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	[color=8dc73f][b]Location:[/b] Oarbreak Beach[/color]
	[color=8dc73f][b]Time:[/b] Dawn[/color]
	[color=8dc73f][b]Participants:[/b] [i]Rollie[/i], [@Deja][/color]

	Rollie yawned and stretched her arms out as she leaned back into the sand. The sunrise was here, and with it all the fun of the night seemed to ebb away like the tide. She never was a sound sleeper but a sandy [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mqGHhrk-Fzc]boombox[/url] and funky stuff in the air was enough to make anyone want to groove past their bedtime. It was a Saturday morning and the only thing this bum had to do was grab some grub and head home for a nice sleep in shower. That is unless she felt like hitting up the Park on the way in, get in a few new scabs before the Camp started up tomorrow. Wait. She had her days backwards again. Today was when she was supposed to go in to teach as an instructor for this new skateboard camp. Frankly all she had was a few phonecalls the past week to go by, she hadn't actually met the guy or the grounds themselves. [color=8dc73f]"Go figure"[/color] The Dawn Patrol was rolling in and she did not feel like getting in anymore fistfights. 

	The fire crackled in it's dying throes, as Rollie dug through her backpack past her various pads for a not so fresh bottle of water. Rehydration was key after all, the festivities beforehand might have left her staggering back to her little moped. As she got up to leave, a hand lingered on her ankle as one of the friendlier party-goers of the night seemed to have woken up to. His devilish mirk mad her shake her bum of sand right on him. The slight headache forming from the rays of the sun were getting to her nerves quickly it seemed. She kicked him of and scampered up the beachside dunes, kicking seaweed off her shins and digging around for her skate shoes. Before the rest of the zombies exhumed themselves she was on her moped puttering along the side alleys of Oarbreak's small tropical haven on her way across the small island to the Camp.

	She needed to skate this pain away. The new Camp Shred would be the perfect outlet for her woes. She'd even heard on the radio that it was supposed to reopen Saturday...today she reminded herself. A dented and rusted exaust pipe of an [url=https://cdn.dealeraccelerate.com/ccl/1/3087/83892/790x1024/1964-chevrolet-bel-air-wagon] old land boat[/url] interrupted her thoughts as it ran the stop sign in front of her. She swerved and slammed on the rear brakes, planting a foot as she did so and skidding sideways with a rubber squeal and a curse. [color=8dc73f]"WTF! How dare you..."[/color] He father would have been proud of the hurricane of swearing she hurled at the antique wagon that was meandering around the island presumably lost like all tourists end up. The sun was almost up and it hung a dark shadow as it struck the halfpipe in the distance. Warm cedar glow came off the ramp, with thread marks of wheels marring it's surface. It made her forget her little incident rather quickly, as she putt-putted herself up to the front gate, gear in tow.

	[color=8dc73f][b]Location:[/b] Camp Shred[/color]
	[color=8dc73f][b]Time:[/b] 7am[/color]
	[color=8dc73f][b]Participants:[/b] [i]Rollie[/i], [@Deja][/color]