[Flashback] Rude Awakening

[John Griffin]

Early Morning, 12th of Fall, 504 AV
Mithryn Outpost

John slept soundly on a pile of straw, wrapped cocoon-like in a think wool blanket. He dreamed of being a squire. He would accompany his patron knight, Sir Erindale, on noble quests all across the countryside. He would wear steel, and ride a horse, and do all the things that knights-in-training do. It would be fun, without a doubt. Much better than being a page. As a page he was little more than a servant boy. Fetch this, fetch that. Run around the compound. Carry this, clean that. The only thing he liked was when he was told 'Read this.' Studying in the evening was the highlight of his last three years. Three years as a page, but a page no longer. He would be the noblest of squires ever to-

"Squire Griffin," said someone in his dream. Who said that? his sub-consciousness asked.

He would be the noblest of-

"Squire Griffin, wake up." There it was again! Who was it in his dream?

He would-

A hand tore away the woolen cocoon, and John found a bucket of cold water emptied upon his head. He awoke with a start, obscenities unfit for a thirteen year old spilling from his mouth.

"Watch your tongue, young Griffin," said a voice. As John blinked the sleep, and water, out of his eyes, he realized it was the same voice from his dream, and distinctly familiar. His sight clear, John looked forward and saw a pair of booted feet. His eyes followed them up the legs, glanced at the hanging sword, the chain shirt, and finally ended on the bearded face of the speaker.



It was Sir William Erindale, and he was holding a second sword out for John. John scrambled to his feet and took the sword from his patron.

"Let's go, said Erindale, "We have much work to do, and only five years to do it in." John stood flabbergasted, his mouth dropping. Did William already have five years planned out? He could scarcely believe it. The older man turned and led the way out into the courtyard, John following behind mutely, sword held awkwardly in both hands.

William turned and drew his own sword. All of sudden John got very frightened. Was he about to die?

"Attack me," said William, beckoning with his free hand for his squire to do so.

"What?" asked John, scarcely able to believe it. He was rewarded with the flat of William's blade on his leg. Not a hard hit, but it hurt nonetheless.

"I'm not one for repeating myself, son, so you'd best start listening. I want you to attack me. Use that sword, and try to hit me. Don't worry, these are tourney swords with blunted edges. The worst we'll end up with is a bruise." His eyes narrowed, not in a menacing manner, but a forceful one. "Now, attack me."

John didn't need to be told a third time, with all of his strength he swung the blade at his mentor. And missed, decidedly, when William stepped out of the way. THWACK! John felt the flat of the blade on his buttocks as he stumbled off to the side.

"Good, at least you learn. I may make a knight out of you yet," said William. "Now hold the sword like this, with both hands." He showed John the proper way to hold a longsword. "You've no shield right now, so you must use both hands to properly wield that blade. Also, put strength into the blow, but not so much that you cause yourself to get overbalanced." He moved to the side of John and dropped into a fighting stance.

"Stand like this, to keep your balance." John mimicked him, eager to learn, and to feel the flat of William's blade as little as possible. "Good," the old knight said. "Now. There are nine basic attacks. Think of a compass. You know what a compass is?" John nodded. "Good. The eight arrows of the compass represent eight of the basic attacks. North, South, East and West." He slashed his sword from above, below, right and left. "Northeast, Southeast, Northwest, Southwest." Again William demonstrated the attacks. "Lastly, we have what I like to call Home." He drew his sword back and thrust it straight forward. "Now you try."

John understood the principle easily, and was able to attack from the proper directions as William named them off, but his attacks were weak, and his technique poor. He had played knight as a boy with sticks and buckets, but never swung steel. It tired his arms.

"Good, Griffin. That is basic offense with a sword. Now it's time for defense." William circled back around so he was standing face to face, or face to chest, rather, with John. "I'll list off an attack, and you attack me with it. Then I'll show you the basic defense against each of the attacks. These are called parries." He called off all nine attacks, easily blocking John's strikes, and talking him through the defending move. Next the pair switched roles, and John defended. William neither called off his attacks, nor slowed them when he saw John moving to an improper parry. Six times the flat of the blade stung John on the shoulders, arms and legs, and once the tip poked his stomach harshly, doubling him over. It was clear there had been no real damage, but Gods did it hurt, he thought.

It was clear that becoming a knight would be no stroll through Syliras.

[John Griffin]

Mid-Morning, 12th of Fall, 504 AV
Mithryn Outpost

They had been at it for a few hours. William kept coming up with new drills, intent on starting this squire off right. Basic attack and basic defense, over and over. William corrected John constantly. Stand this way, hold the sword like this, move your feet. John did his best, but he was no swordsman. Not yet anyway, but he was learning.

"North, Southwest, East, North, East, South, North, HOME!" yelled William, John responding only with the according attack. The elder knight easily smacked aside every attack, but that was not what mattered. Getting his young squire accustomed to wielding a blade, and wielding it correctly; that was what mattered.

John labored. He was out of breath in the first hour. As a page he had spent a lot of time doing manual labor, and physical exercise, but he had never swung a sword. It was exhausting.

"Stop. Take a break, young squire," instructed William, his own breath coming easily, his arms showing no sign of tiring, despite his age. John was glad for the respite, and he dropped the practice sword into the dust, and made his way towards a trough of water.

"Griffin!" yelled William. John turned to see his mentor striding quickly towards him. He was not angry, but John knew he was about to learn some valuable lesson. William struck him with the practice blade.

"Sir! Sir, I don't have my sword! Sir! Please stop!" begged John, who cringed away from the blows. The stinging attacks kept coming for a few more moments before William desisted.

"Exactly. Never, EVER just drop your blade in the dust. Even a practice sword. It breeds bad habits. Now pick it up, and never let it leave your side." William sheathed his own sword and strode off.

Rubbing his shoulder, John made his way over and picked the weapon up, wiping the dust from its dull blade. He tried tucking it into his belt, but it was uncomfortable, so he settled for holding it by the blade, just under the crosspiece.

He made his way over to the trough and splashed some water onto his face. It was cool and refreshing, and reinvigorated him. If this grueling training was what it took to become a knight, then so be it. John would endure.

[John Griffin]

Late Morning, 12th of Fall, 504 AV
Mithryn Outpost

The shield hit him in the chest, and John wrapped his arms around it, barely keeping it from falling. William picked up a second wooden shield and put it on his free arm. John, learning quickly, mirrored him, putting the shield on his left arm in the same manner. William nodded approvingly. "Good boy. Do as I do. You'll learn faster from watching and doing than just doing. Now, you will attack me with all nine basic attacks, slowly, and watch how I block with the shield. Then you will do it again, and I'll block with the sword. Parries are different when wielding your blade one handed. Understand?"

The squire nodded. He went through the attacks, his arm struggling to support the weight of the blade through a slow attack, but he made it, watching William like a hawk, so that he could better emulate the knight's moves. Then it was John's turn. He blocked all the blows, though very clumsily, with his shield, then did so again with the blade.

"Good. Now you understand the very basics of combat. There is more to it than just swinging a blade, however, but we have plenty of time for that. Now, we will spar. You will try to hit me, and I you. Use the attacks and parries I have taught you, and go as fast as you like." The elder man took a step back and dropped into a fighting stance, shield tight and at the ready, sword low with the tip pointing slight upwards. John did the same.

They stood there for a few moments, neither moving. Finally William, aware that his young squire would not attack first, stepped forward, bringing his blade in an underhanded upward slice. John just scrambled out of the way, and set himself back into fighting position. William stepped forward again with an overhand chop, and the boy scrambled again.

William stood up straight, relaxing his arms. "Squire Griffin, you're going to have to face me eventually. Avoiding attacks is a good maneuver, but will do little good against a determined enemy. A dodge is okay now and again, but for now you must learn to block." He inched closer to John and aimed deliberately at the boy's shield, hitting it with a moderate blow.

Realizing it wasn't as bad as he'd imagined, John took a swing of his own, a clumsy side cut that William easily batted down. The game was afoot.

[John Griffin]

Noon, 12th of Fall, 504 AV
Mithryn Outpost

North. Block with shield left. Parry low. Southeast. Northeast. John said to himself, thinking of the moves as he did them. They were clumsy and slow, but he was getting better, if only a little. But then, the first day of training was not even through, yet already he felt more comfortable. But he had a long path ahead of him, with years of hard training. That was evident by the ease with which his mentor, Sir William Erindale, deflected his attacks. John's blade hardly ever came close to his teacher, and if it did it was because the knight simply stepped just out of range of the attack.

The sparring continued, William raining down blows upon John's shield, the young squire's feet rooted firmly in the ground.

"Move your feet, boy!" William ordered loudly. "Or your enemy will rush and knock you over." To emphasize his point, William did exactly that, speeding forward and slamming his shield into John's. The thirteen year old fell, his back landing in the dust of the courtyard. A hand appeared in front of him, offered forth by the elder knight. John took it, then bent over and picked up his steel once he was back on his feet.

"Combination drills now, Squire Griffin," instructed William. "Come stand next to me and follow me lead." John moved over next to the man and dropped into the ready position.

"Good. These drills are pre-set attack combinations, to help you get used to stringing certain attacks together. Now do as I do." John nodded, ready to mirror his patron. North, home, thrust with the shield, John followed William, stepping before the shield thrust. Northeast, step, southeast, step, home.

"Now just you."

John repeated the moves, forgetting a step forward, but was quickly chastised and corrected himself. William told him to do it again, so he did. And again, and again, and again.

"Excellent," said the knight, stepping in front of him. "Now again, but this time I shall defend against your attacks. This is the second part of the drill, so watch what I do even as you attack." He motioned for John to begin. The new squire did the sequence sloppily, focusing too much on what William was doing. The knight, in turn, did the attack sequence, and John was forced to defend himself in the same manner. Shield high, inside cross parry, sidestep. Shield high left, shield low left, inside cross parry. William went slow, so John was able to block each blow.

They spent several more minutes with the drill, alternating attack and defense, before it was time to break for lunch. While John rested on a bench, William disappeared into one of the outposts buildings, and returned ten minutes later with a waterskin, a hunk of cheese, and a loaf of bread. He broke the latter two in half an handed them to John, then took a swig of water before setting the skin on the bench next to John. He took a seat on the other side of the skin.

The pair sat without words, each in their own respective thoughts.

[John Griffin]

Early Afternoon, 12th of Fall, 504 AV
Mithryn Outpost

After they broke bread William had John saddle up a pony and a horse, for himself and his mentor, respectively. The two set out shortly thereafter for Syliras. Saddlebags bounced up and down on the rear of horse and pony, John’s personal belongings in those just behind him. He was uneasy, his familiarity with horses minimal at most. Sure, he had been taught how to saddle a horse, feed it, brush it, and general care, as well as how to mount, dismount, and trot around. But that did not mean he was a rider by any means. His buttocks and thighs hurt from bouncing, and more than once he leaned to the side to rub one or the other. After several times of that, William caught a glance of him doing so, and pulled his horse to a halt. “You have to post up, John. You’ll never be able to gallop, nor ride very far if you just bounce around in the saddle like that. You have stirrups, use the.” The knight trot around his squire in a circle, and demonstrated how to post, using his legs to keep himself level in the saddle. “Your legs will be sore until you get used to it, but it’s a damn sight better than having a raw ass.” He stopped circling and continued on the road to the city.

John followed, trying posting out for himself. It made riding even more awkward, but he could already tell the difference it would make on his rear end. The young boy’s legs tired easily and he had to relegate back to bouncing in the saddle for a few minutes to give them a rest. But he was soon posting again, and the cycle of posting and resting continued all the way back to the City. William brought the ride to a halt just outside the main gate. “I have business to attend to. Alone.” He dismounted and handed John the reins. “Take them to Windmount and have them stabled. Then meet me back here. I may be a while, so be patient. You know the way to Windmount, yes?” John nodded, he had been there many times as a boy, and any native of Syliras would know the stables location. It was hard to miss a ten acre plot of land in the middle of a castle.

He dismounted clumsily as his patron entered the city, the Knights on guard waving the white haired man in. John led the pony and the horse to the gate, but found himself stopped by the Knights. He was surprised. Had they not just seen him riding with Sir Erindale? Looking around, he realized that the traffic was heavy, and the Knights had likely been watching those immediately in front of him.

“State your name and your purpose for entering the city,” ordered one Knight, a bored looking fellow in full plate with a spear in hand.

“John Griffin, squire to Sir William Erindale, I’m-“

“Move along,” he knight said, needing no more explanation than that. He waved John in and looked to the next person in line.

John led the equine duo through the crowded streets, his grip tight on the reins, making his way to the Windmount Stables.

[John Griffin]

Mid Afternoon, 12th of Fall, 504 AV
Outside Syliras

Minutes turned into hours as John waited impatiently outside the gates of Syliras. He nearly took a nap, but decided better of it. Waking drenched in cold water once was enough for a day. Instead he drew the blunted steel Sir Erindale had given him, and fought off imaginary enemies. His arms were tired, but this way was fun. He lopped off the heads of a dozen villains, and skewered a dozen more on the end of his practice blade. At first he had used what William had shown him, attacking with the cardinal directions, and defending with the proper parries. But he soon tired of fighting properly, and his attacks degraded into wild swings, jumping chops, and spinning slashes. He was performing such a spinning slash when-

CLANG

…his sword had been intercepted by another. It was William, returned from whatever task he had set off to.

“I don’t recall showing you moves like that, Squire Griffin,” he said, with a hint of amusement in his tone. “It seems to me like you need another lesson.” William, wielding his sword in one hand, pushed John’s blade to the side and spun his own in an ellipse, bringing it back down at John. John lifted his sword two handed and slapped away the attack. He knew his mentor would not be satisfied if he only defended, so he thrust his blade in, stepping forward. It was promptly batted away, but he brought it back in from the left, a sweeping arc at William’s midsection. Again his attack was parried with ease. “Good, at least you haven’t forgotten everything already,” the knight said.

Chop. Parried. Thrust. Parried. Slash. Parried. Slash. Parried. John kept up his attacks, each one swatted away by William’s blade. After the final slash, William darted forward and slapped John’s shoulder with the flat of the blade. “Attacking is all well and good, and there’s something to be said for aggressiveness, John. But you must temper your attacks and not attack with abandon. Else an enemy will wait for you to overextend, and then you’ll be dead.” William stepped back, lowering his blade, a serious look on his face. “You must take this training with the utmost seriousness, young Griffin. You are training to become a knight, and knight’s fight, and knight’s die. You had a great uncle, Simon. You know of him, yes?”

John nodded. “He died before I was born. My father never knew him, but my Grandpa Tom used to talk of him before he died.

“I knew him well,” continued William. “Your grandfather was my patron, as I am yours, and his brother Simon used to help Sir Thomas train me.” A faint look of nostalgia came over William’s face, with the slightest look of regret present. “Simon took his swordsmanship seriously. He trained more than anyone else, read books on the subject, practiced with all manner of knights. He was the best swordsman I ever knew.” William’s face hardened. “And still he was killed in battle. Let that be a lesson to you.” Without a hint of warning the elder knight lunged forward, lifted his blade, and poked John in the stomach.

John doubled over, his abdomen in pain. “Ow,” he cried, “must you hit me Sir Erindale? It hurts.”

“I know, boy. But you will learn faster and better if it means avoiding such pain. Trust me. And you need not fear that I shall ever cause you actual harm. But a little bit of pain goes a long way in turning a boy into a knight.” He gestured with the tip of his blade, “Now stand up, and this time, don’t get carried away with your attack. Also, henceforth, you must be ready for me to attack at any given moment. It will help build your reflexes and hone your warrior instinct.”

John stood up straight, making sure to keep his blade ready. He didn’t want to be poked in the stomach again; it hurt worse than any of the other hits. No sooner had he stood all the way up, Sir Erindale attacked with an underhanded slice. John parried it downward and sliced from the left. His blow was stopped, but he continued on with a measured, but sloppy, overhead chop. This was also stopped, and William cut in towards John’s neck. Instinct kicked in and John ducked instead of blocking. He was met with William’s booted foot, which pushed him flat onto the grass. “Dodging is a useful tool, but you must take care that it does not put you in an inferior position. Now stand, this lesson is over.”

The young squire lifted himself off the ground and brushed himself off. As he slid the blade into its scabbard, he noticed William eying him, a twinkle in his eye. His blade flashed back out of the scabbard clumsily, just in time to slap aside a thrust from the knight. William chuckled and sheathed his own blade. “Excellent. You’re learning. You might make a decent knight one day.”

[John Griffin]

Late Afternoon, 12th of Fall, 504 AV
Outside Syliras

John was tired, very tired. No, he was more than tired, he was exhausted. After the spontaneous lesson on swordsmanship he received from William, the old knight decided to take his squire on a run. Around Syliras. Twice. Accustomed to running only short distances to fetch this and that, the circuit around the city took everything out of John. That he had a sword at his hip had made the run all the worse. It bounced incessantly, and he was forced to hold it with one hand to keep it from rubbing his thigh raw. He was drenched in sweat. It spilled into his eyes, burning that salty burn. Breathing heavily, doubled over with his hands on his knees, John took a look at William. The old man was barely breathing hard. He must be sixty! How does he do it? thought John, slightly embarrassed that he couldn’t keep up with an old man. That old man is a knight, and I’d best remember that. He lowered his head back down, panting. A flash of light lifted his attention just in time to fall away from William’s blade, the tip of it whistling by. On his rear in the grass, John scrambled, muttering “Petch,” under his breath.

“Watch your language, Griffin. You are a squire of Syliras, and one day you will be a knight. Men and women and boys will look up to you, and idolize you. A knight needs not have a filthy tongue,” scolded William, no scowl present on his face. “Now then, time for sprints. To the road and back.” John looked at his patron incredulously. The road was at least two hundred feet away. “Quickly now,” ordered William, “Or would you like to do another lap around the city?” That got John moving, his legs pumping, his lungs burning. He turned at the road and ran back, albeit slower. “Good. Again,” said Sir Erindale. Figuring a few sprints was better than a lap around the city, he turned and ran again. After three more sprints, William had him stop and take a few minutes for a breather, handing the young boy a water skin, which he drank from thirstily. No sooner had he handed it back to his mentor, he was ordered to do another sprint, and another, until he had done five more.

“Excellent, now let’s see how you fare when you’re exhausted.” William squared up to him, and reached for his dulled sword.

“Are you-” started John, stopping when he realized that William was, indeed, serious, the man’s blade singing as it was torn from its scabbard, and whistling as it sped at John’s arm. John hopped back, drew his own sword, and hopped back again. He could barely swing the sword. Besides his own ineptitude with a blade, his lack of endurance had him clumsily blocking blows, though most made it through and would surely leave a bruise. After a few minutes of what he would consider less training and more a beating, William stopped and sheathed his blade. “A fine job for a new squire.”

“A fine job?” asked John. “You gave me a walloping, sir.”

William laughed, “Indeed. But if I didn’t, you’d never learn. Think on that. Also, if I didn’t beat you, what would that say about me? It would say either I’m a sorry excuse for a knight, or you’re the most naturally talented squire in the history of the Order. Give it a few years, John. The fights will seem fairer then. Come on then, into the city, you’ve tasks to do.”

Tasks to do? What tasks? John kept his mouth shut though, and followed William in to the city. The pair walked for many minutes, making their way through the heavy traffic of the city, deep into the bowels of the third tier. Finally they arrived at a non-descript door with a number etched into it, typical of the residential rooms common within the castle. Sir Erindale fished into a pocket and removed a key, with which he opened the door. Inside the room was pitch black, as was often the norm for the countless windowless apartments in Syliras. The knight reached in and fumbled around on the wall for a moment, before pulling his hand back, a torch in his grip. He lifted it into the flame of a nearby wall-mounted torch, and proceeded inside the room once it was lit. John remained outside until the older man beckoned him in, a smirk on his face.

“This is my apartment,” William said as he put the torch into a scone on the wall. John looked around curiously. The room was small, but big enough, similar to many other rooms he had seen. A bed was set in one corner, a chest at the foot of it. A barrel and cabinet sat in another corner, and in the third was a small desk with a chair, and a shelf that had a dozen tomes. Emerald eyes lit up and twinkled when John beheld the veritable feast of books. William noticed, chuckling. “If you finish the tasks before I get back, go ahead and start to read one. You’ll be reading them all before your squirehood is finished, so you may as well get a head start.”

The knight began to take some things out of the cabinet and move them on to the bed. Ever curious, John crept closer for a peek. Light reflected off metal, and John saw two longswords, two daggers, and a full set of plate armor. There was also a bundle of colorful, neatly folded clothes. “Alright, John. I have to go see someone, and you’ve some work to do. Am I right in assuming the knights and squires at the Outpost showed you how to care for arms and armor?” John nodded. “Good. There’s a sharpening stone on the desk, hone all four blades. After that, I want you to inspect my armor for rust and scour it clean, then polish it. Finally, one of the tabards has a tear, and you must mend it. I don’t expect your needlework to be neat, but I do expect it to hold. Understand?” John nodded again. “Good. If you get all of that done, you may read one of those books.” The old knight smiled, “I recommend starting with the Complete History of the Syliran Knights. You’ll find everything you need for your work on the desk or in the cabinet.” Without another word, William clapped John on the shoulder, and left the room, leaving John to his newly assigned duties.

[John Griffin]

Evening, 12th of Fall, 504 AV
Sir William Erindale's Room, Third Tier

It was well into the evening before Sir Erindale returned. John had finished his tasks, and already made a healthy dent into the Complete History of the Syliran Knights. After his mentor had left, John had set to work immediately, the reward of an interesting book motivating him to endeavor. He had gingerly drawn the blades on at a time, and had at their edges with the stone, running it along the blade a handful of times on both sides of each cutting edge. After sharpening each, he tested the sharpness and the point, then polished away his fingerprints, as he had learned to do whilst a page. His first task complete, he had moved on to the plate armor.

John had taken each piece and carefully inspected it for rust, scouring away the small spots he found with some sand and a rag. Will clearly kept good care of his armor. The rust gone, the young squire had grabbed another rag and some wax and polished the iron plates to a nice dull sheen. Content with his work, John had moved on to the tabard, and closed the three inch tear wit half a hundred stitches.

Finally, his duties finished and everything put away, John had descended on the bookshelf, found the History, and started reading. He read about founding of the Order by Lawrence and Leon Dyres, and had just finished the joining of Gregor Brock when his patron walked in.

"Fast reader, are you?" William said, his voice filled with mirth. "I'll have to load you with more errands, lest you finish all the books by year’s end. For now, though, close that one, I need your help." John gave the book a longing look before closing it, then hopped off the chair and moved over to William. It was then he noticed a huge padded roll in the man's arms.

"Your bedroll. You can't well be staying with your parents, so you'll stay here with me, and sleep against that wall," he gestured at the space between the desk and the barrel. The white-haired knight set the bundle down onto his bed. "Now, I will ask you for a particular piece of armor, and you shall fetch it from the cabinet, and put it on me. You have helped armor a knight before, yes?"

John nodded, and they began. First was the gambeson, a thick, padded suit with mail sewn into it at the elbow and armpit. Over that was placed the cuirass, a breast and back plate that fastened together to protect the torso. Next William called for his sabatons, boots of steel that strapped on over the leather ones. Greaves followed, overlapping slightly with the sabatons, to protect the calf and shin. Then was the cuisses, wrapping up the knight’s thighs in a layer of protective metal. Poleynes finished up the legs by covering the knees. The pair moved on to the arms. Vambraces protected Sir Erindale’s upper arm, while gauntlets and fore bracers protected his hands and lower arms. Couters covered the gaps at the elbows, and spaulders the gaps at the shoulders. A skirt of chain and plate was attached at the waist to protect the groin and buttocks, and finish off the bodily ensemble. Finally William called for his helmet. For patrolling the city he preferred to wear an open faced barbute with holes for the ears, though he owned a basinet for use in a real conflict. And avantail hung from the helmet, covering the back of his neck, and a steel gorget wrapped snuggly around his neck.

John knew what was next, so he picked up William’s sword belt and secured it around his waist, then handed him his shield. After many minutes of preparation, the knight was finally ready. “Alright, I’ve a patrol tonight. You can keep reading if you like, or sleep. But you’ve another long day tomorrow, so I’d not stay up too late.” He gave a gruff, curt nod and clanked out the door.

John rushed back to the book, eager to continue the read. By candle light he read for several more hours, eventually drifting off to sleep, still seated at the desk.

His dreams were of knights…

[Ataraxia]

John Griffin XP Evasion + 2, Longsword + 4, Observation + 5, Riding + 2, Running + 2. Sewing + 1, Shield + 3 Lore Being a bookworm | The proper way to hold a sword | Never far from his weapon | Move your feet (or get bumrushed!) | Swordsmanship Style (Syliran Knight) | Maintenence of a Knight's blades and armor | Arming a Knight of Syliras Comments Cool thread, it'd be interested to know what became of John's patron Knight. If you have any questions regarding XP/Lore/yatta yatta, lemme know. Just send me a message and i'll be in touch.