A Slave's Ransom (Belugnir)

[Shiress]

"Caldera's bitch"

"Ransom"

"I brought your bitch like you asked"

"You pay men like me."

The longer the men bickered between themselves, the more things began to make sense. Shiress had been taken because of her relationship to Elias, and she would be ransomed to him. A brief, ambivalent thought fleeted across the forefront of the Slaves mind --would Elias pay? Shiress shoved that thought well below any other and focused instead on what was before her.

Belugnir had been hired to take Shiress and deliver her to this..Hollister man, who then would use her to get to Elias. But why her? Why not some other, more insured captive that the Caldera would surely be more ready to rescue. Someone like his cousin, Alija or her son. The Slave was apparently still having issues making sense of Elias's true feelings for her, but obviously, this Hollister had trusted the soldier's feelings more so than she had.

Hollister suddenly shifted behind Shiress, and in an instant, the Slave's thoughts turned from sifting through motivations to the terrified realization that she could no longer draw breath. But before she could react, air rushed back into her lungs as she was hurled away. Shiress slammed into the wooden crates, and the small bit of precious air vacated her desperate lungs yet again so when the man's boot assaulted her midriff black spots stole her vision. Shiress lost several long ticks.

She came around to the man's boot pressing into her face, and it took another set of several ticks for his words to make sense and when their meaning was clear, the Slave closed her eyes, horrified.

Unbidden, Elias's words came to back to her "Play the part." Shiress knew that Elias had meant her role with Radcliffe Lark, but she couldn't help but wonder if he would have said the same for this occasion also. Hollister would not kill her, the man had said so himself, but he would abuse, if not destroy, her friends to control her. Rook. A tear found its way from between her lashes and ran a clean path through the blood and dust dirtying her cheek -he would hurt her bondmate. With that, Shiress knew what she had to do.

"Play the part."

With a sob of despair, Shiress's tongue slipped out from her lips and slid across the filthy surface of Hollister's boot, tasting old dirt and something far worse with a gag. Hollister ground the nasty leather further into the Slave's mouth, cutting her lip and tongue. "Now kiss it, whore, as you do him." Shiress did the best she could with her mouth growing more and more numb from the pressure molesting her, but she made sure to smear as much blood-stained spit on the man's pricey footwear as she could manage, whilst the fingers of the pinned hand beneath her right side gently caressed the hidden dagger sheathed against her thigh. She would thank Kylar for his foresight later.

The girl's vengeful ministrations must have done as she intended because Hollister shoved his foot away and grabbed a fistful of Shiress's hair and jerked her to her feet, cursing something inaudible near her ear. The man's hand found her neck again, his cold emerald eyes boring into her with pure hate and disgust evident in his gaze. Shiress couldn't help herself -the foolish man left the option utterly open to the Slave. Sliding her eyes around to Bel, the look on the Slaves face was stern and spoke volumes--either help or don't petching hinder--

Working her tongue around her mouth, Shiress let loose a glob of spit, blood, and boot grime full in Hollisters face, her hand inching up her skirt all the while as her mind sent beacons of resolve, reassurance, and commitment toward her bondmate, hoping that Rook would feel that she was about to do something completely rash.

Hollister's rage-filled face slammed into her own, sending the Slave sprawling on the floor, blood streaming from her nose. Pushing past the sudden pain exploding between her eyes, Shiress scrambled to her feet, pulling the dagger free beneath the flurry of her skirt, and flung herself at her Bondmate, wrapping her arms around the boy.

"I'm sorry." she yelled, hand and dagger working blindly and desperately at the boys binds, grimacing as she knew she was cutting just as much flesh as she was rope. Feeling arms come around her waist, attempting to pull her free, Shiress yanked the blade upward and felt a loop give way, but her time was up.

"I'm sorry." she repeated, catching his gaze, "I love yo..."

A twin to the pain radiating through her face erupted at the back of her head, and Rooks face faded to black before her eyes.

Luckily, before Shiress lost consciousness, she was able to push the dagger into Rooks' hand.

[Belugnir]

None of what he did was really a bluff. Frankly, Einar didn't know what he ought to do himself. True, this shyke was something grim and unsavory even by standard of the jobs he normally did... Something nagged at the back of his mind. Why'd it have to be you three idiots of all people?. Life had never given him much cause to care for people, let alone those on the receiving end of his errands, and if it did, it was exclusively a disdainful viewpoint at best. A Sunberthian hooligan child hardly learns to like people, hardly ever comes to be invested in any... Or so Ein attempted to convince himself for the longest time.

Yet with two of them being folk who indeed saved his arse when he was bleeding like a stuck pig and one of them being a fellow with whom he'd braved the poisonous bowels of the underworld... it changed things. Still, even then, for the most part, he simply wished to get his due of coin for this buggery and be off on his way. Then Hollister started so gleefully shoving the bottom of his filthy boot into the mouth of the woman who'd patched him up not a fortnight ago when he'd come just shy of having his throat slit. Grumbling, Ein took a step forward.

''Oi, I finished my due of work. I'm not the one hired to stand guard while you get yourself off, and I have places to be. So pay up.'', he protested with a demanding note.

''Fine.'', Hollister snapped, far from fond of being interrupted in his display of depravity, the man stopped for the instant it took him to produce a pouch heavy with coin and hurl it Einar's way.

The gaze Shiress gave him was entirely lost on Einar in the midst of attempting to catch his boon, and sooner than he could of spoken or even fastened the pouch to his belt, Hollister had a mouthful of filth and blood smeared across his face, the girl was knocked to the floor again, and bolted for the kelvic boy, whining something desperate.

Abandoning his payment to fall to the floor, Ein dove forward and made it to the captives in the same breath as the nearest thug, and while the other man grabbed the lass by the hips to drag her off, Einar struck the back of her head, pulling her off of the lad and both remaining crouched beside them for an instant. Neither of them seemed to have noticed what she did with her dagger.

''Filthy whore...'', Ein heard Hollister stomping behind him with murder in his voice... all too reminiscent of a slaver he'd become acquainted with as a child.

A sharp, creaking sigh took itself away as the young mercenary brought his left hand up, brandishing two fingers extended from a fist, each of which would have thrust itself into an eye of the unexpecting thug opposite of him. The man jerked backwards with a painful yelp, both hands rising to his face amidst sudden pain and blindness.

Ein wasted no time rising up and rotating his entire body along the way do deliver a backward elbow strike to Hollister, who, though surprised, still managed to intercept the strike, loosely placing a hand in front of it, doing just enough not to receive the full force of Einar's blow across his own head, albeit elbow and cheek did ultimately connect. And before Hol could fully switch from a mindset of freely abusing someone to the peak of senses that purposeful combat woke in men, Ein went for the cheapest oldest and safest means of incapacitating an opponent and brought his knee upward with as much force as he could muster, feeling it dig into Hollister's crotch, grabbing the bastard by the head with both hands afterward, and shoving it downward in attempts to break the whoreson's nose with another upward knee jab.

With Hollister staggering backwards, howling bloody murder, Ein had just enough time to loosen a throwing knife and chuck it onto the ground in Kylar's general vicinity before being set upon by the second thug, the one whom had been previously wounded by Rook. This one came at him with a lengthy knife, and would have presented a serious problem had he not been sluggish from blood loss and had Ein not worn the single gloved gauntlet he had on his left hand. With the back of a hand's palm cased in steel and a minor stroke of luck, he had the blade glance off, and managed to catch the fellow wielding it by the forearm, pulling it downward afterward, into the way of yet another upward straight knee strike. The man let loose a horribly painful yelp and his elbow let loose an equally horrid crack. From there it was relatively manageable to grab the man by the root of his shirt's collar and proceed to push and force him, staggering backwards, all the way through the doorway and outside the warehouse. He'd left Rook, Kylar, Hollister and the hollering, blinded thug at each other's mercy. All the gods be damned, what am I doing...

Ein's sloppy attempt at abandoning the scene after finally shoving his wailing and wounded foe off to the lower docks and possibly into the lake would be cut short with the realization he'd left well over an entire season worth of food and lodging worth of gold and silver back on the floor of the warehouse. And so, storming back in, Ein came in the perfect time to be swept off his feet and hurled, backs hitting against a wall, by Kylar, who had managed to cut himself free and set upon Hollister, digging the throwing knife Ein left for him into the bastard's shoulder before being aptly blasted backward by a powerful gale of reimancy.

In the midst of sudden shock that came with being trashed so, Ein only made out Hollister's silhouette as the apparent sorcerer used his arts to blast an opening in the warehouse's door and make an escape, hollering and cussing something fierce on his way. It was likely he hadn't been fond of his lonesome odds against multiple people cutting free and whilst having a dagger dug inside of him too.

Regardless, Ein wasn't left with much time to dwell on it with Kylar getting to his feet, still rightly fierce with anger.

''Dirty, two faced vagabond bastard...''

Kylar's cussing and squaring for a continued fight was cut short once Ein produced a crude dagger to his bare, bludgeoned hands.

''We fought twice tonight already, pretty boy. It won't be any different this time around.''

''Gods forbid you fought as a man and not as a rat.'', Kylar hissed, stepping well away with enmity still plentiful.

''Had I fought as a 'man', that brat'd be tongueless, you and I'd be dead, and the lass would be halfway through taking a prick down her throat through a disjointed jaw by now.''

''Why, you, I will--''

Though Kylar's eyes flared up with insult and murder, Ein's harsh presentation did sober both of them up enough to avert their gaze from each other and to the scene that would be left in the aftermath of whatever went down between Rook, Shiress and the final thug. And for once, Einar would not use a diversion to deliver a cheap shot to Shiress' bodyguard.


WC: 1241

[Rook]

Rook's voice rose in an ear shattering snarl, a voice not meant to be made by a human throat. The pup was still properly trussed and his bindings we're tight enough that he couldn't possibly hope to wiggle free. That didn't stop Rook in his senseless, mind-numb rage. How DARE those bastards degrade his bondmate. How DARE they?! Rook charged, on his knees, towards his bondmate. A flash on pain stopped the wolf boy dead, stunning him for a brief moment. When Rook looked up, he could see the sneering guard whose flesh he had tasted not more than ten chimes ago leering at him. He growled, but the expression of fury was at half strength and the guard's lips curled in amusement at the realization.

The words that passed between Belugnir and the man in charge were only really half noted. Rook was too focused on his bondmate to notice anything else. Even the boot pressed against his ribs, the expression of sadistic delight as he searched for the perfect place to deliver a painful blow, went without notice to Rook. His brow was furrowed with concentration. What was Shiress trying to tell him? He felt a sudden chill of cold at the realization. But then the warehouse was in chaos once more, shouts of fury echoing through ramshackle wooden walls, pain, determination, and apology rushing through their bond like a torrent. And then Shiress was there, apologies streaming from her lips as she brought the blade to Rook's wrists, and he yowled with pain as the blade cut through both the bindings and sliced the skin of his wrists. The rope came apart speckled with blood, and Rook found the dagger thrust into his hands. Before the pup could reply to his bondmate's words, Belugnir had struck her from behind and she collapsed into his arms, consciousness winking out like a snuffed lamplight.

Everything was happening too fast. Now Belugnir attacked Hollister, and Rook's injured guard charged the mercenary, while the uninjured guard turned his back on Rook to prepare to do the same. Rook lunged forward, blade in hand, and slashed at the man's ankles. The blade caught in the man's shoe, but before he could react to the tickle of pressure, Rook lunged again. This time the knife bit into his calf, and the man roared with rage and turned on Rook, mostly uninjured but filled with fury. As he reached for his shortsword, Rook clamped onto the dagger and braced himself an impact that didn't come. Kylar, having freed himself from his binds with the knife that Belugnir had shoved his way, collided with the guard, forcing the shortsword from his hands and onto the ground. With the man distracted, Rook took the opportunity to join his friend. This time Rook didn't bother with focusing on the dagger. He barely knew how to use it anyways. With Kylar distracting the man's front, Rook leapt at his back.

Rook had never really been trained in combat, so why not just go with what you know? He lunged at the man and sunk his teeth into the back of his neck. And this time, he sunk the dagger into his back. The man roared with pain, and then Kylar was gone, engaging with Hollister somewhere out of Rook's field of vision. The man fell forward onto his stomach, and Rook bit him again, feeling the blood run through his teeth as the man screamed in pain. Rook could feel his feral blood taking hold. With a gargled snarl still running with blood, Rook yanked the dagger from the man's back and plunged it into him once more, and felt his struggles slowly grow less, until his body was limp. Rook looked up wearily, to see Kylar and Belugnir staring daggers at each other. Hollister was gone. Though there was still enmity in the air, the worst of it had passed. Rook returned to Shiress and pressed his head against her chest to check for her heartbeat. Assured that she was still alive, the pup made an effort of patting her cheeks and gently shaking her in an attempt to wake her up. When he finally heard gently groans from his bondmate, and felt the flickering of consciousness stirring through their bond, Rook would stand up and go to face Belugnir.

The first thing Rook noticed was a small pouch on the ground. He could vaguely recall Belugnir's demands for it. With Kylar holding the mercenary in a standstill, Rook swooped into a crouch and grabbed the pouch into his hands. The wolf boy ached. He was covered in bruises, his chest and stomach were intensely sore, and the tops of his wrists still bore the slashes where Shiress’ dagger had bitten lightly into him. The pup was covered in blood, most of which wasn't his. He wondered wearily for a moment what Jessica would think when he slunk back to the estate in this condition. Would she be angry? Would she laugh? Rook heaved a sigh and turned his focused, intense gaze on Belgunir.

“What is wrong with you?!” the wolf snapped. “You are so confusing! You changed loyalties like six times during that fight!” The pup heaved the bag of gold above his head and glared at Belugnir. “All for this?! Are you that desperate?”

“You know him, Rook?” Kylar asked. The guard was still fully prepared to engage should it come to it. His eyes were wary, his body tense.

Rook nodded. Blood dripped down his neck and onto his chest. “We worked together at the North Ravok Outpost. Investigating a poisonous mine.”

Rook stared at Belugnir for another long, anxious moment. “Is this something we have to worry about now? You changing loyalties at the flip of a hat?” Rook stared at the gold pouch once more in disgust, then flung it at the mercenary's feet, ignoring Kylar's rapid protests. “Whatever,” said Rook. “You sort of helped. I guess you deserve this.”

Rook

[Shiress]

Shiress slowly came to, her mind inching toward the surface of consciousness with Rook's gentle prodding, her eyes fluttering open just as the boy moved away from her side. The slave lay very very still, contemplating her body and the numerous, probable injuries it should have and why they didnt seem to hurt. For several long chimes, she lay listening to Rook and Kylar speak and noticing the utter silence of her guilty captor.

It wasn't until the Slave moved to sit up that she realized that her body, in its seemingly painless state, had deceived her, thoroughly. Pain washed over the girl in a tide of stabs, aches, and keen pricks of agony -taking the more subtle and distant pains to be those of her Bondmate's. Having been stricken senseless about the head thrice in half as many bells, Shiress's head pounded torturously and felt feather lite on her shoulders. Pausing through a wave of nausea her movement caused, Shiress groaned, gently prodding between two blackening eyes at her sore nose where Hollister's hard head had struck. She didn't think it was broken, but one would be entirely vacuous to assume such things with the fountain of blood that blow, and the tooth the petcher's boot had ground through her lip, had caused.

After a few failed attempts, Shiress finally made it drunkenly to her feet and staggered over to where her Bondmate stood, clutching at his arm with just as much desire to remain upright as she had to offer the boy her reassurance. Green eyes roved over Kylar, before settling onto Rook and the boy's plethora of injuries, but more concernedly on his bloodied wrists where her dagger had cut him. Ripping free a dangling portion of her sleeve, Shiress hastily wrapped the cloth around the more dangerous looking slashes then quickly replaced her hold on the Kelvic's arm as another wave of dizziness washed through her vision.

Shiress was sure the wolf Kelvic would come to rue the day he had bonded with her.

Once vertigo had passed, the Slave's eyes fixed on the coin purse at Belugnir's feet, and with a meaningful sideways glance to Kylar, the guard knelt and plucked the small bag up and handed it to Shiress. She would have nudged Rook for the retrieval but was afraid if the boy moved down to grab it she would inadvertently go with him.

Bouncing the bag against the palm of her hand, Shiress slid a hard look at the indebted rogue, giving the man a moment for his gaze to take in the state of her bruised and bloodied face before speaking.

"I was wondering," she began, her voice slurred and strained through swollen lips, "earlier if what I did for you that night was worth it, but now" she glanced down at the coin purse in her hand, grimacing as the effort of speaking sent a new jolt of pain through her injured head "I'm wondering more if you think what you have done was worth it." Looking back to Bel she continued, not waiting for the man to reply. "The regret in your eyes when you recognized me did not go unnoticed, Belugnir, is it? Neither did the fact that you tried to free me and for that, I will not ask Kylar to kill you." The sound of the guard resheathing his sword rang out as Kylar only then put away his blade.

Shiress tossed the small bag into Bel's hands "Rook is right, you deserve this." Looking to Kylar she stretched out her arm. The guard rummaged in a pocket and produced another coin purse and placed it in Shiress's awaiting hand. "I got this off the man who nearly killed you that night and had intended on giving it to you if ever I saw you again." The girl smirked, despondently, pulling several coins from the purse before tossing it to the wretched figure before her. "For the healer" she stated, indicating the coins she had kept for herself as she swayed on her feet. "Keep the rest -I meant them for you."

Shiress leaned hard into her bondmate, struggling to remain on her feet. "I can persuade Kylar from taking your life, but I don't think Elias will be so easily convinced. I will try....but" she gave the man a poignant look "for that I am sorry."

The exhausted and injured girl turned to her Bondmate, eyes closing. "I don't think I can stand any longer" she admitted, voice trembling as she felt a sudden rush of admiration fill her heart for the young Kelvic. Without thought, Rook swept Shiress from her faltering feet and into his arms, and she nuzzled her aching face into the boy's neck

"Please, take me home." she whispered sleepily.

[Belugnir]

Whatever concern and regret there may have been there to see in Einar's posture and expression was quick to fade into stiffened shoulders and a stern, chilly stare when he'd heard the wolf boy speak up.

That's mighty fine, a brat with another man's blood dripping from his chin asking what's wrong with me. I don't imagine you've spent a cocking day of your life starving in some back alley corner, nay that miss must be feedin' you plenty well.

His deathly glare was redirected to Kylar when he'd spotted the man reaching for the purse at their feet as per the girl's permit. Ein was beside himself with effort it took him not to savagely kick Kylar away. He stood still, staring bloody murder into the Stryfer, and as he began to speak his eyes went back to the battered pairing of slaves.

''Don't talk to me about cockin' loyalty after I've sent three men to the grave on your account.'', the southerner hissed. I sort of helped? I could have been five docks away by now and that mad cocksucker would have been feeding your tongue to that poor wench were the bastard smart enough to hire anyone but me.

Then Shiress spoke up.

Was it worth it, you wonder? Maybe you ought to have wondered how cockin' sane it is to go out of your bloody way, keeping random filth you found on the street alive. Maybe you wouldn't be half a foot in the cockin' grave now if you had.

Heartily did he spit to the side as soon as the coin purse was in his hand. He didn't need lectures from cockin' slaves. He needed to get away from this sodding place. To forget the annoying weight in his chest.

Then the second purse of coin came his way and yet more drivel left the girl's mouth.

''Maybe you ought to ask your suitors to take better care of you. Ever think of that?'', it was with an ugly grimace and with seething poison in his voice that he spoke up.

''You have some nerve...'', Kylar started.

''And you are a shyke bodyguard.'', Ein stuck the coin pouches into his belt without so much as an ounce of apparent guilt or hesitation.

''I've better things to do than stand here being looked down upon by dimwits who think they know two things of the world when they traded it for shackles around their necks and dirt in the bread they eat.'', it wasn't pride that made him look at the people who saved his life with murder plain to see in his eyes. It was something that ran deeper.

Kylar seemed on the verge of hurling whatever duty he had to the wind and simply going to skewer the southerner, yet Ein's words once again reminded him, against bitter pride, that doing so was likely not the wisest investment of time in his current predicament.

''Now bugger off, nordling. That brat's arms will give out before a chime is through... They'll need you when that happens. And try not to loose your wench or end up in the lake again on your way... home.'', Ein glanced briefly across the warehouse, toward the cage where Trevor lay dead, and toward the thug whom Rook had butchered. What's wrong with me, huh? ''And I have bodies to get rid of.''

I hope home's worth eating dirt and shyke off a whoreson's boot for.

WC: 576

[Rook]

Rook was nothing but concern as his bondmate stumbled over towards him, and he went to her in an instant, grasping her arm and giving her the benefit of whatever strength was left over in the pup's slim frame. He whined worriedly, his own pains momentarily forgotten in his concern for the most important person in his life. He could feel the sharp pains making their way through the pair's bond, mingled with the woman's almost sluggish state of mind. Exhaustion, perhaps, mixed with so poignant a hurt as to cause blurriness. Rook fussed over Shiress, supporting her with his arm to her back so she didn't fall.

Shiress' was Rook's primary concern, but the pup couldn't and wouldn't avoid the savage stare from Belugnir, hot enough to warp iron. The mercenary was intimidating on his best of days, but this was one matter Rook would not back down on. This was his bondmate, and there was nothing more important to him than her staying safe. The gritty Merc could be spitting fire and Rook wouldn't blink. He watched the exchange between his bondmate, Kylar, and Belugnir with relative indifference. His concern was mostly focused on Shiress. The man's needle point words stung, but Rook grimaced and weathered them. There was some melancholy there; Rook did like the mercenary as strange as he was. But the kelvic has to stick by his convictions. If that alienated them from each other then so be it.

Shiress’ exhaustion rattled their bond and before the woman could collapse, Rook swept her up into his arms. The weight of the woman was almost too much for the pup and his arms shook slightly, but he gritted his teeth and ignored it. Belugnir's comment, although true, earned him a glare and a growl. After a moment the growl faded, replaced by something quiet and contemplative, and a bit sad. Rook offered no parting words for the mercenary, simply turned and marched out of the warehouse with Shiress in his arms, in the direction of the Lark Manor. Already he was plotting ways to get around the guard patrols and safely to the manor, where he could preferably bathe before going to give his report to his master. Shiress was safe. That was the most important part. Rook nuzzled her shoulder as they walked, sending love, affection, and a sense of protectiveness through their bond. He wasn't sure where he sat with Belugnir anymore, but if he happened to encounter the mercenary again, he supposed they would deal with it then.

Rook

[Rook]

Your grades are here!

Shiress

Skills

• +3 Observation
• +3 Socialization
• +3 Running
• +3 Logic
• +2 Escape Artist
• +2 Unarmed Combat
• +1 Brawling
• +2 Intimidation
• +1 Endurance
• +1 Subterfuge
• +2 Persuasion
• +1 Medicine

Lores

• Kylar: Source of Information
• Escape Artist: Twisting out of an Attacker’s Grip
• Escape Artist: Loosening a Bind
• Belugnir: Hedge-born Son of a Petching Whore
• Rook: Beloved Bondmate
• Subterfuge: Play the Part

Rewards & Penalties

• Black Eyes, Bloody Nose, Cuts, Bruises

Notes
And with that ma'am, you are maxed on Observation! Enjoy your legendary looking skills.

Belugnir

Skills

• +1 Intelligence
• +1 Tracking
• +3 Subterfuge
• +1 Disguise
• +1 Stealth
• +2 Weapon: Dagger
• +4 Unarmed Combat
• +2 Wrestling
• +4 Observation
• +1 Stealth
• +2 Socialization
• +5 Intimidation
• +1 Acrobatics
• +3 Persuasion
• +1 Running

Lores

• Intelligence: Locating a Target
• Subterfuge: Concealing One's Appearance
• Unarmed Combat: Suffocation to Render One Unconscious
• Self: Desperate and Full of Regret
• Subterfuge: Concealing a Body
• Shiress: Ya Kidnapped Yer Savior! You Twat
• Subterfuge: Lying Through Your Teeth. Convincingly
• Hollister: Leader of the Thugs
• Self: Ew Sentimentality

Rewards & Penalties

• Whatever gold was offered

Rook

Skills

• +1 Intelligence
• +1 Tracking
• +2 Socialization
• +4 Observation
• +1 Stealth
• +1 Climbing
• +2 Unarmed Combat
• +3 Weapon Skill: Knife
• +2 Logic
• +1 Subterfuge
• +1 Medicine
• +2 Intimidation
• +1 Endurance

Lores

• Self: Best Utilized Independently
• Kyler: Fond of Rook
• Tracking: Finding One's Bondmate
• Belugnir: Ally?! Enemy?!
• Subterfuge: Lending Credibility to a Lie
• Hollister: Bastard Who Degraded Shiress
• Unarmed Combat: Bite to the Neck
• Medicine: Stirring One from Unconsciousness

Rewards & Penalties

• Cuts, Scratches and Bruises

Majorly fun thread, it was great reading it again! Y'all are a blast to write with. Don't forget to edit/delete your grading request in the queue, and PM me if you have any questions or concerns!