Just in case an update didn't go out, I reuploaded the first chapter. It's got major changes, with new characters added in. I recommend reading that first before reading this chapter. With that said...
This is a fan made story, all rights to Game of Thrones and the A Song of Ice and Fire series go to HBO and G.R.R.M. The only thing I own are the added characters
This story is made for those 18+ due to nudity, gore, profanity, adultery, rape, slavery, blood, etc.
NOTE! Bold text = Speaking in Valyrian
Underlined Text = POV
NOTE! Italics text = Flashback
Orys
He was bored, that much was easy to see.
The Great Hall of Winterfell was hazy with smoke and heavy with the smell of roasted meat and fresh-baked bread. It's grey stone walls were draped with banners. White, gold, crimson: the direwolf of Stark, Baratheon's crowned stag, the lion of lannister. A singer was playing the high harp and reciting a ballad, but the spare Prince had shut the noise out long ago.
He was sat with his siblings and the children of Lord Stark, not that he paid them any attention. Still, he couldn't stop himself from irritably scratching at his beard as he listened to the words his brother spewed. All lies, he knew, and yet the eldest Stark daughter didn't. She was eating them with a naive smile.
A cup of wine was sat on the table in front of him, but one look would show that it hadn't been touched. All he needed was one look at his father to not touch the cup. Another serving girl on his lap, as he laughed and groped at her body.
It was the fourth hour of the welcoming feast laid for the king. Orys was growing tired of it, rather he was tired of the feast by the first hour alone.
Slowly, his eyes moved to the far back of the hall, where the squires were sat. Among them, sat Jon Snow. Yet Duncan was no where in sight. He had hoped to speak more with his new friend, but it would seem that that had to wait. Noise sounded from the squires table where Jon sat, who now instead stood. Quickly the boy fled outside. Still, Orys' curiousity laid with Duncan's whereabouts.
Without another word, he stood and left the hall, wanting to rather feel the cold winds outside then the annoyance that was his father and brother. As he reached the outdoors, however, he heard a most recognizable voice.
"You're Ned Stark's bastard, aren't you?"
He kept his distance, but could see Duncan's twin Jon was stood near his loved uncle, Tyrion Lannister. A dwarf, yes, but he is one of the few Orys can find himself comfortable with. Whether it be japes, business, politics, his beloved uncle is always there to brighten the mood.
"Did I offend you? Sorry. Dwarfs don't have to be tactful. Generations of capering fools in motlet have won me the right to dress badly and say any damn thing that comes into my head." Tyrion spoke once more as he grinned. "You are the bastard, though."
"Lord Eddard Stark is my father." Jon admitted, although stiffly.
"Yes. I can see it. You have more of the north in you than your trueborn brothers. You and your twin from what I saw of him earlier." Orys swore he could see pride in Jon's face at the comment. "Let me give you some councel, bastard. Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you."
Jon's face turned into a ghost of a snarl.
"What do you know about being a bastard?" He questioned. Tyrion's expression turned slightly somber.
"All dwarfs are bastards in their father's eyes." He decided to make his presence known then.
"Which makes it a great thing that there are still those that cherish you, beloved uncle." He said, both men turning his way, a smile appearing on Tyrion's face.
"Beloved nephew! Why are you not at the feast?"
"A most boring feast, uncle. I'm unsure if you'll find it suitable to your own needs and desires." He answered with a smirk.
"Well, I must see for myself then, shouldn't I?" Without another word to either, Tyrion entered the hall, as Orys turned to Jon.
"Don't feel too upset of my uncle's words, Jon. They are harsh, yes, but they are meant to be helpful." He pat Jon's shoulder in support with a smile.
"I know that." Jon admitted. "Dunk tells me- or at least, told me all the time words similar to those I just heard. How I should recognize my status."
"I'd say there is wisdom in those words. Wisdom you must take to heart, Jon." Orys looked him over once, before speaking again. "From what I hear, you wish to join the Night's Watch." That got the boys attention, who turned back to him and nodded without hesitation. "And you're certain of that path, Jon Snow?"
"I am." Again, with no hesitation. Orys kept their eyes locked for a few more moments, before nodding.
"Very well. Then if it were to become reality, I can only wish you the best." Jon nodded in appreciation at those words, as Orys turned to head for his given chambers. He stopped, however, and turned back to Jon. "You wouldn't happen to know where I can find Dunk?" Jon only shook his head. "Damn..."
Duncan
The sound of skin slapping against skin, with the addition of soft moans was all that filled his chambers. This was much more exciting that a feast for the whoremonger, on that he was certain.
He would never bring a common whore within the walls of Winterfell, but this was no common whore regardless. A woman of dark skin, with long black hair flowing down her back. Few and light freckles against her cheeks. The most beautiful part of her, however, are her eyes. Blue eyes so bright they look to almost be glowing. An unnatural color, that much is given.
Nala is her name, originally from the Summer Isles. It was during his travels of Westeros when he first met her. That was years ago, of course. Now, they are more lovers than anything.
It was always like this between them, fighting it out to see who would be in control during their sexual encounters. This time she had won, and so he laid against the furs as she rode him like a horse, her hands firmly against his bare chest.
The sounds she made only increased his excitement, as his own hands moved across her curves, gripping at her sides and traveling back to her ass. She only grinned at his touch, as she begin to increase her movements speed.
"Feels good, love?" She asked, her voice heavy with accent, one that sounded so sweet to his ears. And yet he could only nod to her question, the only thing leaving his mouth being groans.
His breathing quickened, his lower head tensing within her warm walls. She felt it as well, lifting herself off of his member and finishing him with her warm hand, before he finally released across her belly.
He released a heavy sigh as she giggled, moving to clean herself before laying against him,
"I...I don't understand how you know so many forms of pleasure." He spoke through heavy breaths. One of her hands moved to draw circles across his sweat filled chest, her legs entangling themselves with his own.
"Do you forget so easily of my homeland? Pleasure and sex is thought of differently there." She spoke as he moved an arm to her waist. "So, how long until we return to traveling?" She wondered.
"I'll probably stay until the royal party leaves, then travel with them until King's Landing." He spoke, earning a hum from his lover. "Who knows, if they decide to have a tourney, maybe I'll enter. Or the melee instead."
"Should be fun then...Do you not wish to partake in the feast?" She changed the subject, earning her a scoff.
"It's already been...what? 3 hours?"
"Four."
"Hmm. And yet still no one has come looking for me. They'll do just fine without my appearance. Not that I'd want to bother regardless. What, with that stuck up Queen, the fat oaf of a King, their arrogant little shit of a Crown Prince. And lest we forget dear Lady Trout."
She could only listen as he began to rant. She knew him so well after so many years of time spent together. Bitter and resentful. Those words describe Duncan best. He hid it well, but it was only in the company of her that he released the anger he held within. Only in the company of those he trusted most.
"Then what of the other Prince? Orys?" She questioned further.
"I'll have time to speak and catch up with him tomorrow. And on the road to King's Landing. For now, I just want to enjoy what little peace I can find."
She left it there, thankfully, as they rested within the arms of one another.
Orys
The training yard of Winterfell was filled with jeers and boos. Split into three seperate groups. On one side were Stark men, the loudest amonst them all. Across from them were the Lannisters. And off to the side, were the men specifically under Prince Orys, all with armor matching his personal sigil. Silver armor with black cloths attached over the chestplates, and curtain shaped cloths around the sides and back of the legs.
The loudest amonst the Stark men, was the heir Robb himself, with the ward Theon Greyjoy matching his energy at his side. Orys, from with his own men and Lucius at his side, watched in silence as his little brother Tommen and little Bran circled one another. Both padded down in black leather and sheeps wool. Every time one scored a hit on the other, that side would erupt into a surge of shouting.
Orys caught the eye of Duncan, who just like himself, was watching in silence. The two nodded to one another, before returning their attention to the fight.
Tommen lunged out with the wooden sword in hand, aimed at Bran's head. However, he stumbled, as his already plump form wasn't helping with the padding covering him. Bran backed away from the strike, before bringing his own wooden sword on the young Baratheon's head. Tommen was sent rolling across the floor, as the lions roared and the wolves howled at one another while Ser Rodrik called the fight to an end, calling for two squires to aid the young boys with the padding.
"Prince Joffrey, Robb? Another round?" Robb stepped forward eagerly.
"Gladly!"
"Ser Rodrik, this is a gme for children!" Joffrey was not of the same mind. His words though, got laughs out of the Stark men, as Theon spoke up.
"You are a child!" Joffrey would only snort in return.
"You and the Starks may be. But I am a Prince. And I'm bored of swatting at fly's with a play sword." Joffrey crossed his arms, as Orys rubbed the bridge of his nose in annoyance.
"You got more than you gave, Joff." Robb countered with a smirk, and the Greyjoy was quick to add on.
"Are you afraid?" Joffrey only laughed.
"Oh yes. For Robb is far bigger than myself." Some of the Lannister guard laughed at that. Even if he and Joffrey were younger than the heir to Winterfell, they were taller. Orys taller then them all.
"What are you suggesting?" Ser Rodrik questioned, tugging at his beard.
"The illborn wishes for live steel." Orys answered with a roll of his eyes. Joffrey glared at the name, but he only smiled in return. Robb was eager at the declaration, holding a hand out towards Theon.
"Done!" He exclaimed.
"Live steel is too dangerous for you. Blunted egdes only." Ser Rodrik was quick to stop him as Theon had already begun to unsheath his blade. The Hound, who was at Joffrey's side of course, laughed.
"Who are you to deny you prince? Do you train only woman in the North?" Robb and Ser Rodrik bristled, the Lannisters laughing and the Northmen oohing. Only it was Lucius that answered.
"Not all of us can spawn from a house as gruesome and bloodthirsty as House Clegane. What with such rabid dogs, anything looks like a women to a beast so aroused by blood." Sandor growled at that, but Orys could only sigh and roll his eyes once more as he stepped forth.
"I'll fight the Winterfell heir." He declared, slowly removing his weapons from his sword belt. The warhammer was a sight to see, designed most similar to that of his fathers, with one end sharpened into fine points, and the other a sharpened blade almost. A medium sized handle to be used for both short and long distance combat.
The sword was what stood out most. The cross guard is designed as stag antlers. The grip is detailed with three red gems which are placed horizontally around the grip. The pommel is designed as a black roaring lions head with gleaming golden eyes. The scabbard for the sword is simple. Colored black with a simple golden silk tied around the body of it.
Orys handed them both towards Lucius, and even he buckled a bit once gripping the warhammer. Orys still held his hand out, as a blunt hammer was placed in his palm. A simple design, with one blunt end, and dthe other a curved slope.
Robb eagerly nodded in agreement, as Ser Rodrik slowly moved out of the ring. The two circled each other slowly, as Orys twisted the hammer in circles, an almost carefree smile on his face. Silence filled the area around them, as Robb moved to make the first strike.
Orys met him, holding his opponents sword back with the curved end of his hammer, before pushing back. Robb was nearly sent into the dirt from that alone, as was expected against the Baratheon strength. He steadied himself though, and was a bit surprised that Orys had not gone on the attack then. Instead, he waited and gestured for Robb to come at him again.
Seeing this as an insult, Robb growled before he charged again. He made a diagnol swipe, but Orys was quick to step out of its range. Robb didn't let up though, as he kept with his momentum to deliver swing after swing. And yet, Orys' eyes followed the blunt sword at every point.
"Keep at it, Stark! You'll hit me eventually." Orys japed, before he manuevered his body to swing around Robb, crouching and sweeping the boys legs out from under him. Robb hit the dirt with a thud, as the Lannister men jeered and the Stark's side full of curses.
Orys didn't wait this time, swinging the hammer down, but Robb was quick to lift his sword to take the front of the strike. Still, he could feel the bones in his arm begin to rattle upon contact, but he steeled himself regardless. With the next attack from Orys, he rolled out of the way, and quickly moved to his knee's to block another strike, but Orys used speed this time instead of strength.
He moved the hammer to strike at Robb's side, and it connected. The Baratheon men cheered then, as Robb moved a hand to his side, coughing. Robb didn't give in though, swinging his blade once more. The advancing Orys had to halt himself as to not be hit, but Robb kept up. Strength wasn't his ally right now, it was speed. And so, he used it.
Manuevering around Orys quickly, Robb struck for the legs. The prince saw this and blocked the blow, as Robb was hoping. Quickly, he brought his sword back and swung again, and hit Orys in the arm, sending a shock through his nerves.
It was the Stark's turn to cheer, but Orys was also smiling, nodding his head.
"Good! Better even! You learn quick!" He praised, shaking his arm out before raising his hammer. Robb raised his own weapon as well, matching Orys' grin. They charged again, but Orys knew his plan now.
He returned to blocking and dodging, but when Robb struck too far forward, the lion in him pounced. He manuevered his hammer under the blade, whilst also moving his body to behind Robb. And with a sharp pull, the heir to Winterfell landed on the ground once more, with Orys' hammer pointed at his face.
"Yield." The prince told him calmly yet firmly. It was hard to speak even, the wind knocked out of Robb. Without words, he released his grip on the blunt sword and raised his hands in surrender, as the Baratheon men began to cheer once more.
With a nod, Orys pulled the hammer away before holding out a hand. Slowly, Robb took it and got to his feet.
"You're good. But you get too greedy at times. I only used that against you." Orys told him, earning a small nod from Robb as he finally found his voice.
"Well fought." Robb returned the nod of respect, before slow clapping sounded through the air. Joffrey, with a smirk on his lips, stepped forward.
"Well done brother, very impressive!" He called out to Orys, as the second prince only raised an eyebrow aimed his way. "I do hope you've enjoyed your childish games." Joffrey sneered, but Orys laughed in response.
"Childish games? How about training, brother? But...then again, anytime we ever trained together, you always ended up with dirt filling your mouth. Makes me wonder what kind of king you'll be when the time comes. Hide behind your walls, maybe? Cower in fear with mother?" Orys retorted, earning laughs from both his men and the Stark men. Joffrey, however, was seething.
As Orys turned away, handing the training hammer away, Joffrey turned to the one thing he could use against his brother.
"Such talk from the outcast. Tell me, how can we be so sure that you aren't another of father's bastards? Just look at the different between us, baseborn." The Lannister men laughed then, as Orys came to a sudden halt. Slowly, his head lifted, as he poked at the inside of his cheek. His men, were quiet.
The Lannister men began to quiet down as well once Orys began to turn back to Joffrey. The look on his face was impassive, but the eyes...they were of a predator, just ready to pounce. To rip and tear at its prey. Clearing his nose, Orys began to walk towards Joffrey, who also saw the look in his brothers eyes, slowly stepping back in fear.
Orys caught him however, now an inch apart. He could basically feel Joffrey shaking himself, as his hand slowly raised. Joffrey shut his eyes tight, as men around them gripped at their weapons, but Orys only pat him on the shoulder twice, a smile returning to his lips. Slowly, he leaned in close, and whispered.
"Run off to your mother, illborn. We all know that's the only thing your truly good at doing." His voice, much like his face, was calm. But the venom hidden underneath made Joffrey step back, before quickly leaving the area, the Lannister men and the Hound moving with him.
Orys took a moment to calm his nerves, before turning back to the rest with a calm look.
"I'd like another spar, Ser Rodrik." He spoke, before his eyes found Duncan, who had been silent throughout the entire situation, but his eyes showed amusement. "I'd like to spar with Duncan here." That got certain looks from some of the men still in the yard, even from Ser Rodrik.
"Prince Orys, surely-"
"I've asked of my next opponent, Ser Rodrik. What? It is his status that bothers you so? Does status speak for skill now?" He questioned, before his eyes turned to Robb. "How well would you say Dunk here is with a blade?" Robb didn't even hesitate in his answer.
"I'd say Duncan must have been born with a blade in hand." Those words brought a smile to Orys' face, as he took up a blunt sword this time. He took up another, tossing it in Duncan's direction. The Snow caught it with his right hand, before stepping forward.
Now seeing that both were already prepared to spar, Ser Rodrik stepped back with a nod.
"First to three hits. Don't you go easy on me, you hear?" Orys said, making Duncan chuckle.
"I'm not that kind, my Prince." Duncan japed as they began to circle. Already, Orys could see a difference between Robb and Duncan's styles. The heir's stance was a good one, certainly, but there were still small spaces to be found and used against him. Duncan's was near the same, only he turned and moved to cover them all in smooth and swift motions.
Finally, after moments of silent circling, the two charged, their blades locking with one another. Duncan was swift in moving his blade in a circle at his side to then strike at the leg, luckily he managed to block it, but Duncan was already on the move again.
It wasn't that Duncan was overly agressive. He just knew to look for the weakest points in Orys' own guard, and he went for them with clear precision. Orys recognized that.
Orys could wield weapons like swords and hammers if he needed to, but he would be a fool to declare himself the best, for he was no where near the greatest. His greater strength laid with tactics, coming up with battle strategies. His uncle Renly did always say he had the strength of a Baratheon but the mind of a Lannister. A deadly combination, he declared it, and Orys would agree.
Orys ducked under a swing, stabbing at the belly, but Duncan swiped the blade to the side before going for an overhead strike. Orys raised his own blade to block, but immediately upon contact, Duncan grated his blade against Orys' to pull it back. Upon pulling the blade all the way back, Duncan stabbed at Orys' side, and his blade connected.
The Stark men cheered, but neither combatant paid attention to them. 2 more for Duncan, and he would be victorious.
The two moved their blades like a couple in a dance hall. They moved so gracefully, so swift and smooth, it could only be declared a dance. Their blades clashed a few more times, before Orys tried to strike with the pommel of his blade, but Duncan saw it quickly and rolled to the ride, and with the prince's side open, he struck once more.
Orys turned to him once more as Duncan stood straight once more. Slowly, a smirk formed on the Snow's face, one Orys matched. He declared then he'd at least get one hit on Duncan, at least one.
The two circled once more before Orys charged. He had to play to his strengths now, and that itself was his strength. Duncan did his best to dodge the blows, but they were too forceful, and so he was forced to the ground.
Only, he didn't stay there long, for he rolled backwards and back to his feet, dodging a blow that was aimed at his once prone body at the same time. Orys didn't let up though, charging forward again, and like a stag, his antlers were prepped to strike, just as Duncan's fangs were.
Duncan went for a strike at the shoulder, but Orys did something he wouldn't pull in an actual battle. But, he was too stubborn right now, the stag overpowering the lion within. With his left hand, he grabbed the blunt sword's end and ripped it from Duncan's hands, before striking with his own blade at the right leg.
Now it was the turn of his men to cheer, hoping for a swift comeback, but Orys only saw the smirk that lifted onto Duncan's face. He knew then, that taking his blade was the only way to stop him. For it he hadn't, he wouldn't have gotten a hit on him.
Knowing the his opponent figured that out made Orys scowl a bit, for his Baratheon pride was overpowering him at the moment. And so, he charged the unarmed Duncan, who beckoned him to continue at him as he did so.
With a swift body, Duncan dodged all of his strikes, but he was being moved farther away from his own blade. Robb had held a new blade for him to take, but Duncan had waved him off. Did he believe he could beat him without a blade? If so, Orys wasn't sure if to call him overconfident, or simply arrogant. But he would find out soon enough.
Duncan continued to dodge Orys' strikes for at least another five minutes before a change seemed to occur in his dark eyes. Orys' breathing was heavy, as was Duncan's, but neither were going to stop, not until one of them was declared the winner.
"Give up?" Duncan asked, position to move yet again if he needed to.
"What? And slight you as such?" Orys countered, making Duncan chuckle as he ran a hand through his hair.
"Well...It's my victory then." He declared, angering Orys slightly. Quickly, he charged his unarmed opponent once more, but Duncan was just as prepared as had been beforehand. As he went for a stab at the shoulder, Duncan ducked and manuevered behind the prince, on his right side. In Orys' state of confusion, his grip loosened ever so slightly, but it was enough. Duncan took Orys' blade, spinning to be at the prince's left and struck at the upper arm.
So quick and yet so graceful with his movement, Orys didn't know what had happened until it was over. But the sound of the Stark men cheering wildly brought him back to reality. He looked back to his left, and saw Duncan stood there with his blade.
He sighed, before nodding his head.
"Well fought." Duncan threw the blade to the side before grasping Orys' hand in his own. "Much better than I had expected."
"The blade's all I really know. Given my status, its what I made my life's work." Duncan told him, making Orys hum.
"Well...I'm not sure of what you plan to do in the near future, but...I'd be glad to have you at my side when we return to King's Landing." Orys offered. Duncan raised an eyebrow, only for Orys to nod his head in confirmation of his offer.
"I planned on traveling back with the royal party regardless to King's Landing, so...I suppose I'll be in your care, my Prince."
They had been out on a hunt when the news came of Bran Stark's fall. Now, Orys sat with his family as they broke their fast in Winterfell's hall. He had tuned out most of the conversation, only returning to the present when he heard the voice of his favorite uncle.
"Bread. And two of those little fish. And a mug of dark beer to wash it down. And bacon, burnt black." Tyrion said as he moved Tommen closer to Orys, taking a seat between the youngest child and his brothere Jaime.
"Little brother."
"Beloved siblings." He said, also turning his eyes to Orys who nodded in greeting, Tyrion returning the gesture as he began to eat the food already set at the table.
"Is Bran going to die?" Sweet Myrcella asked from beside her mother. People always said she was born with her mothers beauty but none of her personality, and Orys was thankful for that.
"Apparently not." Tyrion answered, earning a look from his sister.
"What do you mean?" She asked.
"The Maester says the boy may live." Tyrion responded, earning a delighted smile from Myrcella, as well as a small one from Orys.
"It's no mercy, letting a child linger in such pain." Cersei stated eventually, earning a snort from Orys.
"What a rude thing to say in the hall of our guests, mother." He said. Cersei turned to him, but he kept his gaze to his food, even after feeling her gaze fall upon him.
"Only the gods know for certain." Tyrion recaptured her attention. "All the rest of us can do is pray. The charms of the north seem entirely lost on you." That earned a sneer from his sister.
"I still can't believe you're going. It's ridiculous, even for you."
"Where's your sense of wonder? The greatest structure ever built, the intrepid men of the Night's Watch. The wintry abode of the White Walkers." Tyrion began to tickle at Tommen, who giggled in response.
"Tell me you're not thinking of taking the black." Jaime wondered, earning a ludicrous look from Tyrion.
"And go celibate? The whores would go begging from Dorne to Casterly Rock. No, I just want to stand on top of the wall and piss of the edge of the world." That got Orys to nearly choke on his mug of ale, coughing through laughter as Jame also chuckled. Cersei, however, was not amused.
"The children don't need to hear your filth." She said, as Tyrion gave Myrcella a grin, which gained a giggle from the young princess." Come." And so the queen left with her youngest cubs.
Slowly, Orys also stood.
"Not going to keep us company, nephew?" Jaime wondered.
"Oh how I would love to, only I still need to give my regards to Lord and Lady Stark." Orys responded, taking one more piece of bacon with him before mock bowing and leaving the hall.
He asked a guard here and there where he might find them both, eventually finding the chambers. He knocked thrice.
"It's Orys." He called out, hearing the words 'come in' from the other end. He opened the door, seeing the lord and lady sat on either side of the bed, with Bran laid unconscious under the furs. Both moved to stand, but he stopped them. "Please, there's no need."
He stepped in closer, looking at the boy closer.
"He'll definitely grow to look more and more a Stark." He commented. "Father spent so much time talking of your family. How hard headed and strong you can be. I wondered when the day would come I could meet this great family, but never did I think it would be in this manner. I don't want this family to end up like my own."
Lord Stark looked towards him then. Orys caught the look in his eyes.
"I'm not the closest with my own parents, nor most of my family, nor am I the strongest when it comes to the Faith and its beliefs. I won't go into certain details, but...they never answered the prayers I gave, no matter how many I sent. If they wouldn't answer my prayers then, why would I continue to believe in them?...Still, I shall pray this once in hopes that this time they answer, so another family isn't torn apart."
Lord Stark's expression on him softened, as Orys' usual calm mask had began to peel away before he rolled it back up, but it was enough for the Lord of Winterfell to see the emotion he truly felt. Anger. Resentment, but not towards them and their family. But towards his own.
The Lord of Winterfell and his Lady Wife nodded in thanks, as Orys left the room then, closing the door softly as he did so.
And thus ends chapter 2!
I have to say now that we won't be seeing Derron again until the last few episodes of the first season. I'm thinking of doing one chapter where they take a stop a Karthmere Keep. What happens during this short visit, you'll have to wait for when we get there.
I won't go too in detail of the pairings, but I'll give the general idea. For Orys, character from the show/books. For Duncan, not only the already revealed Nala (OC), but also a character from the books. For Derron, another OC. If you'd like to guess the characters from the show/books, be my guest, although I won't say what is right and what is wrong. You'll simply have to wait and see. Until then...
That's it! Be safe ya'll!