Author's Notes: Here is the third chapter ladies and gentlemen, sorry about the delay but I was spending quite a bit of my time actually playing Dragon Age Inquisition among other things.

Just going to reiterate that this story isn't exactly full of sunshine and rainbows

Please read, review, and enjoy

Chapter 3: Fear

*Year 23 of the Dragon Age*

Young Falke was dressed in the dark blue robes with a simple staff of an apprentice on his back; his cheek had a large bandage which covered nearly half his face. His missing teeth left gaps in mouth and additional bruising on his chest and back made movement difficult. His eyes which weeks prior had been filled with joy and simple childish delight now more resembled the eyes of a corpse; the only signs of life being the vestments of fear and rage as a result of the recent trauma.

"I must say I'm surprised" First Enchanter Melava stated plainly as she walked up to the human child as they stood in sizeable round room with runes etched into the stones to prevent outsiders from listening in "usually every last apprentice breaks when the Templars hold their little welcoming ceremony, sometimes a child or two dies in the process."

Falk simply looked at the elven woman quietly.

"But in all my years as First Enchanter you are a unique apprentice" Melava continued as she kneeled down and gently cupped his uninjured cheek with her hand "without training you were able to control your magic well enough to land a fatal wound, not only that but you had the skill and instinct to kill a man several times your size."

"Apparently I'm a born killer" Falke stated dully "took forever to get the blood and brain matter out of my hair."

"Indeed" Melava chuckled at the human child's comment "although I'm still curious" Falke looked at her inquisitively "that Senior Enchanter, he was brought into this Circle almost sixty years ago, out of all the Mages in this tower he was perhaps the most broken among us yet something about you seemed to inspire him to lie on your behalf" the disturbing image of the elderly man's smiling face as Knight Commander Abel's sword pierced his chest still haunted Falke's sleep "not only that but the other were inspired enough not to tell the Templars the truth, you must have been a sight to behold" she removed her hand from his face "tell me something, how many of his questions did you answer 'correctly'?"

"None" Falke answered coldly.

"None…why am I not surprised?" Melava replied with a slight smirk on her face "I understand you're the youngest child from the Trevelyan family, I heard they originally planned to make you a Templar?"

"My mother made it clear I'm no longer part of the family" Falke stated bluntly, the irony that it was thanks in part to the martial lessons he had received in preparation for joining the order that allowed him to kill the Templar was not lost on him.

"I'm sorry to hear that child" Melava responded with only a faint trace of sadness in her voice "I was the keeper of my Dalish Clan until we came too close to the city and the Templars found me, it is…not an easy change to grow accustomed too."

"The keeper?" Falke inquired.

"Think of it as an elder of sorts for the clan, but I digress" Melava sighed as she recalled her old life "I trust you've heard that you and the other apprentices are to be assigned to an Enchanter for tutelage?" Falke nodded "well I've decided that your interesting enough that I'm going to train you personally" she turned her gaze towards a magical practice dummy on the opposite side of the hall as her left hand was engulfed in a soft purple light before firing a blast of pure energy at the target "lesson one, the key to controlling Magic is a focused and a disciplined mind to help control the flow and manipulate the form of mana."

After a grueling first day of training under Mevala, Falke found himself walking the halls of the Circle Tower until he was standing just outside the room where he and the Templar had their fateful encounter. The six year old boy's wounds instantly began to ache as he subconsciously forced himself to enter the chamber which was now eerily silent and empty.

Almost instantly the memories began to flash through the child's mind, the sight of the Templar as he beat his fellow children into submission, his frantic prayers to the Maker and his bride Andraste, prayers which went unanswered.

With a slight stumble Falke found himself standing in front of a stone wall which was still stained red with blood. His breathing became erratic as the fear, despair, and white hot fury returned. He recalled the voices of the demons which tried to tempt him, the sight of the Senior Enchanter as Knight-Commander Abel ran him through, and of course the most graphic memories of all.

He recalled with almost perfect clarity the feeling of the Templar's metallic fist which had placed him in the infirmary for a week. Falke remembered how the adrenaline numbed his pain and when the Templar pressed him to the ground with his boot how pure hatred seemed to pump through his veins instead of blood. Young Falke's hands began to shake uncontrollably as he recalled exactly how the Templar's head had literally exploded in his grasp.

The young Mage quickly cupped both his shaking hands over his mouth before he ran to the nearest washroom where he barely made it to a basin in time. Less than a minute later Falke's heartbeat had escalated rapidly and he found himself on the ground on all fours. He felt as if body temperature had dropped several degrees and was sweating profusely.

I was young, too young to understand fully what the implications were of my first day and what I had done. But even then I understood that I would never be the same, after all I had crossed a line which all people in ways that petty differences such as race, gender, sexuality, or religion never could. I had been alive on this miserable excuse of a world for only six years at that point and I was already a killer.

*End Flashback*

"I don get it, why were you so worked up?" Sera asked in a confused tone of voice.

"You…regretted killing that man?" Josephine half asked, half stated.

"But why?" Sera repeated "he was a tit."

"True, but I was six years old Sera and it was my first" Falke stated calmly as he took a sip of ale from the stein Iron Bull had given him though he struggled with his shaking arms "tell me something Cassandra, Varric, Iron Bull, Sera…how do you deal with all the lives you've taken?"

"I remind myself that they were threatening innocent people and it was my duty to stop them" Cassandra answered but she thought back to a younger, angrier woman "though initially it had more to do with vengeance than anything else; I confess at the time I didn't care though after that I resolved to be better."

"It's not something I've ever taken pleasure in and I've at least tried to find solutions that didn't involve blood shed" Varric explained "I can understand how you felt, I had some troubles after the first person I killed; as they say it gets easier, but in the grand scheme of things that's probably not a good thing."

"I was literally bred to be a killing machine" Iron Bull stated plainly "for me it's been limited to rebels, savage Tal-Vashoth, mercenaries, and of course Red Templars and Venatori Mages" he quickly drained his stein "I made a point not to make it personal, though I've known more than a few good people who have had reactions like yours and we were all much older than you when we killed our first men."

"Pft, they were all asses who deserved an arrow in the face" Sera stated with a rather callous tone.

"I don't know if I should envy you or pity you Sera" Falke sighed heavily earning him a slight glare from the elf "in any case that was also when I met her…"

*Year 23 of the Dragon Age*

"Are you alright child?" a soft voice asked earning a quick glance from Falke as he met eyes from a human woman in her fifties with soft white hair and brown eyes wearing a very familiar set of white robes "by the Maker you're pale as a sheet" she took a step towards the young Mage only for Falke to quickly back away.

"Stay away from me" Falke hissed though the panic was evident in both his voice and his body though he nearly collapsed but was caught the Sister's gentle hands, Falke was simply too weak to protest.

"I'm not going to hurt you child" the Sister assured the young Mage as she pulled out a clean cloth and began to clean the sweat from his face "your robes are soaked" she stated as she lead him to a small room and handed him a change of clothes "what is your name young man?"

"Falke Trevelyan" Falke answered half expecting the woman to strike him like the Templar but the blow never came.

"I am Sister Victoria, it is nice to meet you Falke" Victoria said gently as she noticed the bandages over his ribs "by the Maker what happen…"

"Templars" Falke answered bluntly as he slipped into a clean set of blue robes "I guess I'm not as tough as I thought" he took a sip of water to clean the taste of bile from his mouth "Thank you Sister Victoria, I had best return to my studies."

"May the Maker guide and keep you" Victoria stated politely.

"Respectfully there is no such thing as the Maker" Falke replied without even the slightest sign of emotion.

"You've lost your faith?" Victoria inquired.

"I'm not sure what I believed" Falke answered with a stoicism which did not belong in a six year old boy's voice "but whatever faith didn't die when my mother told me I should never have been born, died when I prayed to the Maker to protect me and the other children and the only response we received was silence."

Victoria said nothing to me in response, I imagine I was a rather sad and pathetic sight at the time.

From that day forward I continued to train under First Enchanter Mevala. Barriers, dispelling, fire, frost, and particularly lightning came under my command; it was bitter work but the results were worth it. In just a couple years every Mage and most of the Templars in the tower knew my name because of my skills.

With each lesson I mastered there seemed to be two more, as difficult as they were at the time they were the brightest part of my life. Though she rarely spoke I noticed that First Enchanter Mevala would occasionally smile softly at my progress. In time the Mages of Ostwick became my new family, this both helped me keep my sanity but it also made life that much more painful.

With the possible exception of Kirkwall, the abuse of Mages by the hands of Templars were apparently worse in Ostwick than anywhere else in the Free Marches if not Thedas in general. Less than a month after I started my training there was another batch of apprentices who were put through the Templars' "orientation."

Like when I went through it they gathered all the apprentices, human and elven children aging from four or five years old to eleven or twelve years old. One difference however was that instead of simply having one Templar and one Senior Enchanter present for their sick little game they were now gathering everyone who wasn't away on mission into the great hall. If anyone even tried to do what I did there would be no way for someone else to take the fall. Knight-Commander Abel oversaw everything.

Most of the older Mages and Apprentices showed no emotion during the brutality as the Templars would go from child to child, ask them a seemingly innocent question such as "what is your name?", strike the child for a less than satisfactory answer, say something demeaning, and then move onto the next child. Most broke after two or three strikes, a few required five to seven, the most stubborn of them took ten or more; every other time there was at least one or two children who tried to fight back but to no avail. As soon as the last child broke they were carried off to the Medical Ward.

These "orientations" occurred roughly every month or two. As best as I could tell a child or two died every third or fourth time due to a combination of willfulness from the child or excessiveness of the Templar "assigned" to the duty. In the latter cases the Templar's only punishment was to receive "remedial training" on how to properly exercise non-lethal force, after all a dead Mage was like a broken sword, of no use to the Chantry or anyone, but unlike a broken sword which can be repaired by almost any decent smith, there is no brining a Mage back from the grave.

Regardless whenever a child died from the Templars' beatings before submitting virtually every Mage felt three feelings for them. First there was sadness at seeing such a young life so senselessly cut short by a fanatical thug. Then came relief that they at least would be spared from the horrors that the rest of us would have to endure due to an accident of birth. And lastly came admiration, especially for those who fought back against the Templars because they died rather than give into the Templars.

About two years after coming to the Circle it dawned on me why First Enchanter Mevala, the Senior Enchanter who took the fall for me, and the other senior members of the Circle seemed to put so much stock in me. It wasn't because I was talented at magic, though that was and remains an undeniable fact, but because of what I did that day. Not only did I refuse to give in, I fought back. Not only did I fight back, but I actually succeeded and killed the Templar before he could kill me, I was both the first and the last Mage in the history of the Ostwick Circle to do so.

For those of us who made it past the Orientations we were subject to intense scrutiny by the Templars. The slightest deviation from their rules, real or imagined resulted in severe beatings sometimes involving the pummels of their swords or the faces of their shields. More than a few women and girls and more than a couple men and boys were taken away to be raped during my tenure. Knight-Commander Able would often host little "sermons" where he'd discuss proper technique and exalt the righteousness of such actions.

Sister Victoria did her best to protect us but she was only one woman. She rarely left the tower for fear of what might happen should the Templars be left completely without supervision. Any correspondence she attempted to send were reviewed carefully by Knight-Commander Abel to ensure she was not trying to report the abuses. Although my faith in the Maker had died, nowhere in the Tower was safer than Victoria's small Chantry.

Naturally the constant stress and fear lead a number of Mages to use Blood Magic to either protect themselves or strike out against the Templars, sometimes these Mages turned into Abominations. I can't remember if I was seven or eight the first time I saw an abomination but I know it was fairly early.

It was one of my elven sisters, she was in a relationship with another one of our brothers and had gotten pregnant as a result. As was the rule in Circles her child was taken from her as soon as it was born, she never got to hold it or even learn if it was a boy or girl. Upon being released from the medical ward and being consoled by the father she turned her gaze upon the three Templars who were on patrol and shrieked "GIVE ME BACK MY BABY!"

The Templars turned towards her and began to march towards her in a threatening manner. Her lover stood between them and tried to calm them all down and was stabbed through the heart with a knife by the middle Templar for his trouble. The look on her face was one of abject despair as tears flowed down her eyes, indeed I felt my own blood boil at the cold blooded murder.

I suspect my elven sister did not think after seeing her lover killed right before her eyes. No sooner had his body hit the ground then she viciously bit into her own left hand drawing blood. Before the Templars could even draw their swords she sent a blast of pure power at the Templar who had just killed her lover. The spell hit with such force that he was thrown clear across the hall and the force of the impact had bashed his skull in.

Her body began to twitch unnaturally as she began to mutate into a twisted monstrosity that barely had any of her once elegant features. The two remaining Templars drew their swords and thrust them into her body earning a cry of pain as blood flowed from her wounds however she quickly wrapped her "hands" around their heads and snapped their necks with the strength of an ox.

I felt nothing but pity for her as she turned her tortured, mangled face towards me and started to dash in my direction.

"I'm sorry" the young Falke whispered as his left hand glowed a whitish shade of purple before hurling a bolt of lightning at the charging abomination blowing a small hole through her head and causing her to slide to an abrupt stop on the floor, after a brief silence he looked upon the dead Templars and quietly said "pity you couldn't have killed more of them sister."

That was the reality of life in Ostwick, it was brutal, painful, and wrong. I did my best to avoid the Templars and focus on my studies under First Enchanter Mevala though I still could not fully escape them. Every time I saw one of my fellow Mages beaten, hauled off to be raped, or killed, every time one of my sisters had her baby taken from her, every time I saw one of my fellow Mages driven over the edge I swore "never again." Of course it was just bullshit on my part, I lived in fear just like my brothers and sisters and for nearly fifteen years I did nothing.

The only bright spot was that the rite of tranquility was never used while I was in Ostwick though its use was threatened virtually every other day. Looking back I suppose it makes sense; Rape and Abuse are not about sex and physical violence, those are simply a means to an end. Both crimes are really about power, about domination over others. Though it is a fate worse than death the Tranquil have no wills to be violated, they do not feel fear, despair, or any kind of emotional pain. Raping or beating a tranquil would be like raping or beating a roasted nug, no satisfaction at all to be had.

*Present Day*

"I don't understand, there was nothing in the records to indicate conditions even remotely resembled what you described when we looked into your past" Cassandra stated with a slight tone of confusion "furthermore there were reports from Seekers showing that everything was normal in Ostwick."

"Knight-Commander Abel was many things Cassandra, but he wasn't stupid enough to put such things down in writing, plus with only one exception that I'm aware of every Templar who served in Ostwick is dead so you only had fabricated records to look to" Falke explained "as for the Seekers who came by, what was it you said in Haven, 'if we didn't see a problem then it didn't exist' or something to that effect?"

"But it was our duty to look into corruption within the Templars" Cassandra replied angrily.

"If by 'corruption within the Templars' you mean making sure they stayed loyal to the Chantry then your order did a fantastic job…at least until they started undermining the Divine and rebelled against the Chantry but then again Lord Seeker Lambert and most of the order lead that effort as I understand" Falke chuckled earning a glare from the Seeker which had no effect on the Inquisitor, he was far too pissed off recalling all the painful memories despite his humorous facade "of course if you meant making sure Mages were treated 'properly' whatever that means, well…you're a smart woman I'm sure can see the problem if that's the goal."

"Enlighten me" Cassandra replied as she rolled her eyes.

"For almost a thousand years the Chantry has preached that Mages are not people but monsters that might turn into abominations at a moment's notice, the ranks of the Templar Order were by and large filled with candidates chosen for two qualities, the first was their physical strength and the second was their unquestioning faith so they would not hesitate to carry out their duties without question" Falke began his tone maintained a thin veil of amusement though his fury was clear to all save Sera "Seekers as I understand it are chosen at least in part because their adherence to this belief was stronger still than the Templars'…tell me how exactly is an order of people who are unquestionably dedicated to such a teaching supposed to insure that Mages were treated 'fairly'? Whatever in the void that means."

"Does sound like a systematic problem if ever there was one Seeker" Varric sighed into his drink earning a death glare from the black haired Seeker.

"Surely not all the Templars were like that" Josephine interjected trying to ease the tensions before Cassandra's anger management problems lead to violence.

"You're right, there were Templars who didn't take part in the abuse, some even protested it" Falke stated plainly as he took another swig of Ale earning an approving gaze from Cassandra and a relived look from Josephine "the ones who refused to at least remain complicit seemed to die under rather…unusual circumstances" once again Cassandra was frowning and Josephine feared her best of intentions may have backfired.

"Hey I've got a question for you" The Iron Bull chimed "my understanding was Mages go through some kind of trial once they've matured but Mages who didn't want to go through with it could request to be made Tranquil, what did the Templars at Ostwick do?"

"The Harrowing, yes" Falke replied "Mages who did not wish to take the Harrowing because they feared failure were forced to through it anyway" the Inquisitor smiled slightly "joke was on them, four out of five Mages they forced through the Harrowing passed" he audibly chuckled as he took a sip of ale "it was motivated by sadism, but it was an admittedly unique act of kindness we enjoyed in Ostwick."

"The Rite of Tranquility is supposed to be used to protect Mages who are unable to control their abilities, not to terrorize" Cassandra sighed heavily.

"That's a load of shit" Falke swore softly, his anger was roused once more.

"What are you saying we should have simply killed them or forced them through the Harrowing?" Cassandra asked her own temper flaring up again, Josephine and Varric feared there would be bloodshed.

"Yes" Falke replied without even a second's pause, his voice carried so much venom that even Cassandra and Iron Bull were visibly terrified of their leader for a moment his eyes resembled storm clouds "if you fear me so much then kill me, but don't take away everything that makes me a person, after all I'd do the same for any of you."

Varric felt a very familiar charge in the air though Falke was not using his magic at the moment. He experienced this feeling a few times in Kirkwall when the normally affable and humorous Hawke was dealing with someone who managed to really piss him off such as Quinten, Anders after he blew up the Chantry, Orsino when he revealed his connections to Quinten and resorted to blood magic, and Meredith after she invoked the right of Annulment.

There was a lot about magic Varric didn't know and suspected he would never understand, but he was smart enough to know one thing; angering a powerful Mage was not a wise move. Even after all his years, the Dwarf had still had trouble understanding what could motivate people to do something so stupid and often suicidal as to cross powerful Mages like Hawke and Falke.

While Cassandra scared the shit out of him sometimes, that fear was nothing compared to what Falke was inspiring at the moment. Varric could swear that he saw sparks in the Inquisitor's eye and felt a very definite chill in the air. Even the normally brash and headstrong Cassandra seemed to be backing down and not because of rank. If there was one word that could describe the normally friendly and occasionally hilarious Falke at this particular moment, that word would be terrifying.

"Admittedly most Circles were not as bad as Ostwick and Kirkwall, but the very system the Chantry had established was doomed to fail at some point" Falke continued "some such as the Circle in Lake Calenhad from what I hear could be described as 'gilded cages', but the fact still remained that we had been sentenced to a life of imprisonment and service all because of an accident of birth" the Inquisitor locked gazes with Cassandra "the Chantry told us it was to protect us from the world that fears us, though they conveniently left out the part that it was they who taught the world to fear us, the truth is they simply wanted to monopolize us as weapons for their own use" his voice dropped to a low growl "it was evil and it was wrong."

"Just say it already" Cassandra stated.

"Very well, I don't know what the Chantry might try to decide in the months ahead but I will give you this warning" Falke's voice had grown dark and dangerous "if the Chantry tries to reinstate the Circles, if it tries to enslave us again, then the Chantry will die even if I have to tear the Grand Cathedral apart with my bare hands over Vivienne's and your dead bodies!"

"Do you have any idea how much chaos that would cause?!" Cassandra retorted angrily "the purpose of the Inquisition is to restore order."

"That's the thing though, the old order has failed, what we need is a new order" Falke replied darkly "and sometimes to create a new order you must first burn down the old order" a dangerous smirk crossed the young Mage's face "but I digress, I'm supposed to be telling you my story and how it relates to that Apostate I killed in the Main Hall earlier today…"

*Flashback*

"Falke are you alright?" Mevala asked in concerned tone of voice as she and Victoria approached him in one of the Tower's smaller rooms.

"I'm fine she didn't touch me" young Falke answered "I'd say 'I wish the Templars had been so lucky' but I'd be lying."

"Thank the creators" Mevala sighed in relief "while it saddens me that we lost two of our own, I'm glad that you're alright" the elven woman hugged the human boy in an almost maternal matter.

"Falke, I need to ask you something" Victoria said in a concerned tone of voice "could you have saved any of those Templars?"

"Probably" Falke replied as plainly as if he were discussing the weather "I must say I never imagined the sounds of cracking necks would be so…soothing."

"It's all about whose necks are breaking I suppose" Mevala chimed.

"Falke, why didn't you try at least?" Victoria asked with a heavy voice.

"Isn't it obvious Vici?" Mevala replied in confused disbelief "because they were Templars, why would any Mage stick their necks out for a Templar?"

"Exactly" Falke added "her lover tried to calm the situation down and they responded by stabbing him through the heart, those three deserved to die."

"Still shouldn't you try to be better than that?" Victoria half pleaded.

"Last I checked I don't steal babies from their mothers" Falke answered coldly as he extended his left index finger "I also don't beat, rape, or kill people just because I can and try to claim it's in service to a petty god" he extend his left middle finger "and I'm pretty sure I'm not involved in the systematic oppression of countless people based upon an accident of birth" he extended his left ring finger "so I'd say that I'm still better than the Templars."

"They were still people Falke" Victoria stated as she eyed the boy sternly.

"You know something dawned on me after I killed that Templar during my orientation" Falke began with a much calmer more level tone of voice "he's never going to hurt anyone ever again and now neither will the three who died this afternoon."

"You have to admit Vici the world is a better place without them" Mevala chimed.

"You kill one or two people and you solve so many problems, makes you wonder about the possibilities" Falke continued "Imagine if we could round up every Templar in Thedas and kill them all in one fell swoop then feed their bodies to the pigs" a disturbing smile spread across the young Falke's face and the listening audience shivered slightly.

"Falke I'm worried about you" Victoria said clearly distraught "you can't let this hatred you feel define who you are."

"And what do you suggest?!" Falke snapped eliciting a hurt look from Victoria "my own mother cast me aside like I was nothing, I've taken a life, I saw a man throw his life away to protect me, I've seen people brutalized and killed for no reason!" Falke's body began to shake uncontrollably "all I've known since I've come here is fear, and now you're trying to tell me I shouldn't hate the Templars who caused it?"

"I understand your anger Falke but if you let this fear and hatred dictate who you are" Victoria began "it will turn you into something ugly…and I don't mean an abomination…"

"Again what do you suggest?" Falke asked though his voice was far weaker "I may be a child but I'm no fool, I've lost my birth family, my adoptive family has been condemned to a lifetime of imprisonment, I will grow old and eventually die in this damned tower" a single tear crept down the child's right cheek "what kind of sick joke is this, forcing us to live in fear?"

"I'm sorry Falke, I don't have any answers for you and I understand if you hate me as well" Victoria replied as she gently brushed the boy's tears aside "tell me, do you know what the most powerful force in the world is?"

"I'm guessing you mean the Chantry, or perhaps faith in the Maker" Falke replied weakly "I've had more than enough of both Sister Victoria."

"No it isn't the Chantry or religious faith" Victoria assured the boy "even if you disregard the Chant of Light some things are undeniable about Andraste's tale" she smiled gently at the young Mage "a thousand years ago the Imperium dominated Thedas, their tyranny was absolute and the power they wielded seemed to border on omnipotence, no one believed they could be defied; it was a dark time made all the worse by the chaos of the First Blight..."

"Until Andraste came that is" Mevala continued "think about it Falke, regardless of what she really was Andraste was able to raise an army of Almarri tribesmen, Dalish Elves, and though the Chantry would deny it I suspect a sizeable number of Mages" the First Enchanter gently brushed her apprentice's hair with her slender fingers "and together they successfully rebelled against the Imperium."

"Mevala…have you told him yet?" Victoria asked curiously as she watched her comfort the boy.

"No, I felt it was best to prepare him for his Harrowing first" Mevala answered earning a nod from the Chantry Sister "tell me, if not faith or some kind of god what could have given them the power to do such things?"

"I…I don't know…" Falke replied in an exhausted tone of voice.

"The most powerful force in all of creation, something stronger than the greatest steel and more awe inspiring than the powerful spell" Victoria explained with a gentle smile on her face as Falke looked tearfully into her eyes "it's a strength that not even the mightiest of nations could never destroy, a power great enough to overcome fear."

"What is it?" Falke asked.

Victoria cupped Falke's cheek gently with her right hand before answering "Hope."

Author's Notes: And that's chapter 3 boys and girls. Looks like this story is going to go on a little longer than I initially planned but that's the nature of writing (just ask Varric). In any case my main goal with this chapter was to portray Falke as a very emotionally traumatized individual (even by the standards of Thedas), I'm planning for the next chapter to have a more triumphant feel.

If you enjoyed this please leave a review, even if it's only a few short sentences it helps make all the work worth the while.