We have published a few fixes to the following issues. 

• We put in a fix for losing the Quiver of Infinity when altering the quiver to Gargoyle Wing  Armor,  this will be active tomorrow after maintenance.
• Resolved the issue which was causing equipped items, mounts and even backpacks from disappearing in dungeons
• Fixed the issue involving healers getting looting rights properly

Written by members of the Community

Issue 5

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WORLD NEWS

Homeowners On Alert
Yew homeowners are up in arms following a scam where several families were hustled from their homes while colleagues with picks and shovels tore up kitchens and living rooms, leaving all in disarray before departing. The Yew Times has been asked by authorities to keep the public informed of parties posing as officials associated with a non-existing agency calling itself the Bureau of Building Foundation Structural Integrity. According to accounts, a number of disheveled characters bullied themselves into the households of several Yew citizens insistent upon checking the buildings’ supports. The culprits are believed to be treasure hunters with a poor sense of direction and questionable map reading skills. Should you be confronted by such persons pitching a story of corpser roots digging into your home’s foundation, you are advised to report the incident to local law enforcement, so that proper action may be taken.
 
Pirate Gold Still Missing
Leads are still being pursued regarding the the theft of a sum of 900 million gold from the banking accounts of retired pirate, Redbeard Steelhook Pegleg Patcheye Carpal-Tunnel Morgan. Morgan insists that the money evaporated overnight following the disappearance of his long-time companion, Mister Crackers. Morgan is insistent that the bird impersonated him and withdrew his life savings and is probably eating rum-soaked parrot wafers on some secluded isle somewhere. Morgan swore upon his sainted mother’s moustache that he would personally make the bird walk the plank if he managed to get his hands on him.
 
Mystery Meat Business Busted
Crown food inspectors shut down operations of the Boarshire Farms Slaughterhouse and Meatpacking in Cove when it was revealed that the family owned business owned no actual farm or slaughterhouse. Boarshire sausages, deemed the favorite sausage of Britannia’s breakfast table, was specifically targetted, as inspectors remained clueless as to the origin of its mysterious contents. An overseeing investigator stated, “We have no idea what it is, but is sure ain’t pork.” When we asked local consumer, Glenard Blardfoot, what he thought about the recent and shocking revelations concerning the perplexing meat conundrum, he shrugged his shoulders and replied, “I don’t care. That *#@! is tasty.”
 
Madman’s Journal Discovered
Mondain Remembers… how he got the Gem of Immortality. A collection of writings believed to be Mondain’s memoirs was recovered by a collector and turned over to the Lycaeum for study. Although many of the pages were extremely brittle and worn with age, one clearly legible page was of particular interest.
“Minax and I lived on an island in those days. We were young and in love and very happy. While I busied myself with my research, Minax spent her days doing Minax things to small furry animals. My research centered on the small lights that flickered offshore. They were very bright at night and sometimes blood would swell up into the sea from the dancing lights. Minax discovered this first. I found her one moony night, keening and gibbering madly on the beach, covered in the blood of the sea. Only by letting her suck my neck could I sooth her long enough to get her to the water trough and bathe her. I determined to discover for myself what lay in those depths. And, with the help of my trusty island pygmy, Baldric, I built a diving chamber. We loaded it onto a small ship and sailed one evening to the spot where the lights came out at night. As those devilish lights began hopping about the surface, I crammed Baldric into the chamber and lowered him by rope into the bleeding sea. Although he lacked an air supply, Baldric had confidence in my ability to decipher his tugs on the rope. The mere frantic, I ignored. But truly convulsive tugs meant his skin was turning blue and I would haul him up for a wheezy debriefing. Soon, a picture emerged of a sunken ship resting on the bottom. Before poor Baldric went into permanent convulsions, I learned the prow of that ship was adorned by a skull pouring blood from its eyes! Well, that settled it. Baldric would have to go down one more time and get that skull.Of course, I was deeply concerned about Baldric. The way he was flopping around now, he could damage the skull in retrieving it. But we scientists must take risks so, shouting my instructions, I plopped him in one last time and prayed for the skull’s deliverance. “This is your last dive, Baldric,” I crooned soothingly as he sank. And he did it! Baldric got the skull! He was never quite right after this, but he had always been a bit twitchy to begin with. And I had the skull! I immediately spotted the key clenched in the skull’s teeth. I pried the key loose and read the inscription on its side, “Pacemaker.” This key would unlock my dad’s pacemaker! I could get the Gem of Immortality that powered dad’s pacemaker! Oh! WoW! Was I excited!
And, well, you know the rest of the story.”
 
ECONOMY

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Evil Just Trying to Get By During Hard Times
No party is exempt from the recent economic slump. Every day, another infographic group dips below the wire as the cost of living increases; demons, undead, elementals, etc, are forced to work longer hours just to make ends meet as reagent prices escalate. A representative of the Collectors of Souls complained bitterly of having to work overtime to do twice as much work with fewer hours for recreation and no benefits. The anonymous representative stated “We get our marching orders from the Godfather of Souls. We have very little say in the matter. The price for souls has plumetted recently, and we’re forced to offer souls at a considerable discount. Nowadays, the going offer is for “Buy one soul and get one free soul of lesser or equal value.” A competing Balron union has offered to undercut the competition by providing lower quality souls at a bulk rate. In related news, a fire elemental made a symbolic gesture in protest against declining services by carrying two pitchers of water to a busy spawn point and extinguishing himself to death.
 
EDITORIAL

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A Special Public Servive Announcement
Everyday, hundreds of unprotected unicorns are brutally killed for a cruel market that utilizes their horns for commercial purposes. With only their spells to protect themselves, proud and noble unicorns are clubbed to death by thrill seekers and collectors, while the rest of Britannia remains ignorant of this shocking activity. Won’t you listen to their bleating cries and do something to end this needless cruelty?
In the backrooms of workshops, carpenters craft furniture fashioned from the elegant and beautiful ivory horn, rendering pieces that are both lasting and elegant. A piece such as this would be a welcome addition to any home. Any prospective buyer upon seeing such craftsmanship would be compelled to own one themselves. Although pricey, one would expect to pay a little more for the quality of such magnificent pieces. And let’s not forget the deplorable use of unicorn horns for the creation of magic wands. Cut from the unicorn’s head, the poor beast dies shortly after it’s horn is removed. Smuggled into the hands of artisans, the horn is crafted into a flawless light-weight wand that never fails to deliver the perfect spell. Casting at 3 levels higher, it is a must-have item for any serious spellcaster. Although difficult to obtain, we have seen them regularly restocked on various vendors in close proximity to the Luna moongate. And most heartbreaking of all, is the exploitation of innocent doe-eyed unicorn foals. Born in captivity, the foals are raised in the poorest of living conditions. Fed a nutrient deficient diet and caged in small pens to keep their young muscles weak, their tiny horns are harvested for the most selfish of purposes. You would have to be inhuman not to be moved to tears by their mistreatment. And surely if heartless consumers were to learn of their value, they would be culled to extinction by the demand for such a wonderous item. You see, their tiny horns, lovingly tipped with fine 14 carat gold and crafted into a pendant is hung from a polished white gold foxtail chain providing immunity from the most lethal of poisons, and granting luck equivalent to 10 full imbued gold plate suits of armor practically guaranteeing the best loot drops for any monster farming enthusiast. Some are fooled by a market of cheap imitations, but only true baby unicorn horn radiates an aura of comfort and well-being and carries the Real Baby Unicorn Horn Seal of Approval. Some of the most disreputable of authentic baby unicorn horn dealers have even gone as far as including a selection of horns complete with birthstone making for that gift for that special someone. Oh! and most offer free gift-wrapping and delivery. So, let’s band together in a campaign to stamp out this terrible practice. Monitor your P.A.T.E.U. channel to see how you too can become involved.
 
ADVERTISMENTS

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So, you and your friends are having a good time out at the Valor spawn. Everything is going just fine until some fool sprints past you pursued by two paragon greater dragons, and it looks as though the paragons have suddenly changed their minds about the dinner menu. You turn to say something to your pals, but they have already recalled out, leaving you behind. Well, it’s a good thing that you are wearing a pair of brightside lenses. These rose-colored glasses are magically enchanted so that you will always see the positive side of any situation. So, even as you have run out of tithing points, you are already looking forward to two large chests brimming full of loot, a sweet artifact, and some delicious home-made chocolate when you get back, that you won’t have to share with your so-called friends. Brightside lenses are sure to be a hot item this summer, so get them while supplies last.
 
CLASSIFIEDS

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To Members of the secret organization who are actively working on that thing we’re not supposed to talk about:
The Black Brigade has been forced to reschedule its Tuesday meeting due to unforseen circumstances, and there have been several changes to our plans to poison Britain’s mayor and forge official documents on major policy, which will allow us to move forward with our objectives. First: Steve, you will introduce the poison extracted from the pollen of the twilight orchid which will mimic a heart attack. It is critical that no one suspects poison to be the cause of death, as this will cast suspicion, and possibly foil future undertakings. Secondly, new information has come forward regarding the guard that Helena was supposed to seduce and distract while Steve sneaks into the Mayor’s quarters. It seems that certain observed proclivities would indicate that this particular guard might not actually like women, so we may have to substitute Helena with something like a cornish gamehen instead. For everyone else, the plan remains the same, but we will be meeting instead at the Britain library at 3 pm on Thursday. Remember, Friday is Casual Friday and we will be ordering lunch from Rib Shack.
Now Hiring: Individual with exceptional taste buds to serve as food taster and line of defense to particularly obnoxious and despised nobleman. Apply in person with the steward of Lord Crudgeworth’s estate.
 
ARTS AND LIVING

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New Weight Loss Secret
You might not be able to tell from looking at me now, but I used to weigh 54 stones. I was in complete denial. I used to tell myself that I was big-boned or gravitationally challenged. But it started getting harder to lie to myself. I had to sleep on the floor on top of four bedrolls because I couldn’t find a blacksmith that could make me a new bed. Tailor shops would lock their doors when they saw me coming; I had to make a deal with a titan to sell me some of his togas. They didn’t want me around the telescope in Moonglow, because they said I was blocking the view. Pretty soon, I was told that I should avoid public transport beacuse they couldn’t figure out how to widen the moongates. But those days are behind me, because I slimmed down to a healthy 13 stones by starting the fishsteak diet and a modest excercise regimen. I started out catching my own fish by doing a cannonball from the docks and would burn off excess calories trying to climb back out of the water; pretty soon I was in top shape. If you are looking for a good way to shed some pounds, the fishsteak diet is a good place to start. I’m living proof.
 
Bento Box Concerns
We get a lot of mail on the bento boxes on how clever they are, but what a shame it is that they cannot be reused. What a lot of people don’t realize is that the special magic of bento boxes is that they can only be filled by moms with things like peanutbutter sandwiches cut into heart shapes, a healthful snack, and a love note saying how proud she is. We just thought you should know.
 
Prop Jester Appearance Perfomance Fizzles
Organizers are already regretting their decision to book unfunny entertainer, Bramble the Git for the recent Shelter the Homeless Gargoyles Before They Get Eaten by Void Monsters fundraiser. Bramble stoked the audiences excitement level in anticipation of some grand guffaw that would never come. “The guy only had three props,” said one disappointed spectator, “A stick, a string, and a dead squirrel, and he just tied the string to the end of the stick, and dangled the squirrel from the other. And it just went downhill from there.” When asked after the performance on why he figured that he had failed to elicit a better reaction from the audience, Bramble replied, “Sometimes you get a lowbrow audience that expects you to dumb down your material. I just won’t do it. I have my principles.”
 
ADVICE:

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Dear Tabi,
Could you explain to me how everyone buys into this fishmonger thing? It is a well know fact that like several other flourishing enterprises, the fishmonger is a front for the mob. Every time decent fishermen turn over their catch to these ‘mobsters with lobsters’, they are aiding and abetting organized crime in Britannia.
Signed Fishy Business
Dear Fishy Biz,
Wow, that is quite an accusation. So you believe that the decent fishermen who are trying to make an honest living are actually crooked as a barrel of fish hooks? I wonder what thier loyal wives, daughters and sons response would be. For you would have them to believe the gold filled pouch brought home is actually the Mobsters with Lobster’s slush fund. Of course there are those who believe that men and fish are alike. Both get into trouble when they open their mouths, but that’s another letter….. I think we need more evidence provided before lumping all the good people of Brittiania in the same “kettle of fish” as organized crime. There will be no “walking the plank” nor shivering timbers today. I think there are bigger fish to fry these days, for “To talk much and arrive nowhere is the same as climbing a tree to catch a fish” as an ancient proverb states.
Shake a leg,
Tabi
 
Survival Tips:
When you are out dungeon hunting, a good item to have on hand should you run into an acid elemental, is a box of baking soda. Not only does the baking soda neutralize the acid, but it’s fun to watch them bubble too. Look for this tip and many others, such as shriveling slimes with common table salt in our helpful column that teaches you how to survive on a shoestring budget.
Remember. Push, don’t pull when tipping cows.
 
OBITUARIES

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Britannia witnesses the passing of one of its more memorable if not more colorful personalities, experiencing throughout his life alternating shifts of fortune. Julian Swansong rose from impoverishment and obscurity, his talent for music discovered by a benefactor who nurtured him before dying in the most horrific fashion. Julian’s fortune again changed and recieved an offer and scholarship from Britain’s prestigious Royal Conservatory. He graduated with honors, and while celebrating blew off his fingers when a fireworks wand malfunctioned. Fortunately, a skilled physician was able to reattach the fingers, however unfortunately they were attached backwards. With his musical career formally ended, he would spend his days and nights at the taverns. His unusual condition became a curiosity amongst the patrons and he never had to pay for his own drinks ever again. He spiralled down further into alchoholism. He meets a woman with backwards feet who saves him from his self-destructive path who later leaves him for a charming podiatrist who swept her off her backward feet. This trend of reversals continued for some time until finally he had turned his life around following some tragedy and embarked on a spiritual journey to seek enlightenment. His mountain guide related Swansong’s final moments as he decended from the hermit’s retreat; a look of bliss upon his face as a fatal mistep carried him over the side. He reflexively attempted to grab the edge, but failed as his fingers bent in the wrong direction. It is of some consolation to think that what happens to him next will be of some positive consequence.
 
Horoscopes

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The Peddler-January
It doesn’t take a lot to make a difference. Why not get out there with an axe and chop some trees until you are proficient enough to get some bark fragments. Then cook those fragments up into a pulp, and use your scribe skills to make paper. Then write a touching note that says “Your house looks cool. I wish I could steal all of your awesome stuff.” Sometimes it’s the little efforts that are the most important.
The Mongbat- February
If you can rub your belly and pat your head at the same time, you may have a bright career in the Britannian guard. Why not look into future employment prospects today.
The Phoenix – March
There is someone closely following you, who will always disappear the moment you look over your shoulder. You probably would never have known this was actually occurring if this horoscope had not mentioned it to you in the first place.
The Sea Dragon – April
An assassin will be hired by some party to remove you from the picture. Consider this to be kind of like the answer to your recent request of wanting a “little more excitement out of life.”
The Hermit – May
You will gain great wealth and fame first by blackmailing some hag living in the woods running a “potion ingredient” scam and later by breaking your deal with her and ratting her out to the authorities for the reward.
The  Llama -June
You will feel elated after successfully picking a chest in a dungeon and obtaining a sizable amount of loot. But you never question the point of why someone would stash their gold in such an unsecure container in the first place. Wouldn’t a bank or a house be a better choice? It never occurs to you but you probably stole some poor fire elemental’s life savings.
The Ancient Wyrm – July
You think to yourself that you can make the world a better place in some small way by trying to find a way to kill that guy that always spars with his cat in town.
The Anvil – August
You will be invited into a close friend’s home and will show you her new piano made from a writing desk, several piles of cloth, a crate, a cloak, and some chessboards. It will be at this point that you will ask her to demonstrate her fine musical skills by requesting a performance.
The Weaver – September
The most precious things can come from the most unexpected sources. A hideous, foul-smelling sewer-dwelling beggar will teach you the true meaning of friendship; filling your life with laughter and love.
The Wisp – October
It is advisable to avoid any signing of legal documents or contracts after the drinking of magical moonfire brew.
The Unicorn – November
Stealthing is a great way to find out what people really think of you. Just avoid spicy foods.
The Wanderer – December
You initiate a silly disagreement over armor preferences and cause it to escalate. Hundreds will be guardwhacked as a result. Congratulations!
 

Hello Everyone,

   I was asked to judge the Sudiva fiction writing contest and recruit more judges to join in. The first person I asked to read the entries was Mike “Phoenix” Moore. But there are other people even outside of the UO team who have a lot of knowledge and love for the UO history – one of them is Kate Flack, one of our Lead Designers who also has a great collection of the old UO games. I respect her opinion and love her creativity, so Kate was a logical choice to be a judge. With that said she has written a note to you guys.

  When Ultima Online producer Bonnie Armstrong asked me to help judge a fiction competition, little did I know just how creative and inspired the entries would be! As a Lead Designer for BioWare Mythic, I deal with writing every day. Whether it’s technical precision or emotive dialogue, I’m constantly assessing my team’s writing and pushing them to deliver at ever higher grades of quality.
 
   I fully expected to be the ‘bad cop’ judge. I’ve made a career of IP interpolation (that’s industry jargon for ‘coming up with new stuff that fits the game world’) and I’ve lost count of the times I’ve had to explain ‘that’s a good idea, but it doesn’t quite fit because of x, y or z’ to an eager designer with a new idea. I was worried how I’d give you feedback that was kind, but accurate. You know the sort of thing- should I choose Justice or Compassion?
 
   Imagine my happy astonishment at the depth and more importantly, subtlety of the entries we received. Ultima isn’t an easy Intellectual Property to grok. The heritage of the game is long and winding. The systems of the various games are intricate. It’s high fantasy with even higher ideals behind it. It was a pleasure to read stories dealing deftly, even effortlessly, with the world. From despair in the darkness to the glittering heights of dragonflight, these tales do Ultima proud. Whether it’s Paladins with Mice, cunning peasants or spiritual insight, you’ve found inventive and entertaining ways to free Sudiva from the shackles of the Dungeon Covetous.
 
   It’s been hard to choose a few winners from amongst this crop. I was particularly charmed by the use of ‘dragonsmirk’ and even the idea of Sudiva settling in Moonglow Zoo. Still, this is a competition, so I’ve tried to pick stories that speak to the Virtues and the history of Ultima, whilst also being a damn good read.
 
   Well done to everyone who took part. Let’s do this again sometime!
 
Kate Flack
Lead Designer, BioWare Mythic.
 

We are currently compiling the results of the different judges and will announce the winners soon.

Thank you for all the great stories!

Bonnie ‘Mesanna’ Armstrong has become the Producer for Ultima Online. Together with Jeff Skalski, who continues his role as Ultima Franchise Producer, she will now take an even more active lead of all topics around our longest running MMO. Bonnie’s drive, dedication and knowledge of UO, together with her motivation to kill players (in-game) are well known in the office and among players.

Of course this raises some questions about the directions Bonnie is going to take, questions you might ask on the boards. Apart from a “Yeah yeah yeah” song we weren’t able to get an initial statement yet – but we shall have one in the near future.

Congratulations, Bonnie. Let’s lead UO through an exciting 15^th anniversary and into the future.

Written by the EM Team

    “Now, charge its left flank, and aim for the seams! Mages, lightning and energy bolts, but focus on keeping up our knights!” Dupre shouted out the orders from behind his plated helm, even as his cadre of knights swarmed one of the monstrosities that laired within Exodus dungeon. With the backup of the mages keeping them healed, they weren’t in any threat at the moment from the beast in front of them. Lord Dupre had heard the noises and gotten glimpses of things from inside what was left of Ver Lor Reg and it caused him quite a bit of worry. He’d been trying to devise tactics so that they could retake the city, but the creatures resisted quite a bit of force, and seemed to give up little in areas of weakness save for how well lightning worked against them. As he observed the knights, a noise from behind caught his attention, and he whirled while he drew the longsword at his side and lunged. His blade bit harshly into the seam of the floating menace, and he smashed it in harder by hammering the hilt with his plated gauntlet. With a squealing shriek of metal, the creature’s internal mechanisms chewed themselves to pieces on his sword before he drew it out and turned away, the creature exploding and peppering his armor with light shrapnel. He slashed the grease and oil clinging to his blade onto the floor of the dungeon as his knights finished slaying the much larger creature, and they retreated from the dungeon once more.

    Lord Dupre had always loved the city, with its gentle ocean breeze cutting through the harsh heat of the nearby jungles. Trinsic felt like home, even after all these years…though the sandstone walls didn’t hold the same comfort they once had. In Felucca some of the structures still bore the scars from his campaign against Juo’nar and the fallen knights own siege of the city, but here in Trammel the same evidence was gone; He would never get used to that. He made his way to the weaponsmith, as was usual after these excursions…he’d yet to return without a blade in disrepair from using it against these metal monsters. From there he quickly made his way to the Keg and Anchor, and was going to sit at his favorite table when he noticed there was someone else in the spot he usually occupied. With a muttered grumble under his breath he made his way around the table and sat opposite the man, taking note of his wrinkled and rumpled clothes, and the way he clutched at something in his left hand, a glint of a dingy metal ball hanging off of it.

    The waitress didn’t even need to come over to take his drink order; Dupre had been a regular since he’d trekked away from the lands of Felucca to Trammel, and in short order the staff had learned his patterns. She brought over a strong, aged honey whiskey and left him with a glass full and the bottle on the table. As he took a drink, he put it down with a start as the seemingly comatose man across from him had suddenly flung his open right hand out, clearly wanting the glass. Dupre’s face soured for a moment before he shook his head.

“You’ll get nothing from begging, but if you’ve got news or information of worth, I’m not averse to sharing the drink then.”

    This seemed to have animated the fellow, whose face lifted off the table to regard the knight, and he gave Dupre a crooked smile.

“I’ll tell you a story, my gleaming friend, and perhaps you might understand how this all began. But you’ll get nothing from me with my tongue this dry, so fill up my glass and we can see what you have yet to learn.”

    Dupre looked down to see that as if by magic, an empty glass had appeared in the man’s hand, and he poured him half a glass full of the expensive drink.

    “Now talk, and make sure it was worth the cost of that whiskey.”

    The rough looking fellow winced as he drank practically half the drink at once, exhaling sharply as he pulled away, and leaned forward, as a spark of recognition passed between the knight and the jester. The jester laughed at the apparent shock that ran across Lord Dupre’s face, and he could smell the man’s foul breath accompanying that laugh.

    “I was wondering if you’d recognize me, you old tin can. Can’t fault you for taste though, you always did know how to sweet talk these little waifs into giving you the best stock they had.” With that he raised his glass to Dupre and finished off what was left in it. “Of course, you probably either thought me dead and gone…or never bothered to spend a thought on an old jester, did you? I’ll tell you right now, what you’ve seen in our cities…it’s worse in Ter Mur. Apparently, those refugees out of Ver Lor Reg were carrying something with them, you see…something that doesn’t affect them but it sure does the Ter Mur gargoyles.  They’re trying to keep it hushed up…but Zhah’s ferrying out the infected to that abandoned fishing village, keeping them quarantined…and the Ver Lor Reg gargoyles…I’m sure someone knows where they are. I don’t. That fishing village though…it belongs to the dead and the dying.”

    Dupre’s mouth hung open at this stunning revelation, before he snapped it shut. The Jester held out his now empty glass, and flashed him a vicious grin, until the knight poured him another glass.

    “You’re a regular saint, you old codger. Now I promised I’d tell you how it all began. Years ago, when my master was still with us, he’d managed to figure out that something was happening in Ilshenar, and it was centered around Exodus. He’d gathered what he could about the enemy, but it was at a turbulent time, and he doubted that he could get anyone to rally behind him. I wasn’t able to learn much personally, but I think he intended to destroy the machines that were empowering Exodus. Machines you might be familiar with by now.”

    Dupre’s realization happened almost immediately, as he growled. “The nexus devices that everyone’s been collecting and building.”

The jester’s laugh had no mirth or lightness in it. “Isn’t it all such a grand, cruel joke? Our fate is being brought down on us by our own hands.” He paused to take another drink, shrugging as he did so and returning to his previous story. “He’d managed to get his hands onto some kind of scrolls he claimed were vital, but I never saw what was in them…all I ever saw were the two maps he had. One showed a passage into Exodus dungeon that went through Ver Lor Reg…that same map that was stolen the night of the riot and that that little fence made so many copies of. The other…”

    He paused, taking a long drink and laid his head down, until finally Dupre broke the silence.

    “And the other?”

    The old jester looked up through bleary eyes.

    “The other led him to the last place he ever walked as a man…but I’ll tell you this. Master always had a journal he kept with him that held more in it than anyone ever knew. If you can find that journal…maybe you can figure out what’s really going on. And I think that a knight as smart as yourself should know where it will be.”

    Dupre’s face set with a grim bit of determination.

    “Exodus Dungeon.”

    “Glad to see you can still use a bit of what’s left between your ears, you tin can.”

    Dupre sighed as he poured them both a full glass once more. “Heckles, I think you may have given me the first thing I need to fight this enemy…and I’ll definitely drink to that.”