The Divine Forge - IC (Ongoing Campaign)

[czieg]

Oren looks Halberd over. You know what? Normally, I would make a joke or something along those lines, but considering what just happened, I'm going to shut my fat mouth now.

[Sir Grave]

In a surprising gesture, Halberd lays one of his armorclad hands on Sorra's shoulder. The sergeants always used to do that. Wonder why? Well, hope it works.

Looking her in the eye, he says, "You can't let the threat of loss keep you from moving forward. You have a job to do. He wouldn't send you unless he thought the men needed you, and he won't be satisfied unless you go. Let his god worry about him, not you."

He waves his other hand at the refugee column. "Do you see all of them? Families, farmers, merchants. These are not soldiers. You have to be strong for them. For them, for Sir Grave, and for yourself." He removes the hand from her shoulder gently. "We are all in this together, which means we all have to give everything we've got. Everything you've got. Don't be looking over your shoulder and thinking of what might be."

Taking on the stentorian voice of his former sergeants, Halberd states, "Tell me, soldier, have you got your head screwed on straight? Ready to show these civvies how a real warrior holds their head high?"

Lady Sorra listens intently to Halberds words. She took time to look at the people. She smiled.
"... I can see why my husband is so fond of you. You speak wisdom... And your words strengthen." She nods in respect. "You are, indeed, a good man. I will be strong."

Lady Sorra heads for the caravan. "Sir Vendral! A headcount! we depart in fifteen minutes!"
Grave looks at Halberd then back to his wife, astonished. "You'll most certainly do well, Halberd. Even I could not ease her suffering... and I am her husband."
He looks at the rest of the group. "I've... never been very good at prayers... ironically. It is mostly done in solitude... But I will do my best."
He draws his sword (for those who see it closely, it is an ancient blade etched in draconic symbols, though it is in very good condition.) He wrapped his holy symbol around the hilt of his sword, which you have seen him do before. He knelt, pointing his blade to the earth he stood on. He began his prayer in draconic.

Spoiler: Language: Draconic

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May the Platinum One safeguard us as we tread upon the path of darkness. May the stars, which reveals the fate of all who live light our way. And should we fall in his name, and in the name of all that is holy, may he preserve us, so that our souls burn brightly in the night sky.

Spoiler: SPOILER WITHIN A SPOILER OOC

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Not the most well written prayer in the history of roleplaying, so if it does not do, I apologize.

Grave stands. He gives you all one last smile before he says...
"...This... may very well be the last time I see you all. If so... I will remember you, before the end."
He looks to the northeast. "...your destination... lies under the eye of the storm. Prevail against it's fury, and you will meet our enemy."
He nods to you. "I bid you all.. farewell."

[Vhaidara]

Spiker begins walking towards the Mournland.

[czieg]

Oren bows respectfully to the Vassal May the sands stay out of your eyes and hide you from your enemies.

The gunslinger then hefty his pack and follows Spiker.

[Prehysterical]

"I don't want to hear any more of that doom-talk. If I come back and I find out that you died in bed, instead of waist-deep in undead, I'm going to be upset with you."

Halberd salutes Sir Grave, turns, and joins the column.

[Somensjev]

Briar watches the exchange between Halberd and Sir Grave that one definitely has a way with words

Briar turns to Sir Grave and grins "I suppose we'll next see each other when we return triumphant. Until then Sir Grave." He bows slightly and turns to follow Spiker.

[Sir Grave]

Spoiler: all

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if anyone wants to do anything before leaving Gray Keep and beginning this adventure, do so now.

[Yas392]

Aiyaya, I overslept. He makes his way to the party who already bade their farewells and leaving. His deft hands work fast as he weaves through the crowd (OOC: see OOC spoiler) going the opposite direction to New Cyre. Ahh, good morning, Sir Graves, Lady Sorra. He pants as he jogs past them in a rush. I am definitely late. Good day.

[Guard]

Malvin nods to Lady Sorra and Grave. "Be well." He leaves with the Mournland watch.

[Sir Grave]

Spoiler: Kalim

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Many of those you pick don't really have that much on them: an average of ten gp each total. A few merchants, however, are able to provide substantially more. One mishap, though, as you get bumped by one of the people which sends a coin purse scatterng to the ground. No one in the crowd notices. It totals to about 250GP.
But there is one thing... which you picked from Rurik, the dwarf merchant. Not gold (he probably secures it in a vault in his cart) but a parchment. It has the seal of House Cannith.

Spoiler: Contents of letter

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Rurik Hammerstrike,

We are pleased to inform you that my company and I have taken an interest into your latest design, and wish to discuss an agreement in order to fund mass production. Enclosed within the envelope are lightning rail tickets to Sharn. I personally look forward to meeting you.

Sincerely,
Baron Merrix d'Cannith, on behalf of Cannith South.

Spoiler: Oren

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Oren, at first, from what you can tell, Kalim is simply shifting through the crowd, awkwardly, until you notice a coin purse dropped to the ground. No one in the crowd notices, but you do.
You also notice: the Vassal sees this going on. He sighs.

The Vassal nods to each of you as you all issue your goodbyes. He turns to Ruz. "We'll compensate the people for their inconvenience."
"Of course."

Spoiler: Endbringer: Halberd Only

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You can tell Endbringer is sad to go, concerned for Grave and Namhias. "...Goodbye..."

You all leave the Gray Keep behind, and head Northeast...

Spoiler: SCENE TRANSITION

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The actual journey to the Mournlands is largely uneventful. So to save time...

A day and half's ride, The sky not only doesn't clear up, it darkens. You all pass several camp sites of Aundarian researchers from the Arcane Congress, stopping to speak with a few of them... But they know just about as much as you do.
Eventually, your horses stop, whinnying and protesting to go on. Briar's birds are quite nervous, clutching the bark they were perched on. You need only need to look forward to know why...
A light fog... you know for certain it's unnatural... as far as the eye can see. the ground is barren of plantlife, though you do notice small shards of glass protruding from the ground. The sky is as black as ever... you can see it swirls like that of a miniature hurricane. The strange thing: You feel no wind.
KRACKADOOM!
A bolt of negative energy crashes before you, your beast companions are now panicked.
"Our horses are no good here! It's time to send them on their way!"

[czieg]

(OOC: I'm going to do ask for a time split so we can talk a little on the way.)

On the road
As the group sets out, Oren walks up beside Kalim, talking softly to him

Spoiler: Kalim

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I saw what you did back there, care to share the haul?

Mournlands
What the- Oren ducks at the sound of the thunder, at first thinking someone was attacking them. Realizing what it was, the gunslinger takes out his new musket and loads in a clip of normal shots.

[Vhaidara]

(OoC: Spiker is joining this huddle)

On the Road
Spiker pulls her horse over to Kalim and Oren.
So, the thief strikes again. Was it worth the risk.

Mournlands
Spiker is glad to be rid of the horse. It pained her to put herself under another beast's power.

[Sir Grave]

Spoiler: Halberd's scene: Divine Prophecy

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A beautiful crescent moon lays upon the sky, the clouds failing to touch it. Nahmias watches the stars as they glisten through the veil cast over them.
Halberd and Grave make it to the wall, where you can converse. The dragon does not look your way when he speaks.

"For untold millenia, the stars have woven the great tapestry of prophecy. They foretell what will be, or what may be, through time, and the world. We have studied them, to gleam into the world's past... and into it's future."
Halberd is unimpressed by this assertion. "If that were so, then why didn't you see this storm coming?"
Namhias looks down at you, and smiles. "An acute insight, kovgam arytiss. It is indeed strange that I or no other failed to foresee this evil. Further, it is strange that I did not foresee the coming of Ithquent Sventlin, or 'God Slayer' in your tongue. Yet it is only recently that the stars did reveal the grim tale of events that will unfold.
"Tell me, Endbringer's Keeper, do you believe that is coincidence? Or perhaps you think that this blade may be connected to the malice that plagues us these days?"

Endbringer's voice comes to life in your head. "Huh?"
"What's with this 'Godslayer' nonsense? Gods may not be invincible, but I know my limits. And you leave Endbringer out of this! It was locked away for gods know how long, so this mess can't be its fault."
"It wasn't. Not directly, at least," Grave cuts in. "I spoke with Namhias about what you told me, Halberd. About your sword, when and how you found it, and also about the entity trapped within."
Grave points at Enbringer. "You brought it out of that keep at almost the exact same time this storm revealed itself. It may not be Endbringer's fault, but they're definitely connected in some way."
Endbringer speaks again. Gods... they're right! But why?
Namhias looks at the sword. "Do you not know?"
Endbringer is silent for a moment.
Are... Can you hear me?
Namhias smiled. "Yes."
"...Are you seriously suggesting that Endbringer was keeping the demon there? Endbringer was trapped in a vault and the demon had possessed the bandits' leader. Why wouldn't the demon have been able to leave on its own?"

Centuries of planar knowledge, and you don't recognize anything like this?
The dragon leans closer to you, you can see the decayed scales upon his face. "Warrior," it said, serious, "do you still believe a mere demon is capable of all this?"
Namhias looked to the sky again. "A darkness has stirred that has not been seen since the beginning of time. It seeks freedom from it's prison, and it's agents act against us. Only Endbringer can tell us what it is."
But...But I don't remember...
"How are you so certain that only Endbringer knows? Isn't there anyone in Khorvaire, or outside it, that could give us answers? What about those drow elves coming over from Xen'drik?"
"Hrm..." The dragon pondered. "It is... possible that the drow might have an inkling... but only as much as the darastrix. That said, it could explain their timely appearance."
Everyone, wait a second! This is too much to take in all at once! Dragon, what am I suppose to remember?
The dragon pauses after Endbringer's outburst. Grave spoke up. "What do you remember before Halberd found you?"
I... I don't...
Halberd, you feel a great deal of concern for Endbringer. This is the first time since you found it that it was questioned about it's past.
...I can't remember anything...
Do you think there might be some kind of magic involved, Endbringer?
Well, I... I suppose so... The storm's obviously magical in origin...
"It was Endbringer who sent you to us, warforgerd," said the dragon, "but what prompted Endbringer to seek us out?"
It... It was a voice. It seemed familiar to me... It told me that you could help set me on my path.
"So, another unknown player upon the field of prophecy. We may very well be playing in the enemy's hands by sending you to the shrine."
Grave turns to Namhias. "That's a risk we need to take."
Namhias looks at Grave, puzzled. "That is not wise, Vassal. This evill may yet be seeking out this sword for it's own ends..."
"Namhias, we're stumbling around in the dark, backed into a corner, and dying. If we do nothing, we'll be playing into our enemies' hands. Whatever Endbringer has forgotten is clearly a key to what's going on, and perhaps our only hope to preparing against it."
Looking at the dragon, Halberd states, "Sir Grave is right. If we only sit in this fortress and let the storm wash over us, the enemy is free to maneuver as they wish. We may not know our enemy yet, but there is a good chance that right now we have the advantage of initiative. Now, where is this place?"
"Mortals. Quick to act, never slowing down to contemplate. Perhaps it has to do with your short life spans.
"Still... I've not much longer, myself. But it is not for me to decide, or you, or the Vassal. No... It is the being within the blade that truly has any say, for it is the key to all. So, Ithiquent Sventlin, what do you believe should be done?"
There is a moment of silence before Endbringer answers.
...I don't like the sound of what you're implying, Namhias. But I have no choice but to regard it as a possible truth. I don't know what I am... I don't know why I'm trapped in this sword... And I don't know where I'm from.
Another silent moment. You can tell Endbringer is hesitant to make the decision.
But finally...
...I want to know.
The dragon bows his head. "Then, so be it.
"The shrine shall have the knowledge you seek, should you prevail over the agents of evil. It lies in ruin, in the Eye of the Storm, the source of this malevolent spell.
"But to you, Halberd... I give warning. For the prophecy has revealed that you will decide what will come to pass. The Endbringer is thus called, because that is what it is, an 'End Bringer.' You now wield it, and so the burden falls to you to choose the fate of the world, before the end. You say 'you know your limits...' You do not know. But what truly matters is: Are you truly willing to wield this weapon, to bear the burden? Are you strong enough?"
An adamantine fist clenches resolutely. "I am warforged. I was made for this. Together, we will overcome."
The dragon smiled. "Then, may you bring about our salvation... or our doom."
Grave looked at Halberd. "The storm surges, becoming more powerful. Tomorrow, my men shall escort the helpless to the safety of New Cyre. I have sent for the aid of my past comrades to make a final stand here. Two have already arrived: Wotan, and Ruz. More are on their way. We will hold off the enemy, even at their strongest. But I am counting on you and your contingent to deliver at the shrine.
"One more thing," he added, "the Mournland Watch has a lot to offer, but it is a mix of personalities and egos. They could do for a disciplined soldier for a leader. Cynric, unfortunately, is not up to that task. But I feel that you are. Can you do it?"
Halberd pauses for a moment before responding. "...I've never led a squad before. I can't promise much, but I'll see what I can do. What happens if one of them wants to leave? This isn't an army, so there's nothing binding them. And there's always the possibility of leaked intel..."
"It's important to note that leading an adventuring group is different than leading a squad. Your friends are not lower rank than you: they are colleagues. They offer their opinion as to what must be done, and you make the final decision.
"Friends came and went back when I was leading a group. If a companion wishes to leave, that is his or her prerogative. As for intel... In my experience there was always one member of my party that I could always trust information with, and that was Ruz. He had no ties to any organizations, and so he was the obvious choice. But you must judge which of your friends are capable of such a role."
Grave places a hand on Halberd's shoulder. "Many say... many believe... that warforged do not have souls. Who am I to say? But I know this, Halberd: You have Bulwark's spark, and that is enough for me."

[Sir Grave]

Spoiler: Malvin's Scene: a Terrible Nightmare

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That night, as you finally rest in your room, you fear to snuff out the light. Whatever torments you in your dreams may come again... especially now. But it doesn't matter. You drift to sleep anyway. And you dream...
The clearing in the forest. The skinned body hanging from the trees. As vivid as you remember... And yet... The eyes of the body move, to look at you. It speaks, but not in Brent's voice...
"Do you truly think you are safe among this pitiful gathering you've joined?" it laughed. "Do you think them friends? They do not accept you. No one will accept you. They will not protect you from me!"
An abject terror fills him, has him petrified before the corpse. He tries to move, to speak. An eternity passes. In the end, a tiny sound leaves his lips, a pathethic whimper, the sound of a small, wounded animal. He searces for something, and manages to find a word. "no." It was wrong about him. He didn't need them. He is shaking, but shaking is movement, and he can control that. "And what of it?" Still trembling, weak, but speech nonetheless. "Their approval is nothing to me." Strength. Good.
The corpse's mouth opens wide: an ebon fog rapidly shoots out of it. You are surrounded... Nothing but void.
"Liar. I see your mind. You long for a home, ever since it was taken from you. You wish for a family, ever since your parents were BRUTALLY MURDERED!"
The burning faces of your mother and father emerge from the darkness. They both scream.
"YOU CAN HIDE NOTHING FROM ME."
He's whimpering again, and then there's screaming, only he doesn't realise it's himself who's screaming. He tries to run, only he's not standing on anything. "Get away from me!"
You fall... You don't know for how long... above you, you see a dark figure... indigo eyes, long hair and clawed fingers... stare down at you as you descend.
You land, finally, in the chamber in your last dream. You stand, seemingly unharmed...
"...Malvin..."
You turn, seeing the impaled body of Sir Cynric, a horrified expression on his face.
"...Kill me..."
You awaken.
Malvin sits up in bed, breathing heavily. He flings the covers aside, and rummages around for his spellbook with shaking hands. Grabbing onto it, and gathering ink and a quill, he sits down by the table, not bothering with lights. His yellow eyes shine in the darkness as he writes, his script shaky at first, but later, flowing with immaculate purpose.
Soon, the familarity of the equations and the intricacies of his work will have calmed both his hands and his mind.

[czieg]

(OoC: Spiker is joining this huddle)

On the Road
Spiker pulls her horse over to Kalim and Oren.
So, the thief strikes again. Was it worth the risk.

On the Road
Oh, hey Spiker... Oren backs up a bit. I was wondering something about d'Cannith. Kalim might be able to help actually. I was wondering how much you knew about his defenses.

[Yas392]

On the road

Oren's words makes him distrustful towards the gunman. Trying to agitate him with his sonorous tongue is very becoming of him. Is he trying to take advantage of him because of this partnership? Do not think you can just honey me with your demands, marksman. Kalim retorts, lazy albeit sarcastic. Well, of course, there is no scattering of coins. Pretend that what you saw was just another act of clumsiness. There is no one as daring and stealthy otherwise. As soon as he is joined by Spiker, his demeanour grows colder. Let me get this straight. I wholly agreed to be serviceable to the party as long as it has something to do with the Mournlands, not some personal crusade against a creator of a noble estate. And keep in mind, we are working partners and nothing more. With that said, he urges his horse to gallop ahead of others so that he could read whatever content in that sealed parchment in peace.

Mournlands

His horse is speedy. He likes it. Maybe one day, he can be... Kalim's thoughts are interrupted when hell strikes. He nearly flips onto his face had it not been for his reflexes. He is irked, watching the climate stir up disorder that separates him from his horse. He sees that his companions are facing the same problem. Hey, I enjoyed that ride!!!

[Vhaidara]

On The Road

Well done "Marksman".
Spiker's tone is acid as she pulls her horse away from Oren.

Spoiler: OoC

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Acid damage: (1d8)[6]

[Somensjev]

on the road
Briar watches the exchange between Spiker, Oren, and Kalim with well-restrained curiosity. He rides in silence, watching the party and thinking.

mournlands
Briar jumps off his horse as it gets spooked
Poor thing, i'm sure i could sooth it, but my birds are in more need of that
he pats the horse gently, signaling for it to go back the way we came
Hopefully it can get back to Sir Graves, and if it's still spooked, it can be calmed there

He turns to his companions as he soothes his two birds well, the horses won't be travelling through here no matter what. so what shall we do now?"

[Prehysterical]

Halberd suffers uncomfortable flashbacks of wizard artillery raining down on his position. As unsettling as the dark lightning is, the signal to release the horses is comforting. I don't want to spend another minute on something that could just collapse and die underneath me. Let's do this, Endbringer.

Dismounting awkwardly, he answers Briar's question. "We walk."

[czieg]

On The Road

Well done "Marksman".
Spiker's tone is acid as she pulls her horse away from Oren.

Spoiler: OoC

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Acid damage: [roll0]

On the road
I was wondering because I think we should go and kill this guy later. What he did to you should never happen again. Kalim here might be able to disable some of the traps d'Cannith may have.

Spoiler: OOC

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Did I just take acid damage due to your soulmelds? Cause that would be awesome.

Mournlands
Looking at Halberd Oren nods, We walk.

[Vhaidara]

On the Road

Spiker hears Oren, but acts as though she didn't.

Spoiler: OoC

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No, unfortunately, I don't have the acid spit soulmeld shaped and bound (Ankheg Breastplate). Unfortunately, it gives armor bonus that doesn't stack with my composite plating.

[czieg]

On the Road

Spiker hears Oren, but acts as though she didn't.

Spoiler: OoC

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No, unfortunately, I don't have the acid spit soulmeld shaped and bound (Ankheg Breastplate). Unfortunately, it gives armor bonus that doesn't stack with my composite plating.

On the Road
I get I'm an a**hole, the amount of crap that my mouth has gotten me into is insane, but I always try to fix it, so let me try and fix it by helping you kill this guy. He is a demon, and all demons deserve to die.

[Sir Grave]

On the Road
I get I'm an a**hole, the amount of crap that my mouth has gotten me into is insane, but I always try to fix it, so let me try and fix it by helping you kill this guy. He is a demon, and all demons deserve to die.

On the Road
Sir Cynric pulls back until he's at Orem's side.
"Mr.Longshot, it may be best that you refrain from speaking to her, as she will quickly tire of hearing your voice. If your deeds are worthy enough, she may, in time, forget your slight.
In the meantime, I would suggest you focus on the task at hand. The last thing we need is for a poisoned arrow to impale you in the neck because your attention was elsewhere. And that is exactly what the drow will be looking for."

In the Mournlands

"Ah, yes. I could do for a bit of excersise," Cynric said, dismounting. He examined the sky before sending his horse away. "'The eye of the storm,' I'd wager all we need to do is continue forward, under the middle of that spiraling cloud."
You all continue forward, trying your best not to step on any large pieces of glass is difficult. Every now and then, another bolt of lightning sears through the cloud, randomly.
You are disturbed by the amount of moaning and shuffling you hear around you... though the undead don't seem to pay you any mind. Rather, they head the way you came, towards Breland.
Eventually, the fog lets up a little... however the sight you see is not pleasant in the least...
Spears jut from the ground, the agonized faces of humanoids are twisted onto the decapitated heads that rested on them. The sound of crowing is heavy in the air.
Sir Cynric moved towards the heads upon the spears. "...Falion... Daxos... Jorr... Meridan... and Sindri. Five knights dead: one missing."

[Vhaidara]

Then it is your duty to find the missing before they die, and waste your time grieving for the lost when it is safe, lest you endanger us all.
Spiker's tail flicked in annoyance as she spoke.

[czieg]

On the Road
Sir Cynric pulls back until he's at Orem's side.
"Mr.Longshot, it may be best that you refrain from speaking to her, as she will quickly tire of hearing your voice. If your deeds are worthy enough, she may, in time, forget your slight.
In the meantime, I would suggest you focus on the task at hand. The last thing we need is for a poisoned arrow to impale you in the neck because your attention was elsewhere. And that is exactly what the drow will be looking for."

In the Mournlands

"Ah, yes. I could do for a bit of excersise," Cynric said, dismounting. He examined the sky before sending his horse away. "'The eye of the storm,' I'd wager all we need to do is continue forward, under the middle of that spiraling cloud."
You all continue forward, trying your best not to step on any large pieces of glass is difficult. Every now and then, another bolt of lightning sears through the cloud, randomly.
You are disturbed by the amount of moaning and shuffling you hear around you... though the undead don't seem to pay you any mind. Rather, they head the way you came, towards Breland.
Eventually, the fog lets up a little... however the sight you see is not pleasant in the least...
Spears jut from the ground, the agonized faces of humanoids are twisted onto the decapitated heads that rested on them. The sound of crowing is heavy in the air.
Sir Cynric moved towards the heads upon the spears. "...Falion... Daxos... Jorr... Meridan... and Sindri. Five knights dead: one missing."

On the road
You may be right but I'm more worried about ending up with a spike through my throat.

Mournlands
If one is missing, one may still be alive. We touch these and we may alert those who placed them here. For now, let us advance. Oren's face is grim as he looks upon the spectacle. I shall kill those responsible...
(OOC: usually, if I use italics I'm showing thoughts.)

[Sir Grave]

Then it is your duty to find the missing before they die, and waste your time grieving for the lost when it is safe, lest you endanger us all.
Spiker's tail flicked in annoyance as she spoke.

Cynric turned, glaring. "Do not presume to tell me what I must do, Spiker. I know what is at stake. Perhaps more so than you."
He is now face to face with the soulforged. "And I will not grovel to you like Longshot, either. You may put me on your 'list,' however, should you threaten or disrespect me, I will not hesitate to take preemptive measures to defend myself." His eys darken. "Are we understood?"

[Vhaidara]

Cynric turned, glaring. "Do not presume to tell me what I must do, Spiker. I know what is at stake. Perhaps more so than you."
He is now face to face with the soulforged. "And I will not grovel to you like Longshot, either. You may put me on your 'list,' however, should you threaten or disrespect me, I will not hesitate to take preemptive measures to defend myself." His eys darken. "Are we understood?"

Spiker laughs.
You think you have done something deserving of my ire? I was simply reminding you to keep your focus. You fleshlings often let emotions cloud your judgment, and we cannot afford that now. And besides, if I want you dead, you will know it. Merrix knows it. Longshot doesn't.

[Sir Grave]

Spiker laughs.
You think you have done something deserving of my ire? I was simply reminding you to keep your focus. You fleshlings often let emotions cloud your judgment, and we cannot afford that now. And besides, if I want you dead, you will know it. Merrix knows it. Longshot doesn't.

His eyes don't change. "My focus is my concern. I have a great deal more than you: I am a student to the arcane and the divine! But you: your temper is as controlled as an active volcano!"

[Vhaidara]

His eyes don't change. "My focus is my concern. I have a great deal more than you: I am a student to the arcane and the divine! But you: your temper is as controlled as an active volcano!"

Her eyes narrow.
You know nothing of my temper. And it seems you are close to losing it. I simply wish to get this job done as quickly as possible. I was offering advice to move us towards that goal. No more, no less.

[Sir Grave]

Her eyes narrow.
You know nothing of my temper. And it seems you are close to losing it. I simply wish to get this job done as quickly as possible. I was offering advice to move us towards that goal. No more, no less.

"Oh? Then I would assume you would find a way to be a bit more polite about it, wouldn't you?" Cynric turned. "But then, perhaps your right. Perhaps this place is getting to me. And perhaps you've been hanging around the dead for too long."