[PF-1e] Let Them Eat Cake

[Seasons End]

Place holder. Darn the political ambition is real.

[HafgufaResorts]

OK, I definitely want to play this, but we're pretty near the deadline, is adding an application now OK?

(Urgh. I wanted a cha-based witch, but turns out all the seducer's abilities past the first one are suuuuuuper weird.)

[Preacherwolf]

Originally Posted by HafgufaResorts

]
(Urgh. I wanted a cha-based witch, but turns out all the seducer's abilities past the first one are suuuuuuper weird.)

Wow, that is super weird list of abilities, but not bad. Staggering and stun as a hex is good, plus getting to cast charm and tiny hut as a hex for free is neat. Really the weirdness revolves around if the enemy wants to sleep with you or not, which to be fair could be quite revealing if for example the beholder is suddenly weak to your charms.

[HafgufaResorts]

Oh, mechanically they're perfectly reasonable. I'm just not sure I feel great about the party-wide orgy before the beholder fight. +2 to all saves is nice, but at some point you might as well just play a bard.

(I can see a bonus for wanting to sleep with you being workable. It's the bonus for actually having done it that seems like it might go badly.)

My initial idea right now is a half-elf alley witch who was born in slums, figured out magic without things like 'books' (because opressive regimes don't tend to be so great at making vast arcane power available to the people they're busy oppressing) or 'natural talent', and got so used to approaching things as puzzles to be solved that it's essentially now how she tends to approach everything and everyone. She isn't even malicious about it. She just has a set of problems, and a set of tools available for solving those problems. She'd probably fit IA, foreign or economic best. But obviously she's not exactly fleshed out.

[Preacherwolf]

Originally Posted by HafgufaResorts

Oh, mechanically they're perfectly reasonable. I'm just not sure I feel great about the party-wide orgy before the beholder fight. +2 to all saves is nice, but at some point you might as well just play a bard.

(I can see a bonus for wanting to sleep with you being workable. It's the bonus for actually having done it that seems like it might go badly.)
.

see, now I'm just getting flashbacks to an old campaign where the entire party was OOC chanting for the bard to sleep with that beholder. To the point where they went on an actual meet-cute date together.

[CatCanCook]

L’Ambda Delacourt Name: L’Ambda Delacourt Race: Half-elf Class: Investigator (Ruthless Agent) 4 / Fighter (Gloomblade 1) Alignment: Neutral. Governmental Role: [in order] Captain of the City Guard, Internal Affairs Secretary(spymaster), Secretary of Defense. Description: Description A beautiful but severe blond, 6’2”, pale skinned and dark eyed, L’Ambda towers over others in more than one way, being exceptional both in strength and intellect. When in civilian dress she is impeccably fashionable. When on duty: she wears platemail. Sbe does not use sex as a weapon: learn to love the Expanse if you haven'tshe uses weapons as weapons. Her half-elven heritage is subtle, as she takes after her mother’s family line, but when she wears her hair up or back, her elven ears are visible. Character Overview: Character Overview Stat Val Bonus Comments Str 18 +4 (+1 level 4) Dex 12 +1 Con 12 +1 Int 18 +4 (+2 race) Wis 10 +0   Cha 8 -1   Role: Melee damage-dealer and intimidator; support skills and potions. Traits: Bruising Intellect (Social), Blade of Mercy (Sarenrae) (Faith) Feats (Level 1) Enforcer (Level 3) Extra Investigator Talent: Quick Study (Level 5) (Power Attack - if Feat Tax not in use; otherwise Weapon Focus: Greatword (Fighter 1) Hurtful (Investigator 3) Signature Skill: Intimidate) (Half Elf) Skill Focus: Intimidate Personality: Personality L’Ambda is an investigator who works in law enforcement. She has a bruising intellect; she is a master at intimidation and interrogation. Her goal is to take down the enemies of the state, unravel their schemes and bring them to naught. She is utilitarian: law is only a tool, just as mob chaos is a tool. She does not fight for good as a cause, or for justice. She fights for the good of the state, and all obstacles be damned. When off duty -- her tastes and interest are diverse: from listening to fine music, enjoying fine wines, to scholarly debates, to the raucous tavern bar scene, to fist fights in the streets. She considers herself cosmopolitan, a hardened woman of the world (though she has never left the city of her birth.) Elvish culture, her mother’s side, is quite foreign to her. Penrith is the center of the world and the only place that matters. Backstory: Backstory L’Ambda Delacourt was raised in the City as a bastard niece of the prince -- her father among the tallest and strongest of the Prince’s brothers, her mother an elf maid who he grew enamored of, then had a child of, then sent to die in a foreign war. Orphaned but on noble blood, L’Ambda was given a fine education among the elite, but they treated her like dirt for her illegitimacy. She developed a sarcastic and hardened tone, and developed a bruising wit as intellectual armor. When she came of age, she rebelled against the courtly life of a fair maid, refused more than a few suitors, and through herself into martial studies among the city guard: a role her elite peers held in contempt, just as she held the nobility in contempt. She learned the hard, streetwise life of a lawman in that gritty role. That job took her to bars and taverns where she at last met the red haired rebel, Rojair. She fell head over heels in love, and married a deliciously clever alchemist -- one who harbored treacherous, seditious, rebellious plans. Her husband, Rojair Delacourt, was dashingly handsome but a bloody-minded bomb-thrower. As an alchemist, he was talented: and from him she learned that art over the span of several years. From the arcanists among the rebellion, she learned a few tricks of shadow-magic. But instead of investing her time in mutagens and bombs like Rojair, she continued working within the police forces, working as an investigative agent, pounding the pavement, chasing down data, names, facts. All the while she collected her pay, she was building allies and frameworks, lists and promises, the inner scaffolding and infrastructure of the great revolution. And Rojair, truth be told, was a man who took too much delight in the mayhem of revolution: a man who relished the destruction wrecked as one civilization fell and its blood-drunk replacement staggered to its feet. If L’Ambda recognizes the evil in her husband, she hides it and instead doubles down on her personal quest to “make things right.” She joined the revolution for love and revenge. But she stays because she remembers, too, the very best of Penrith -- the balls, the galas, the lavish beauty and culture. She remembers the strains of violins and bell-strung velvet ropes along the palace colonnades. She wishes only that the good had been shared with the outcasts; that the mighty had not been so … cruel. (But she herself has learned to be cruel, and she is good at it.) She plunges forward, driven by a sense of duty toward a better city that must be. But she pursues this quest with might, brilliance, a limited moral compass, and guided by the influence from the man she adores. Her talents are … extracting information: by fear, by chemistry, by force of will. Whatever it takes for the betterment of Penrith and her people’s future. Don’t ask what happens behind closed doors. You don’t want to know what prices we must pay. RP Sample: RP Sample "You heartless beast!" sobbed the woman, Lille. She cowered in tumbled embroidered yellow and gold finery, that was now stained with mud, and smoke. She had once word panniers, which had puffed out her dress to the grand proportions fashion demanded. But those, discarded in desperate flight, had left her dress collapsed and shapeless. Then bloodied hands had torn half the fine fabric away to use as bandaged. The towering figure in bloodstained platemail loomed over her, booming loud." Tell me! "With visor down, the figure was unrecognizable. "Tell me where Gustine is! He has the keys to the depository. I know he has fled with your young ones. Tell me now, and your boy and girl will be protected." As L’Ambda spoke, her great blade hovered over the fallen noblewoman -- who had experienced that the blade could not just kill, but strike bloodlessly to deliver excruciating pain. Beneath her armor, L’Ambda sweated. Soot-stained blood from an open gash trickled down into her eye. Stinging from that, L’Ambda willed herself to stillness. She could not be intimidating if she showed her own squirming discomfort. It was her duty to intimidate. Against tyranny, she was the fist of the people. Aside from her strained and weary muscles there was a deeper agony within that she dared not put name to. Blinking, for a second L’Ambda looked out into the harbor. The flames of revolution were burning a ship down its waterline. The cries floating up with the billowing smoke from the ship no differ than a thousand other cries all around the city. The revolution flowered in red glory, lighting the undersides of the clouds. The people! It was for the people! She remembered years ago, watching a ship floating upon the patio of the Prince of Penrith; she was one child among the many heirs of nobility. A dazzlingly bright day beside a perfumed garden. Giggling children, playing together -- racing toy boats upon the sparkling waters of a marble fountain. Magic made its waters flow; and jeweled children laughed and made merry at their competition. But not L’Ambda, her duty was to sit painfully still, as she seethed. She was a niece of the Power that ruled … so she must attend. But she was a bastard niece … so she must obey, and do all she was told. And now she was told to sit still in the heat of the sun … and it was burning hot. There, Lille, in jewels and laughing delight, played with sailboats, uncaring of L’Ambda, who was compelled to live on the periphery, each day subject to compulsions, and whims, and casual cruelty. So her youth was spent, year after turning year, feast after festival Always on the periphery of the light, but never sharing it. Every outreach pridefully rebuffed. "Your job is to wait on us." Always in sight of greatness, but treated like a scullery maid. Each day, an indignity, a denial. All because her mother had been taken, and used by a selfish noble. In rights, she was the equal, not she was the better, of any of these idiotic little privileged brats at play. Oh … how she wished their foolish little sailboats would burn! A decade and half later -- all the tables had been turned. Their warships were but kindling in the fires of revolution. L’Ambda would perform her duty to the new, glorious free Penrith. And so, breathing threats and roaring, she belittled and raged and fumed over this woman, keen steel in her face, until her once childhood companion was reduced to pale quivering weeping obedience. "Can you promise my children will be safe?" Lille confessed where her husband had fled to. Then as L’Ambda stalking, clanking away, Lille burst into wails as guards seized her and bore her to prison. L’Ambda would perform her duty. She told her husband where the traitors hid. She could not stop his firebombing the place, and so died Lille’s boy and girl. The depository was seized, and the revolution fueled with more resources. One more glorious success. L’Ambda would perform her duty; she bore to Lille healing poultices and treatments. The condemned woman -- failing to recognize her armored tormenter -- only knew her as childhood companion come in her hour of loneliness and need. She wept and shared her soul while L’Ambda played the role of comforter, L’Ambda, back in armor the next bright day, helmed and anonymous again, marched Lille among a line of captives, to be efficiently decapitated by the headsman. Yes, people protested such acts, and there was civil unrest just as there was rejoicing, side by side. Once she had been a pawn of the cruel and corrupt regime. Now she must be one of the firm hands of law setting the state aright. To protect the state, to protect the innocent, you had to take strong actions, sometimes behind closed doors. And if that meant unpleasant memories, well you put those behind closed doors too.

[FunnyValentine]

Originally Posted by HafgufaResorts

OK, I definitely want to play this, but we're pretty near the deadline, is adding an application now OK?

(Urgh. I wanted a cha-based witch, but turns out all the seducer's abilities past the first one are suuuuuuper weird.)

Hi, of course adding an application now is totally acceptable. As long as it is done by the end of the day on the 20th it will be considered like everyone else's. I'll be going through the apps after the deadline and posting the results a day or two later.

[TheYell]

Arjuna332	Karl Frederick Barbarossa	Captain, Defense, Foriegn
TheYell	Francis Eduard Brioche	IA, Magic, Foriegn
Preacherwolf	Espirit Brise	Defense, Economic, Magic
danab	Ayse Temer	Defense, Magic, Foriegn, Economic
Exhibit A	Alexandre Gaspard	Economic, IA, Foriegn, Defense
AlphaZ	Leon “The LIon” Kormos	Captain, Defense
Fyre2387	Henri Labarre	Captain, Defense, Foriegn
Catcancook	L’ambda Delacourt	Captain, IA, Defense

[HafgufaResorts]

I'm pretty much done with the writing, but not quite, and here is an IP character sheet for Ida:
https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2402373

It is probably obvious what the poison witch with a load of social spells, social skills, and the Conceal Spell feat is going to be like...

Also, I want to check on Narrows Survivor. It's a trait that's about growing up in slums, which fits, but technically it's not about growing up in the right slums.

Possible Comittee Positions: IA Secretary, Foreign Secretary, Economic Secretary. I could probably squeeze her into magic or defense, but it wouldn't be smooth.

Weird fun fact: I've never tried a witch before. The way it lets you stack archetypes is weird, because patron selection isn't counted as its own feature. But a load of archetypes limit what patron you can choose (Alley Witch doesn't get one at all). I assume you can't stack Alley Witch with Dark Sister, but I'm not sure the rules agree with me.

[FunnyValentine]

Originally Posted by HafgufaResorts

I'm pretty much done with the writing, but not quite, and here is an IP character sheet for Ida:
https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2402373

It is probably obvious what the poison witch with a load of social spells, social skills, and the Conceal Spell feat is going to be like...

Also, I want to check on Narrows Survivor. It's a trait that's about growing up in slums, which fits, but technically it's not about growing up in the right slums.

Possible Comittee Positions: IA Secretary, Foreign Secretary, Economic Secretary. I could probably squeeze her into magic or defense, but it wouldn't be smooth.

Weird fun fact: I've never tried a witch before. The way it lets you stack archetypes is weird, because patron selection isn't counted as its own feature. But a load of archetypes limit what patron you can choose (Alley Witch doesn't get one at all). I assume you can't stack Alley Witch with Dark Sister, but I'm not sure the rules agree with me.

The trait is totally fine, there is a slum area in this city as well.

[danab]

Man, life has not been kind in letting me finish my app. Should be done by the end of today.

[Frederik]

Krage Hornløs Name: Krage "Crow" Hornløs Race: Small Tiefling Grim-Spawn Class: Magus - Magic Warrior Governmental Role: Secretary of Defense, Economic Secretary, Foreign Secretary (Secretary of Justice) Character Overview: Crow is an enlightened philosopher. A young and clever noble send from another contry to support the revolution with supplies, weapons and latter soldiers. Having fallen in love with the revolution and its ideals Crow is now a man of two worlds. Loyal to the revolution, its ideals and the new country he have helped create, but also bound with ties to the nation that send him in the first place. From a mechanic point of view Crow is a striker, with debuffs and battle field control. Outside combat he is a pretty good scout and brings a larger number of skill points. Description: For most people Crow looks exotic. His dark clothing and bird mask identifies him as a noble from Nordland. Neither his gnome or demonic heritage is subtle as Crow stands less than 3 feets tall, with a long tail, white skin and clawed fingers, though many of his other demonic traits such as fangs and glowing eyes are hiden by his mask. Personality: Crow normally doesn't speak a lot and because of his mask and dark clothing that can make him seem dark and brooding. In truth Crow is just very shy, especially in public spaces. Ones Crow warms up it can behard to get him to shut up. He speaks with zeal about the revolution and how it will bring justice, equality and brotherhood to all people of Penrith and perhaps the rest of the world. He spends much of his time reading about statecraft and discussing it with his friends in the revolution. Crow is disgusted many of the barbaric practises in his homeland, like the public demon sacrifices and trial by torture. In fact Crow is a rather nice guy who will go out of his way to help strangers, though he sometimes find it hard because of his shyness. Backstory: Crow was born into a minor noble house in Nordland. By tradition of Nordland he was given his true name "Krage" at birth. In Nordland true names are only known by family or close friends. Since his birth Crow have worn many masks and names, but he took his current name and mask, when the king of Nordland ordered him to Penrith. Once in Penrith Crow was to befriend and support the local rebels, but as many agents before him, Crow got caught up in his mission. He became good friends with many of the rebels and at some point he was no longer supporting the revolution to help Nordland, instead he was using Nordland resources to growth the revolution. In the early days Crow import pampleths, paper and printing press for the rebels. When people started talking about violence Crow imported weapons from Nordland. When the revolution finally started Crow already had Nordland mercenaries ready at the harbour. With the revolution a success Crow have decided not to go back to Nordland though and instead help his friends and the new country they are building together. RP Sample Guards didn't enter the Smoking Dragon. At least not if they carred for their life. The pub was home to the worst of Penrith. The poor. The criminal. Those who wanted or needed to see change. Right now Crow and three other men was discussing business around one of the small tables. I think you misunderstand me. Crow said, with a hidden smile on his lips. This is not about what you can do for me, but what I can do for you. The largest of the three men looked suspiciously. Then tell me what you can do for us mister Crow and be quick about it, because I am not sure why you are still alive. The threat scared Crow. He was not a brave man. But Crow did his best not to show it. This was not the first time that he had been threatened by men like that. Instead Crow casually threw a full pouch onto the table. The pouch oppened as it hit the table and spilled its content of gold, silver and platinium. For a short second the men froze, then the largest of the men quickly moved to cowered the coins with his arm. As he did Crow leaned forward and whispered. This is why you wont kill me. You have twenty men with knifes. That is not enough for a revolution. I have the resources you need to grow. Money is just the start.

[HafgufaResorts]

Ida Morine Name: Ida Morine Race: Half-elf Class: Witch (Alley Witch, Veneficus Witch) Alignment: True Neutral Governmental Role: IA Secretary, Foreign Secretary, Economic Secretary. I’m not *un*comfortable playing magic or even defense if it makes things easier. They're just a lot less smooth as a fit. Description: Description A short, skinny dark-haired half-elf woman with a face that wouldn’t stand out if she was alone in an empty room. But she does know how to present herself. Her clothes, her jewellery, her perfume... every slightest detail is carefully chosen by situation to have the exact effect she wants them to. She learned the difference between carefully-tailored silken dresses and dingy moth-eaten rags the hard way.   (I included two pictures because 'changing outfits depending on the impression she wants' is a bit tricky to convery in one picture. Character Overview: Character Overview Ida Morine is potential wizard born in the slums who could never afford the textbooks. She’s a witch without a patron, deeply bonded to the parts of the city nobody cares for any more who relies on lies and tricks and poison to get what she wants. And she’s a manipulative cheat who’ll do whatever she needs to to achieve her goals… but is genuinely trying to make those goals the right ones. Personality: Personality In another life, Ida Morine would probably have been a wizard. She’s smart, curious, loves magic, and believes in the power of knowledge… Of course, slum rats don’t have many chances to become wizards. It is not the cheapest of professions. But the basic personality and approach one would expect from the traditional wizard is still in there. In particular, Ida is very much a problem solver. She sees the world in terms of problems to be solved, and tools for solving them - whether those tools are literal tools, magic, money, information… Or people. To Ida, people are tools she can use, and problems to be solved. Usually at the same time. Not that she’s mean about it, of course. She genuinely wants to do the right thing. She’s just callous. After all, she’s usually trying to get the right thing done. So she doesn’t see what’s so bad about a few little white lies, some light blackmail, and maybe a murder or two, if there’s enough at stake. Oh and she isn’t a fan of nobles. Not even the ones who sided with the rebellion. She’ll give all sorts of excuses for that, but the fact is that she’s mostly just *extremely* jealous. Backstory: Backstory Ida is *probably* a half-elf, but it’s hard to tell. Even she doesn’t know who her parents were, and most half-elves don’t exactly have toxic blood. Whoever she is, Ida was born in the slums, and has been surviving on the streets of Penrith for as long as she remembers. She was never the fastest, and she was *certainly* never the strongest. But she was smart. She used what little was available to her however she could. She learnt how the weak solve problems, how a gentle push in the right place at the right time can be more effective than strength. She learnt how to handle people, how to use words to protect herself. And she learnt the city of Penrith itself. She dived into its the forgotten nooks and shadowy alcoves, explored every inch of it. There was never enough food or money to go around, and the more out of the way the places spent her time in, the less likely someone would turn up to steal what she found. And the better she knew those hidden places of the city, the less likely they were to kill her. So she learnt the shadows of Penrith, better than anyone. Until it was as though they were a part of her. Until she was connected to them. Until she felt that connection. And, drawing on the habit of a lifetime, she set to work exploring it. Exploring this strange bond between herself and the city. Until one day, she found she could do magic. Like a wizard! Except wizards needed books, and study, and Ida had neither the time to study, nor the money for books. Magic had not come to her naturally, as it does to a sorcerer. And no otherworldly force would ever concern itself with the likes of her. And yet, somehow, here was Penny. Her familiar. Practically glowing with her newfound power, Ida through herself into learning what she could do. She made a name for herself, at least a little, as the witch of the alleys. And when the rebellion started, she threw herself into it with gusto. She approached rebellion with the same mindset she had the rest of her life. Information was everything, and knowing the right place to push was a lot more important than how hard you did it. Combine that with the spooky magic, and the poison, and it was perhaps inevitable that she gained something of a reputation. As a monster. An extremely effective monster. The kind of person who solved things in the cleanest way possible, and yet somehow still made everyone feel kind of dirty when they found out how she did it. The kind of woman, in short, who you would go to if you were assembling a committee to take care of some extremely difficult problems, and didn’t much care of how it got done. Overly Wordy RP Sample: RP Sample Wars are won or lost on knowledge. More than gold or steel or spellcraft, Ida knew the tiniest nugget of information could topple an empire, used right. Take Ida’s latest plan for example. From an outside perspective, it was simple. Almost childishly so. A pathetically flimsy deception that could have been overcome by a five minute conversation. Except that that conversation was never going to come. A few words ‘overheard’ in a tavern, and Lord Auclair had started getting reports that Robin Fairfoot might be feeding information to the rebels. A few more well placed clues, maybe a sown thought or two, and things started to look pretty damning for poor Robin. Several carefully orchestrated clashes later (as well as some completely spontaneous ones), and Lady Tasse had obvously noticed that Lord Auclair seemed rather too interested in her faithful agent Mr. Fairfoot. And when Robin had had an unfortunate accident in a dark alley next to some rather misleading evidence, the two nobles had been practically tearing each other apart within the day. A pair of nobles at each other’s throats meant quite a lot of resources that could not now be used against Ida’s friends. And other than a couple of spells to ward off inconvenient divinations, it had barely cost the rebellion a copper. Now all that remained was making sure this little tussle wouldn’t stay quite so little. After all, nobles had such a complex web of alliances and agreements. With the right push, any conflict might spread along them like wildfire. And so the right push was exactly what Ida was going to give. She was clumsy and limping, a wreck designed to elicit pity from the coldest of hearts. And the lady in whose line of sight she had just collapsed was not by any means such a calculating woman. So, when she saw Ida fall, Lady Kaplan hurried over to her without a thought, supporting her while her guards looked on with suspicion. But after all, this was Lady Kaplan. Beautiful heroine of the common people. Surely not even the most rabid of the rebels would wish her the slightest ill. And no common criminal was likely to try anything while surrounded by guards. "“Thank you, kind Princess.”" Ida croaked, shuffling and looking away, carefully weaving threads of magic into her words and movements, silently praying to whatever gods might listen that none of the many eyes watching her would be watching quite closely enough. And maybe some kind god was listening. Maybe the city itself was smiling on her. Or maybe she was just lucky. But there was no cry of anger, no flash of steel. Just Lady Kaplan’s soft voice, comforting her, offering her food and a warm bed. And Ida followed meekly along with her, chanting her second spell as she spun for Lady Kaplan the tale of how she came to be in such a state (the one involving tragedy, romance, and heartbreak. Not the one involving a disguise kit and several hours of careful artifice). And then, at last, the last spell was complete. She threw off her cloak, stood straight, and cried to the world "“Now die, vile oppressor!”", and politely handed Lady Kaplan a vial of acid. In normal circumstances, this would not be a particularly effective method of assassination. But magic is magic, and Ida’s enchantment was working just as it was meant to. Regardless of Lady Kaplan’s own desires on the matter, she found herself downing it in a single fluid motion. And then in a rather more natural turn of events, she fell to the cobblestones, screaming in an agony Ida fervently hoped never to experience for herself. But her job wasn’t done yet. With a flourish, Ida exclaimed "“So it shall be for all enemies of the revolution!”" And then, turning on her heel, Ida fled. A few of the guards' swords found their mark. But they were still reeling, and Ida had the uncanny fleetness of the enspelled. The blows were light, and soon enough she had escaped them entirely. She ducked and wove, jumped and dodged, until the twisting alleys of the city swallowed her up. The whole thing had been absurd. Theatrical. Ida had even been dressed in the ‘uniform’ of the revolution - which is to say, an outfit no actual rebel would be caught dead in, but which frequently graced the propaganda posters. And it had been a gruesome, painful murder carried out against one of the last targets a peasant mob would ever really want dead. It was, in short, exactly the kind of thing you’d do if you were a noble looking to send a message, without having to come right out and say you’d murdered a fellow noble in cold blood. If you wanted to claim it was the rebels who’d done something, without any risk of the message being ruined by people actually believing you. And so passed Lady Kaplan. Lord Auclair’s treasured confidante. A noblewoman nice enough not to want the blood she lived on to be spilled in front of her, but a noblewoman nonetheless. And a lady who, if this worked, should surely have been happy to have done more for the common people by her death than she ever had while she was alive. Right? Enjoying the private joke, Ida Morine allowed herself a small, thin smile.

(I think everything's done, but have that nagging feeling I left my keys in the oven...)

[FunnyValentine]

Today is the day! Make your final edits and get your posts in now. I am going to look at the applications tomorrow and hopefully have a final party the same day. Best of luck to everyone!

[Arjuna332]

Withdrawing application. Is busy IRL.