Completed Into the Darkness

[Crypt]

15th of Fall, 512 AV (Morning, the 8th bell)

Crypt smiled and waved at the figure in the distance next to the outpost before turning to face the outskirts of the Bronze Woods. Scratching Maras behind his left ear, he set off on a brisk walk into the Bronze Woods after taking one last look at the beautiful Suvan Sea in the distance.

"Look at that Maras, isn't it a sight? Remember the time I met you, Maras? It was Fall, and the Sea of Grass was looking pretty enchanting, just like this 'un. There are more trees here, true, but the colours are just the same. The golden leaves, the gentle sunlight falling onto the brown ground..."

He took a swig from a cup of a brew the merchant had sworn would cure his hangover in an instant. He was right.

"Alright, time to go to Syliras. Now, where would the map the merchant drew for me be at..." He rummaged through his pockets before withdrawing a crumpled piece of paper, stained by a few drops of red wine. Crypt unfolded it to reveal a crude map, showing the general area and route to Syliras. "Let's see... Just keep to the North Kabrin Road and we'll get there soon enough. Seems easy enough, though we might have to stop for the night. Maybe sleep in a tree? Ah, we'll cross that bridge once we get to it. Once we're in Syliras... Maybe we might even find some of that fine wine we drank with the merchant..."

Crypt paused for a moment, wiping off some drool on his lips before resuming his recounting of the night before.

"Right after the merchant - what was his name? Greagson? Greygarn? - and I reached the Outpost, he treated me to a particularly fine vintage. Wonderful man, he is. Not much money to pay me for being his bodyguard and all that, but good enough to provide food and drink all the way. Ahhh... the taste of wild cherries with a hint of vanilla... was there a touch of honey? Tasted a little sweet, but all them flavours complemented each other. Must have drank over ten glasses of that. Fine stuff, that wine. He told me it came from a little vineyard named - was it Little Hanselton? Damn, memory's all blurred. Never mind... Never mind.. I'll remember it someday. Aye, but the songs we sang must have kept the others awake for a rather long time. Pity the knights on duty had to stop us when they came down for a break..."

Crypt continued with his monologue, which slowly grew more animated and unrestrained after digressing into a discussion with Maras on the merits of apple cider compared to good ol' ale. It ended when Crypt flung his arms wide open and hit Maras on the noggin, inadvertedly causing Maras to promptly nudge him not so gently.

Crypt retaliated with a playful slap to Maras' rump. The friendly 'duel' (of sorts) continued as they walked on the long path to Syliras.

[Crypt]

15th of Fall, 512 AV (Noon, the 12th bell)

"...The falling leaves drift by my window..."

Crypt started to sing a simple song his mother taught him. Walking was boring. Very boring. In an attempt to stave off the feeling of utter ennui, Maras and Crypt had taken to singing a few tunes he had learnt in childhood. Unfortunately, both of them were novices in the art of the song. And so, what would have been an excellent rendition in their childhood songs had its quality lowered by a small amount. . Maras' irrhythmic neighing was rather... distracting.

"The autumn leaves are red and gold..."

After singing one final song, Crypt and Maras stopped singing (Or rather, Maras stopped neighing loudly), to the immense relief of all in hearing range. Feeling thirsty, he looked to Maras and gave him a pat.

"Maras, I reckon it's time for us to stop and have a drink and some food. It's..." Crypt looked up to the sky, shading his rapidly blinking eyes from the sunlight. "About noon right now, may as well have lunch. I see a small stream over there, let's get some water from there."

Crypt walked off the road to Syliras. Taking his waterskin from his leather backpack, he took a long drink from it, sighing in relief as his parched throat was moistened by the water, his thirst quenched by the life-giving fluid. Filling the waterskin with some water from the stream, he gave free rein of it to Maras. "Here you go, boy, have a drink or five..."

He grinned as he watched Maras bend his head down and greedily slurp the waters of the stream. "Take it easy, Maras, you wouldn't want to drain that stream dry."

Rummaging through his backpack, he soon found a small loaf of bread with some raisins embedded in it. He tore off a chunk of it with his teeth, chewing it thoroughly before swallowing it and taking another bite. Meanwhile, Maras had finished his drink, and went off some distance to a nearby patch of grass to graze.

The gentle warmth of the Bronze Woods soon lulled Crypt into a dream-like state of mind, the breeze rustling the leaves on the ground providing some background music to his reverie.

[Crypt]

15th of Fall, 512 AV (The seventeenth bell) “Wakey wakey, boy.” The business end of a scimitar was threatening to bore a hole in Crypt's neck. Said boy woke up almost instantly as a drop of blood emerged from a small wound the stranger had made, and then froze in fear, unsure of what to do next. The stranger, who appeared to be a mustached middle-aged man of a stout stature, was currently leering at Crypt, his weapon at the neck. The overpowering stench of cheap wine and filthy bodies wafted over Crypt's face, nearly causing him to sneeze. But he could only wrinkle his nose in disgust; it was all he could do to lessen its impact on him, for sneezing would probably tear his throat open. “Oh, does the widdle boy not like my smell? Don't worry, Mister Fargus will take good care of you. You're in luck, m'boy, I'm here to relieve you of all of your... What did that bard say? Ah yes, earthly burden. I'm sending you to meet the Gods after I have a leetle fun with ya. Take a looksee at your little pony.” The nausea-inducing man grinned evilly, revealing a set of crooked teeth, and shifted to his left slightly and moved his blade a tad further from Crypt's neck such that the Drykas could see his noble Strider debased: Maras' limbs tied up by thick ropes, and though he was still struggling valiantly to free himself, it was to no avail. An inadvertent cry escaped from Crypt's throat. On hearing it, the mercenary's smile grew even more ghastly. “Time to play with you, boy. Don't worry, this will hurt you more than it hurts me...” “Stop! Stop! Please, may I have one last request?” Crypt's captor paused in his movement, his scimitar about to cut through Crypt's left ear. Mastering his fear and panic, Crypt took a deep breath and released it before speaking, forcing his voice to become more weak and hesitant. Meanwhile, his hands worked behind his back, struggling against time to untie the knots that bound his wrists. Ah yes, that fool can't tie a knot to save his life. Need more time though. Delay! “Yes... Yes... Can... Can I have one last drink of wine, please? I have it in my backpack over there... You can drink the rest of it if you want, there's plenty of wine...” The mercenary looked thoughtful for a moment before grinning again, shaking his head slowly, almost mockingly. “Why should I? Lad, I'll play with you with little Aden here, then Mister Fargus take your drink to celebrate.” Before Fargus could start the torture, Crypt spoke again, jabbering quickly in the face of his impending doom. He had almost finished untying the knots; only one now remained, but was proving quite stubborn to solve. “Wait, wait, wait! Just a sip wouldn't hurt sir, I've over a hundred gold mizas in that bag of mine, surely a little sip wouldn't hurt? Right? Right? Just let me have one sip, just one sip, and I'll scream all you want!” Crypt faked his desperation, hoping that the added time would allow him to unbind his hands fully. The tiny eyes of Fargus lit up with undisguised glee, and he stumbled over to Crypt's carelessly discarded backpack, scavenging through it. “Why didn't you say so earlier, boy? Good boy, I'll let you die faster. The mercenary whistled as he lifted up a few gold mizas and let them fall. He picked up a wineskin and took an experimental swig of its contents, nodding in approval as he swilled the wine around his tongue. Success! Untied! While his back was turned, Crypt shifted slightly to give his hands more space to maneuver. He massaged his wrists furiously, trying to get the circulation back before the idiot went back to him. “Have yer last drink, sonny!” Crypt took a gulp of the wine that was held to his lips and held it inside his mouth, not swallowing the alcoholic fluid. Fargus moved the wineskin away, and all Hell broke loose. “What the - AAAAARGH!” Knowing that the wine in the wineskin had quite a high alcohol content, and as such would cause an intense burning sensation, Crypt spewed out the liquid straight into Fargus' eyes. At such a short range, it was impossible to miss, and as a result, Fargus was cussing wildly, stumbling around as he tried to remove the wine from his burning eyes. Crypt leant against an oak tree, taking a moment's break before drawing his longsword, neatly slicing the ropes that bound his legs together into half. He staggered around for a second or two before regaining full use of his limbs, then dashed over to Maras and freed him with two swipes of his longsword. The Strider rose from the ground slowly. Crypt picked up the wineskin and drank the last of the wine, savouring it slowly before throwing the empty wineskin away. He gathered up all the things that had been thrown aside from his bag and placed them inside. Crypt closed his eyes, feeling the Djed within him, moving it and shifting it as fast as he dared. Time is of the essence. Shift the Djed as fast as I can. My right arm can handle being weakened; let some of the Djed flow into my left arm and legs. NOW! Now fully ready for combat, Crypt turned and faced a dripping Fargus, fresh from a dip in the stream. Fargus' eyes were now bloodshot; there was no trace of humor left in his distorted visage. “I'll have your guts for garters, boy! YAA!” Fargus snarled, before running at Crypt, swinging his scimitar wildly. Crypt smirked, then side-stepped him easily, giving him a whack on the posterior with the flat of his blade for good measure. Unholy rage suffused Fargus, lending him strength and speed. He sped towards Crypt, aiming a slash at his neck. Crypt raised his sword and blocked it with the flat of his blade, sliding the sharp edge of his sword down the blade of the scimitar for a moment, and then he bent down and swung the blade at his ex-captor's knees. Spotting the attack, the mercenary leapt back, but not before sustaining cuts on both knees. He gritted his teeth and continued to duel Crypt. Side-step, stab. The young Drykas could not see any clear difference between Fargus' skill with his scimitar and his own; it appeared that his ex-captor was simply swinging around his blade like a child, although the strength behind each blow. He was unsure if his Flux would hold long enough for him to achieve victory, but he would persevere. Fargus narrowly missed Crypt's left shoulder, leaving a small cut on it. Crypt pushed away the pain that emerged from his minor wound - he could not afford any distractions. If he even concentrated on his injury for a second, it would disrupt his control of the Djed. Crypt retaliated with a downwards stroke of his sword, sending Fargus back. Another point was scored: Crypt could see a moderate cut through the thin fabric of the mercenary's shirt. Again and again they clashed. Crypt was not a simple novice at wielding the longsword, but lessons forgotten long ago cost him, as he sustained a few more cuts on the shoulder and another across his left cheek. Still, he fought on, not daring to lose control of his Djed for fear that it would cause him permanent physical harm. Crypt's Flux-enhanced arm and legs were working well; with every blow blocked by Fargus, Crypt could see that he was wearing down Fargus. Crypt would use the Flux to provide an extra boost to his legs, safely moving out of the way of any incoming slashes and stabs. The sound of steel against steel rang out in the air, scattering the birds. Go with the Flow. Duck, block, diagonal slash. The mercenary was only becoming more furious and frustrated by then, clouding his mind and judgement, allowing Crypt to take advantage of his mistakes. Block with the edge. Stand and trap his blade. Give your wrist a flick and... There. Disarmed. Crypt trapped his scimitar between his blade and his right hand, then forced it away from Fargus, allowing the scimitar to fall to the ground. After doing so, Crypt released the Djed, allowing it to return to his right arm. He sighed in relief; his left arm and legs were throbbing in pain - they would be rather sore tomorrow. Crypt stared at the cringing man, reduced to begging for his miserable life. Crypt's cold and emotionless voice would be the last sound he ever heard. “You gave me no mercy, Fargus. And so you will receive none.” Crypt's blade flashed once, and the head of Fargus fell to the ground. Crypt stared at the decapitated body for a while before wiping the blood off on Fargus' shirt, then pulled over the dead man's pack and rummaged through it.

[Crypt]

I killed to survive. There's nothing wrong with that. There's nothing wrong with that. Crypt smiled grimly as he pulled out what appeared to be a small pouch of money. Ah... Payment for my wasted time and injuries. He turned it upside-down and emptied its meagre contents onto his right hand. A motley collection of mizas appeared. He glanced over the gold- and silver-rimmed coins for a few seconds, estimating their worth before placing them into his own leather moneypouch. Not a rich guy, he was. Still, money is money. About five gold mizas is enough for me. He upended the dead man's backpack, watching all the objects fall out. Grabbing a random apple from the small pile, he polished it with his cloak before taking a large bite out of it, savouring the taste and aroma while conducting mastication. Let's see... Let's see... Hmph. Not much. Wow, what's that necklace? Let's see... Rawhide, I think. Quite tough too. And one, two, three... seven teeth on it. Well, I'll take it. It'll look better than me than on him, anyway. Crypt hung it around the neck, admiring the way the tooth seemed to shine in the sunlight. It looked very well-polished. Probably the only thing he kept clean. I'll drink the rest of his water, and take all the food that isn't rotten or contaminated. Who knows what this pig would eat? Crypt picked up the waterskin and looked inside, before throwing it as far away from him as possible. It stank. Fortunately, the food was alright, though it consisted only of a few strips of salted beef jerky, another apple and some assorted nuts. Yes, he is a pig. A pig-human? A human-pig? A hupig? A pigman? Well, that sounds about just right. Crypt kicked the bag to one side, and deposited the foodstuffs into his own leather backpack. Picking it up, he lifted it on his shoulders and whistled for Maras to come. The equid leisurely trotted towards Crypt, having just finished a delightful meal of wild grasses and a long drink. As the Drykas turned to leave, he saw a glint in the corner of his eye, and turned around again to investigate. Something was reflecting the sunlight, and it was stuck in Fargus' left boot. Crypt knelt down, pulling out the shiny object. It appeared to be a small sharp knife smaller than the palm of his hand. It had only one sharpened edge, though, and was quite thin, though as Crypt gently flexed the blade, he found that it was sturdy enough to stand up to some force. He placed it in his pocket. Maybe another weapon would prove useful in the future. Or rather, anything sharp. I've had a lot of trouble untying the ropes just now, and if anything like that happens again, I'll be glad to have this little fellow - What was that? Crypt's head whipped around. "Oi! Fargus! Get yer lazy ass out over here, you petching idiot! Stop playing with the brat, we're just a few hours to the Outpost!" Crypt saw a group of four men, all dressed similarly to Fargus, enter the small forest clearing he was in and stopped dead in their tracks once they saw his head and body seperated from each other. Damn damn damn damn damn! I've tarried here for too long, I should have known that he would have companions with him. 'Tis the time to flee; look to Maras, Crypt! Abandoning all hope of stealth or avoiding detection, Crypt leapt on top of Maras, and sped away into the forest, holding on to Maras' mane for dear life as he fled from the danger. He nudged Maras, encouraging him to go even faster, and the noble Cyphrus Strider obliged, ducking under branches and nimbly leaping over the thick roots of the old trees in the Bronze Woods. "Go! I say, Maras. Flee! Fly!" The four men shouted and attempted to chase the duo, but they were swiftly left behind. No human could outrun a Cyphrus Strider unless they used Magic.

[Crypt]

16th of Fall, 512 AV (Dawn, the seventh bell) Crypt yawned, waking up just as the early sunlight streamed through the trees to hit Crypt's face. The sun had just risen, and it looked wonderful. Rolling onto his back, Crypt winced as something in his pocket dug into the side of his thigh. That wasn't a good way to make someone alert, though Crypt could not deny its effectiveness. Let's see... Ah, it's that funny little knife I found yesterday. Well, at least it ain't hurting anymore. Damn, the blade's rather sharp. Crypt dug around his backpack, finally taking out a scrap of tough cloth and wrapped it around the little knife, then placed it back in his pocket. Standing up, Crypt ruthlessly suppressed a loud groan as his muscles, sore from the exertion they had been put through the day before, protested at the exertions he had been through. Damn, fighting Fargus and running away from his buddies sure puts a lot of strain on my body... I'll have to take it easy this time. No more using Djed, old buddy, you'll just kill yourself at this rate. Looks like I'll have to ride Maras. Crypt reached for his waterskin and took a few sips of the water, moving the fluid around his mouth to hydrate every part of it, and then swallowed the liquid. After taking a drink, Crypt then picked up an apple he had obtained from Fargus and bit into it, slowly chewing and relishing the sweet taste. Hmm... Quite nice and juicy. Crypt sat down on a nearby log, quietly enjoying the calm morning in the Bronze Woods, a sharp contrast from the violence and disruptiveness of yesterday. Maras was silently grazing by his side. The day had only just begun, and though Crypt was feeling like an old man, it was only a few more days to Syliras and a comfortable place to stay in. And then a thought struck Crypt, and he groaned, ruining the tranquility of the almost picturesque scene. Oh, petch me for a fool. I'm lost. Freaking lost. The day before I fled from those mercenaries on Maras, and we rode deeper into the Bronze Woods, not towards the sea, because we would have nowhere to go. Still, it's not that bad. It'll just be an extra day to Syliras. Crypt got up with a sigh, not looking forward to the long day ahead of him. Taking one last sip of his water, Crypt placed everything back inside his leather backpack and got onto Maras' back, gently nudging him with his feet to turn him around in the direction opposite that of the rising Sun. West's that way, ain't it? Well, if I move towards the west, I'll be able to get back on the main road. The duo set off. And then stopped again. Crypt was starting to sweat. I'm deep inside the Bronze Woods. They say there are monsters in here. In my current condition, I'm in no shape to be fighting right now. Tomorrow I might be able to do so, but now I'd better not meet anything that could kill. Please, gods, I have tried to serve you as best as I could, so please, cut me some slack. Crypt nudged Maras to start moving again. It would not do to tarry overlong here. The Bronze Woods were dangerous, and he would do well not to forget that.

[Crypt]

18th of Fall, 512 AV (Afternoon) "Back! Back, you foul beast!" Crypt swung his sword at the wolf frantically, trying to deter the mutated creature from making a meal out of him and Maras. Unfortunately, the beast had not eaten a filling meal for two days (owning to the fact that its stomach was much larger than normal - compared to a normal wolf, that is) and was hungry enough to prey on an armed human and a horse. "Right then, you... you... I'll call you Clyde, that's a nice name for a not-so-nice monster - OH PETCH YOU!" Clyde had leapt and tackled the Drykas off Maras, and was now trying to bite off his head. Grappling and struggling with the enormous canid, Crypt stuck a thumb into one of its eye sockets, gouging one of its eyes out. Giving a sharp cry, the wolf moved off Crypt and pawed at its now-blind eye, allowing Crypt a few moments to recover from the shock and pick his longsword up from where it had fallen onto. "Come on... Come on, you big bastard." As it pounced towards Crypt, Crypt made a horizontal slash towards the snout of the wolf, creating a large gash. Dropping and rolling to one side, the swordsman watched as it crashed into a tree, giving itself a headache and quite probably a concussion. Dashing towards it, Crypt made the most out of the moment, nimbly leaping onto the back of the wolf. Holding onto it with one hand, grasping the thick, matted fur firmly, Crypt hacked at the wolf's head, attempting to finish it off before it recovered. Unfortunately, in his panic, the Drykas had missed the head by a very large margin, and now was currently attempting to keep himself from being flung all over the place, his hand having been tangled up with the rather messy fur (and hence preventing him from simply jumping off the wolf's back). "Whoa there, Clyde! Stop! Stop in the name of all that is - Oh, you little piece of shyke!" A few seconds later, an extremely loud yell emerged from Crypt's throat, which he sustained quite enthusiastically until he managed to free himself from the makeshift wolf rodeo one-man show. His hand had been dislocated, courtesy of the maddened beast. It would have been worse, but the wolf was quite fortunately not a dire wolf, though still large enough for Crypt to balance on precariously. Yes, this is certainly one petching insipid journey! Oh, a dram! A dram! My soul for a dram of whiskey! Snarling in pain, Crypt let his right hand hang uselessly by his side and threw himself at the wolf, slashing and stabbing every inch of its body. Surprised by the sudden onslaught, Clyde retreated backwards with a yelp. Once Crypt had paused in his attack, tired out by the many wild swings of his longsword, the wolf leapt once again at Crypt, its claws cutting deeply into his arms and shoulders, drawing blood. Rolling to his left, Crypt manouevred himself such that he was now on top of the wolf. Raising his longsword high, he brought it down on Clyde, twisting it mercilessly (and with no small amount of pleasure and sadism) once it was deep inside the wolf. The beast managed one last swing at Crypt before succumbing to the one fatal wound. Its paw slammed right into a surprised Crypt's face, knocking him aside and causing him to collide with a rather incoveniently-placed tree stump. And he lost consciousness.

[Crypt]

18th of Fall, 512 AV (Night) Darkness was all that Crypt could see. Reaching his hands and arms out unsteadily, he groaned as the areas on his arms where the half-healed wounds were twinged in unison. Moving his hands blindly in the darkness, he finally touched upon a solid point in the emptiness. A rather soft and warm one. The squeal startled the Drykas rather badly, causing him to finally open his eyes and observed what he was holding - or rather, groping - the chest of a young and attractive-looking Konti, who was holding a roll of bandages in one hand and another raised to her wide-open mouth. His eyes widening rapidly, Crypt immediately removed his arms from the vicinity of the Konti's... assets and started to crawl backwards from the equally-surprised female. He only succeeded in crawling a few feet before he collided (a little painfully) with a metal object. A very metal object. Turning his head, Crypt met the gaze of a Syliran Knight in full plate armor, quailing under the animosity emanating from his form. Raising his hands in an attempt to placate the Knight, Crypt muttered a few words of apology. "My apologies, good sir, I didn't mean to do that! I.. I..." He was immediately silenced by the business end of a longsword pointing at him. "I would have amputated both of your hands if not for the fact that what you just did was unintentional. Be careful, stranger. Commit no crimes, and we will have no reason to harm you. If not for the fact that Isabel Contrain here insisted on helping you, you would be dead by now." Nodding, Crypt then glanced around at his surroundings. He was still in the same forest clearing, Maras was now grazing in a small patch of grass a few feet away and the carcass of the wolf was being skinned by another two men - of which he could not determine their facial features, nor their clothing, for they were behind a fire they had apparently started. "Hey, that's MY kill you're messing around -" Pushing him firmly on his back, the Konti, with a faint blush still adorning both of her cheeks, interrupted Crypt before he could describe the aforementioned men with a few choice (albeit uncouth) words of his own invention. "Stay down, young one, I have yet to bandage all of your wounds." "I am not young, miss - or is it Isabel? I am over twenty years of age and am accounted an adult in the eyes of my people." Crypt attempted to stand up in protest, but she pulled him down again with almost no effort at all. His battle with the wolf had made him weak enough such that he had no choice but to listen to the healer. "Hush. Lie down, and allow me to tend to your wounds. You may be a warrior, judging from your... conquest," Isabel glanced towards the wolf with a small amount of distaste present - after all, her oath bound her to heal all that she could, and that included non-sentient beings such as the wolf, in her interpretation of her oath to Rak'keli, "But you need medical attention. I have been trying to rescusitate you for quite a while, and I feared that you would be lost many times. Thankfully you appear to have gotten out of the fight with nothing more than these wounds that I can help recover, though not fully." Once the healer was finished, Crypt got up from where he lay in a supine position, walking unsteadily towards the now-skinned wolf. Halfway through his journey, Crypt remembered his dislocated hand, and hastily lifted it up to eye level. It was working perfectly, even if it hurt to move it. Sighing in relief, Crypt then directed his attention to the two men who were (in his eyes) stealing his prize. "Hoy, you two bastards! That's mine, and not yours! What do you think you're doing, you petching idiots?" One of them roared with laughter, while the other glared back at him. "We're stealing it, you complete fool! We're saving you a whole lot of trouble - skinning a beast this large takes quite some time. Soon you'll have a nice fur coat to spend this Winter with!" Sitting down next to the stranger that spoke, Crypt observed him with a critical eye, noting a similar suit of armor and the same crest present on both the Knight that had threatened him and the stranger - a tree drawn in black, with three stars on the branches. "... I suppose I'll have to thank you then. My name's Crypt, and yours is?"

[Radiant]

Crypt :

Experience

Skill	XP Earned
Observation	+2 XP
Singing	+1 XP
Acting	+1 XP
Flux	+1 XP
Weapon: Longsword	+2 XP
Brawling	+1 XP
Endurance	+1 XP
Tactics	+1 XP
Riding: Horse	+1 XP

Lores

Lore Earned

Syliras: General Area And Routes Around The Fortress

Fargus: Drunken Robber

Bronze Woods: Contains Predators

Isabel: Konti Healer

Loots

Wolfskin cloak

+5 GM

Knife

Necklace (made out of rawhide and twelve wolf teeth)

Notes :

Haha! Amusing. I wish theere could be more explanation to the man who attacked Crypt though... having him appeared out of nowhere was rather... jarring.

Also, a further explanation on how could a Konti would be healing him in the middle of the woods would be nice... I imagine a knight would be carrying Crypt back to Syliras instead of taking a healer all the way outside the city.

Also

"We're stealing it, you complete fool! We're saving you a whole lot of trouble - skinning a beast this large takes quite some time. Soon you'll have a nice fur coat to spend this Winter with!"

I assume you meant "skinning" instead of "stealing", right?

My radiance is not bright enough?

If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, beam me a PM and we can work it out.