Author Topic: Anyone have old postings  (Read 1941 times)

Alumaani

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Anyone have old postings
« on: May 31, 2014, 05:30:25 PM »
Hi,


Just wondered if anyone had the introduction to the alumaani I posted, the one where he takes his first villages?  Wanted to add it to my site but cant find it anywhere.

Mookzen

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Re: Anyone have old postings
« Reply #1 on: May 31, 2014, 06:30:34 PM »
I believe something like that was sent to nobles as a message in-game, if that's it surely there are people who still have that.

Andrew

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Re: Anyone have old postings
« Reply #2 on: May 31, 2014, 06:45:00 PM »
Depends on where they were sent to.
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Alumaani

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Re: Anyone have old postings
« Reply #3 on: May 31, 2014, 07:22:59 PM »
Think old messages whee deleted?

Tan dSerrai

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Re: Anyone have old postings
« Reply #4 on: May 31, 2014, 07:45:13 PM »
I still have these...I'll look them up and send them to you ingame.

cenrae

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Re: Anyone have old postings
« Reply #5 on: June 01, 2014, 09:05:37 AM »





by Belemont Alumaani on 1-11-2 (February 27, 2014 15:39)
The calling pulled at our essence like a tide, shifting the great waters of the earth in a dance of its own design, as we, the First Born were being guided to the lands that lay beyond the horizon. We all felt it, my brothers and I, we all suffered the call like a deep, painful longing for something precious lost and so it was no surprise to us when my father brought us together to tell us of the journey we were about to make, he received no resistance from ourselves nor our families, for we knew that it was our destiny and so we strode aboard the ships and set sail, as the rain beat down upon the decks striking our faces like cold, wet kisses of goodbye from the lands we had conquered and ruled for several centuries.
It was not a good crossing and the storms thrashed at our ships day and night, raging against our masts and hulls and tearing at their fixings as if the gods themselves were determined to keep us from our destination. It was on the 42nd day at sea that I lost my father, I watched his ship rise into the air on the crest of a mountainous wave and then disappear quite suddenly upon its descent, to rest in the watery halls of Arausio, lord of the deep. My father was an ancient even amongst the First Born, he had walked with the gods and fought in their wars and his presence must have pleased Arausio for the storms gave way quite suddenly and the skies cleared and our journey met no more disasters before we made it to the lands we were destined to rule.
With the loss of my father our party required a leader and so once we had mourned his loss, we prepared our camp and dwellings and came together for the ‘Great Naming’. We are the Alumaani, descendents of the First and favoured of the Gods. Our traditions are ancient and our rituals sacred and so we were gathered together for the ‘Great Naming’, the gifting of the title of ‘Ard-Ri’ or ‘King’ in the tongues of men. The title is passed from father to first-born, though if a father judges his first born unworthy, he has the right to slay them and pass the title onto the next, such is our way. On this day though, there would be no threat to my right to rule for my father feasted with Arausio and could do nothing but raise a toast or scowl at my ascendance, I was now the Ard-Ri, the Greatest Named, the leader of my people, the King of the Alumaani and I had work to do.
I re-affirmed my brothers Yorik and Aeslin as ‘Leath-Ri’. ‘Half kings’ and trusted warriors of the Ard-Ri, the High King, me. Their powers stretch to the gifting of lands and the management of its lords. They hold the power of gifting ‘Great Names’ to our most proven and capable warriors but it is a precious thing and the most elusive of tokens, given to only the best amongst our people.
These warriors are honoured for bravery in combat or their ability to govern and are gifted by the Leath-Ri the title of ‘Mor’, raising them from the ranks of the unknown to that of the ‘Great Named’. Having found fame, the ‘Mor’ will be gifted lands and lead the ranks of the ‘Unknown’ in battle for their own glory and that of the ‘Leath-Ri’. It is the hope of every ‘Unkown’ to win the favour of the Mors and reach ascendancy for themselves and their families. It is the first step to greatness and it is often won in blood.
Mor Sylvus Alumaani was the first of our people to be raised in these new lands, my nephew and son to Aeslin the fair, my brother. The lands we have arrived in are alive with both great opportunity and great danger and whilst searching for the former, Mor Sylvus came across the latter and was forced to face a bear on his own, with a single spear in his cold white hands. His story though, is for another time.
I stand above a valley now, rich with cattle and grazing land and I watch the tiny humans moving around in their villages unaware that their destinies are intertwined with my own. Unaware of the shadow soon to be cast over their lives and the turmoil and sweat each new day will bring them. I smile as I watch them and wonder how many of these creatures my own father had influenced over the ages...millions perhaps? More? I turn from the vista and smile at my brother Yorik, “Prepare your weapons brother” I tell him, “it is time to introduce ourselves!”
OOC - (I just set up my clans background and structure so wanted you guys to get a little understanding of it, sory for the length!)
Clan Skies | House Kye on BM

cenrae

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Re: Anyone have old postings
« Reply #6 on: June 01, 2014, 09:06:35 AM »
Whispers of the Alumaani
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by
Belemont Alumaani on 1-2-3 (February 14, 2014 11:05)
Silence and steam swept around the cloaked figure as he knelt on one knee beside the body of a young warrior. His head was bowed as he stared into the now still face of the boy-man, giving the overall appearance of a Shaman, gifting his charge with the last rites of passage before death. The boy was already dead and had put up no real fight, though the steam from his wounds crawled like twisting spirits around the head of his killer, screaming silent profanities in his ears before fading into the sky.
“This was unnecessary...”, the soft voice of the man carried from the depth of his cowl, straight into the heart of the village elder, who stood weeping at the sight of his dead son. “...I will have your answer by midday Elder or I will return and visit upon you that which occurred in Thapalar. Understand now that my people have travelled for many miles and we will make this land our home, with or without your consent.”
“My Gods”, whispered the Elder, “He has killed my boy.” “My legacy is finished and all is lost.” He fell to his son's side and wept unashamedly over his body. After several moments he composed himself and stood, turned to the women and children huddled at the gate of his village and spoke to them, “When our warriors return from the hunt this evening, we will set traps and await for this monster, we will hack him to pieces and nail his parts to our gates, this I promise you all!” The villagers looked uncertain and the Elders confidence began to fade as a voice to his left spoke to him.
“Elder Broomsted, might I speak?” The Elder turned to look at the skulking retch of a man who had addressed him and a swell of pity rose up, as tears once again fell from his eyes. “Carvain, is that you?” the creature before him was bloodied, his right arm hung broken and lifeless and his face held both fear and many horrific cuts which made him barely recognisable. “Carvain of Thapalar, the warrior, is that you?” the Elder asked again, fear creeping into his voice.
“A warrior no more Elder Broomsted, for my body is broken beyond repair, I am no longer Carvain, I have been granted a new name, one given to me by Lord Belemont Alumaani, the man you saw before you just now, the man who has slain your line”. “He has gifted to me the name ‘Lifegiver’ so that I can bestow his gift of life to those that stray into the shadow of death and you Elder Broomsted, you and all of your people, stand in that shadow now. Heed my words”.
The last three words were issued with such pain and vehemence that all around him strained to listen as he recounted his tale...
The Lord Belemont is a moderate man in appearance, he is not tall like our people, but he is strong and fast. Stronger than us and he is more than a man, more than human. He came to our village with the same offer, to join him and serve him and we laughed in his face. He stood before us alone, green hooded cloak sitting atop broad shoulders and falling around a dark brown leather chestpiece. We thought him a warrior of the south by his dull silver coat of mail showing beneath but he was, to us, only one small man. His dark brown breaches were covered with inlaid stitching falling into boots made of the finest leather and so some assumed him a mere trader for his taste in fine clothing. We threw our rotten food and stones at him as he turned and left us and we laughed all night as we drank and retold the tale of his foolishness.
I awoke the next day with an ache in my head and stepped out into the common square to breathe in the air. I had closed my eyes against the glare of the sun and when I opened them I saw such horror around me that I screamed out like a woman birthing a child. The ground was red with blood...the houses were daubed in it and the brook running through the village square ran red with it. I looked upon the lifeless eyes of my kinsmen, dragged into the square and laid out in the sun. Their women lay beside them, their throats open to the flies that swam in circles, above the still flesh of those who had once been friends and family. It reminded me of a hen house, once a fox has visited, killing all when he needs eat only one.
I screamed again in anguish and madness and drew my blade from its sheath, turning to find the enemies who had visited such destruction upon my people.
I didn’t need to look far. I had not noticed the man who stood at the door of our longhouse, even then as I gazed at him, his figure seemed to shift, as though a shroud sat about his shoulders and then he stepped out into the square.
"The children are safe warrior!” he shouted across the open ground as he advanced, “Though they are no longer yours but mine and they will replace these people that have decided to pass on and grow this village into prosperity once again.”
“You are a Fox!” I screamed at him, “a sly, wantant killer, slaying my people while they sleep and in the dark of night, I will take your head as a true warrior and stand it on watch above their graves for the rest of eternity!”
I ran at him then and he laughed, a laugh of pure joy and before my eyes he grew in stature, a brilliant light shone from his spear, he laughed and in the light that spread upon him I saw the true nature of this creature...not a man, but not a god, yet something in between.
I realise now that he was dressed for battle and how resplendent he looked. He carried with him the Luin Letchar, the spear of the sun. The legends claim that once thrown it will not rest until it has found flesh and dazzles all with its searing glare. The twin swords Molltach and Baltach, 'Great Fury' and 'Little Fury', their dull grey blades are said to be sharp enough to cut rock and dance a merry death in the hands of any man that holds them. The Helmet Tarnhelm, bestowing its wearer with the gift to change form or become invisible, fashioned from a dull grey metal it covers the head and face, presenting a mask of apathetic human features and grim appearance.
I was no match for him, an almost god, a Sidhe. I was filled with the terror of his brilliance and he cut me to pieces, killing me with a torturous dance of cuts and slashes as he laughed...but he gave me new life. I was reborn, raised from death and baptised ‘lifegiver’ his messenger, his redeemer and I beg you to serve him.
Serve him or die...everyone of you
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by
Belemont Alumaani on 1-11-2 (February 27, 2014 15:36)
The calling pulled at our essence like a tide, shifting the great waters of the earth in a dance of its own design, as we, the First Born were being guided to the lands that lay beyond the horizon. We all felt it, my brothers and I, we all suffered the call like a deep, painful longing for something precious lost and so it was no surprise to us when my father brought us together to tell us of the journey we were about to make, he received no resistance from ourselves nor our families, for we knew that it was our destiny and so we strode aboard the ships and set sail, as the rain beat down upon the decks striking our faces like cold, wet kisses of goodbye from the lands we had conquered and ruled for several centuries.
It was not a good crossing and the storms thrashed at our ships day and night, raging against our masts and hulls and tearing at their fixings as if the gods themselves were determined to keep us from our destination. It was on the 42nd day at sea that I lost my father, I watched his ship rise into the air on the crest of a mountainous wave and then disappear quite suddenly upon its descent, to rest in the watery halls of Arausio, lord of the deep. My father was an ancient even amongst the First Born, he had walked with the gods and fought in their wars and his presence must have pleased Arausio for the storms gave way quite suddenly and the skies cleared and our journey met no more disasters before we made it to the lands we were destined to rule.
With the loss of my father our party required a leader and so once we had mourned his loss, we prepared our camp and dwellings and came together for the ‘Great Naming’. We are the Alumaani, descendents of the First and favoured of the Gods. Our traditions are ancient and our rituals sacred and so we were gathered together for the ‘Great Naming’, the gifting of the title of ‘Ard-Ri’ or ‘King’ in the tongues of men. The title is passed from father to first-born, though if a father judges his first born unworthy, he has the right to slay them and pass the title onto the next, such is our way. On this day though, there would be no threat to my right to rule for my father feasted with Arausio and could do nothing but raise a toast or scowl at my ascendance, I was now the Ard-Ri, the Greatest Named, the leader of my people, the King of the Alumaani and I had work to do.
I re-affirmed my brothers Yorik and Aeslin as ‘Leath-Ri’. ‘Half kings’ and trusted warriors of the Ard-Ri, the High King, me. Their powers stretch to the gifting of lands and the management of its lords. They hold the power of gifting ‘Great Names’ to our most proven and capable warriors but it is a precious thing and the most elusive of tokens, given to only the best amongst our people.
These warriors are honoured for bravery in combat or their ability to govern and are gifted by the Leath-Ri the title of ‘Mor’, raising them from the ranks of the unknown to that of the ‘Great Named’. Having found fame, the ‘Mor’ will be gifted lands and lead the ranks of the ‘Unknown’ in battle for their own glory and that of the ‘Leath-Ri’. It is the hope of every ‘Unkown’ to win the favour of the Mors and reach ascendancy for themselves and their families. It is the first step to greatness and it is often won in blood.
Mor Sylvus Alumaani was the first of our people to be raised in these new lands, my nephew and son to Aeslin the fair, my brother. The lands we have arrived in are alive with both great opportunity and great danger and whilst searching for the former, Mor Sylvus came across the latter and was forced to face a bear on his own, with a single spear in his cold white hands. His story though, is for another time.
I stand above a valley now, rich with cattle and grazing land and I watch the tiny humans moving around in their villages unaware that their destinies are intertwined with my own. Unaware of the shadow soon to be cast over their lives and the turmoil and sweat each new day will bring them. I smile as I watch them and wonder how many of these creatures my own father had influenced over the ages...millions perhaps? More? I turn from the vista and smile at my brother Yorik, “Prepare your weapons brother” I tell him, “it is time to introduce ourselves!”
Clan Skies | House Kye on BM

Gustav Kuriga

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Re: Anyone have old postings
« Reply #7 on: June 01, 2014, 11:38:25 AM »
Can you use a brighter color? I have to strain my eyes to read that against the current background.

Mookzen

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Re: Anyone have old postings
« Reply #8 on: June 01, 2014, 12:03:16 PM »
Can you use a brighter color? I have to strain my eyes to read that against the current background.


As a temporary fix you can highlight it, it's much easier to read although still a bit iffy.

Gustav Kuriga

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Re: Anyone have old postings
« Reply #9 on: June 01, 2014, 12:50:55 PM »

As a temporary fix you can highlight it, it's much easier to read although still a bit iffy.

I'm on my phone currently. That's a lot harder than it sounds...

Mookzen

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Re: Anyone have old postings
« Reply #10 on: June 01, 2014, 12:52:33 PM »
Also, just so everyone knows, yes copying text from the game directly often leads to this bullshit, but it's not hard to copy it into notepad first thus stripping it from all the extra unwanted information (font, color, spacing etc.) and then presenting it, it's not much more work really it isn't.
« Last Edit: June 01, 2014, 12:54:49 PM by Mookzen »

Mookzen

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Re: Anyone have old postings
« Reply #11 on: June 01, 2014, 12:59:41 PM »
Whispers of the Alumaani
Add A Message 7 participantshide old messages

by Belemont Alumaani on 1-2-3 (February 14, 2014 11:05)


Silence and steam swept around the cloaked figure as he knelt on one knee beside the body of a young warrior. His head was bowed as he stared into the now still face of the boy-man, giving the overall appearance of a Shaman, gifting his charge with the last rites of passage before death. The boy was already dead and had put up no real fight, though the steam from his wounds crawled like twisting spirits around the head of his killer, screaming silent profanities in his ears before fading into the sky.
“This was unnecessary...”, the soft voice of the man carried from the depth of his cowl, straight into the heart of the village elder, who stood weeping at the sight of his dead son. “...I will have your answer by midday Elder or I will return and visit upon you that which occurred in Thapalar. Understand now that my people have travelled for many miles and we will make this land our home, with or without your consent.”
“My Gods”, whispered the Elder, “He has killed my boy.” “My legacy is finished and all is lost.” He fell to his son's side and wept unashamedly over his body. After several moments he composed himself and stood, turned to the women and children huddled at the gate of his village and spoke to them, “When our warriors return from the hunt this evening, we will set traps and await for this monster, we will hack him to pieces and nail his parts to our gates, this I promise you all!” The villagers looked uncertain and the Elders confidence began to fade as a voice to his left spoke to him.
“Elder Broomsted, might I speak?” The Elder turned to look at the skulking retch of a man who had addressed him and a swell of pity rose up, as tears once again fell from his eyes. “Carvain, is that you?” the creature before him was bloodied, his right arm hung broken and lifeless and his face held both fear and many horrific cuts which made him barely recognisable. “Carvain of Thapalar, the warrior, is that you?” the Elder asked again, fear creeping into his voice.
“A warrior no more Elder Broomsted, for my body is broken beyond repair, I am no longer Carvain, I have been granted a new name, one given to me by Lord Belemont Alumaani, the man you saw before you just now, the man who has slain your line”. “He has gifted to me the name ‘Lifegiver’ so that I can bestow his gift of life to those that stray into the shadow of death and you Elder Broomsted, you and all of your people, stand in that shadow now. Heed my words”.
The last three words were issued with such pain and vehemence that all around him strained to listen as he recounted his tale...
The Lord Belemont is a moderate man in appearance, he is not tall like our people, but he is strong and fast. Stronger than us and he is more than a man, more than human. He came to our village with the same offer, to join him and serve him and we laughed in his face. He stood before us alone, green hooded cloak sitting atop broad shoulders and falling around a dark brown leather chestpiece. We thought him a warrior of the south by his dull silver coat of mail showing beneath but he was, to us, only one small man. His dark brown breaches were covered with inlaid stitching falling into boots made of the finest leather and so some assumed him a mere trader for his taste in fine clothing. We threw our rotten food and stones at him as he turned and left us and we laughed all night as we drank and retold the tale of his foolishness.
I awoke the next day with an ache in my head and stepped out into the common square to breathe in the air. I had closed my eyes against the glare of the sun and when I opened them I saw such horror around me that I screamed out like a woman birthing a child. The ground was red with blood...the houses were daubed in it and the brook running through the village square ran red with it. I looked upon the lifeless eyes of my kinsmen, dragged into the square and laid out in the sun. Their women lay beside them, their throats open to the flies that swam in circles, above the still flesh of those who had once been friends and family. It reminded me of a hen house, once a fox has visited, killing all when he needs eat only one.
I screamed again in anguish and madness and drew my blade from its sheath, turning to find the enemies who had visited such destruction upon my people.
I didn’t need to look far. I had not noticed the man who stood at the door of our longhouse, even then as I gazed at him, his figure seemed to shift, as though a shroud sat about his shoulders and then he stepped out into the square.
"The children are safe warrior!” he shouted across the open ground as he advanced, “Though they are no longer yours but mine and they will replace these people that have decided to pass on and grow this village into prosperity once again.”
“You are a Fox!” I screamed at him, “a sly, wantant killer, slaying my people while they sleep and in the dark of night, I will take your head as a true warrior and stand it on watch above their graves for the rest of eternity!”
I ran at him then and he laughed, a laugh of pure joy and before my eyes he grew in stature, a brilliant light shone from his spear, he laughed and in the light that spread upon him I saw the true nature of this creature...not a man, but not a god, yet something in between.
I realise now that he was dressed for battle and how resplendent he looked. He carried with him the Luin Letchar, the spear of the sun. The legends claim that once thrown it will not rest until it has found flesh and dazzles all with its searing glare. The twin swords Molltach and Baltach, 'Great Fury' and 'Little Fury', their dull grey blades are said to be sharp enough to cut rock and dance a merry death in the hands of any man that holds them. The Helmet Tarnhelm, bestowing its wearer with the gift to change form or become invisible, fashioned from a dull grey metal it covers the head and face, presenting a mask of apathetic human features and grim appearance.
I was no match for him, an almost god, a Sidhe. I was filled with the terror of his brilliance and he cut me to pieces, killing me with a torturous dance of cuts and slashes as he laughed...but he gave me new life. I was reborn, raised from death and baptised ‘lifegiver’ his messenger, his redeemer and I beg you to serve him.
Serve him or die...everyone of you

by Belemont Alumaani on 1-11-2 (February 27, 2014 15:36)


The calling pulled at our essence like a tide, shifting the great waters of the earth in a dance of its own design, as we, the First Born were being guided to the lands that lay beyond the horizon. We all felt it, my brothers and I, we all suffered the call like a deep, painful longing for something precious lost and so it was no surprise to us when my father brought us together to tell us of the journey we were about to make, he received no resistance from ourselves nor our families, for we knew that it was our destiny and so we strode aboard the ships and set sail, as the rain beat down upon the decks striking our faces like cold, wet kisses of goodbye from the lands we had conquered and ruled for several centuries.
It was not a good crossing and the storms thrashed at our ships day and night, raging against our masts and hulls and tearing at their fixings as if the gods themselves were determined to keep us from our destination. It was on the 42nd day at sea that I lost my father, I watched his ship rise into the air on the crest of a mountainous wave and then disappear quite suddenly upon its descent, to rest in the watery halls of Arausio, lord of the deep. My father was an ancient even amongst the First Born, he had walked with the gods and fought in their wars and his presence must have pleased Arausio for the storms gave way quite suddenly and the skies cleared and our journey met no more disasters before we made it to the lands we were destined to rule.
With the loss of my father our party required a leader and so once we had mourned his loss, we prepared our camp and dwellings and came together for the ‘Great Naming’. We are the Alumaani, descendents of the First and favoured of the Gods. Our traditions are ancient and our rituals sacred and so we were gathered together for the ‘Great Naming’, the gifting of the title of ‘Ard-Ri’ or ‘King’ in the tongues of men. The title is passed from father to first-born, though if a father judges his first born unworthy, he has the right to slay them and pass the title onto the next, such is our way. On this day though, there would be no threat to my right to rule for my father feasted with Arausio and could do nothing but raise a toast or scowl at my ascendance, I was now the Ard-Ri, the Greatest Named, the leader of my people, the King of the Alumaani and I had work to do.
I re-affirmed my brothers Yorik and Aeslin as ‘Leath-Ri’. ‘Half kings’ and trusted warriors of the Ard-Ri, the High King, me. Their powers stretch to the gifting of lands and the management of its lords. They hold the power of gifting ‘Great Names’ to our most proven and capable warriors but it is a precious thing and the most elusive of tokens, given to only the best amongst our people.
These warriors are honoured for bravery in combat or their ability to govern and are gifted by the Leath-Ri the title of ‘Mor’, raising them from the ranks of the unknown to that of the ‘Great Named’. Having found fame, the ‘Mor’ will be gifted lands and lead the ranks of the ‘Unknown’ in battle for their own glory and that of the ‘Leath-Ri’. It is the hope of every ‘Unkown’ to win the favour of the Mors and reach ascendancy for themselves and their families. It is the first step to greatness and it is often won in blood.
Mor Sylvus Alumaani was the first of our people to be raised in these new lands, my nephew and son to Aeslin the fair, my brother. The lands we have arrived in are alive with both great opportunity and great danger and whilst searching for the former, Mor Sylvus came across the latter and was forced to face a bear on his own, with a single spear in his cold white hands. His story though, is for another time.
I stand above a valley now, rich with cattle and grazing land and I watch the tiny humans moving around in their villages unaware that their destinies are intertwined with my own. Unaware of the shadow soon to be cast over their lives and the turmoil and sweat each new day will bring them. I smile as I watch them and wonder how many of these creatures my own father had influenced over the ages...millions perhaps? More? I turn from the vista and smile at my brother Yorik, “Prepare your weapons brother” I tell him, “it is time to introduce ourselves!”

Alumaani

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Re: Anyone have old postings
« Reply #12 on: June 01, 2014, 04:03:39 PM »
Thnaks guys, does anyone have the REAL version of events when they are in their camp laughing about it?