Good morning, John. Or it would be a good morning if you where anyone else, but you are John, and thus, generally do not have good mornings. Or evenings but I digress.
You, John, get to wake up to the pleasant smell of miasma and feces. The small room you are in is very dark, the only thing that seems to have woken you up is the slight beam of light filtering in from a crack of the roof of where ever you are. It is too hard to see much of anything.
You can feel lumps of something poking your waist, both in and out of your pockets.
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CraigM: 4 Kavonde: 1 Daemian Lucifer: 3 Anster: 0 Swenson: 2 PossiblyInsane: 1 Akri: 2 anaphysik: 7