptive family as his family. At the age of 15, the point of adulthood for humans, he starts his career in the watch. He is very succesful here, as his Elven side gives him an advantage over his fellow watchmen. He also becomes a reasonably skilled fighter. On one assignment at a famed scholar's mansion he spots a book on Elves. Quickly skimming through it, he knows he has to have it. He steals the book and memorises all the information in it. He uses it to become familiar with Elven history and the Elven language. Reading it, he also becomes obsessed with the stories about the famous Elven hero Arnthé. He becomes convinced that one of his Elven ancestors was a great fighter.
Some months later, his adoptive father finds the book in his bedroom. They have a row because his adoptive father, as a servant of justice, wants him to return it. Jacobus takes the book forcefully and flees the city. After a panicky flight Jacobus decides to leave his old life behind, and adopting the name Arnthé he starts travelling. After a week he meets a veteran elf mercenary who takes Arnthé under his wing. The mercenary teaches him all he knows, including the traditional Elven ways of fighting.
They travel together for a few years. On a dangerous mission the mercenary loses a leg, although Arnthé manages to save his life. The mercenary decides to retire and gives Arnthé his elite Elven sword. More experienced and better equipped, he sets out to find adventure and information on his father.

Personal philosophy
His motivation for adventuring is two-fold. Firstly, he wants to find his father. Secondly, he's not sure of his purpose, of his place and fighting is all he knows how to do. That's why he's not particularly interested in money.
He has lost most of the people who were close to him and because of that he is very protective of the people around him. He needs to be close to them, although he never gives too much of himself away. He also doesn't like killing a creature when it doesn't present a direct threat to the group.
Socially he focuses on reason. He gives his opinion, but never shares his emotions.
Politically he believes in helping those in need. He also tends to idolise aristocrats.
He loves animals.

Wants
To find his father
To find a home
Recognition of the elven community
To get the approval of his father

Fears
To be unable to help someone close to him
To lose someone close to him
Loneliness

Overall aspirations
To become a skilled elven fighter like his ancestor
And through fame find acceptance in the elven community

ack... um... if that's my father in law-s birthday, we MAY be cancling the game then... in fact... bah, let's NOT expect to play this week, as I think there's a bar-be-que in the works that would interfere.

[i:fd04b51471]Name: [/i:fd04b51471]Caleb [i:fd04b51471]Race/class: [/i:fd04b51471]Human Monk
[i:fd04b51471]Age: [/i:fd04b51471]21
[i:fd04b51471]Height/weight: [/i:fd04b51471]5’6”/155lb
[i:fd04b51471]Appearance: [/i:fd04b51471]Caleb’s rather small for a human male but he’s not weak in any way. He’s sinewy and strong but his build is slight. He’s got coppery skin, dark hair pulled back in a severe ponytail, and large blue eyes. He’s young and his lack of height and build makes him seem even younger than he is. He wears rather nondescript clothes, leather sandals, linen breeches and a short dark top. He has a sash around his waist, a sling tied to it, and backpack. In his sash you can also find two kama and in his hand you often find his quarterstaff. The only thing that stands out in any way is the small silver pendant around his neck, supported by a black leather thong.

[i:fd04b51471]Character history:[/i:fd04b51471]

When Caleb was five his mother died in childbirth.


His father yelled at him for not showing proper respect and the young boy ran away. He spent some time wandering the market. A monk travelling between his monastery and another picked the young lost boy up. The monk asked where his parents where and when asked Caleb answered, truthfully, that his mother was dead. The monk thought that the boy was a poor beggar’s or whore’s, because of the stained and ruined clothing, child and picked him up, taking the boy with him to the monastery.

For many years he was trained in the monastery and his excellent dexterity showed quite early. An elven master monk took the youngster under his wing and taught him. The younger monk soon exceeded his peers in dexterity and thus many of the more physical aspects of the training. But he was not solely a brawler or fighter, no, he concentrated almost as hard on his meditation and what he thought would help him find what he saw in everyone else but was lacking within himself.

He had noticed, as well as the others in the monastery that there was something different about himself. Although he understood most things there was a few that eluded his grasp, time and time again. The masters and the other adepts talked about their friends or families with feelings. They spoke of hurt, joy, sadness and compassion. It was all alien to him. His master tried his hardest to make his otherwise exemplary student understand.

His elven master soon took his young charge out into the forest and taught him the proper way to move, hide and hunt in the forest. In the beginning, the young Caleb had used his new skills for sneaking out of the monastery without permission but this habit was soon ‘corrected’. But Caleb still used his skill to sneak into the kitchen from time to time, a growing boy and all that. Many hours spent in the library had found Caleb some sort of peace. He’d discovered a book in which a tale was told. The tale of the monk Zouken and how he had rosen from human into a demigod by just being extremely good at what he was doing.

Caleb never told anyone at the monastery his last name or anything about his life before the old monk finding him.

His master had ‘finally’ convinced the other masters that he was ready to be allowed outside the monastery walls by himself. But they also wanted to test Caleb, to see if they had been successful in teaching him to feel. They sent him out extra-muros (outside the monastery) to see if he could interact with ‘normal’ people, they’d told him it was his last test before he could be accepted as a master.

[i:fd04b51471]Taught philosophies:[/i:fd04b51471]

Someone has to speak for those who have no voice.
The nail that sticks out the most is the one most likely to be hammered back.
I must obey my Master in all things, his word is not law but my everything.
Without discipline, I am nothing.
Without order, the world is nothing.
I am what I can be, but I can never be that which I am not.
Mastery lays in knowledge, both bodily and mentally.
Help others to become what they can. Do not help those who don’t need it, that will only make them less than what they are.
Fear is useless, you have better things to do with your mind.
Don’t expect to know everything, learn instead.
Always keep and protect your honour.


[i:fd04b51471]Roleplaying notes:[/i:fd04b51471]
Set those above you before yourself and your wants. You are nothing in their presence.
Do not follow those not worthy, if no one strong enough is around, take charge, and do it well. You owe it to those beneath you.
Never complain, if it’s too hard you haven’t worked enough. Goes both ways.
Never lie, expect truths. But sometimes you might benefit from not telling the whole truth.



[i:fd04b51471]Social:[/i:fd04b51471]
He keeps his thoughts to himself unless expressly order to speak up.
He distrusts those who aren’t as good as himself.
He is a follower and will follow those strong enough to be master.
He expects others to follow orders as he does, obediently. But that doesn’t always mean blindly, a dead follower can never help his master again.
He can stay and work with a group but he’s a loner by heart, groups usually mean a lot of people weaker than himself and he doesn’t like the responsibility.
He dislikes joking but tolerate it as long as it doesn’t happen when seriousness or stealth is needed.
He keeps his honour and expects others to maintain theirs aswell.

[i:fd04b51471]Wants:[/i:fd04b51471]
To pass the test, to prove himself worthy.
To make his Master proud.
To learn that which is hidden from him.
To learn to use the nunchaku, he is, unfortunately, not compatible with this.

[i:fd04b51471]Fears:[/i:fd04b51471]
Failing the test and thereby also his Master.
To be unable to follow an order.
To become dishonourable.
Drowning. Will swim if needed but goes out of his way to avoid it.


[i:fd04b51471]Overall aspirations: [/i:fd04b51471]
To become to someone else what Zouken is to him
To become worthy of his mastery.

[quote:ef3e67b337="Garner"]ack... um... if that's my father in law-s birthday, we MAY be cancling the game then... in fact... bah, let's NOT expect to play this week, as I think there's a bar-be-que in the works that would interfere.[/quote:ef3e67b337]

Text me if you change your mind, preferably some time before we're due to play...

*nod*

I'll try to text people if anything changes, but I don't want to de-cancle the game without at least 24 hours warning, so if you haven't seen anything to the contrary by about 4 or 5pm tomorrow, assume that the game is OFF for this sunday

Name: Sevan DeVelunee
Race: Tiefling
Age: 21
Height: 6' 5''
Weight: 175
Appearance: Light-colored skin, blue eyes, long red hair, and a thin beard. Sevan takes meticulous care of his appearance. He bathes often, only sleeps in his leather armor when the environment is obviously dangerous, and is often found trimming his hair and beard during the evenings.

Racial: As a Tiefling, Sevan has traits that mark his Infernal bloodline. His eyes glow fiery red when he is angry, and his blood tends to smoke when it leaves his body.

Personal History:
The first thing Sevan remembers is the dirty alleyways of Sigil, ever-changing, ever-shifting. A young urchin had to learn fast if he wanted to survive, for if the ordinary denizens of the City of Doors weren't dangerous, the visitors from the lower planes certainly were. Young Sevan had seen more than one friend become a snack, and had learned early that being faster and smarter meant living longer.

His lever out of the streets was, ironically enough, due to another kind of lever altogether, one applied to a closed window. Sevan, with no coin in his pockets and with no food in his stomach, had decided to attempt breaking into a small hovel to try and cover these basic necessities. He was caught, only a step inside the hovel, by a magical trap left by the hovel's owner. Fortunately for him, it was not a lethal one, and but left him caught until the owner returned.

The owner, an aging Swashbucker, had a good eye for talent when he saw it, and gave Sevan a choice. He could either remain as his apprentice, and learn the Swashbuckler's way, or be turned in to whatever could be called justice in that part of Sigil. Sevan weighted his options, and decided to accept the offer. He had nothing to lose, and all to gain, and indeed he had gained something more akin to a father than to a teacher. Indeed, he later the old mentor's last name as his own, and carried it with pride.

Sevan's arrival to this new world was not intentional. While bringing food from the market, he decided to whistle a tune to lighten his mood. That tune was his undoing, as an archway he passed through brought him to a place unknown and unexpected. Sevan quickly adapted, though, and turned to a life of adventure. Perhaps he would seek out the way back to Sigil, some day, but for now he had the present to live in, and fame and fortune of his own to seek.

Sevan is of a light-natured sort, never to take the law seriously. If to achieve a given goal he needs to break a law, he would not hesitate to do so, as long as no innocent is physically harmed. His life in the new world so far had taught him that there was more to life than the grimy streets of Sigil, and had brought a care for life that he had not had before.

The treatment Sevan got in the first town his journeys took him to came as a surprise, though. He had sought out the familiar hum of city life, as he was unused to the outdoors, and the small town, barely a village out of it's diapers, seemed a welcome respite.

His first destination upon arrival was one of the better taverns, as his mentor had taught him to appreciate quality, but he was quickly drawn into a fight. A group of local thugs had tried to demand protection money from the tavern-keeper, and Sevan could not help but intervene.

The anger flashing from Sevan's eyes, with the red fire of his Infernal blood, unnerved the thugs only slightly. They had seen magic before, after all, and took Sevan's gaze to be little more than a fancy trick. When they finally managed to wound Sevan, though, both the thugs and the other occupants of the tavern realized that he was not entirely human. The smoking blood, both on the wound and on the blade, revealed Sevan's lineage for all to see. Sevan had grown up in a place where a lineage such as his was common, and no one had cared about it overtly. The look of fear that had replaced the look of gratitude on the tavern-keeper's face broke Sevan's spirit that day, and he was quick to leave the town.

He had learned his lesson, hard as it was. Here, in this alien world, he was an outsider, and he would have to prove himself greatly before he could ever be accepted.


Personal Philosophies:
Enjoy the little pleasures while you can.
Freedom is above all, be it your own or someone else's.
Do everything with style, do everything with grace, and always make sure to be at your best if the pretty barmaid is watching.
Those below deserve a chance to climb higher. Those who strive to keep them below should be taught a pointed lesson.

Social:
Sevan is a very social individual, but has learned from his life in Sigil that trust should be given only to those one knows well. He will keep his deeper opinions and facts about himself, to himself, until he believes you to be trustworthy enough. He will be free with his thoughts and opinions otherwise.
His word is only binding if he feels it should be at the time.
He will respect a leader figure only if the orders fit his own opinions. If he believes a different course of action should be used, he is likely to do as his own mind dictates.

Wants:
Fame.
To prove himself to the world.
To improve his capabilities.
To return to Sigil one day.

Fears:
Returning to the streets.

I'll start work on moving the write-ups today. As I want them to appear, together, as story-like as possible, I want all the writers in question to work with me on this one. Mal, is it possible to move a post inside a thread? Sort of cutting it to bits and rearranging it as neccecary?

edit: I meant cutting and rearranging the thread.

Name: Jitma Mendachia
Race: Human
Age: 17
Height: 5'5''
Weight: 115lb
Appearance: Jitma is extremely sinewy, like she was made of steel cables. Her features are nonedescript; brown eyes, brown hair plaited into a braid that goes around her head and olive-coloured skin. Her clothes are rather loose fitting but allow a great range of motion. Her only protective item is a studded leather armor.

Personal history:
Jitma was the middle child in a family of ten, that did not easily make ends meet. Her parents did not have a harmonius marriage and this reflected on all of the children. Many left home early and none had great family ties.

When she was eight, a passing wizard saw great psionic potential in her, and convinced her parents to send her to the monastery of Kaffal, goddess of War Dance. Jitma learned to read and write, as well as manipulating her psionic talent but she didn't like life in the monastery much, since she did not have neither the patience nor the dedication and fidelity needed for a good nun. The only bit she liked about the monastery was the dancing lessons, but since they were part of the religious process novices were barely shown the basics. This annoyed her, because she was by nature very agile and hated using her skills only in combat training.

So, at the age of fourteen she left the monastery and started life as a wanderer. At first she thought about passing herself as a boy, since she had the figure for it, as a precaution against ill-wishers. After living in the world for a while though she realised that a) no gender was safe from ill-wishers b)she had the right to be violent when threatened c)she enjoyed being a girl.

Now at 17 she is pretty much the child that left the monastery. She cannot commit herself to anyone and anything and likes taking life as it comes. She still likes music a lot and will jig at any tune. The one thing she has learned is the value of money, and while she is not a miser she is always after financial security, partly because of her childhood experiences.

--------------------------------------

Personal philosophies:
If it's not interesting, it's not worth the trouble.
What, was it nailed down anywhere?
There is one thing better than money and that is a secure place to bury them.
I believe in the equality of the sexes; all men and women exploit the ones near them.


Roleplaying notes:
Jitma is loyal to whoever is paying her. She would undertake any campaign that is not openly evil.

Social:
She can be social and cooperate with others in a group, but don't expect any lasting friendships.

Wants:
More dancing lessons

Fears:
Being violated
Being poor and unable to work herself out of her situation

Overall aspirations:
Financial security

okay gang, we're at a funny point now. the game is scheduled for tomorrow, and I think only Roman is going to be unavailable. so we might have Ba play his character.

if CJ is available, he can either fill in for anyone else who's absent, or we'll work something out.



edit: today is NOT sunday.... erg.